CHAPTER 9: IN THE MIND'S EYE
Ere iron was found or tree was hewn,
When young was mountain under moon;
Ere ring was made, or wrought was woe,
It walked the forests long ago.
"Aye, a pretty riddle," said Gimli. "Yet still I find myself no wiser than ere I asked the question! I grant you I know little about growing things and the way of trees, Gandalf, but I daresay I am not the only one among us who has never seen a tree uproot itself and move several leagues from whence it stood." The Dwarf gestured. "See there! It has confounded even our Elf. Legolas!" he called. "Come and join us!"
Legolas paid him no mind and stayed transfixed at the edge of the Deeping-stream, gazing in wonder at the eaves of this strangest of forests, heedless for the moment of all else.
"Elves..." grumbled the Dwarf from his seat upon the grass. "If he falls in, I am not much inclined to jump in after him." He drew his eyes away and said, "This is wizardry indeed, Gandalf. I might have guessed you were behind it when first we caught sight of the strange forest from the wall."
Gandalf lifted his head and laughed long, stretching his legs out before him, and he seemed more the Gandalf of old to his companions. There was no trace of the fey and terrible White Rider who had driven the Orcs to madness at his coming. There was only Gandalf, a pipe between his teeth and his eyes glowing warmly beneath his bushy eyebrows. He regarded the Dwarf with amusement. He had removed his hat and his hair was white as snow in the sunshine and gleamed under the blue sky, as did his robes. Shadowfax strayed upon the field behind them, picking his way over ground which had been trampled black under the Orcs' armored shoes to find patches of green grass upon which to graze.
"Nay, this is no deed of mine, my good Dwarf." The wizard's lips curved into a pleased smile. "It is a power far older and far stronger, perhaps, than any sleight-of-hand I could conjure, Gimli. It walked the earth ere Elf sang or hammer rang. We may count ourselves lucky to have such an ally. But if you wish to learn the answer to my riddle, I suggest you follow me to Isengard."
"Isengard!" Gimli twisted his head sharply. "You would have us go to Orthanc?" He straightened with interest and his eyes smouldered.
"I would," replied Gandalf. His face became grave. "We have unfinished business to attend to, and I would not put it off for any longer than is necessary. I wish to speak to Saruman as soon as may be. I must pay him a farewell visit. Dangerous and probably useless, yet it must be done."
"Unfinished business, indeed!" growled Gimli. "That sorcerer has much to answer for. I should like very much to follow you to Isengard, Gandalf. We waste time tarrying here. How swiftly do we ride?
"Patience, Gimli," said Gandalf. "Not all have the unflagging endurance of the dwarves. Once Théoden and his men have tended to their dead and rested, and we all have had the chance to recover, my path and the path of those who would go with me lies now eastward. Give them some little time to grieve. The king and a handful of men he has chosen will come with me as well, as Saruman has done them great injury. But have a care. Though his forces may have been defeated, Saruman is not one to trifle with. He is a dangerous foe with more than a few tricks up his sleeve. I go now to parley, not to fight."
"I will go," said Gimli quietly. He lifted his head and his eyes settled upon the Elf standing still by the stream's bank, "though I cannot say my purpose is merely to parley."
"Master Dwarf!" sighed Aragorn sitting before him. "If you wish to go to Isengard, I advise you hold still, lest I wrap you from head to toe and send you back to Rohan with the women and children." He turned the Dwarf's head back around to face him. "Let me tend to this wound ere you do yourself further damage." Aragorn ignored the disgruntled look Gimli gave him and bound a clean cloth over the freshly bathed cut upon the Dwarf's forehead.
"AH! Careful!" bellowed the Dwarf. "No need to be so testy, Aragorn. It would take more than an orc-scratch to keep me back," he said sullenly, trying not to move as he spoke.
"Nevertheless, it will pain you and you will hinder us if I leave it. Do not argue." Isildur's heir found himself struggling to keep the mirth from showing on his face, lest the dour Dwarf think he was making light of him. In truth, Gimli's stubborn protests filled him with profound thankfulness this day. Aragorn had never felt as relieved as he had when he had at last sheathed his sword from the slaughter upon the field and turned to see three familiar figures striding down from the causeway to greet him. The meeting of the companions was joyous to behold, and when Gandalf rode up on Shadowfax to join them, their hearts sang with the victory of that fair morning and of dear friends miraculously restored.
Messengers were sent by Théoden to all the corners of the Mark to proclaim the glorious tidings, but even now at the height of their rejoicing, the Rohirrim set about the task of tending to the dead and wounded. Two great mounds were raised upon the field before the Hornburg where the Riders who had fallen defending Helm's Deep were laid to rest. No Orc remained alive. Those who were not crushed by the men of the Mark or the forces of Erkenbrand and the White Rider had disappeared into the forest, never to emerge again. At Gandalf's urging, they piled the corpses there were into great heaps near the eaves of the trees and left them to the carrion until it could be decided what was to be done with them.
Éomer had been taken by his king back into the Hornburg in order to rest and be cared for, but the others did not follow. Legolas had refused to enter Helm's Deep again and wished to remain beyond the confines of stone beneath the open sky. His companions stayed with him there upon the green grass in the dale beside the Deeping-stream, taking their hard-won ease, watching the solemn activity of Théoden's men and studying the forest.
