Sorry about the space between updates. And, yet again, I apologize for the rather unusual chapter four. And onward to the story!

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Gimli's breath came in ragged gulps. He was imagining things, yes, that was it. Undoubtedly hallucinations brought on by grief or lack of sleep and food. Yes, that was it.

But try as he might, Gimli couldn't bring himself to believe that he was imagining the figure that stood by his bedside.

A transparent figure stood by the bed, glowing faintly. Tall and thin, wearing a ragged tunic. Long, floating hair. But there was something wrong. Very wrong indeed, for in place of a face was a skull. A skull, frozen in a perpetual, final grin.

Gimli instinctively reached for his battle axe. He held it in a fighting stance even as he clambered out of bed. "Back! Back, I tell you!" he shouted.

Gimli dropped his axe and ran from the room. He dashed down the hall and into Aragorn's room. The ranger snored slightly, sound asleep. Gimli shook him awake.

"Wha...what is it?" muttered Aragorn sleepily. He opened one eye. "Gimli? What in Arda?..."

"Ghost!" Gimli managed to choke out. "Legolas! In my room..."

Aragorn closed his eye again. "Go back to bed. It was a dream."

"No, I swear it!" Gimli half-shouted. But it was no use; the ranger had fallen asleep again. Gimli collected himself. It could have been a dream. That made more sense than a back-from-the-dead elf. He shakily strode from the room.

Before he entered his chamber, Gimli paused. He really didn't want to see that horrific sight again, even if it was a dream (which, by now, he was convinced it was). He took a deep breath, and stepped inside.

There was no one, nothing. Just an innocent bed, night table, and dresser. The window had curtains, which floated lazily in the night breeze.

Gimli sighed with relief. It had been a dream, after all. Possibly related to the curtains floating like that. It made perfect sense.

He climbed into bed and slept surprisingly soundly that night.

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The next day passed as the others had- melancholy and slow. By now, the grief was beginning to ebb, if only because Gimli and Aragorn realized that there was work to do. Forging weapons, cleaning the stables, and the like.

Gimli had been designated to care for Arod, a final favor to Legolas. Despite his original doubt concerning the beast, Gimli had become almost obsessive with its grooming, food, tack, and so on and so forth. Gimli had actually been on the verge of tearing a stable boy limb from limb when he had discovered that a piece of Arod's bit was missing. Aragorn assumed that he considered the horse a last link to their friend, the last living being that connected them. And it gave Gimli something to do besides mourning.

And life went on.

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That night, Gimli retired early. This time, there was no figure haunting him. He collapsed into bed, unusually tired from a day of fawning over that horse.

That is, until hours later.

Gimli woke from a dead sleep. Without opening his eyes, he vaguely wondered why he was awake. It couldn't be morning already.

He opened his eyes to look out the window and see if it was day. But he didn't see the window.

It was back.

The figure was back, in the same spot by the bed. The skull for the face, still grinning. The hair, still fanning out behind it.

Again, Gimli reached for his axe. But he didn't run this time. This time, he would stand his ground, and fight his own nightmare.

He leapt to the ground in front of the phantom with his axe ready. In reply, the ghost drew its knives. Gimli swung, and was taken completely by surprise when the specter countered the blow.

The weapons clashed, though not with the usual crash of steel. The sound seemed to echo around the room, ghostly, haunting.

The spirit parried the dwarf's every strike, skillfully avoiding the blows. The battle lasted less than a minute. The phantom slid inside Gimli's reach, pushing one of its knives against his throat.

Gimli managed to twist in the phantom's grasp, swinging his axe in one final, desperate attack. The weapon slid right through the spirit. The dwarf lost his hold on his blade, and it went sailing across the room, landing with a clatter in the corner.

Gimli mentally berated himself. He should have known that would happen, not that his weapon would have done him much good should he have kept it. The knife at his throat felt cold, like ice. Not like any earthly dagger should have felt. He closed his eyes, waiting to die.

