First of all, thank you so much, Ruiniel, for always supporting me with your beta-reading and encouragement!
Thank you to all you readers who are reviewing, favouriting and following. I'm so sorry it took me that long to update. I'm so very busy lately, with family, work, and more, that the quiet time to write was rare to find.
And this was quite a difficult chapter for me to write. Sort of a transition chapter. After all the emotions in the chapters before, reaching peaks, I am now afraid to disappoint or not meet your (or even my own) expectations.
Some chapters may cover quite a long period of time or quite many happenings of the books. Summing some up and leaving many gaps in between. I want to bring the story forward. I could still come back to it in "Through Different Eyes" or another separate story if I wish to pick something out and elaborate. And if you have a wish, don't hesitate to ask. Not always inspiration strikes at a suggestion, but sometimes it does ;)
Speaking of it, for all who haven't yet seen; last month I posted a piece in "Through Different Eyes" where little Sorwyn (an OC I grew very fond of) learns of Legolas' grave injury and has to cope with it. (Also with Éowyn, Aragorn and Gimli)
Sentences or parts of sentences marked with * are taken directly from the book. 'TTT - The Road to Isengard' and 'The Passing of The Grey Company'
If you feel like enjoying those passages in their original form and length, complete in the telling, you know where to find them 😊. Ah! the descriptions are so impressive, like everything in Tolkien's work…
Worry and Trouble
Gimli was troubled since they had left the Hornburg. He had been at Legolas' back because he could not and would not ride a horse on his own. Secretly, he was glad that it permitted him to watch over his friend closely, without awakening the elf's suspicion. — And Gimli noticed the elf's breath become ever so slightly laboured when it should not have, he recognized even the faintest strain in his muscles, the mild tremble in his long fingers when he let his guard down. Legolas kept himself in check with masterful self-control, but Gimli discerned even the slightest sign that suggested fatigue.
Although the road had brought many distractions, Gimli admitted.
They had passed under those scary trees, who had gathered and grown into a thick, dark forest overnight. Their long sweeping boughs seemed slowly in motion, and their ends reached down like long creepy fingers. Their roots, like strange winding limbs, encompassed gloomy caverns or covered the ground reaching and hugging into one another. They could easily grow to devour the road at eyesight, thought Gimli, taken by a shudder; a forest not of simple trees, but of monsters! For once he was glad to be high on the horse, so far from the ground. But then he uttered an irritated grunt, slapping himself inwardly against the back of his head to empty it from these insensate musings. He creased his brows, looking up at Legolas giving another grunt.
But Legolas thoroughly ignored him. He seemed entirely absorbed, ever glancing from side to side, and he oscillated from awed wide-eyed silence to spirited exclamations of wonder. He spoke of the trees' thoughts that he wished to learn and understand. He often halted and went still, tilting his head and listening, "They have voices..." he whispered.
Gimli groaned; he preferred not to know, because all he could guess was that their speech was of crushing and strangling. Even if it was only Orcs they hated and devoured — as Legolas had assured him very earnestly — Gimli would have covered his ears with his hands to ward off their creaking and groaning, their angry, wordless murmurs and far cries. But his hands were busy digging his fingers into Legolas' tunic to hopefully stay where he was, far from the ground.
Gimli pressed his eyes closed and strained himself to think of something else… Maybe he could count sheep!... No, no... that did not work, it had never worked when he had wanted to sleep, so even less now. Sheep were not a good distraction. Nothing for dwarves. Something else then... something nice... — Caves! That was it! He would escape from here and enter caves in his mind. He tried with all his willpower to imagine them vividly, soon realizing that already he was speaking aloud — "… Ah! Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel..."* — A torrent of his own deep voice telling of dreamlike shapes glinting in countless colours, loosened from his throat. He was there in the Glittering Caves in his mind as he spoke, drinking in the sight and the sensation of delight that went under his skin and made him thrum from deep inside in the slow, soothing rhythm of the stone. He listened to his own voice as if it echoed under the domes.
