Dark Forest
By Anarithilien

Part Four: When Worlds Unite
Chapter Fifty-Two: Pure of Heart

Gimli entered the wood carefully, mindful of the long reach of the trees around him. He had only faith to go on that Thranduil had been successful in his part of their venture.

There had been an absence of sound to tell him otherwise. In this the Ring was offering him nothing of a clue. Going forth was the only way he was going to know with any certainty that they could continue in their rescue.

As he crossed the forest threshold, moving from light into dark, he considered the methods of their plan. It had been Treebeard who had pointed out Thranduil's remarkable resemblance to his son, and it had also been the tree lord who explained the ways of Ents and Huorns. Gimli already knew the Ents had difficulty discerning the nuance differences between two-legged creatures, but it had never occurred to him to have Thranduil play the part of Legolas as a means of deceiving the forest's guards. Still, even if such a thing worked, Gimli had found it hard to imagine the Huorns wouldn't recognize that some time had gone by since he and Legolas had entered their wood or that they had done this before. "Will they not decipher that we have been here weeks past?" he had asked.

"The keepers of the forest pay little attention to time. It is because we are so long-lived. A season is little different than a day to my brethren," Treebeard had explained in his long, slow way.

And so it was decided that he and Thranduil should replicate the events that lead to Legolas and Gimli's entrance to the wood.

"The forest guards will not perceive that this is a repetition of events either," Treebeard replied. "They will think it all as a dream."

"I do not understand," Thranduil had interjected. "Why would they not know the difference between dream and reality?"

"Trees sleep. That is the greatest of their occupations. And with that comes dream. But I would not expect you to know, as Elves do not dream as others might," Treebeard had said in long, slow answer, speaking to Thranduil. Each syllable was drawn out, lengthened in the cadence that was his way of speaking. He had then turned his eyes on the dwarf,

Gimli squirmed under the scrutiny of the Ent's deep gaze. He shrugged, dismissing the sudden attention, "Why do you look to me?"

"Hroom hoom," the Ent chuckled. "The Firstborn do not rest as you do, Master Gimli Gloinson Dwarf. They are unique in the way they sleep." Of course Gimli knew this for he could recall many a night that he had watched Legolas sleep in the strange manner of elves. During much of the quest in fact, Legolas had slept with his eyes open, ever aware. Too, he could do this while carrying out tasks, though he was somewhat less sure-footed, eyes slightly glazed, words slurring, when he did. But he could carry on and be fully aware in a heartbeat. Sleeping yet awake, that's how Gimli saw it.

Treebeard continued in his lumbering drawl, "For you it is unusual the way they sleep; and for them too, the way you sleep is strange. But you are more Ent-like than the elves in this, for you dream. An elf," Treebeard looked at Thranduil, "knows nothing of dreams for he never does dream. And so it must be explained to Thranduil-King. As one who dreams, tell us now, Master Dwarf: might you recall ever having a dream that repeats again and again, that perhaps alters and changes each time it occurs?"

Gimli did not need to think long on this for indeed he was a dwarf blessed with vivid dreams as Treebeard asked. He had the ability to dream the same dream over and over again. He could even change the outcome of the dream if he put his mind to it. He nodded his head.

The Ent seemed to expect this. "Weeks have gone by since you came to my woods last, this is true," Treebeard said. "But for an Ent or Huorn or Tree, that time is merely the span of a dream. The sentries will think only that their dream repeats."

It still seemed a risk to Gimli to enter the woods by the means Treebeard proposed. They were creating a charade. At the same time he acknowledged he would use whatever means of trickery he could if it meant helping Legolas.

The plan was simple. Gimli and Thranduil would enter the wood posing as the elf and dwarf from weeks back. In this they could infiltrate with the least amount of attention for in the Ent's eyes they were small and unobtrusive. Once in, their goal was to return to Mithtaur's realm and spy out Legolas's position. They were then to return to the river to meet with Galadriel and Treebeard, who would enter from the direction of the Ent lord's home. Sweettree and Celeborn would follow as soon as they could.

