Writings on the Sword

by LAXgirl

Legolas is poisoned by a cursed dagger given to him as a gift from Gimli. War between Elves and Dwarves may destroy Middle-earth if he dies. But the one who's dark magic is slowly killing the prince is dead-set on letting no one save him. COMPLETE!

9. Lies and Deceit

Pheew! Talk about a impatient readers! I've never had so many people itching for a new chapter. I hope you will forgive the time it took me to update, but I'm sure you will see my reasons as you read this literary monstrosity. I worked to write this bad boy during study halls, my breaks at work, and almost any other spare moment when I could grab a pen and paper or jump on the computer.

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of Tolkien's characters. I'm just borrowing them for the moment and I will return them to him when I deem it fit!

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It seemed as though the entire world had been thrown into mourning. Thick gray clouds hung low in the sky, foreboding gloomy. Rain fell from above in misty showers. It was as though the heavens were weeping, sending down their tears in rainy torrents. Bleak and dreary, the city of Rivendell lay still and quiet beneath the rain-laden clouds.

The whole city lay under the shadow of mourning. Sable banners hung from every wall and roof of delicately erected buildings in the cold and silent streets of the mountain haven. Even Lord Elrond's standards had been wheeled down from the palace walls and replaced with the somber black flags of mourning. Usually reserved for the announcement of some great tragedy that had struck the royal house of Imladris, the blank lengths of cloths snapped dismally in the chilly, rain-laced wind.

Inside the palace of Lord Elrond, the vast corridors of the Last Homely House were hollow and empty of the laughter and singing that usually soaked its walls with the warmth and happiness of life. The beautiful and melodious songs of those elven halls had been hushed and silenced. The only songs that drifted through the air were those of laments, singing of the tragedy that had befallen one of the immortal children of Iluvatar. The haunting melody of fair elven voices echoed through the darkened palace and through the hearts of all that heard them. Where once light and joy resided, darkness and sorrow now hung heavy in the house of the ancient elf-lord.

In the north wing of the palace, deep within the grief draped halls and passages, the faint weeping of grieving elves drifted to the ears of the mortal foster-son of Lord Elrond. Aragorn's listless footsteps echoed off the walls as he slowly trudged down the hallways of the elven palace. The hollow scrapes of his feet on the cold stone floors sounded as if he no longer had any purpose to go on. His pale, red-rimmed grey eyes stared down at his feet, not even bothering to direct them.

Close beside the strangely distant Ranger, the beautiful elf-maiden Arwen gently guided him along. Arms interlocked at the elbows, the two made their way slowly down the palace corridor.

Looking out of the corner of her eye with a worried glance, Arwen discreetly examined her mortal lover's vacant face. Under the man's distant grey eyes, dark circles shadowed his face. The sharp-sighted and troubled princess did not fail to notice the thin lines that now creased the corners of Aragorn's face. Overnight, he seemed to have aged several years. His broad shoulders sagged forward wearily as if he carried a heavy burden on his back. His head refused to lift from off his chest.

Arwen looked on in distress. She could think of nothing to say or do that would ease the Ranger's torment. For a day and a night now, Aragorn had lived under this shadow of melancholy, silently grieving the death of one of his closest friends. Nothing seemed to reach the once proud and strong-spirited warrior who now masqueraded as this haggard shell of a man.

Ever since Legolas Greenleaf, elven prince and youngest son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, finally succumbed to the dark poison of the ancient sorceress Eronel, Aragorn had become distant and closed. He never spoke unless directly addressed; and then it was only a half-hearted, one word as a reply before he retreated back into the dark depths of his black depression.

Arwen knew it would take time to heal the loss and pain of Legolas' death, but the elf-maiden was beginning to worry about Aragorn and the others that grieved so bitterly for their deceased comrade and friend. She shared their sorrow, for she had wept just as hard as anyone else for the loss of her dear friend, but the elven princess had never seen such hopelessness and despair haunt the eyes of those around her. Legolas' parting had torn a hole in the hearts of all those he had left behind, and it was a wound that would probably never fully heal.

