Dark Forest
By Anarithilien
Part Four: When Worlds Unite
Chapter Fifty-Four: Ill-Conceived Plans
As far as Thranduil was concerned, he was fast running out of options. In his mind he had three that he could call upon, but in all honesty he had not thought he would need more than the one he had originally pursued. As he made his way through the wood it was becoming abundantly clear that that was not true.
He ran, letting his legs carry him on a zigzag pattern through the wood, hoping that at any moment the sweeping brush of branches would be at his back. Or better, before him. He longed to feel the quaking shudder of the earth rumbling as Ent feet followed him. In fact, it was what he had counted on, but it was obvious he had misread the situation. Neither the Huorns nor their master followed.
That left him his two other choices. He could either turn back and confront Mithtaur directly, or he could keep running to the point of rendezvous with Galadriel and Fangorn back at that first bend in the river. He was not keen on the first choice for Mithtaur was even more unpredictable than the Huorns he ruled, and Thranduil feared what the Ent would do to Legolas should Thranduil startle or overwhelm him. But the second option appealed to him even less for he had pledged to Gimli that he would draw Mithtaur away; he was certain the dwarf would not cater well to such a dramatic change of plans especially given that the dwarf was now left to try and get Legolas out of there. Besides, he was so near achieving his goals and he was not about to desert his son to seek out the safer way after all he had done to reach him.
He stopped where he was and looked at the wood about him. Running his hand over the trunk of the nearest tree he determined it was indeed a Huorn. Desperately, in a moment of pique, he gave vent to his frustration. "Heed me!"
His words hung in the air like a cloud, stymied and made leaden by the heavy limbs of the trees. Yet he was making noise and it was liberating to realize it. He was willing then to sacrifice the stealth he had previously coveted, for he recognized that any noise could draw the attention of Mithtaur. Realizing that this was an option he hadn't earlier considered, he railed at the wood about him. "Awake! Awake!" he shouted to the circle about him. "Awake, you cursed sluggards! You do your jobs poorly! Awake!"
And then he waited.
Nothing.
Cursing, he continued his litany of abuse. "You forbade me to climb before! If I go there now will you dare stop me? I think you are too dim to even notice that I could be escaping — or worse, seeking out the aid of the lord of all these woods." Perhaps that will do it, he thought. And up he went into the branches of the unmoving forest guardian before him.
Still nothing.
"Why do you not react?" he cried out plaintively.
He sought the next tree then, continuing his rant as he did. "If this one will not react, perhaps another might." And then he leapt.
But when nothing more happened next he cried out, "Stop me, damn you!" He had been certain of his plans, certain that the trees would try to do exactly that. "Stop me!" he repeated as he leapt again, landing in the next tree and then petulantly stomping his feet when nothing happened. He climbed higher. "Why will you not pay me heed?" he shouted in renewed frustration.
Each tree looked the same but his fingers grazed their trunks. These were Huorns, each and every one of them, but they acted like trees. They acted like they were timid.
"I must try. I must try. For Legolas's sake," he continued. And then deciding that there would be no better means of drawing the Ent away, he shouted, "Mithtaur! Mithtaur, come!" He pushed the option of fleeing to find Galadriel and Treebeard completely from his mind completely. "Mithtaur, come notice me!"
A smile settled on his face as he reconciled himself to his newest idea. He had no doubts about what he was about to do. He turned around on the branch to glance the direction back to the lake.
It was then that he was snatched from his perch.
xxxxxx
Gimli waited for some kind of sign so he could venture forth, but nothing happened. He glanced past the brush, eyes tracking the wandering figure of Greywood before daring gaze back to his friend. Left out in the open meadow, alone, Legolas rested still against a rock. His eyes were open and they were exploring the sky but they were also vacant, as if lost in reverie. And then his head dropped back as if it was too heavy to hold.
"Legolas," he whispered, regretting that he did not yet feel safe to move. But Legolas's head lifted, gazing out in the direction to which Gimli hid though he appeared not to see the dwarf.