He had obviously captured Legolas' attention with his raving. The elf seemed deeply moved as he looked back at the dwarf. For a moment Gimli took in those eyes that were wide and glistening with uncontained emotion; like the innocent eyes of a child overwhelmed by a world he knew nothing of and was eager to discover, Gimli thought. He sighed. They made the bargain then; if they both returned safe out of the perils that awaited them, they would journey for a while together. "You shall visit Fangorn with me, and then I will come with you to Helm's Deep,"* Legolas concluded exaltedly.
Almost, only almost, with his delightfully irritating way, this elf had made Gimli forget all the trouble he caused to his heart and mind.
At last, they had passed through the trees. But just as Gimli was about to relax, allowing his fingers to uncurl from the fabric of Legolas' tunic, the elf gave a cry, startling the whole company. They all turned, staring at him. Gimli realized Legolas started riding back towards the trees. The dwarf grabbed the elf's tunic and pulled as if to hold him back. But Legolas was speaking of eyes he had seen and was clearly keen to meet the creatures they belonged to. He seemed out of his mind. And in shock, Gimli wondered if the elf's eyes had grown even wider.
Out of the forest then came strange creatures like walking trees. Wading through the grass with overlong paces, they moved at great speed. Gandalf barely prevented Legolas from running after them, calling him back with his most stern voice. To Gimli's relief, Legolas heeded the wizard's command and reluctantly guided Arod to follow the company.
This elf was a distraction in itself... and one way or another, he always caused trouble, Gimli decided.
The riders, including the King, had cried aloud in wonder at the sight. "You have seen Ents, O King, Ents out of Fangorn Forest, which in your tongue you call the Entwood,"* said Gandalf. And he told them then of the herdsmen of the wood; beings who became alive in the old tales the People of the Mark recounted by the fireside. But here and now they were real, like dwarves and elves, they were no mere fancy, or magic of Legends.
"Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them only to children, as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down among us out of strange places, and walk visible under the sun."* said Théoden solemnly, clearly shaken. Gimli saw the king glance back at him and Legolas and then meeting Gandalf's eyes again. Gandalf nodded expressively, and then he too glanced back at them, suppressing a smile that he did not bother to clear from his eyes. Legolas was immersed in daydream; his gaze unfocused, he was humming softly a strange melody, and his thoughts were probably wading ahead, northwards, with the long strides of the Ents, Gimli suspected. But when he perceived the King's and the wizard's gaze resting on him, he blinked and smiled at them gleefully.
They rode for some hours at an easy pace, and Gimli was glad, mostly for Legolas — because the constant agitation was surely not good for the elf in his state — but also for himself and his stiff lower back.
When they reached the Fords of Isen, Éomer lamented the once fair springs that Saruman had destroyed. Many of their men had fallen here. King Théoden's face was set strong but under it lingered the grief for his lost son. And Gimli could see the slight tremble in Éomer jaw. By now Legolas had ridden up beside Éomer, sharing in the warrior's grief. He reached out to clasp the man's shoulder. Gimli felt like doing the same, but he could not let go of Legolas' waist if he wanted to keep his position on the horse.
Strange things happened that night as they camped beside the empty Isen river. Gimli could not sleep, because he was worried for Legolas and imagined all the worst scenes. He knew already that counting sheep was senseless, and this time even all the nice thoughts seemed unreachable. The air was laden with something dreadful. In the middle of the night then it approached; Towers of shadow so huge Gimli felt he was choking, as in those nightmares when he was small and wanted to run away, but he could not. Thick walls of gloom moved towards them and Gimli thought they would crush them. He knew this was not a dream, and he held Legolas' hand to keep him close and watch over him. The elf was very still. He did not move nor blink, and for a moment Gimli feared that he was not even breathing. He urgently tugged at the hand he held tight in his grip, and there the elf's eyes latched on his. His nostrils flared and huffed out the air he had been holding. But Gimli did not release the hand from his grip. The impenetrable darkness rolled on and on, going northwards, and was gone.
After that stretched silence. But then there was a rush of water running down among the stones; and when it had passed, the Isen flowed and bubbled in its bed again, as it had ever done.* Legolas' eyes lit at the sight, and Gimli huffed out a noisy sigh.
At dawn they made ready to go on. They went slowly, riding through heavy fog, into the wizard's vale, which had become a sad country where smoke and steam drifted in sullen clouds and lurked in the hollows.*
The riders did not speak and in the silence, Gimli turned all his attention upon Legolas and was once more perturbed.