Breaking out of her thoughts, Arwen realized tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes.

Yes, Legolas would be sorely missed. He had been the light and laughter of the group. And even though Arwen had not journeyed with the Fellowship on their quest years before, she knew it had been Legolas that had pulled the other eight through many tough and hopeless times with his unsquashable spirit. Just the thought of never seeing his smiling face or hearing the melodious rise and fall of his flitting laugh was enough to embitter the soul to the cruelty and unfairness of the world.

Trying hard to keep her composure, if only for the sake of Aragorn at her side, Arwen desperately sought for something else to turn her attention on. Anything but the blond warrior prince of Mirkwood. It was still too painful...

But unable to totally expel Legolas from her thoughts, the elven princess found herself instead measuring the devastation that had followed in the wake of his untimely death. There was no one in her father's house that had escaped the pain and torment of Legolas' death. But some had been undone more than others...

Arwen could still vividly remember the heart-wretching scene when she and the rest of the somber party of mourners had met Toreingal, Gimli, and Mithrandir at the gates of the city to tell them of the tragedy that had befallen their ill comrade while the three had been away on their desperate mission to find a cure for Legolas. Haunting her memory was the utter horror and disbelief on her friends' faces when her father had presented Toreingal, the closest surviving member of Legolas' family there, with his cousin's weapons. The elf's anguished cries when they had come upon him at the feet of Legolas' body still echoed in her ears.

Nothing anyone said seemed to offer Toreingal any comfort in his delirium of grief, or proved able to tear him from his cousin's side. The elf had wept bitterly for hours, even into the first cold hours of the night. It was only as the torches of the palace were being lit did his anguished wails finally subside. But he still did not rise from the cold stone floor. Instead he had then fallen eerily quiet, and just sat there, staring past Legolas' lifeless body with empty eyes as if he himself had died in some small way.

In what seemed like a shock-induced trance, Toreingal continued to sit there at Legolas' feet, unmoving and silent like a statue. Several times, some of the elves that had accompanied Legolas and him to Rivendell had come and tried to remove their lord to quieter quarters. And each time they had been met with the same reaction: nothing. Their plaintive requests to escort Toreingal back to his room only fell on deaf ears. The stubborn elf refused to rise and be lead away. Elrond himself had even tried to gently coax the distraught elf into seeking rest, but Toreingal acknowledged no one's presence. He just continued to sit there and stare ahead towards the body of his dead cousin. Wandering alone in the darkness of his despair, Toreingal had simply shut out the world, refusing to accept harsh reality just yet. And so, after several failed and frustrating attempts, they had finally given up and left the elf where he was to grieve in his own way. And as Toreingal remained oblivious to the rest of the world in his trance of depression and gloom, he never once noticed the small band of other mourners that had also taken up their positions around the low dais supporting the death-laden altar of Legolas.

Standing in a huddle for most of that dark day, the Hobbits' soft, barely chocked back sobs weaved a tune of grief as Toreingal's anguished wails sang of their loss. Not even bribed with dinner would they leave. The half-lings only tore themselves away from their cold and silent friend's side when Gandalf had finally ordered them to bed, several hours before midnight. Too weary with grief to contest with the wizard's point that there was nothing they could do for Legolas now, the four had reluctantly relinquished their vigil and retired for the night.

But while the dispirited Hobbits had been able to be persuaded to leave Legolas' body, Gandalf and Elrond were confronted with yet another hard case...namely Aragorn.

Arwen again stole a glance at the sullen man that walked beside her with piteous eyes, studying the Ranger's grim face as she remembered the way Aragorn had stood there so silently in the far corner of the wide room that housed his friend's lifeless body under its high arched ceilings; hiding, it seemed, in the shadows from the others that grieved around him. At first, Arwen had attributed the Ranger's quietness to the first stages of grieving, still trying to come to grips with what had befallen. But after standing faithfully by Aragorn's side for the long and countless hours he lurked there in his dark shadows of grief beside Legolas, Arwen had finally realized that tainting the man's sorrow was, in fact, the dark and lingering sting of guilt.

