Thanks to all my reviewers from previous stories.

Final Count

Summary: We all know the scene... movie verse TTT. A sequel of sorts to 'Let him Go, Lad'.

Disclaimer: Pointless, because everyone knows I don't own.

Aragorn walked through the rubble of the courtyard. It had been a long battle, and many were dead. Haldir's body had already been taken below, along with most of the elven dead. Gimli was sitting on top of his last kill, waiting to impress a certain elf with his body count. Gandalf, Theoden and Eomer were assessing the damage to the keep, which would keep them busy for many hours, but Aragorn had yet to find Legolas.


He stopped Gamling, as the man was walking by, to ask after the elf, and was told that he had been seen among the women, helping tend the wounded. Aragorn headed to the caverns; perhaps Eowyn would know where to find him.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I'm not sure where he went. After we finished with most of the wounded, I tended his injuries and he left."

"He was injured?"

"A few minor scrapes, one arrow wound that just grazed him, and the wound from the Warg attack."

"I was not told that he had been wounded."

"I believe Gimli tended to the wounds before the battle. They reopened last night and were becoming inflamed. He will be fine now.'

"I'm sure he will. If you see him, send him topside, Gimli's looking for him."

"I will, my lord."

As Aragorn headed back up to the courtyard, he finally caught sight of his quarry helping the Rohan soldiers pile up the dead Urak-hai. He walked over to the elf and asked him to step away from his project. They walked in the general direction of the dwarf.

"Eowyn tells me you were injured."

"I'm fine, they're just a few scratches," Legolas said, causing Aragorn to roll his eyes at the elf.

"I was not aware of the fact that you were injured in the Warg attack."

"You were a little preoccupied, and Gimli assisted me with cleaning them. There's really nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried. I just wish you had mentioned your wounds last night."

"There was no time. The enemy was upon us."

"I know, but I feel very insensitive to your plight."

"Don't be. The injuries didn't even affect my aim."

"Speaking of you're aim, how many did you kill?"

"Honestly Aragorn, I lost count after I hit ninety."

"Ninety?"

"Well, seventeen before the ladders, two ladders with at least 15 on each and fifteen on the ground, so that's sixty right there. Four while I was on the stairs, another 12 as we were retreating. At least 10 with my knives and another 20 or so with my sword when we rode out to meet Eomer's forces."

"Okay, I get the point." Aragorn looked over at the dwarf who hadn't yet caught sight of the elf and human. He was bragging to any who would listen that he had 41 kills. "Uh, let him down gently, please? He's not going to take this well."

Legolas looked over at Gimli. Truthfully the elf really didn't care who won the game, but it mattered so much to the little guy, that he decided to be nice. As Aragorn watched the elf sauntered up to the dwarf and regally announced, "Final count, 42."

The dwarf pulled his pipe out of his mouth with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Forty-two, oh that's not bad for a pointy-eared elvish prince-ling. I myself are sitting pretty on 43."

Aragorn was standing just behind Gimli now, and tried very hard to keep a straight face. Annoyed with himself for falling so easily into Gimli's trap, Legolas shot an arrow from his quiver so fast, Gimli had no warning. "Forty-three," he announced triumphantly as the arrow struck the body of the Urak-hai the dwarf was sitting on, right where Gimli's hand had been and a little too close to other parts of his body.

Sputtering in indignation, Gimli announced, "He was already dead."

Bluffing through this, Legolas pointed out, "He was twitching."

Striking his hand down hard on the handle of his axe Gimli snarled, "He was twitching, because he's got my axe imbedded in his nervous system."


Hours later, the dwarf could still be heard bragging about his kills, as Theoden, Eomer, Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli made there way toward Isengard. As they camped down for the night, Aragorn could hear his elven companion complaining under his breath about the dwarf.

"You know, it could be worse."

"How so?"

"You could have won the competition and then subjected to dwarven curses, instead of cursing under your breath."

"I will get even with that midget. That's a promise."

"Well, you will have plenty of time. Just wait for the opportune moment, my friend. It will come."

"Indeed. I will get him when he least expects it."

"Now that, I look forward to."

The End... for now.