So far, the plan seemed to be working though Gimli also had to admit that he feared the great forest, especially now that he knew first hand the strength of the tree-creatures. One rogue Huorn was all they needed for their plans to fail.

While he still had light to see, Gimli glanced behind one last time. It was full morning now just as it had been when he had wandered into the woods those weeks back in search of Legolas. Thranduil had departed in the night to face more of the dark, but Gimli would be leaving light to face the dark and he did not relish this act. Yet his friend needed him and that had more power than any anxieties he might bear.

Arod cried out an encouraging whinny. Or at least Gimli perceived it to be. The horse might have been saying good riddance of him for all he knew, but he preferred to believe they had mended their ways. Indeed, he was growing quite fond of the horse. The dappled stallion shook his head before kicking up his heels and trotting off to the river edge. But the animal drew his head up to watch the dwarf, and Gimli could not help but think Arod would enter the wood if the dwarf bid him to. And yet he also seemed to perceive their purpose and did not try to follow. The horse would not be traveling with him, instead keeping watch in the fields, just as he had the last time they had been there. Gimli hoped he would not be needed in the same capacity this time around.

Under the eaves of the forest, he shuddered, drawing in on himself. The noise created by the trees was greater than when he had first come upon the forest in pursuit of two hobbits, and it was certainly louder than when he and Legolas had ventured this path before. Booming creaks and groans followed him as he passed. Overhead the branches of the trees, crisscrossed and merged, created a roof of precarious mass. He looked up as he walked, seeing little sky despite the absence of leaves on the trees; the branches and the detritus that settled upon them all but obliterated any sign of world above the treetops.

This had been Gimli's argument from the start and one that had fed hours of arguing between himself and Legolas. The dwarf would not hesitate to step into a cave, thousands of tons of stone balanced on walls built by fissures or tunneled by underground streams, their stability tentative at best. But here, in this wood, in any wood, he felt wary, the possibility of those heavy branches crashing down on him, lancing him by just the breath of a wind, frightened the dwarf. And in Fangorn, the whim of a malevolent Huorn could do the same. That was even more frightening.

He remembered the thickness of the air the last time he had entered these woods. The weather had made it partly that way. Today it was the tension that kept the air tight.

He found his fingers playing with the Ring then from within the confines of his pocket and he was glad; It gave him calm. 'Vaenduzk,' It sang to him. More times than he could keep count in a day's passing he'd found his hand seeking It in his pocket and he felt better for It.

Yet he knew too that Frodo had been called by the One Ring in much the same way. The Hobbit had resisted that. Why was he able to do what the Dwarf could not?

But Frodo did not resist, not entirely, Gimli recalled. In the end the Hobbit had succumbed to the One Ring's lure. Had it not been for Gollum, the fate of this Middle-Earth might have been something different. But all that while, Frodo had remained true to the Quest. Gimli wanted to believe he was doing the same. His Ring did not seem to be driving him to a dark purpose, or at least none that he perceived.

It is because he was pure of heart, Gimli thought. And that was it, Gimli realized, for he knew that the more horrors Frodo was exposed to, the more difficulty he had resisting the Ring.

I must hold to my heart, Gimli said to himself. If It is determined that I wear It, I must remain true. Else I am no better than my kin before me.

He marched on into the deep, moans and groans mounting thickly around him as he attempted to follow the course he had once set. His path was not a straight line, and he realized now that he was meandering, that some of his previous trail was obscured. The markers he had established - rocks, mounds, exposed earth where a felled tree had opened the ground - were still there, but trees had moved or shifted. Not everything was as it had been, and most certainly the sound was changed. Still, he was able to wind his way to the river and he hoped Thranduil had done the same.

xxx

A considerable time passed. Hours. It was more than Gimli thought would be needed for them to meet up, and he began to wonder of Thranduil's safety. They had agreed to meet near the first bend in the river, but upon arriving at that place, Gimli had seen no sign of the elf and had slowly begun to move past. "Legolas," he called, just as he had back then. With no answer, he moved on, calling again and again as he began to panic.