He heard a shout in the distant woods and Gimli guessed it was Thranduil's attempt to gain the Ent's attention. Greywood, moaned and Gimli felt a moment of fright for both himself and Thranduil. He had not forgotten the power of that old Ent or the madness that influenced his actions. Greywood turned and gazed about his surroundings, looking to and then past the place Gimli hid. The dwarf remained low enough to the ground and it seemed he went unnoticed. So too did Legolas, the Ent seeming to have forgotten him. There was another shout, and Gimli was certain Greywood would follow it, so obvious was it that there was someone roaming the woods. But the Ent seemed oblivious. A minute later he went back to his distant work, his lazy dreaming.
Was that all that was to come? It seemed a good idea on Thranduil's part but it clearly was not going to work. Something else would need to come. Gimli was ready to act. He could not remain as he was.
"Legolas!" he whispered.
The elf was a distance away but it was clear his hearing was good for he drew his eyes to follow Gimli's voice and this time he tracked him. He smiled, though the recognition was weak. "Gimli," he mouthed and the dwarf felt his heart lift. Legolas knew him!
But as encouraging as he found this, the truth was that Legolas looked horrible. His clothing was torn and his hair was in disarray. They had been through battles together but never had Legolas looked so unkempt. He was covered in dirt and scratches, and his eyes did not look right.
He waved to the elf. "It would be better if you came to me," he whispered, knowing the elf could hear him. But Legolas just laughed, turning his eyes instead to the sky. Apparently he did not agree.
"Very well then. I can only wait so long for your father to act though," Gimli muttered. Still there was no sign that the elf king was finding means to draw further attention from Greywood. All was quiet in the wood except for the soft music being sung by the Ent and some of the accompanying trees.
Gimli gazed beyond, keeping himself low to the land before cursing, "Smaug all mighty." Bereft of any other choice, he knew he must act alone. Perhaps if Thranduil could not draw the Ent away by other means, he would come back and offer Gimli help in this.
Evasively he ran, charging forward toward the elf. Legolas was murmuring words, but Gimli could not hear them. Instead he put his head down and ran.
He dove into the grass that Legolas lay in and not for the first time he thanked Mahal for gracing him with speed and stealth. His short stature made it easy for him to keep low, and his burly form gave him the outward appearance of a boulder not dissimilar to the one that Legolas leaned against. His elven cloak only helped to complete the illusion.
"At last! At last!" he gasped, reaching his hands out to brush Legolas's though he glimpsed over his shoulder to assure himself the Ent was not coming. And then bending low to Legolas, he spoke. "By rock and stone, what has come to you, my friend?" as he pressed a hand to his friend's fevered brow. Those had not been the words he had intended to say upon meeting with his friend, but now that the elf was before him, he could not keep himself from questioning what he saw. It was one thing to see his friend at a distance in obvious ill health; that had been frightening enough. Now Legolas was before him and he could see up close there was much wrong with him.
He pulled his hand away as he spotted what he thought might be the cause of his friend's illness. There was a tear in the elf's legging and blood both fresh and dried on the elf's clothing, deeply staining it. Wryly, the dwarf recognized that the injury was in the same place as that old wound Legolas had suffered as a youth. Gimli did not want to think on the repercussion of that for there were greater things to consider at the moment. With his heart pounding and his hands slightly shaking, he lifted the cloth of the torn garment and spied the gaping wound. He winced. Ragged and weeping, it looked as if the injury had come from a serrated blade, so wicked was the tear in the elf's flesh. But in truth, knowing what had come of them, he knew Legolas's hurt had to have come from the lance of Greywood delivering a spiky blow.
The leg was swollen and bruised, an unsightly mass in purple, red and brown. It had gone untreated and was clearly infected and festering, a smell of decay emanating from it. Gimli grimaced thinking of the ill such injury created. Of course, Legolas was an elf and that made him more resilient. Yet resiliency was not enough to stave off the effects of a wound untreated. After these weeks passing, Gimli was uncertain how Legolas still lived.