Though she knew not why, the elven princess could sense in Aragorn a certain sense of self-blame that practically radiated out from his empty grey eyes. Though troubled by this, she did not try to wrestle an explanation from the distraught man, knowing it would profit her little. She knew Aragorn needed to heal a bit more before he would finally speak of his grief.

Subconsciously giving Aragorn a reassuring squeeze on his hand as she thought of this, Arwen tried to give the man in that single, gentle but firm touch the reassurance that she was there for him whenever he finally decided to speak and cast off his clock of mourning.

But if Aragorn felt Arwen's touch or not, he did not acknowledge it. He continued to stare down at the carpeted floor beneath him as he trudged on, head bent towards the ground.

Finally, after several more minutes of walking in silence, the pair could see their destination approaching. Spilling out into the darkened hallway, a beam of dim grey light shined, A wide room spanned out before them as the elf and man came up on the threshold of the room, flanked on either side by tall, heavy oak doors decorated with delicately craved trees and richly inlaid with precious jewels.

Striding between the two sentinels of wood, Aragorn and Arwen slipped into the wide chamber without a sound. Arwen had to suppress a sigh a the sweet and heavy scent of incense reached her nose. There, laying on his altar of stone on the far side of the empty room in exactly the same manner they had left him, was Legolas' body.

His golden hair gleamed faintly beneath his head in the gloomy grey light spilling into the room, and a dim, translucent glow seemed to shine from off the elf's exposed skin. But while some may have saw this unearthly glow and testified that Legolas yet lived, it was a falsehood of hope. Even when slain in battle, the bodies of the Eldar would still shine with this light. It was their waning inner fire, the glow of their immortal souls that had made up the very essence in life before being extinguished forever. It was as though even in death, the Elves were too stubborn to relinquish their spirit so quickly. But soon, as all things that are touched by the cold fingers of Death, the glow would fade and Legolas' skin would become like that of a mortal's: dull and lusterless. It was only a matter of time... Perhaps a day or two more at most before the last of the elf's stolen immortality finally faded away into nothingness.

As the two mourners crossed the vast expanse of empty space, Arwen could feel Aragorn beginning to pull back on their interlocked elbows as he suddenly began to slow that closer he came to Legolas, as if hesitant to near the lifeless body of his closest friend. And then, several paces from the low dais, the Ranger finally halted completely, leaving a small berth of space between him and Legolas.

Raising his head for the first time since entering, Aragorn looked out from behind a tangle of dark eyelashes towards the motionless body of his friend, letting his eyes come to fall on the peacefully cast features of the elf's face. Standing there silently beside her lover, Arwen was startled when Aragorn suddenly shifted his grey, red-rimmed eyes from the lifeless body to her and spoke in a low, croaking voice. "He looks so peaceful..."

Grouping for a suitable response, Arwen replied, "He does... It is almost like he is only sleeping..." The elven princess' words were automatic and were not exactly the wittiest thing she had ever uttered. But because of the fact that this was the first time Aragorn had spoken in a full, thought-out sentences in almost two days, she really didn't care. In her excitement to keep the man talking, fearing that he might fall away from her again and sink back into his trance-like depression if he did not, Arwen desperately tried to coax Aragorn into a conversation, speaking the first thing that came to mind.

"Did you sleep well last night?" she asked randomly in her most innocent voice, trying to mask the tension in her voice. She could almost predict what Aragorn's answer would be judging by the dark rings under his sunken eyes.

"Nay, my Lady," Aragorn answered quietly with a sigh, "I can find no rest from the sins I bear..." Again the man's eyes wandered over towards the inert body of the warrior prince.