"I had begun to think I would have to make this journey alone. You tarried long. Will this do as a meeting place?" Thranduil's rich voice startled the dwarf a few minutes later.

He jumped and then cursed. And then he sighed in relief. The elf was safe. Still, he growled beneath his breath, irritated that he had been taken off guard. Surprising him was a game Legolas oft played and he saw now it was a trait the elf's sire seemed to share.

Determined not to show his discomfiture, he turned around. "Good," he said. "Then you are sound. And I did not tarry; you are simply further away than I thought you might be. You could have made sound so I might find you." But he shook his head in further surprise when he turned to see no one behind him.

A noise from above made him cast his eyes that way.

"Should it be sound like this? Why, dwarf? Had you worry for me?" Standing on a tree limb some half dozen meters above was Thranduil, looking more like Legolas than Gimli could have imagined. The elf king's hair flowed loosely about his shoulders though, and his jerkin was a deeper green than Legolas wore. Still, the build of their bodies and the irksome laughter in their smiles made the two elves comparatively alike.

Gimli harrumphed, hiding his unwilling smile behind his beard, but he couldn't disguise the laughter that sparked in his eyes. Thranduil was alive and well. And to boot he was in a tree. That was the last thing he would have expected.

"You are not a Wood Elf," he said, more in reply to the question, but the words served as admonishment too for the queer behavior. He would never have suspected Thranduil to be a tree-climber. The elf seemed too proud, too arrogant for that.

Thranduil glanced down at his feet, as if noticing for the first time that he was perched in in the branches. He cocked his brow regally as he met the dwarf's eyes. "I may not be Silvan in blood, but I rule those people and know their ways. Besides, I am doing my part to act as my son would," he said defensively, not yet spying the dwarf's amusement.

"Legolas would have stood higher in the tree's limbs," Gimli pointed out, enjoying the elf's consternation.

"As would I," Thranduil agreed. He murmured something to the tree on which he leant. Slowly it groaned, and then it moved, bending itself so he might gently leap off. "But as you can see, this is not a tree."

Gimli drew back in the wake of the tree's movement, still quite aware that these creatures were dangerous. At this moment he wished he had his axe. He ducked so as not to be thrashed by the looming branches, but then sighed as the large creature moved away.

"It is a Huorn," Thranduil said casually.

Gimli frowned. "My thanks to you for clarifying that point," the Dwarf replied sarcastically, his anxiety apparent as he watched the tree creature resume its previous shape. Of course it was a Huorn! He knew that!

And though it was after the fact, in fact he had known. He wondered at that, and barely thinking on it, he directed his gaze to another Huorn, nodding at it to prove his knowledge. He said to the elf, "As is that one."

"You know this, do you?" the Elf asked smirking, but he reached out all the same to the tree, and then drew his hand back when that fact was confirmed.

"I do," Gimli replied imperially though it seemed a mystery to him as to how he accomplished this. What had possessed him to be so sure? All the forest keepers looked nearly identical to him. But indeed he did know, for he could feel the tree-creature's feet digging into the earth,

And then he remembered. The Ring! And he realized he now donned It. Yet he was wearing It without intending to do so. He cursed as he pulled It from his finger.

"Perhaps you can tell me then: do Huorns forbid climbing?" Thranduil asked, not perceiving that Gimli was laboring against the jewel. "It would not allow me to venture further into its branches. I find that curious."

That fact drew Gimli's attention though he did not put aside his consternation at the Ring. "I do not know their minds. Could you not just ask it why that is?" Gimli suggested. "You are an elf after all. You speak their language."

