- Story by BlueSterling -

Elvish and thoughts in dialogues are in Italics.
Dialogue in 'these,'
Explanation of words in Sindarin at the bottom of the page.

I do not own any of the characters; they solely (and rightly) belong to Tolkien. The title is a line in Aviciis song "You make me", that can be found on YouTube.

The wind rushed through the dark green tree tops, howling as it grew in strength. The leaves danced in the friction. Some were tossed roughly from the branches, falling like dry rain on to the bottom on Fangorn forest. The sun was setting in the West, retreating from over the forest to shine its light on Forlindon and the Blue Mountains of Harlindon, the rays kissing the forest good night as they painted it in rosy colors. One leaf fell, whirling and tossing, landing before the feet of three figures. One of them, the dwarf, crushed the dry leaf loudly beneath his leather shoe, breaking a twig in the process, causing him to start and fall ungracefully on to the soft ground of the woods. Ha had lost his grip on the axe, and it fell and landed on one of the few stones in their path. The noise of metal against rock pierced the eerie tranquility of the forest. The human and the elf scowled at the oblivious dwarf. They were accustomed to his lack of grace, as he was the less stealthy and silent of the group, but the making of unnecessary noise meant attracting strange dangers of the forest, which would be highly inconvenient.

The dwarf mumbled a short apology from behind of his large, bushy beard as he stood up and brushed some leaves of the back of his tunic. He was dressed in a heavy brown cotton shirt, covered by a thick tunic made of grey Dwarven wool, dark and massive like the dwarf himself. A weighty grey cloak covered his back and the battle axe he had picked up. The man looked at the dwarf with a strained smile on his face, but his eyes told of his exasperation. He was known as Strider; a natural leader, wise, calm and collected. He wore black linen leggings and shirt under his dark blue tunic, and his wavy, dark brown hair was muddied and hung so low as to reach his broad shoulders. The stubble on his handsome face made him look older, and the shadows under his eyes told of the tiring travel the Fellowship had been through. Though he was tired and wary, his grey eyes shone with the need to continue safely through the dangerous forest.

'Be careful Gimli, lest you want to wake the many dwellers of this forest,' Strider whispered to the dwarf, his thin mouth still smiling. Hearing this comment, the elf threw his head back and laughed softly. The topic of the dwarf's clumsiness was one of his favorites. Strider looked at his Elven friend, and mused on how much he differed from the dwarf. They were like night and day; the dwarf was a brute, short and fat. He wasn't graceful or agile, but he was strong, kind hearted and brave. The elf was quiet, light and elegant, yet he beheld a strength and accuracy in battle that rivaled all warriors'. There was another trait of his that was never left unnoticed; his excruciating beauty. Elves were known for their beauty, it was said that no man had managed not to be enticed by them. But this one held a beauty greater than all others', Strider was sure of it. Even though he was dressed in travelling gear, this trait of his could not be hid away. The pale skin that was left uncovered by the dark green shirt and tunic shone with a slight glow in the darkness of the forest. The hood of his brown cloak had slid down from his head, revealing hair that couldn't be anything other than tresses of spun gold. The gold hung down past his lean shoulders to right over his hips. Curved, pointy ears were visible, though covered by the braids in his hair. His face was glowing, adorned by rosy cheeks and a full mouth that blossomed into a smile. The mirth was still visible in his eyes, blue as the purest river pools, when the elf glanced at Strider.

'An ngell nîn, Legolas,' the man pleaded, 'just to be sure.'

Legolas nodded and turned away. Picking up speed in a few steps, he jumped into a nearby tree and climbed, jumping from branch to branch. The man and the dwarf only heard the faint rustling of the leaves as he sped up and vanished into the distance. Gimli trotted tiredly behind Strider. He was wheezing because of exhaustion and Striders all too quick paces.

'I meant no harm,' he said apologetically, 'but as you know, I am no dainty elf that barely makes a noise,' he added. The bitterness in his voice was evident; it held no pleasant feeling towards the elf that had left them to scout the woods for anything that might have awakened because of Gimli's loud mishap. Sitting down, Gimli stretched his stout legs and groaned with displeasure. Strider halted, but did not sit down while waiting for Legolas' return. The dwarf rummaged his many pockets until he found what he was looking for; a leather flask. He opened it and drank greedily. They had not been able to pause often enough to his need and liking. As everyone knows, dwarfs are not made for long ventures; they are made for mining and battle, he scoffed. The man stood next to him, politely refusing the flask Gimli offered to him. His mind was too clouded with worry to be quenching thirst or even resting. He knew that they would soon have to stop to rest, but he was begrudgingly unwilling to end the day's journey now, not being out of the forest. Soon darkness will descend, he thought to himself, peering up at the small, open blotches of the evening sky that was visible between the crowns of the trees.

A while later Legolas landed soundlessly on the soft ground behind the two. He straightened himself gracefully, and looked from the dwarf to the man. The chilling wind blew golden strands of hair into his face, framing its softness beautifully. His brows were furrowed, but his chin was lifted in the proud and determined manor that always graced him.

'Nothing threatens us yes, but... I saw a clearing,' he quietly stated. Strider stared intently at the elf, 'was it not safe?' Legolas lifted his head and breathed in the cool smell of dry leaves before he answered,

'I am not sure. The center of the clearing was covered in a structure of twelve statues, gondren. I do not know of them, and they trouble me.'

Strider glanced at Legolas. All though concern was voiced and he trusted his dearest friend, he decided to push forward into the clearing. They needed to proceed their journey and perhaps the stone structures of the clearing for give some shelter from the cold and clammy atmosphere of the woods.

'Then let us go. Dwelling here will not make our return to Rivendell any more swift,' he said. Gimli grunted in agreement, and rose from the ground with great difficulty.