Glancing up, he saw that Legolas was gazing at him, smiling between short breaths as if amused, oblivious to his hurt. But his eyes were glassy and Gimli could not help feeling deep concern. He placed a light hand on his friend's hand when he saw he was trembling in his fever. Gimli had not realized how pale Legolas seemed from the distance. Now at his side he could see beyond the dirt. There was a blue, consumptive cast of his friend's lips, and high color in his cheeks.
Legolas blinked then and began to speak between his shallow breaths. But the words were just mutterings and the dwarf could not make them out, wondering if the elf had fallen back into his native tongue. The elf's eyes began to wander again. Gimli leaned forward, his intent earnest. "I know not what you are telling me, my friend. But I can share this of our plans - I am here to get you out," he said.
Legolas's gaze pierced him then as he said in a clear firm voice, "I do not need your help." His glassy eyes seemed to settle into focus in that moment. He said, "I am happy."
Gimli shook his head in disbelief. In his mind these words were of delirious ramblings.
"Hush, you do not mean that," he whispered as he lifted his head one last time to see if there might be any sign of Thranduil's return. He wished he knew what the elf planned to do for Gimli did not think he could retrieve his friend without help.
Greywood looked up then too as if he had heard a distant sound and Gimli quickly ducked below the height of the grass, grateful at that moment for the cloak Haldir had bestowed on him. The magic of the weave made him nearly invisible. The Ent scanned the area with a sweeping gaze before once going about his task.
Gimli sighed then, growing more and more frustrated by the absence of a distraction. He began to think that Legolas's rescue would be on him. But he could not say this to his sick friend. Instead he leaned forward and whispered, "Treebeard is coming. He will take command here. We're here to free you."
Again Legolas was speaking but his words were unintelligible. Gimli could not keep his worry away and he found himself frowning as he warily eyed Greywood once more. He silently wished the Ent away. Perhaps he would turn his back, or fall asleep? the dwarf thought as that wish did not seem to pass. It was obvious Legolas could not leave on his own two legs and it was also obvious Gimli would have to carry him. Such would not be a sight easily overlooked even if Gimli did wear an elven cloak.
And then Gimli was left to ponder the choices left to him if the Ent did not leave or turn his back or fall asleep. He had a plan, but he truly was unhappy with it. Of course it involved the Ring. Gimli was not sure he could wield It well enough to fight off a raging and charging Ent. He would prefer to avoid confronting Greywood if he could. That left him only with a potentially fatal choice.
He stared across the grass. In all directions but one there were Huorns. This was his route of escape.
From where he hid, it looked as if grass met sky. But he also knew that the drop at the edge of the meadow was actually an illusion; the flat land abutted the ridge just above the cliff where he and Legolas had once fled. And though he knew the ledge on which they stood was no longer there, having cascaded into the river below, he could not say the same was true for the upper cliff that he now looked to. The lake elevation was at least twenty yards above that lower slope. And though he recalled it to be a near vertical slope, he was certain he had spotted a foothold or two on which to stand at his last visit. If it came to it, he and Legolas could flee there, waiting it out until rescue came. It was a risk in that he did not know with certainty that a ledge existed, and he would still have to carry Legolas to that point, but the distance to that sanctuary was better than any the forest could offer. The Ent certainly would not be able to cross.
Still, these were lousy choices, immensely dangerous each.
Venting mildly to his recumbent friend, he muttered his thoughts. "Treebeard would do well to take command now if he is near and able. A little help from the locals might do us some good." Of course, he thought, a distraction from Thranduil would do better. But he told himself he must be patient. So long as he was unseen he would not rush what came next.
Legolas watched him, then began to shift his position. He softly moaned, his brow creasing with the pain he was clearly feeling and Gimli felt his uncertainty deepen. To move Legolas was going to be noisome for in his current state, he did not think the elf could refrain crying out. If only he could make Legolas aware.
