Disclaimer: All recognisable characters and ideas belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema, and the rest belong to me.

Chapter 1: The Forest

The sky was painted a mixture of brilliant vermillion and crimson. It was the dawning of a new day. Two contrasting figures stood on the edge of the forest, accompanied by a horse; one tall, one short. Very different indeed they were.

The taller form was just soaking in the atmosphere, surveying his environment and listening with ever-attentive pointed ears. The smaller form, on the other hand, was tensed and smoothing his hand over the blade of his battleaxe, swinging it down in slight arcs ever occasionally. He was muttering under his breath, something along the lines of stupid elves and their infinite abilities to waste time. The other, however, seemed unbothered by his incessant grumbling.

The taller of the two was an elf. He was fair of face and had long, flowing blonde hair braided in the way of his race. Keen, intelligent grey eyes peered out from an oval face. He was clothed in the greens and browns of the wood elves. He stood tall and straight, motionless as the wind blew, whipping his braids against his shoulders.

The shorter fellow was a bearded dwarf. On his own, one would already consider him short, but beside his companion, he looked even more diminutive. Yet, what he lacked in stature, he made up for with his fierceness and courage. In battle he was not to be underestimated.

It was strange that an elf and a dwarf were found together and even stranger that they were friends, the best of friends. It was a wonder that these two equally obstinate creatures ever put aside their differences for they were as alike as white and black.

'It seemed only yesterday,' the elf commented, musing on the intricacies and frailties of their friendship, when a gruff voice derailed his train of thought.

'Will we never set off into the accursed forest? It likes me not, and I favour even less.' He was restive and given the stories he had heard of Fangorn forest, it was not in the least bit strange that he was eager to leave the forest grounds as soon as possible. They had just separated from their friends; the hobbits set off north, while Aragorn had headed back.

'Nay, friend Gimli, I believe it to be time to set off, the elf finally said, as he snapped out of his contemplative mood, much to the relief of his companion. Legolas, son of Thranduil son of Oropher, the prince of Mirkwood, turned and put a reassuring hand on the dwarf's shoulder. 'And anyway, if you stopped fingering the axe, I believe the trees would be less hostile.' He finished with a wink and moved to lead the horse away, his clear laughter trailing him as he watched his friend spluttering out of the corner of his eye.

Unable to fight with the truth of the statement, Gimli settled for the most fitting comeback he could think of.

'Humph.'

'I see, humph. That's a new one. Most eloquent of you Gimli. Humph, then,' he said, breaking into more good-natured laughter, which only served to make his already irritated companion even more irate. Legolas turned to the horse and stroked its mane. He murmured lowly in the ear of the horse, melodic syllables flowing as he spoke to it in his native tongue and mounted the steed upon obtaining its permission. The steed's name was Rusfel. It had been given to them by Faramir, the prince of Ithlien, when their old steed, Arod, had died in an orc attack. Orc attacks were infrequent due to measures taken by the Men of Gondor to destroy the orcs, but the steps were not always enough to stop all attacks, only prevent most.

Arod had been lent to them during the perilous Quest, when Faramir was still captain, and King Elessar but the ranger Strider. Legolas chuckled as he recalled how Gimli had been (and continued to be) reluctant to ride on horseback. They had always shared a steed since then and were practically inseparable.

Hearing the laughter, Gimli glared at Legolas. He proceeded to glower in silence, patiently ignoring the intermittent gasps between gales of laughter as he waited for Legolas to help him upon the horse. It was their usual custom and he had become well accustomed to it.

Minutes passed, and Gimli found himself no further from the ground than he was earlier. Seeing no offers of assistance, he harrumphed and proceeded to mount Rusfel himself, garnering much mirthful laughter from Legolas. Rusfel seemed quite discontent to allow Gimli upon his back without a good fight. Each time Gimli moved to mount, the steed gleefully pranced just out of reach. Gimli was rather thoroughly covered in dirt after a few tries, huffing and panting as though he had just fought in an epic battle.