"As you point out, I am no Wood-Elf. Speaking with trees does not come so easy to me as it does my son. Even so, the Huorns do not reply when I ask questions of them," Thranduil replied, his brow drawn in thought and Gimli noticed the etched lines of worry that further marred the elf's expression. Thranduil looked fatigued and anxious. Still he showed the same curiosity Legolas possessed. Dire circumstance or not, the elf wondered much of this world. And as if to prove this, he asked, "Were the Huorns of the forest like this when you and Legolas ventured forth?"

"I was not even aware that these trees were Huorns then," Gimli said, gazing about him unsurely. "The Ring seems to give me sense of them. Yet even now, outwardly I see so little difference in how they look." Inwardly though, Gimli could sense them, so long as he wore the Ring at least.

"I can say the same," Thranduil commented, his expression softening and eyes growing distant as he listened. "And their voices are much alike to that of tree too."

"Do they understand our words?" Gimli asked, wondering how much they were espied.

The elf shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. His golden hair fell behind his shoulders with the sweep of his head as he did so, and his eyes, piercing green, came to focus on the dwarf. Again Gimli noted here in the shadows the similarity this elf shared with Legolas. The only outward difference was that Thranduil seemed agitated and the dwarf attributed that to his fears for his son. Gimli could sympathize. He felt the same. "I think not. In fact they pay us little attention. Fangorn said it would be as much and I am pleased to find he was right. We may not recognize on sight the differences between the Huorns and Trees, but the same is true for them to us," the elf said once again touching one of the trunks in much the same manner as Legolas did. Gimli knew that gesture meant he was trying to hear them.

"But you do understand what they say, do you not?" Gimli asked.

"I do. It makes little sense though. They speak of daily life," the elf answered, his eyes closing as if that made his understanding clearer.

"Daily life? Why is that odd?" Gimli asked.

After a moment, the elf opened his eyes and focused them on his hand resting on the trunk. He bowed his head, his brow creasing deeply. "They speak of daily life as if they were like us. Two-legged," Thranduil clarified, looking then at Gimli. He pointed to the Huorn he had been standing in. "This one speaks of working in a kitchen. And over here, the Huorn speaks of hunting."

This time it was Gimli's turn to frown. "I do not think they did that before. At least Legolas did not say anything of it, and I think he would have if they had. In fact, the trees seem much noisier now than they were when we walked here before."

Thranduil said nothing then, but it was clear he was considering that bit of news. The Elf's head lifted then, and he turned sharp eyes on the dwarf, his agitation returned. "And now we linger and my heart grows anxious once more. We should move on, but I dare not venture too deeply too fast. Fangorn is yet needed. Perhaps he can puzzle out these mysteries. Still, I must show you another curiosity before we go on. I wonder if this too was in place when last you visited here."

Thranduil walked further down their path, maintaining the course along the river. He turned, looking back at the dwarf, waiting to see if he would follow. When Gimli did, he nodded, letting the dwarf pass him by a few meters and when they had walked some fifty or so strides, he placed a palm on the dwarf's shoulder to halt him.

"Watch this now," the elf said, and Gimli did as Thranduil started back down the trail from which they had traveled. If Gimli had not been watching he might have missed it. A tree suddenly seemed to sidle into the elf's path. Thranduil paused, but then began to circle past. It was not to happen as a branch then swept down, brushing Thranduil back. The sweeping motion was not violent, but that did not mean it couldn't be. Thranduil took a step further away, circling from a different way, and this time he was swatted back by a completely different tree. The elf dodged the bulk of the branch, but it was clear the creature did not want him going back toward the entrance of the wood.

The elf then glanced back at the dwarf and said impishly, "These would be Huorns."

"Clearly," Gimli replied, but that was not the point.

Gimli started forward but the elf came to him, brushing his fingers over the trunks as he went. He was not halted as he progressed away from the exiting path. "It seems I am meant to go this way," he said, pointing deeper into the wood.

The implication was before them then and Gimli tested it. Would they be allowed to leave? He too walked a reverse of their path. However, he did not wait for the trees to halt him; they moaned a warning and he simply heeded.

