Days and nights blended into each other, and Nimoë hardly noticed their passing.
They had left Edoras and ridden to Helm's Deep, more slowly than the last time she had made that trip. Legolas had gone with Gimli, as he had promised he would after the battle which was fought there, to the glittering caves. Nimoë had remained behind, unwilling to go underground for any reason, even for the love of a friend. Her imprisonment by Grima had forever broken from her spirit the ability to endure the crushing weight of earth over her head.
Once that was done, they had ridden onward to Isengard. Gandalf greeted Treebeard on their arrival and he asked after Saruman. To the horror of those gathered, Treebeard admitted that he had released the wizard. "So weak he was. It seemed that he could wreak no further harm upon any. That sniveling worm of his went away with him, and I am not sorry that they are gone."
Gandalf sighed, telling Treebeard that Saruman never lacked for power, as long as he had his voice. The very fact of his absence was proof of this, for he must have worked his art upon the Ent in order to trick him into releasing him from his imprisonment.
On hearing that Grima was free again in the world, Nimoë glanced about her, making certain that he was nowhere about. For what she had done to him, there could be no doubt that he would seek retribution. Although he had not seen her, once his sanity was regained, he would recognize her essence in what she had wrought.
Legolas sidled Arod up next to Finduel and reached out to squeeze Nimoë's knee reassuringly. She lifted her eyes to his and he saw the dread in them. While he wished it otherwise, he thought that she was right to fear. That was the reason not to leave an enemy alive behind you. All of Grima's thought would likely be bent on seeking his revenge. The Elf Prince's hand strayed to the hilt of his Elven Dagger.
#
Before long it came time for a bittersweet parting. Aragorn and Arwen were turning back towards Gondor. Many tears were shed, and not only by the women in the party. Once hands had been shaken all around, and words of farewell spoken, the King and Queen of the West turned and rode back towards Helm's Deep.
Gimli turned to Legolas and asked, "Shall we now enter Fangorn together, as we promised?"
Legolas shook his head. "Loath am I to leave such a trip for a later time, but I feel the need to reach my home as quickly as can be done. I have a wedding to celebrate. Will you accompany us to Mirkwood? I would have you stand with me in the ceremony."
Gimli spoke gravely then, "You do me a great honor. It would give me great pleasure to stand your friend."
#
The next morning the company set out from Isengard, following the swift flowing river. They made good time, for all were eager now to reach their final destination. Galadriel and Celeborn would be the first to part company on their way to Lothlorien, and the rest would travel on to Rivendell, from there to go their separate ways.
The summer breeze was warm and fragrant and the clear waters of the Isen murmured joyously. Peaceful ease was upon the company as they rode. Then Legolas spoke, "There are two beggars ahead of us on the road. They are on foot and we will overtake them quickly."
His words were proven true, but as they neared, Gandalf spoke, "These are not beggars. It is Saruman and Grima Wormtongue. Be on your guard."
Nimoë shrank down inside of herself, trying to become invisible. Relentlessly they drew near, and Gandalf hailed them. "Saruman! We come upon you again. It seems that your luck has changed. It grieves me to see you so reduced. Where are you going?"
The fallen wizard was haggard now, bent with care, and dark circles ringed his eyes. "If you must know, I am seeking a way out of the Kingdom of Aragorn."
"You are flying to nowhere then, for great is the realm which he rules. But we will offer you our help if you will take it," spoke Gandalf.
"Ha! Folly! I will make my own way, as I always have. Leave an old beggar in peace."
Throughout the conversation, Grima had stood aloof, staring down at the ground. At last he looked up, and his eyes fell upon Nimoë. Recognition swept over him, as well as the memory of what the Elf-Witch had done to him. Rage began to simmer deep within him, and with the hand which was hidden from the view of the riders, he fingered his dagger.
Sharp was its point, but that alone would not be enough. Turning his back to the others, he reached into his ragged tunic, pulling out a small vial. He had brought it with him from Isengard, against the time when he could no longer stand the foul treatment he received from Saruman. It was poison. A quick acting poison that would kill within minutes. Cautiously he uncorked the smoky vial and dipped the end of the dagger into it.
Once that was done, he again hid the vial, and turned back around, his head properly bent to show his subservience to his master. "Move on, Worm!" spoke Saruman. Grima nodded and followed his master slowly down the road, awaiting his change to practice his aim.
#
Nimoë breathed a deep sigh of relief. The confrontation had ended and it seemed that Grima had not seen her. Legolas also relaxed, pleased that nothing had happened. When he first saw Grima, he had wanted to pull his bow and kill him, but after seeing his wretched state, he decided that the life Wormtongue was living was punishment enough. He had held his peace.
Nimoë turned away from the sight of the two retreating backs and spoke to Legolas, "Well, that is done. We can hope never to see them again. A great fear has been lifted from my… Aaugh!" Her speech was cut off by a wrenching scream of agony.
In horror, Legolas watched as she pitched forward off of Finduel. She landed on her side, and he spied the dagger sticking out of her back. "No!" He leapt off of Arod's back and ran to her, pulling the blade from her body.
"Legolas," she moaned, while her hands clenched spasmodically, and her body began to convulse painfully as the poison took effect. Staring into his face, she knew that she would not survive. Already she could not control her lungs, and aching pain radiated out from her chest. Grasping her last control, she caught his hands in her own. "I… love… you… Legola…" she gasped, then fell silent mid-word, as darkness closed in about her. The last thing she saw was the crystal blue of Legolas' eyes, streaming with tears.
#
"No… No!" he screamed, staring down at her lifeless form disbelievingly. Her eyes were open and staring up at him, almost as if in death she could still see him, but their glassy gaze left him no doubt that she had truly passed from the world.
He leapt to his feet, pulling his bow and nocking an arrow, which he tried to sight down, although tears blurred his vision. Before he could release the arrow at Grima, however, Gandalf laid a hand upon his arm, forcing the bow down. "Leave it, Legolas. I believe that Grima has yet another task to perform before he gets what he so richly deserves."
Legolas stared at the wizard aghast. With his free hand he motioned to Nimoë's lifeless body and said, "But look what he was done!" He struggled against the wizard's hand, trying to again raise the bow, but found to his surprise that Gandalf was much stronger than his appearance suggested.
"I said leave it alone. Do not disobey me, Legolas, son of Thranduil." The wizard's voice was strangely powerful, silencing his objections.
Unable to vent his rage on Grima, Legolas dropped again to his knees at Nimoë's side. Galadriel was there as well, her hands on the Elf maid's brow, singing softly. When she raised her eyes to Legolas, they were full of grief. "I am sorry. The poison was too strong. Had she been whole, I might have had time to save her, but in her weakened state there was no chance. She has passed from the world."
The cry which rose from his throat then was unlike anything that those about had heard before, nor would ever hear after. Inarticulate grief, coupled with an eternity's loss mingled into a scream of such utter anguish that Gimli actually covered his ears, trying to block out the sound.
Legolas collapsed over her, unable to hold himself up any longer. He clung to her dead body in primal agony, and his body shook with his sobs. Galadriel rose and, although there were tears in her eyes, she shooed the others away. "Give him space. It is not fitting for us to see his farewell."
So the rest of the company moved back down the road, glancing uncomfortably over their shoulders at the lifeless body of their friend, and the stricken form of her betrothed. Feeling like interlopers, they finally averted their eyes, but they could not close their ears to the sounds of hopeless sorrow which floated to them on the mockingly warm summer breeze.