At last they were come to the doors of Isengard. At the edge of his awareness, Gimli perceived, as if surreal, Théoden, Éomer and their men as they rode wide-eyed and — much like himself — gaped at the amazing ruin surrounding the magnificent Tower of Orthanc. Stone cracked and splintered by an enormous power lay scattered in jagged shards, or heaped in huge mounds immersed in pools of steaming water trickling in rills between the cracks. Saruman's power was overthrown, beaten into dust, as if angrily overrun by a storm flood.
As they all stared and could not manage to give it an end, they spotted two figures, grey-clad and small, almost to get overseen between the stones, leisurely relaxing; one sleeping, one smoking.
They had found Merry and Pippin — alive!
According to the bottles and bowls and platters laid beside them, they had fed abundantly from the storerooms of Orthanc.
Legolas had literally bounced off the horse in a great arc and landed lightly in a crouch beside their two friends. The joy at finding the hobbits well and lively, and immersed in their favourite pastime, had set Legolas' eyes blazing with brightness. He and Pippin had conspired in eager chatter from the instant they had reunited. And Merry had not been shy about joining them.
As Gandalf and the King's company rode away, making the circuit of the ruined walls of Isengard, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas remained behind, celebrating their reunion with the hobbits, goodheartedly enjoying the fine food and exquisite wine. Gimli had felt all warm around his heart and had let his laughter agreeably rumble; a deep tenor, that calmed him, and brought delight to the friends around him. The weight Aragorn carried all the way seemed to have lessened, and the man looked light and serene at beholding them chatter and eat.
After they had enjoyed their well-earned meal, Legolas eased the first laces of his tunic and shirt, lay down on his back beside the hobbits, crossing his hands behind his head, watching the sky. He intoned a cheerful melody. Pippin's and Merry's laughter bubbled up in between, as they joined with their own songs, and Legolas' fair voice rang with laughter in turn.
But then Pippin pushed himself up on his elbows, giggling at a funny line of their song, and his eyes unexpectedly stumbled upon an edge of the bandage that showed between the laces of Legolas' shirt. The hobbit abruptly fell silent, frowning. Legolas seemed to note the slight change in the air, because he pushed himself up into a sitting position and his long fingers quickly worked to fasten the top laces of his shirt.
He shot a sharp glare at Gimli before the dwarf could even open his mouth to utter any revelation. In a swift elven reflex, he cut off Pippin's beginning of a dismayed exclamation, grabbing the young hobbit's hand with startling suddenness, and gazed with emphasis at both halflings.
"In the joy of finding you whole, and the cheer of good food and merry song, I almost neglected to tell you to take care of our dear master Gimli," said Legolas gravely.
Gimli frowned as both hobbits and Aragorn glanced at the elf and finally at him, all eyebrows lifted. Legolas then added seriously, blinking worriedly at Gimli, "He fights like a rock, although, he is not as hard as stone, our dwarf. He suffered a nasty head wound in the battle on the Hornburg. Aragorn tended it, and it is good he gets some rest here."
Gimli lifted his fingers imperceptibly to the stitched cut on his head, as all around him stared, but he halted mid-motion, his hand hovering over the healing bruise and the few stitches. His mouth fell slightly open as he gaped incredulously at his friend. How dare this suicidal, mad being divert from his own deathly injury so deliberately, on Gimli's own cost?!
"I-… It is but a scratch!" he grumbled angrily, and glared at Legolas, who was smiling innocently as the hobbits began to target Gimli with questions about his well-being and offered him more food and wine, insisting that he eat.
"But Legolas— …" — despite the diversion, Pippin seemed not to have forgotten about what he had seen — "You are also wounded… the bandage— …" wide eyes blinked questioningly, definitely worried.
"Oh, nothing to talk about. Only a minor scratch by now," Legolas dismissed readily, "You know, elven healing and all... — Rather make sure Gimli gets enough food and rest," he added with a serious mien.
"Do not make such a fuss, Elf," Gimli grunted, quite irked. "Despite this…" he waved a hand to his forehead, "… I bested you by one kill," he pointed out.
"Only because the ladders did not count," Legolas retaliated.