"A marvel, is it not?" said Aragorn to the Elf as he brushed past him to kneel and wash Gimli's blood from his fingers in the running water.
Legolas tipped his head slowly, his sight lingering upon the trees; he turned to look at Aragorn with shining, inquisitive eyes. "I have never seen such a thing," he breathed. "Know you what they are, Aragorn? Are these the Onodrim of which Gandalf has spoken?"
"I could not say, my friend," Aragorn smiled fondly. The expression of his usually composed companion was open with wonder and delight. "I will not venture to guess. Gandalf promises we shall know more if we go with him to Isengard."
"To Isengard..." echoed Legolas. Aragorn watched disappointed as the fair enchantment slipped away from the Elf's face. Legolas was suddenly pale, and his jaw tightened as if in remembered pain. Legolas looked down upon Aragorn's hands and the eddying stream which flowed red about them; the Elf's keen eyes seemed distant, shadowy.
"Legolas, are you well?" asked Aragorn.
The Elf did not reply. His gaze remained fixed upon the man's hands. Aragorn grew alarmed and lifted them from the stream.
The Elf started and flinched as if Aragorn had dashed him with the cold water. He seemed confused and unsettled, but before Aragorn could speak, Legolas swept silently past him and returned to the others.
Troubled greatly, Aragorn dried his hands upon his cloak and rose to follow.
Legolas had settled himself beside the Dwarf, and for a while the Elf sat and listened to his companions talk, though he said naught himself. Aragorn could not coax him into conversation. Reluctantly he left Legolas to his thoughts, though his attention wandered back to the Elf's pensive face time and again.
Aragorn and Gandalf debated plans for the next day and the famished friends made a light meal from the provisions. As late afternoon approached, the king rode forth once more to say that his company was preparing to depart. Théoden took counsel with Aragorn and Gandalf and they left Gimli and Legolas alone to ready themselves for the journey.
Gimli lifted himself from his seat on the grass and groaned at the pull of the muscles in his neck and arms. "Horses again," he sighed. "The parts of me which are not now sore soon shall be."
Legolas did not reply and seemed not to hear him. The Elf looked at the forest, still fascinated, but after a moment he asked softly, "How is your head, my dear Dwarf? Are you certain you should ride?"
Gimli snorted in disgust. "I know not who will coddle me to distraction first, you or Aragorn. 'Twas but a feeble scratch! I shall not drop over dead from it."
It was an idle remark, but a look of distress passed over Legolas's face. It was gone as soon as it came. Legolas swiftly averted his eyes, but the fear there had not escaped Gimli's notice.
"Legolas!" The Dwarf knelt by his side. "What is it? Surely I was jesting, Elf! That is, lest Aragorn confided in you something about my injury he did not tell me!"
Legolas attempted a smile. "Nay, your head will heal, though I am certain we will hear your complaints a good while after. Dwarves are such wearisome creatures."
"Wearisome and impatient creatures," said Gimli. "Say what is troubling you."
The Elf hesitated, as if searching for the words he needed. "I do not think you should ride to Isengard, Gimli," he said quietly. "There is a foreboding in my heart and I wish you would not go."
Gimli blinked and stared with consternation at his companion. "Not go?" His deep voice was perplexed. "Legolas, even were I not burning with curiosity to look upon Saruman and see for myself this wizard who been the cause of so much grief, I would not leave Aragorn's side, nor yours, for all the danger that may await us at Orthanc. Legolas... surely we have seen much peril upon this quest, yet I have never seen you so affected. You worry me." Gimli sat back upon his haunches and studied the Elf's face.
Legolas gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes.
He saw before him Aragorn's crimson hands in the water, red blood, Gimli's blood pooling in the stream to be borne away inexorably by the constant swirling current...
The image haunted him; vague whispers filled his mind and he felt faintly ill. Fear was not such an accustomed emotion to the Elf, and he found he simply could not express this unreasoning dread which gripped him now. He felt foolish speaking of it. It was absurd, and yet the feeling remained.
"I ask you not to go," said the Elf.
Gimli took Legolas's hand in his and sat thoughtfully for a long while. Then he shook his head and let out a sigh. "Legolas, our path has not been easy; there will be danger ahead of us. We shall see more darkness ere we come again to the light, but we cannot turn from it. I will not turn from it, not while I have a part to play."
Gimli reached out to touch Legolas's face, smoothing his thumb over the Elf's cheek. "I will do my best to keep myself safe," he vowed. "I will make it a point not to risk my life without cause. I make you that promise. I have the world to live for, Legolas." He got to his feet and stretched. "But you have had little rest and much strain these last few days. All will be well, you will see. Have hope! Be glad! Today we have triumphed against all odds."
Legolas said naught but he nodded. Gimli heaved back and pulled the Elf to his feet, clapping him on the shoulder. "Stay and watch for Aragorn. I will go and inquire if that foul-tempered beast you call a horse is still among the living and come back to you shortly."
Legolas stood by the Deeping-stream, fighting the fear that would not leave him in peace. "All will be well." He whispered the words and willed himself to believe them, but he felt a not unfamiliar chill stab at his heart. He stared out at the strange trees across the water and waited anxiously for Gimli to return.