Though he appeared distracted and clearly wanting for the sake of his son, Thranduil chuckled. "I think the path for both of us has been determined."

"I do not like this," Gimli muttered, but then admitted, "yet I cannot claim it was different before. Legolas and I did not backtrack. Do we dare go on if we are not to turn back? How can we meet with Treebeard and the Lady if we cannot return to this place?"

Thranduil's amusement ended there. "I will not be kept from my son. Perhaps you should stay and let them know that I traveled on."

"You think I would stay? My concern for Legolas is equal to yours. I would not be stayed. Besides, between the two of us, I know the direction we are meant to go," Gimli replied.

"The Huorns point the way. I do not need you to lead me," Thranduil retorted.

"And I will not be left behind!" Gimli shouted and the argument ended there. Only it did not. Nothing had been resolved. The fact remained that the forest keepers were barring their exit and their progress was being stymied by their fear of not being able to return to this point.

Gimli growled as he considered their choices. And then he wondered if these barred passes were limited to Huorns, or if trees were involved too. He stretched his senses then, seeking out only a tree - a real tree. He could recognize the Huorns by the shallowness of their roots, for they could move. Trees, on the other hand, delved deep and they did not flex their roots as the Huorns did.

And then he found one and he chose to try there to see if he would be blocked as well. Starting to move to it, a Huorn abruptly moved to block him. The motion surprised him, for he could feel it below more than see it above. To his eye, all that could be seen was a shift in the tree creature's position and a small wake in the earth.

He stepped back, brow furrowing. But trying a different route, the Huorn followed. He stepped again, trying to move around the creature to reach that sole tree, but the Huorn seemed to have an interest in preventing him passage. Angered, he growled, ire spiking as he tightened his hands into a fist. The earth rumbled subtly and this time he found the Huorn backed away.

Startled, Gimli stumbled back. "What goes here?" Thranduil asked.

"Did I do that?" the dwarf asked. He focused his mind on the ground once again and the soil there churned. His eyes widened and he found his heart racing in surprise.

Thranduil too seemed stunned. "Is this the power of the Ring? Do you wear It now?"

Gimli glanced down at his hand then. He was shaking his head, but clearly the Ring was there, contradicting his answer. But of course It was, for he had noted the difference in the tree-beings around them, hadn't he? Why had he not realized then that the Ring had once more found Its way to his finger? He cursed, growling. Had he not pulled It off before? "I cannot keep This," he muttered.

But Thranduil was not hearing him. In a soft voice that was filled with awe he said, "I have never seen It work as you demonstrate It here! This is good, do you not think? Perhaps it is right that the Ring is held by you. Clearly you have a natural affinity for It." He stepped closer to the dwarf and placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder. "What more can you do with It?"

The dwarf shook his head. His heart was racing from the fright of his suddenly discovered power. "I dare not experiment to know." And then repeating he said, "I cannot keep It."

"But you must," the elf blustered. "This is how we return! We can use this, Master Dwarf! Do you not see?"

"No, I do not!" the dwarf shouted, surprising himself with the volatility of his reply. But he justified his reaction: he did not like that the Ring had asserted Itself so.

"It appears the Ring gives you power to move earth in a way equal to the Huorns. You have obviously chased that one away." He nodded to the tree creature now many yards away. "We now have a means to return to this place."

The assurance stirred the dwarf's heart, for it was becoming clear that they were making discoveries that could help them. It was his turn to feel a pang of worry at his heart. Legolas was somewhere in this wood and he was alive; they knew this. But now the possibility was mounting that his friend was being hindered from leaving. Somehow he was a prisoner, a hostage of the wood. There was no proof of that yet, only mounting evidence. But the Ring could help them return to report that fact. They must now find his friend. But Gimli could not help hesitating. Was it not also a horror that the Ring had found Its way to his finger once more without his knowledge? And further one that Gimli did not register the change when It was there?