Pippin glanced confusedly back and forth between them, wrinkling his brow. "The ladders? Which ladders?" he asked, aghast.
"The ones packed with Orcs I sent crashing upon the mass of their own foul companions," Legolas explained gently, "But Gimli could not see — the wall was too high."
"Why do they not count?" inquired Pippin earnestly, making a stunned face, blinking at the elf and the dwarf with big eyes of innocence.
Legolas shrugged, "Ask him! He made the rules." He jerked his head slightly towards Gimli.
Gimli felt annoyed. This was going in the wrong direction entirely. And he felt dragged into its current, completely helpless, unable to detour the flow while Legolas floated sovereignly on the drift, trying hard not to grin.
Merry was scratching his head behind his ear, blinking rapidly as if intently processing his thoughts, considering something. "Hmmm," was all he said.
"Only the ones we take down one by one, eye to eye—..." Gimli stabbed his index and middle finger forth and back in the air before his eyes, "...—are allowed for the count. Otherwise, we cannot be sure if it was by our own doing or by a lucky coincidence," Gimli defended himself.
"Aye, he is right — They were too many on top of the ladders and on the ground. They could not be counted," Legolas agreed, nodding gravely.
"That does not sound like a reasonable rule," Merry decided.
"On the contrary," Gimli countered, "That is fairly sensible; When the axe hits, my hand is on it. That means it was intended — you have it? — The same is with his knives and arrows when they kill the target directly. Those you can count," Gimli explained with emphasis, for the hobbits to understand.
Pippin seemed unconvinced. He frowned, "But when your axe hits with your hands on it, how can one know it was intended, and not just a lucky incident?"
Legolas burst out laughing, hearty and bright. And Gimli let out an exasperated sigh. He thought it wise to leave it now.
And so Pippin settled, and they went on talking about other matters.
Merry made sure that Gimli would not lack food, piling abundant amounts all around him.
Gimli glanced over at Aragorn for support, but the ranger seemed to keep completely out of the conversation and was now rubbing a hand wearily over his eyes and forehead while he sighed. He looked exhausted.
Despite his anger at the diversion, Gimli said nothing of his concern for Legolas. He had contented himself with watching him closely. He had to admit that he was glad to see Legolas in companionable mischief once again with the hobbits — even if at his own cost. He endured it with more patience than he ever thought possible, because it brought about a welcome and missed feeling of the lighter moments of their fellowship, and that was incredibly soothing. He thought of when Boromir had still been with them, and Frodo and Sam were in their midst under their protection. He remembered the way Legolas had been delightfully detestable, arrogant and nearly invulnerable in his eyes. So much had changed…
Later that morning they met that giant, gnarled creature, the chief of the Ents, who watched over the old forest and tended it, and now would keep Saruman captive with his fellow Ents. His name was Treebeard, Gimli learnt. From so close now, the dwarf observed the walking tree's stiff limbs, the bark-like skin and leafy hair. It was a wondrous thing indeed.
That meeting had been an occurrence to behold. The hobbits were all fond of him and his equally gnarled companions; those curious creatures had done great deeds. They had freed the river, restored it to its original course and destroyed the vast, evil forges of Saruman's army. The hobbits' eyes brimmed with excitement as they recounted it, and they also made sure not to leave out their own part in it.
Gimli and Aragorn had looked in wonder, but Legolas had stood there rooted to the spot, wide-eyed and awed, with a bright glee in his face, glowing like a lamp. And when he spoke with Treebeard he was all eagerness and excitement, telling him of his dream to visit the old forest. His voice abuzz with anticipation, he charmed the Ent to convince him into accepting the dwarf in his realm, when they would come, because he was such a great friend and had slaughtered many an orc with his axe that was not meant for trees. The Ent, even if suspicious, seemed to consider it, obviously very impressed by the stout being's heroic deeds, and Gimli fervently hoped Legolas could one day live that dream. Really not because he absolutely wished to enter that forest — he thought it quite creepy — but for Legolas' sake; because he loved him, and the elf's trust and enthusiasm touched him. If they lived through this, Gimli would do anything to see his joy.
Legolas' high spirits lasted the whole day. He relished his time with the hobbits and he cherished the lightness that had grown between him and the Rohirrim. Gimli almost convinced himself that he should put down his exaggerated fretting.
