The black stone of Erech seemed to rise from the hillside like some monster of old, its true nature not easily seen in the pale light of the stars. Even though Gimli knew what it truly was, he could not push aside the thought that there was something lurking just out of sight, waiting for him to be caught unawares. They might have left those accursed pathways, but the dread of the Shadows had followed them.

Gimli son of Glóin was no coward, but even a dwarf as stout as he had a threshold. One that the day's events had come very close to breaching.

He knew that he should sleep. He also knew that he would not be able to do so, not with the dread that seemed to press upon him as if it was a physical force.

Legolas came up behind him and, crossing his legs gracefully, lowered himself to the ground so that they were of a somewhat more equal level. "You should be resting, my friend."

Gimli was silent for a moment. "Aye," he agreed reluctantly, "that I should."

"Yet you make no move to do so," Legolas pointed out.

There was no chastisement in his voice, but there was something there that Gimli could not quite read. A hint of worry, perhaps, although he did not think that was entirely correct.

Gimli did not speak. He did not have to speak. Legolas had walked the Paths of the Dead beside him; he had seen the fear that had overtaken Gimli.

Legolas let out a sigh, a tiny puff of air that Gimli could barely hear. Then he looked up at the stars, his gaze carefully not aimed at the dwarf that sat beside him.

"I will stay beside you throughout the night," Legolas said quietly, "if you believe it will help. You need rest."

Gimli let out a dry chuckle that held no amusement in it. "As do you."

At that, Legolas did look at him; his face was dark, but there was a small twinkle in his eyes that had not been there before. "Ah, but as I have told you many times before, elves are superior to mortals such as yourself when it comes to such things as needing sleep."

This time, the chuckle that escaped Gimli's lips had at least a small bit of humor in it.

Legolas reached over and rested his hand on Gimli's shoulder, lightly brushing Gimli's hair as he did so. It might have been on purpose or it might have not; it was impossible to tell.

"Rest, Gimli," Legolas said softly. "I will stay at your side."

Part of Gimli wanted to protest, to argue that he was a dwarf lord who needed no nursemaid to watch over him as he slept. His pride stung at the mere thought.

But another part of him, a wiser part, knew better.

"Thank you," Gimli said finally. "That would do well."

Legolas smiled at him. "It is my honor."