Gimli felt for a pulse, wishing he knew enough of the healing arts to understand what that subtle, inconsistent beat might tell him. He could guess, he realized, for the heat of his friend's skin told him serious infection raged. He looked into the elf's eyes. They were half closed, distant. "You look wretched, " he affirmed with a whisper as he thought to himself that the healer was yet with Celeborn and was needed here. He wished they had insisted on bringing him along.
Whispered words were uttered by the elf, only they were more mouthed than spoken, but the elf's eyes traveled up and were fixed on him again. Gimli could only shake his head at the incomprehensible nonsense. He brushed a tendril of hair away. "I know not what you say," he whispered apologetically.
Legolas' head turned away then; his glassy eyes roved the sky. "...grew hops ... learned to brew ale." He smiled and then his head rolled to the side, eyes turning back to the dwarf. "I am happy here," he said once again.
It broke Gimli's heart how disoriented and unaware his friend was. Even before the accident that had separated them, Gimli had begun to see signs of losing his friend to the distraction of the sea. The sea-longing - cuivëar Legolas had called it - from time to time seemed to drive his friend into a daze. At the depth of it Gimli had detected an unfathomable ache lying behind the elf's eyes, and no pretense of merriment could disguise it. That is why Gimli had been so glad to see Legolas enjoying their visit with the Ents. The Entdraught truly seemed to alleviate the elf's ache. But the state he now found the elf in was not curative. He knew Legolas had consumed the draught, but the hazy, languorous world he now drowsed in was worse than that aching distraction. In cuivëar Gimli could draw Legolas back. But this drink seemed to have the elf trapped in an endless dream.
Still, the dwarf must try.
"Legolas, listen to me. Please. I see your eyes are open but I think you believe me unreal. Yet I am here and I come to rescue you. Do you understand? You have been languishing here for weeks now, cared by Greywood who somehow believes he serves you by feeding you his draught. None of what you see in your mind is real. You cannot be happy here because you have no existence here. You slowly die. Do you hear me? You slowly die by remaining as you are."
Legolas said nothing to this, only staring at Gimli with soft eyes that betrayed neither comprehension nor ignorance. Gimli took encouragement in this. He went on. "I do not know if the others come, and I do not deem this a safe place to remain. Sooner or later Greywood is going to remember he dropped you here alone and he will wander back. I do not think he will be pleased to find me here with you. Therefore, I think we must try to flee before he comes. Will you help me?"
Still, there was no response from his friend except that the elf allowed his head to drop further to the side, his eyes tracking to the ground and no longer on the dwarf. Gimli did not like this for an answer. He gently reached his hand out and drew Legolas's chin back up. "I must have your help if we are to escape, Legolas."
Just then Greywood turned and the noise drew Gimli's attention. Distracted by some task only he understood, Greywood did not draw near, but he was still too close for Gimli's comfort. In ten great steps the Ent could be upon the dwarf. Gimli would prefer a greater distance. Yet this was the biggest lead the Ent had thus far made and Gimli knew if he was going to do this, it would have to be soon.
He once again crouched low to his friend. "I do not think we can wait much longer." And though he meant in this that he feared the Ent's coming, in fact in looking at his friend he meant it for him as well. Legolas, holding his eye, winced silently in his pain and then closed his eyes in the momentary calm.
And so Gimli waited as best he could. It probably wasn't a long wait though it seemed of hours. He could feel the sweat crawling down his neck, creeping under his collar and making him itchy and uncomfortable. Meanwhile Greywood grew more active until finally he started to stir, moving away from transplanting a small tree, he began to meander in a direction that put him in closer proximity than before. Gimli began to believe the Ent was nearing the end of his work and that he would be back at Legolas's side in mere minutes.
Coming to his knees, he gathered his feet beneath him. Crouching low, he shook the elf lightly, whispering when Legolas opened his eyes."It is time," he said. "You must work with me now. You cannot make noise, my friend, though I will try to be as gently as I can so as not to disturb your wound. Take my hand."