'By Mahal! This is no horse, but a devil incarnate!' Gimli cried out in frustration. Rusfel neighed victoriously, while Legolas shook his head and chided the horse. Rusfel merely shrugged his head and neighed in return.

'Maybe Rusfel will allow you to mount if you asked nicely.' Legolas offered innocently. Gimli stared at him and proceeded to mutter something in his native tongue. Even though Legolas did not understand the dwarf, - for dwarfs never shared their language with other races- from the tone of his muttering it was certainly not pleasant.

Gimli was not about to give in to a horse. His ego was much bruised and he intended to wipe the smile off the elf's face. He lunged for the horse once more, but the beast pranced away each time he started. Legolas was still sitting comfortably atop the horse despite its wild movements.

In frustration, Gimli took up his axe and swung it at the horse to frighten it. Luckily, Rusfel was able to move swiftly to dodge the blade, but Gimli had come precariously close to beheading the horse and separating his friend into two halves of a body. As Gimli had intended, the 'attack' had the desired effect on the horse, making it less cocky than it was before (a temporary effect rest assured).

After recovering his wits sufficiently, Legolas continued with the banter— for Gimli was not to be let off so easily.

"I would that you were less reckless with the axe, my friend. Unlike a certain someone, I have good need of a head atop my shoulder. Besides, the horse is our only mode of transportation. Thus I'd prefer you restrain your use of the axe." Legolas stated in a serious tone; however the humour twinkling in his eyes proved otherwise.

"Aye, fear not milady, I will be here to protect you. The only ones who will suffer the wrath of my axe are the orcs." Gimli said proudly, while Legolas rolled his eyes, replying with a sarcastic "Thank you, milord".

"It was risky," Gimli conceded out of the blue, "I would be grieved to lose such a friend as you." Caught off guard at the sudden sobering of tone, Legolas turned around to regard his friend. He was deeply touched by the sincerity seen in his friend's body language and facial expression.

"Thank you Gimli. Know that I hold you in the highest regard as well." Legolas smiled fondly.

"'Tis nothing, that's what friends are for." The dwarf responded gruffly, trying to brush off the compliment. He blinked furiously, wondering at the sudden mist that had blurred his vision. Legolas watched his friend affectionately, knowing that Gimli's gruff exterior belied a sentimental and passionate heart, one faultlessly loyal to those who had earned his trust, such as Legolas had been privileged enough to.

Of course, the truce would not last long. Very soon, Rusfel was back to his old antics, taunting at Gimli and succeeding in irritating the dwarf quite severely. This time, Gimli was true to his word, as he kept himself from using the axe, much as he would like to. A promise was a promise and Gimli was an honourable man, or rather, dwarf.

After witnessing his friend's fruitless and rather pathetic attempts at mount the horse, Legolas relented and whispered a few words in the horse's ear. His words seemed to have an immediate effect on the horse, which quietened down quickly. Gimli looked suspiciously at Legolas. Smiling, the elven prince offered a hand to him companion.

Gimli looked at the outstretched hand and seemed to hesitate as to whether he should accept assistance. Then, suddenly, he grabbed the hand and swiftly tugged downwards. Fortunately for Legolas, he emerged the more agile of the two, as he loosed his hand, regained his balance and finally pulled Gimli up by his belt, in one continuous motion.

As the horse set off for the forest, Legolas could still hear Gimli cursing away, though judging from the tone, he knew his friend had long forgiven his pranks.

The sight that greeted Legolas as he stepped into the forest smote his tender heart. It was evident that Fangorn forest had been extensively damaged by the orcs of Saruman. The hewing and uprooting of trees had been rampant, broken trunks and battered stumps were the little left of the forest. Smashed boughs and splintered branches littered the ground, strewn unkemptly all over. As he rested a soothing palm on the bark of a tree, its mournful song of grief and loss reached his soul and not for the first time in his life, Legolas felt his rage rising at the impudence of the orcs to destroy the gift of Mother Nature, just as they had done to his beloved home.