But then, that night, Pippin's cursed curiosity led the hobbit to look into that gloomy magical ball of glass after tricking it away from under Gandalf's guard. The hobbit could have got lost in the darkness or given them all away to the enemy, which only by fortune did not happen, Gandalf had pointed out earnestly. The wizard had called Pippin a fool, but he had been very gentle to him and concerned. He spoke of his great relief that the young hobbit was still there with them, alive and well, and the worst had not happened.
Gandalf and Aragorn had discussed very long and fervently upon that stone. Gandalf himself seemed afraid of it, and in the end, he admitted that Pippin might even have saved him from looking into it himself — which would have been disastrous at this time.
But then a strange chill took hold of the night, like a dark mist it crept and curled around the tents. An enormous winged shape wheeled high above. Men cried out and crouched, their arms over their heads, desperate for protection, their faces tense, expressing blank terror. Gimli did not crouch or cry out, but the dread had entered his bones and stiffened his limbs. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He stared out over the cowering men at Legolas who at the edge of the camp silhouetted tall, bow in hand, face upturned; his shape standing out against the darkness as if the last glow of moonlight had caught and lasted upon him before it was cut off.
And then the shadow was gone, flying north at a speed faster than any wind.
Gimli heard Gandalf cry out, "Nazgul!" He urged them on, "Ride, ride! Wait not for the dawn!"*
In a flurry of white robes, the wizard ran straight to Pippin and picked him up in his arms. "You shall come with me this time," he said.* Aragorn helped Pippin to stumble along behind Gandalf as he ran to reach Shadowfax. Gimli tried to keep up with Legolas who, with speed, had returned from the edge of the camp leaping with long elegant strides to catch up with Aragorn. Beside Gimli, Merry hurried along, extremely agitated, his curly hair bouncing about his head.
The wizard leapt upon the horse's back, with a force and agility that did not at all befit an old man. Aragorn lifted Pippin and set him in Gandalf's arms. Legolas looked long at Aragorn, and his eyes were wide, and then he glanced up at Pippin with that same expressive gaze, unblinking and desperate. The young hobbit looked so utterly small and lost upon the mighty horse in front of the wizard, wrapped in his cloak and blanket, meekly accepting his parting from his friends, from Merry.
"Pippin—," Merry started, wanting to say something, but his voice died off although his mouth opened, yet he was lacking words. He reached up with his hand as if to touch Pippin or hold him back, but small as he was, he reached not higher than the horse's legs, and so he let his hand fall back where it crumpled to a trembling fist. "—take care..." he barely said then, his voice like a wispy ribbon, tearing in the air. Gimli sighed, feeling immensely sorry for the young hobbits, and stealing a worried glance at Legolas who still stared and looked utterly unsettled.
"Farewell! Follow fast!" cried Gandalf* before he departed with haste to Minas Tirith, taking Pippin with him. The great horse tossed his head as they flew over the earth fast as the northwind from the mountains. His tail flicked in the moonlight.* And Legolas stood there with Merry, staring behind them, long after they were gone. Gimli was not sure if the elf would even have moved to prepare for departure, had Aragorn not come and slung his arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently, redirecting his attention.
"Come Legolas, we must go on," Gimli heard him whisper.
"Of course," Legolas answered. His voice was low and slightly caught in his throat, "I am with you."
And Gimli saw how he blinked and gave Aragorn a tentative smile. Aragorn nodded, and held his gaze firm, "I need you, my friend!"
Gimli was saddened but also comforted by this exchange of gestures and words. Aragorn had seemed so far from them in the last days, lost somewhere in an inconceivable responsibility. But right now he had moved closer again, and for a moment Gimli felt less lonely in his concern for the elf. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the next ride. "I need you too, my friend," he grumbled, "you make quite a good hold upon this unsteady beast."
Thank you for reading, and as always your thoughts in a review are very appreciated, or even just a few words to let me know you are there make me happy.
'Just me' (guest review), I couldn't thank you personally for your nice words of appreciation, but know that it was such a pleasant surprise.
I'll try my best not to make you wait that long again for the next update. And I promise I'll finish this story.