The closeness of their friendship had made it so that at times Legolas could read his thoughts, and here Thranduil seemed to do the same. "You fear It," the elf said, his hand lightly resting on the dwarf's shoulder as strands of his light hair lifted with the touch of a breeze. He looked ethereal, otherworldly and utterly unafraid.

"I did not place It here, Thranduil!" Gimli warned as he waved his hand about. He knew the elf could not see the Ring, but Gimli was sure he understood what he meant.

The elf frowned, sighing. He seemed to be trying to find words to justify what he felt, and Gimli knew he understood the dwarf's recalcitrance. "It... It will do that," Thranduil nodded contritely. "I fear this was not something I could control either. It will try to take control. It wants a purpose. You must be on your guard."

"On my guard? I must be more than that...It is sinister, Thranduil!" the dwarf argued, pulling It off. "How did you bear It all those years? I should not have agreed to take It!"

"I bore It because I thought I could do good with It. And in some ways I did. Not always, but at times. Yet now I see that in your presence I had not a place with this Passion. I wielded it poorly," Thranduil admitted. Gimli felt his heart quake, for he did not know what he should do. Seeing his frustration, Thranduil bowed down onto bent knee so he was looking up at the dwarf. "I am not sure you have a choice, Gloinson for there is no other who can wield it as you. The Ring was made for your kind and you have the power to use It. But I understand your hesitance, your fear. I can help you, Gimli," Thranduil offered.

"How?" Gimli asked warily. He was touched by the offer, but he was also suspicious.

"I will serve as your keeper to protect you from It. Accept that It will seek out your hand so long as you grow preoccupied. You must remain aware of It. But should I see the darkness imbued in this stone start to pervade you, I will warn you. I will help you, for I know too what It will speak to you."

"You have a poor history from which to assure me," Gimli argued feeling sudden bitterness and agitation.

"I have a history I need to amend. I have damaged too many with my actions." Once more, a look of despair marred the elf's face as the corners of his mouth turned down and Gimli read his regrets. He pointed to the jewel in Gimli's hand then. "But I do not believe it was the Ring that did this. I think it was my heart that was corrupted. My anger and resentment lived in me long before I accepted the Ring. You are different, Master Dwarf. You are pure and true," the elf said, his eyes sparkling in something akin to admiration.

Gimli found it difficult to believe the elf king was praising him, and more so using the same words Gimli had ascribed to Frodo.

Yet could Gimli believe he had the skills to master It? This was a minor Ring, he knew, but he was beginning to doubt Its redemption as he had previously thought. It was wily and imbued with more mischief than he had previously thought. The surprise of It was not something the dwarf appreciated. He did not like losing control and it was becoming clear that he was no Frodo.

But the elf's pledge had effect and something told Gimli that possessing the Ring was going to be important, even if it did create reason to pause. Still, the dwarf had to consider. Thranduil indeed had long experience with It and would know when he was straying even if Gimli could not detect It. The dwarf found himself nodding his head in agreement. He opened his hand and, with hesitancy, fingered the Ring. And then swallowing his fears, he nodded. When the time was right, he would don It. "I will hold you to this, Elf. I expect you to safeguard me. This is not my idea."

The elf then straightened and nodded his head, and Gimli realized Thranduil had silently been holding his breath. There was much at stake for them and the fate of this Ring was something that weighed on them too. Like it or not, the Ring was their responsibility.

Thranduil spoke. "I have no gift of foresight, but I believe It will help us. Too many years have been vested in It for It not to have some merit. You are meant to wear It. Keep It close."

And then the long-limbed elf cast his gaze out, as if seeking the next obstacle, and Gimli read the deep anxiety in Thranduil's soul. His heart ached for knowledge of his son. "You feel him still?" Gimli asked.

The elf's face shifted and Gimli could read the answer in his expression. "Is this the direction we should go?" Thranduil replied, pointing to the route ahead as if none of the previous conversation had transpired.