Gimli was less affected by the state of the forest. He looked distastefully at the havoc wreaked by the orcs, but looking to his friend, he saw the greater impact the destruction had on his friend. It was then that he remembered how close his friend was to nature, his heritage as a prince of Mirkwood making him especially sensitive to its moods, and grief his friend was experiencing. He put his hand on his friend's back (for he could not reach the shoulder) to comfort him, and showered him with support.

Legolas turned to face his dear friend. He could feel the concern and support radiating from his friend. Shaking his head slightly in response to an inquiry on whether he was too badly affected to go on, he took a breath and motioned the go ahead to continue. It was at times like this that he was grateful for the encouragement of his friend.

They delved deeper into the forest, when they came to a spot of charred remains. Much of that area had been burnt and the fact that orcs took delight in the destruction of all things was evident. Legolas was upset, but he was also greatly comforted by the knowledge that the darkness had been defeated and the small remaining bands of orcs left were being rounded up and destroyed. His face was grave as he surveyed the extent of damage to the forest. It would take many years until the forest regained some semblance of life, but whether it would even be restored to its former beauty was highly doubtful.

On they continued, Legolas relying on the strength of his friend to press on. His hopes were sinking as he only saw more sights of a ruined forest. He was about to turn back, when he espied a small patch of forest that was yet to be marred by the orcs or fire. It was a sight to behold. It was ancient, as they remembered, and majestic. Though the trees were unchanged in their hostility, the darkness seemed to have been lifted off the forest in part. Olden oaks and rowans, chestnuts and lindens, birch and ferns, trees and plants of every variety and kind grew everywhere, in no particular order, and yet it was this lack of order that seemed alluring.

Slender vines and lianas intertwined along great trunks, overhanging branches casting soft shadows on the ground. Ancient giants of green leaves, trunks and branches stood in their full splendour, faintly illuminated by the soft sunlight that sifted through the leaves.

Gimli was awed. He had never been one for nature, but the rustic beauty of the forest was as he had never encountered. He found himself quite unable to take his eyes off the forest. Forcing his eyes off the panoramic view for a moment, he soon found that the view had a rather similar effect on his friend.

'Quite a beauty, eh?' Gimli said, cocking a brow.

'Aye, I believe my theory was proven correct, mellon nin.' The blonde elf replied without taking his eyes off the forest. He sounded far away, the beauty of the forest was surrealistic.

Usually Gimli would have snorted, but he was currently too preoccupied to react to a seemingly insignificant jibe. However, though the dwarf might have been mesmerised by the forest, he had not completely lost his appetite for a good battle of wits.

'You have not seen the Caves at Dunharrow. We shall see who is humbled at the end, mellon nin.' Gimli said smugly. He had learnt enough of the elves' tongue in his time with his friend to understand that 'mellon nin' meant 'my friend'.

'We shall see indeed.' Legolas arched a slender brow in return. After taking a few more lingering looks at forest, he turned his mind to the things at hand.

'Come, Gimli. We shall pitch camp. It will be dark soon and it will not do to be without a resting place for the night.' Thus the two companions began busying themselves, preparing for the night.

Well, Ainaechoiriel I hope that satisfies you. Yes, for all those people who have previously reviewed, I have done a major overview of the chapter. This will be a rather long piece and I will continue to write as long as you continue to review. So if you enjoy the story, I hope you review (you have no idea how much they encourage me.) Anyway, time for a shameless plug: I am currently also working on a legomance. The first chapter should be up soon.

P.s. All forms of comments are encouraged, especially constructive criticism. You can go ahead and flame me but I don't believe in flaming (the flames could be used for more useful things - some other writers use them to heat the homes of the poor in Afghanistan or barbecue food). If you do not like the story, you are kindly invited not to return, because honestly, your presence is neither required nor wanted. Thank you for your wonderful co- operation and have a nice day. ;)

Namaarie Lotrmatrixstarwarsfan. (changed from Nämarié due to some objections, ;) )