But Legolas only laughed, as if Gimli had made some fine joke. The sound seemed to stir the unfocused Ent. Though he did not turn quickly, he was turning and Gimli could make out the sound of a low hrooooom emanating from the core depths of the ancient being.
He thought then that he had no more time to wait. He must go now. "Legolas, help me please...we must leave," he whispered. He nudged the elf, trying to gather him up, but Legolas waved his hand as if brushing the dwarf away.
Keeping his eye fixed on the Ent, watching and praying he would not look this way, Gimli found the elf's body once more had gone limp and heavy, making him nearly impossible to grasp. It was not that Legolas weighed much, but having in his life carried a few comrades out of dangers, Gimli knew his task would be difficult if Legolas alternated between going limp and fighting him. The elf's body was already so unreasonably long. Dragging the elf was not a choice as it would slow him down as well as draw more attention.
Fortunately, the Ent did not complete his turn and stopped where he stood, his back to the dwarf. One last time the dwarf searched for Thranduil,
"Bullocks!" he cursed in a low voice, when he was certain he would get no help. He turned his attention back to the elf. He couldn't do this alone and so he determined that Legolas would aid him. "Do not counter me, Elf! Open your eyes and take my hand! We must hurry!"
Legolas' eyes closed, but he was murmuring and smiling as if carrying one side of a conversation.
"Wake now, Legolas!" Gimli exclaimed in a loud whisper. "I think you dream. We must move!"
"Elves do not dream," Legolas replied drowsily, and Gimli remembered Legolas saying the same before. Treebeard had said this too, as had Thranduil, as had Celeborn. Yet it was clear Legolas was not aware of his surroundings. Whatever they would call it, the elf was no aid in this state.
Waiting no more, he took the elf's hand and pressed his foot into the arch of his foot so as to leverage his weight. It was enough that he could pull the elf into an embrace, pressing his arms around his fair friend's waist. He managed some of the elf's weight, balancing him upon his shoulders. "I have you. I have you," he assured.
But the move was troublesome, creating pain. "Ai...!" Legolas cried out, his face crumbling in anguish. The elf's hand rushed to his leg on the next breath.
And then Greywood turned. He saw.
An expression that Gimli might call anger creased the Ent's face. And then he was coming, charging like a runaway mining cart. Gimli knew he would not be spared.
And at the same moment, his hold on Legolas slipped and the attempt he was making to throw the elf over his shoulder was thwarted. Legolas crumpled to the ground, crying louder than before. There was no time to attempt the lift again. There was barely time even for the dwarf to dodge away though he had no thought of it. He was not going to be parted from Legolas again, at least not by any action of his own. Yet the Ent was about to roll him over, and Gimli found his hand reaching into his pocket for the Ring.
And then suddenly the dwarf was lifted from behind and the sound of a horn was trumpeting in his ears. Neither the pain he had expected nor the power he had expected to wield was there and he realized that in the confusion an Ent, a completely different Ent, had snatched him away from the danger. He had been saved!
But Legolas...!
Horns continued to sound, and the trees around him were in motion. It dawned on Gimli then that Treebeard had arrived. But Gimli did not care, instead twisting about trying to catch sight of his friend
"Where is he? Where is he?" he cried. He could see nothing of Legolas.
TBC
A/N: You cannot know what a busy life I lead. Though I'd like to make writing fanfic a bigger part of my world, it has to be relegated to a lower tier in the list of my activities. That said, I'm sorry it takes me such a long time between chapters. I do the best I can. I should also say that I'm terrible about personal replies to reviews, but if I could use this space here, I'd like to thank everyone who yet follows this story, and most especially I'd like to thank those who have graced me with reviews. They do mean the world to me and your kind words have been like soma (aka, nectar from the gods). Further, there have been quite a few people who have added this story and several of my Ithilien stories to their Favorites Lists. That both stuns and pleases me no end! I had thought no one still read my stories. Saying thank you sounds so trite but I have no other words to express my appreciation. Thank you!
