Author’s Note: I couldn’t resist having a bit of fun with my favourite elf and ranger (well, ex-ranger, in this case). ;-) Well, actually I’m not sure if it was that much fun for them, but it sure was for me. *bg* I hope you’ll enjoy reading! :)

Title: Of Cliffs and Rangers

Author: Silivren Tinu

Beta: the wonderful Imbecamiel (((hugs)))

Rating: K

Summary: A certain elf and a certain ex-ranger are having a streak of bad luck – again. Post-RotK. Characters: a certain elf, a certain ex-ranger, and Gimli. Written for Prompt #140 “Cliff” in the Owners of Aragorn Angst yahoo group.

Disclaimer: I’m not sure if anything in this story has much to do with Tolkien’s world anymore, but I’m still quite sure I don’t own them. ;P

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- Of Cliffs and Rangers -

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“What is it about you and cliffs?“ a disembodied voice wanted to know from somewhere inside the pitch-black darkness.

“I do not have any problem with cliffs and cliffs do not have any problem with me,” a second, just as disembodied and rather tense-sounding voice answered from somewhere nearby.

“Don’t they? I’m not so sure the cliffs would agree.”

“No one has asked them and if you haven’t mutated into a dwarf since the last time I was able to see you, I doubt either of us would be able to understand what they have to say, anyway.”

“I do not need to hear them to know what they would say. It is quite obvious to anyone but you that both cliffs and taverns seem to have a natural aversion to you, for whatever reason, the result being that there are disastrous consequences both for you and anyone who happens to be with you whenever you get near one of them.”

“This situation is not my fault!” the second voice protested.

“Well, I didn’t choose this path, did I?”

“It was a shortcut! And if you, in your infinite wisdom, already knew that the path was going to be dangerous, you could have said something before it was too late!”

“Of the two of us, I am not the one who is gifted with foresight.”

There was an inarticulate sound, clearly originating from the second voice, but it didn’t form into words. For a while, there was silence.

“It is dark,” the first voice finally broke the lingering silence. It sounded tentative, almost meek.

“I know,” the second voice answered, and this time it sounded almost gentle rather than tense or gruff.

“You were about to slip.”

“Yes, I was.”

“It would have been a long way down and there is no river anywhere near this place you could have fallen into!”

“I know.”

“Don’t… just don’t do it again. Ever!”

“I’ll do my best.” There was a short pause, then the second voice added, again sounding very gentle, “You saved me. I am fine.”

There was a soft, scratching sound as if something or someone was moving, followed by a sudden gasp.

“You are hurt! You said you were fine!” the first voice exclaimed, sounding highly indignant.

“Only cuts and bruises,” the second voice tried to placate its invisible companion.

“That wouldn’t be the bleeding-to-death, bones-sticking-out-of-one’s-skin version of cuts and bruises, would it?”

“No, it isn’t. I promise.”

A sigh.

After another moment’s silence, the first voice stated, “We should have waited for the dwarf.”

“Are you sure you are well? No head injuries or anything of the kind?”

“You seem to forget that said dwarf is one of my two best friends now.”

“And the other one would be…?”

“Arwen, of course. She has never managed to trap me inside a tiny, dark cave buried alive under tons of rock and mud, after all.”

Someone was taking a deep, steadying breath. “I couldn’t have known there would be a mudslide, or that the edge of the cliff was going to collapse. We were lucky there was a cave.”

No answer.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, you know.”

Another sigh. “I know.” And, after a moment, “You usually prefer wargs as companions when you fall off cliffs, after all.”

There was a noise that sounded suspiciously like the grinding of someone’s teeth. “I – do – not – have – a – habit – of – falling – off – of – cliffs!”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Do we really have to go through that again?”

“You could just be reasonable and admit you have a problem with cliffs.”

A groan. “I-“ the voice broke off.

There was a strange rumbling sound, and then stones and dirt came raining down on the two companions sitting huddled in the darkness below. A dirty, scraped hand found another, much less dirty one and squeezed it.

“I believe we are about to be rescued,” the second voice said hopefully.

Suddenly, bright daylight was falling through a hole which had opened miraculously above them, making both of them squint. Almost immediately, the light was blocked out again by a shadow falling over the hole. “If any foolish elves or ex-rangers happen to be buried down there somewhere, you’d better be alive if you don’t want me to kill you myself!” a rough voice barked from outside.

Aragorn smiled and saw Legolas grinning at him. He could almost watch the tension drain from the elf’s body now that the oppressive darkness had given way to grey daylight and they had the prospect of being freed from the confining rock walls soon. “We are fine, Gimli!” he called back.

Gimli did not answer right away. When he spoke again, his voice sounded even rougher than before and wavered slightly. “How many limbs are you missing?”

“None,” Legolas replied merrily, “though Aragorn tried his best to get all his limbs smashed.” That earned him a glare and an elbow to the ribs.

“Still not learned to stay away from cliffs, have you, lad?”

Legolas chuckled, but moved quickly enough to dodge Aragorn’s elbow this time.

Gimli shook his head. “I don’t know how the two of you ever managed to survive until you found a good-natured, sensible dwarf to take care of you.” He found himself pinned by two glares, but did not seem to be too impressed.

“We’ll get you out of there now, but please don’t take any tours into the mountains without me the next time you visit Aglarond. All that rain this year has made the terrain dangerous and unstable.”

“We’ve noticed,” Aragorn murmured.

Gimli vanished from sight, and Aragorn found his friend eying him speculatively.

“What?” he wanted to know.

“Rain or not, I still say we would have been safe if you hadn’t chosen the path at the edge of that cliff.”

The sounds of commands being called and pickaxes and shovels hitting rock and mud drowned out any reply Aragorn might have made.

- The End -

P.S. Please send all comments and reviews to the Antarctica, where the author is currently hiding from the canon police using her tried and tested penguin disguise. :D