Gimli nodded in answer, taking the refusal to answer his question answer in itself. His own raw worry guided him. Together they continued into the dark.

xxx

They walked for the next hours without conversation and Gimli found himself experimenting with the Ring in the quiet places of their trek. He didn't know if the trees sensed him and his exploration, but there was a quiet here that did not occur in their earlier encounter. But if the trees noticed something different, he did not. The only thing he noticed was that the sensations of the earth were clearer to him when he wore It. But as they went on he could feel more and more of the ground around them, and as they mounted the final rise of the land, coming at last upon the place where he and Legolas had sheltered in the hollow of the tree, he noticed even more.

They paused for a moment at that former resting place, and Gimli saw Thranduil's eyes go wide as he appreciated the resonant sense of his son's former presence in this place.

Leading the way, Gimli walked into the small hollow he and Legolas had rested in. He saw that their weapons were just as they had been left. This told him Legolas had never returned to that spot and he found that disappointing. Sighing with regret, he pondered what this meant for Legolas as he donned his helm and mail, strapping on his weapons, feeling the weight of his axe once more in his hand. He could only imagine Legolas would feel naked without his bow. But that he had not returned to get it told him the elf could not return.

Removing himself from the hold then and looking further up the rise, he found his senses opened, as if something great was present. An inexplicable feeling, something akin to a yearning, was pulling him in that direction. He decided they should followed his feelings.

He looked at Thranduil who fingered Legolas's bow and quiver, running his eyes over the handle of his son's knife. Sorrow showed in the corners of his face and Gimli could see the depth of his regret as the elf drew a hand to his heart, his head bowed. The dwarf knew the effect of elven remorse, and he could not let Thranduil dwell upon his aches.

"He is here," Gimli said to Thranduil and he saw the elf lift his head as if trying to discern just that fact. And then Thranduil drew a deep breath and nodded, seemingly pushing aside his regret as if he too recognized Legolas's presence. "Follow me," the dwarf commanded as he watched Thranduil shoulder his son's bow and quiver for their venture.

Gimli led the way once more, his concentration increasing as he chose the path going uphill to the lake. It was as if his feet were guiding him, but in truth he knew it was the Ring. He sensed It was drawn forward, and somehow a connection existed between his Passion and this place. Overriding the stone, he could have gone back to the ledge where he and Legolas parted, where Legolas had told him Narvi and the Mírnen elves had been buried alive, where they had tumbled down the cliff face to the swollen river. But he did not for he sensed nothing of his friend there. Yes, indeed, the Rind did have powers. It was the lake he must seek, he was certain. It was almost as if he could feel a presence there. Was this the same as the Song Thranduil claimed to hear?

He had nothing to measure from so had to assume it so. He could feel Legolas's being though he could sense nothing of what Legolas felt. And perhaps that was the difference between his power and the innate connection of Thranduil to his son. Here too was another strength they could wield, Gimli thought, and he came to liken their joined powers to weapons they would use in the hard fight.

But he was no fool. He halted Thranduil before they made the last climb. "We must be wary," he said. "Legolas came here and Greywood became enraged with his trespass. We cannot be seen lest that part of the past repeat as well."

They made it to the crest of the ridge coming from the northwest. Keeping within the shadows of the wood, Gimli looked out upon the remnants of what had at one time been the settlement of Mírnen. Before them lay the grey unmoving mass of the formerly known Jeweled Lake. His eyes searched for his friend on the opposite shore, as did his heart. He saw nothing. But he could feel, and so he turned his senses there.

The lake was not of tremendous size, less than ten acres he would guess, but that was still large enough to support an island at its heart. Treed by willows, it was shrouded with the brown drape of late-falling leaves. They obscured his view. Nothing seemed to move nor was there great sound, and with that modest calm he stepped forward so as to glance further about.