Then the dagger was pulled away. Gimli opened his eyes in surprise. He saw the ghost sheathing its knives.

Then, for just a moment, he saw the ghost's face. It was Legolas' face.

Gimli fell to his knees. That face. He hadn't seen that face since Legolas had died. But almost as soon as it appeared, it vanished.

"I'm dreaming," he gasped. "I'm only dreaming. That's all. It's only a dream."

Legolas (as he must now be called) extended his hand. Gimli, still in shock, tried to touch it, but jumped in fear when he went right through. The face flickered again.

Gimli tried to get up, to run to get Aragorn. But he seemed rooted to the spot. His legs felt out of his control. He was floating, or so it felt like.

The ghost floated over to the journal. He picked it up. Gimli found himself wondering how his hand had gone right through the ghosts when the spirit could pick up a book. Then he remembered, Legolas was a ghost, he could do anything.

Legolas gestured towards the book, then at himself. Gimli understood. "Take it, only go, and haunt me no more!" he shouted. The apparition tucked the book into the folds of his tunic, where it promptly disappeared.

The curtains opened slightly with the wind. The moon was high in the sky. Legolas turned and stared at it for a moment with empty eye sockets. The he turned back to Gimli. He floated over and descended to eye level, his hand extended towards the dwarf.

In his hand was the missing bit.

Gimli shakily received the bit. It slid into his palm. Then Legolas disappeared.

Gimli stared at the piece of tack. Then it dawned on him. Legolas' ghost hadn't been some apparition to be feared, or a denizen of Sauron. The spirit was that of a friend. And Gimli had tried to hurt it, had feared it.

"Legolas, forgive me!" whispered Gimli into the darkness. "Come back!"

But Legolas made no answer. Gimli collapsed on the stone floor, dead to the world.

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Gimli awoke the next morning. At first he was slightly puzzled as to why he was on the floor, but he figured that he must have fallen out of bed during the night. Such was not unusual for him these days, seeing as how he had been suffering from nightmares. Speaking of nightmares...he seemed to have had a particularly bad one. Something about a ghost with a skull for a face...then he noticed the bit in his hand.

It all came rushing back at once. The ghost, the sparring...Gimli reached out for the bedpost to steady himself. Gimli walked to the spot were the ghost had first appeared, by his bedside.

There was a slip of parchment where he had found the journal. It was neatly folded. Gimli reached out and took it. He stared at the note, then unfolded it.

It was written in a familiar hand. It was Legolas' note, as he had suspected. There were two words on it: Say nothing.

Gimli stared. Say nothing. He would have done just that. But to Aragorn...should he tell Aragorn? He made his decision.

Gimli rushed out of his quarters to find the ranger. Apparently he had overslept, for Aragorn was already working in the forge.

"Aragorn! I must speak to you!" Gimli shouted above the pounding of the hammer. Aragorn wiped his hands on a rag and walked over. "What is it?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

"Legolas!" Gimli gasped, out of breath from running. "Came back! He came back last night as a ghost! I swear it!"

Aragorn gaped at Gimli in utter confusion. Then a look of mixed irritation and pity took over. "Gimli, he's not coming back. He's dead."

Aragorn strode back to his work, partly out of anger, and partly to hide the tears. He resumed forging the knife he was working on.

Little did he know...

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ObsidianRaven: I know how you feel. I love Legolas deathfics, and all my friends are convinced that I'm nuts. I'm also a big fan of Cassia and Siobhan, and LAXgirl is another great angst writer (read her latest story, I forget the title) if you are into torture.

Mrscribble: Good guess! I almost used that, but then things would get really confusing. And anyways, that would kind of mess up the plot I'm working for...

Nekomegami-chan: Heehee...she calls us evil, does she? I'm going to hope that's a compliment, and thank you!

And to Starlit Hope, Cheysuli, Totally Confused, and Itsuku Tachibana: My sincerest apologies!