- They made to the clearing, lit a fire and sat down to eat. -

Their camp glowed in the orange light of the dying fire. The sun had set, being replaced by a full moon, showering the hungry company in a powerful silvery light. The clearing did not let them breath more freely. It was difficult not to notice as they broke away from the confinement of the forest. The air here was hotter, a suffocating warmth mixed with a foul smell of something stale and decaying. The company's fire helped lessening its bitterness. Legolas leaned down on his cape, taking in the view of the starry skies. Soon, he looked through his backpack and brought out something wrapped in light cotton. He unpacked it carefully, dividing it into three pieces. He took the smallest piece for himself, and gave the large pieces to Gimli and Strider. Gimli wolfed it down hungrily.

'Thanks, elf, just the stuff to keep in shape,' he burped happily. Legolas smiled at him. The smile was small, but his eyes beamed with mischief.

'Barrel-shape,' he blurted, while taking a small bite out of his lembas corner piece. Strider snickered at the comment, and Gimli laughed merrily. He nudged the man next to him with his elbow,

'The twig has humor, eh?' Strider nodded to the dwarf as he swallowed the rest of his lembas piece. He leaned back with his pipe and his eyes lingered on Legolas' form. The gentle smile, eyes hidden behind thick, dark lashes… If he just had smiled that way at me, I would die a happy man. Strider froze. These thoughts had slipped into his mind before, but they were not welcome. Musing on how he makes me feel will only make this worse, he thought, an attraction affecting me so much must be dangerous. The dwarf looked at his two friends. The elf had lied down to sleep. His right arm was draped across his chest, his palm on his heart. His eyes were open, but glazed, and flickered with movement as he dreamt. The dwarf knew he was beautiful, men he was not attracted to him. Gimli's thoughts lie only with the inviting bosom of his Dwarven wife and his little son waiting for him at home. But my immunity to his charms seems to have evaded Strider, Gimli noticed, seeing how the man was looking at the elf. Striders eyes were filled with some kind of pain caused by something unrequited. They all soon fell asleep, Strider's tired head as close as possible to Legolas' elbow.

As the moon stood its highest on the black skies, something happened. The statues on the middle of the clearing began to move, just slightly. The stone grated as the statues came alive, dust falling off them and forming foggy clouds in the process. They were statues of men, women and children, bigger than any human. They were armed, their faces sculpted without emotion. As the company slept, the statues walked about and suddenly drew nearer. Legolas was the first to wake up as he heard the grinding of stone limbs. He quickly rose from his bedding and surveyed the scene.

'Strider! Gimli! To your feet, something is happening,' he yelled, picking up his bow, quiver and daggers. The company hurried as the statues came closer. One of them stopped a couple of feet away from them. It raised its stone sword at Legolas. He ducked swiftly as it came crashing down at him, surprised at the sudden violent action. The stone sword splintered at the contact with the rocky ground, and Legolas rolled away. He quickly jumped up, shooting arrows at the statue up close. The arrows splintered at contact, breaking into useless pieces. Panic crossed his eyes for a moment as he stabbed at the statues with two silver daggers. The Ranger soon followed suit as he leaped at the statues that were attacking Legolas, coming to his aid with his sword drawn. The dwarf followed closely behind Strider, picking up his axe and lashing out at the statues.

Legolas was grabbed and tossed by the statue of a large woman. He landed heavily on his shoulder and tumbled further, avoiding being stepped on by another statue. The statues towered over them. Gimli was the shortest of them all, but that didn't stop him from chopping away at the legs of his statues. Of all the weapons, his did the most damage. Dwarven axes are made to chop stone, he thought happily, they are not useless like soft elven daggers or the Rangers steel sword. The latter thought brought him pain, as his friends struggled to defend themselves. A statue hit Strider with a stone fist, targeting his abdomen. He bent over in pain and was caught off guard by a large stone hand grabbing him around his neck. It swung its sword at him, and he barely dodged it. The statue raised its hand to strike again; this time Strider was caught in its vice like grip, unable to fight or flee. As Legolas was evading stabs himself, he saw in the corner of his eyes what was happening to the man. Strider looked back at him as Legolas tried to slide between the open legs of a statue. In the progress, the statue stomped down on him. With a loud crack, the foot of the statue struck his hand. Legolas let out a high-pitched shriek, almost feral, as blood spluttered out of his crushed hand.

'Legolas!' Strider screamed at him, but the elf was hearing poorly. The blood was running out of him, clotting his ears and compromising his eyesight. His heart was beating quicker than normal, rushing the blood through his body and some out of his mangled hand. The only thing he saw was fog that closed in on him and a man watching him, screaming. The statue was about to thrust the stone sword into this man, which would be his certain death. Legolas summoned the last of his strength and ran towards Strider. In the last second he pushed him out of harms way, out of the statue's grip. At the same time, the dwarf was hurled into another statue's back, falling hurt to the ground after the painful hit. Strider saw all this, helpless as another statue had thrown him to the ground, grabbing him by his throat. His sword was shattered into several pieces, and could aid him no more. The cold, stone hands were pressing painfully down on his throat, choking him. The remains of Legolas' arrows were poking him in the back as he was suffocating, slowly slipping away into darkness.

The last thing he saw was the stone sword being pierced through Legolas' back, resurfacing through his abdomen. This time, the elf made no scream, no sound at all. His eyes were not closed, but glazed over with pain. His mouth was slightly open with blood slowly pouring out of the corner of his lips as he coughed. Strider tried to scream, but no voice could be heard. Gimli was on his feet again, frantically stabbing at the stone forms. The man reached for the lifeless elf, but touched nothing. The sounds of struggle and pain followed him as he slipped into darkness.

To be continued.

An ngell nîn – please

Gondren – of stone