At the lake shore to his left was a large clearing of bramble that amassed between the water's edge and the cliff, looking out onto the plains. The ground on the flat was trampled and uneven, as if marched upon by a den of trolls, but it seemed newly done with branches snapped to show new wood. He knew below the precipice was the cliff where he and Legolas had attempted to flee the mad Ent. If he looked there now he expected the remnants of the mudslide that had taken them to the river still existed. And somewhere there too was the grave of Narvi and all the elven colonists who had fled Sauon's destruction.

Opposite was the westward lee of forest and mountains, and he could hear the sound of a spring trickling fresh water from the higher plains into a near pool. Without moving, he spotted the singing brook and recognized it to be an Ent spring. He remembered the Ent feast and the hospitable bounty they had been supplied, as well as the free access to Sweetree's well from which he and Legolas drank. He remembered that font's inebriating effect and suspected this must be Greywood's draught. At that feast he had learned that all Ents had one.

And then he turned south so he was again looking at the lake, this time giving it greater inspection. His nose wrinkled at the rank smell of it. Within its brown depths he saw fungal growth. It broke the water surface and reminded him of pussy wounds. His stomach turned at the sight. Poison, he immediately thought as he stared into the water, believing the liquid a remnant of the evil cast upon these woods by Sauron. Long those years were, but the effect of the Dark Lord's attack could still be seen and felt.

He eyed the Ent spring again, thinking of this lingering darkness. The small trickle of water running from the mountains seemed clear and pure. But he also noticed that the stream split, half merging with the water of the lake, half flowing into the Ent's drink pool. Overflow from the lake also trickled into the pool, and Gimli regarded the merged water with concern and realization. That must be what Greywood drinks! he thought. No wonder that he is half mad if that is his draught! A stream carried the overflow down the slopes and Gimli imagined that if he followed the sound of it he would find it emptied into the river at the base of the wall. Poison mixed with purity, he thought, shaking his head. The water from the river would carry the lake water outward and onward toward the sea, and he supposed it dissipated the foulness over the course of distance and time. That calmed him, for he would hate to think of these remnants of Sauron's evil tainting the world beyond. Beyond on the Celebrant, the darkness was healed.

Yet here, the lake water was undiluted, and he had no doubt it was the source of this wood's sickly state.

Gimli studied the lake again. He saw the still surface of the water reflect the clear sky. But his brow furrowed as he realized that though the day was grand, the sun high and bright, in that mirrored glass of water, the witchery of this place disconcertingly shone the world as something dismal and grey. He was startled by this. Was it just the optics of looking into sickly pool that created the effect?

He wondered that he had not noticed it before; he started to say as much to Thranduil but something choked the words in his throat. A new sense stirred in him. It was a feeling of familiarity and longing that came upon him suddenly. Simultaneously he felt suddenly dizzy and overwhelmed. The pounding in his heart grew and his arms became heavy. His fingertips tingled and he found his breath hard to draw. Something was wrong! He could not move. And more, he could not turn away. A vibration, an agitation moved him. And the longer, the deeper he looked into the waters of the lake, the more it grew. His eyes were transfixed by the illusion of the lake's reflection while his stomach twisted. The sense of familiarity solidified as his breath quickened.

Thranduil stepped forward suddenly and gasped. That was enough to break the spell, and stumbling back, Gimli weakly looked at the elf. Thranduil seemed not to notice the dwarf's ill state. Instead he was gaping out at the island. Gimli followed the elf's eyes.

There was movement now, and the low rumble of the wood about them resumed as the trees on the island began to sway. Rocking and turning, the willows that resided on that opposing shore began to trade positions. The curtains of their branches began to open, and Gimli could see into the heart of that land. At their center stood Mithtaur, and cradled in his arms lay an unmoving figure.

"Legolas," Thranduil murmured.

But neither Gimli's eyes nor his heart could focus on what Thranduil said. Unwillingly, his gaze was pulled away to the strange water. Something there was drawing him and he was lost to it, compelled to obey the force it had over him. He could not look away.

He could not look away.

TBC