Immediately taken aback by this response, the dark-haired maiden pondered the ominous words of the Ranger. "What do you mean, my love? What sins could you possible bear? Legolas' death was not your fault. You cannot be blamed for what happened to him. You did everything in your power to aid Legolas even when all hope seemed lost. You were there by his side through all his suffering, letting him know he was not alone and that you were there for him. There was nothing more you could have done..."

A mirthless, empty sound that seemed to be an attempt at a chuckle broke from Aragorn's lips at this, filled with the bitterness of one looking back on the irony of his misfortune.

"No," he dismissed sternly with a sorry shake of his head, "No. Do not glorify my actions in such an honorable light. I may have stayed by Legolas' side through out much of his suffering, but I betrayed him in the end."

As if some dam had suddenly broken in his heart, words began to pour from out of his mouth like a guilty confession, "I abandoned him just before he died – when he needed me most... I saw the pain and hopelessness in his eyes. I saw the torment he suffered, and was cowed by the fact that there was nothing I could do to free him of it. I left – nay, I abandoned Legolas! When I should have been there at his side. He died alone, without anyone there to comfort him in his finally moments of life..."

By now, tears were brimming along Aragorn's eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks any moment. His voice was steadily becoming more unstable and frenzied in pitch. "Right before I left, Legolas was practically begging me to stop the pain! Arwen, if you had seen him, you would have wept with pity! Never in my life have I ever seen Legolas reduced to such a wretched state! His eyes... Ai! Elbereth! His eyes were so full of pain, I could not bear to see it any longer! I abandoned him! I left Legolas when a truer friend would have stayed there by his side and seen it through till the end! But not I! I fled! I fled like a coward! Legolas would not have done such a thing if our places had been reversed! I could not even find the courage in myself to sit there by his side and comfort him in his death throes! I have no right to have ever been called his friend!"

Emptied of all the vile contempt he held for himself, Aragorn could do nothing more than hide his face behind shaking hands as he broke down and fought to hold back his helpless sobs. The man's shoulders shook violently as he swayed on his feet, blinded by his grief. He barely even felt Arwen's arms wrap around him in a comforting embrace. Tears were also streaming down her fair cheeks as she took the man into her outstretched arms. Grasping Arwen as though she was the only thing that tethered him to sanity, Aragorn tightly clasped the elven princess to his chest, burying his face into her shoulder as he wept uncontrollably. Both stood there, locked in each others arms, sharing in each others pain and sorrow.

"Aragorn, it wasn't your fault... It wasn't your fault..." Arwen whispered into the hysterical man's ear, trying to fight back her own tears of grief as she rocked Aragorn back and forth in her embrace like one trying to comfort a crying child, "You went to find father. You left Legolas to help him... But you did not abandon him. It wasn't your fault. We all tried to help him as best we could. You probably did more for Legolas than anyone else here. He knew you were there for him. You cannot blame yourself... Legolas wouldn't have wanted that. You must not blame yourself. It wasn't your fault..."

"He can't be gone!" Aragorn cried helplessly, his voice muffled in the thick dark waves of Arwen's hair. "He just can't be!"

"But he is, Aragorn. He is. Legolas is gone..." The elven princess chocked, grief seeped into every syllable, "There's nothing we can do to bring him back."

"But what do we do now? What do we do without Legolas?"

"Move on..." she answered, gently pulling Aragorn's head against hers so they stood cheek to cheek, letting their tears mingle together.

Pulling sharply away from the woman, Aragorn looked Arwen straight in the eye, his tears momentarily forgotten in disbelief. "Move on...?"

"Yes, my love," she affirmed with a solemn nod of her head, her beautiful face grave and dignified even when twisted with sorrow and her pale grey eyes glistening with tears. "We all must move on. Legolas is gone, and there is nothing we can do to change that. Dwarves and Elves now stand on the brink of war. Middle-earth needs you more than ever now that Legolas is dead. Aragorn, we need you. Yes, you should mourn for him, for his death is a great loss... But you must see past your grief and prevent more death and bloodshed. You must do this for Legolas – for his memory. He didn't want to be the cause of this war. Would you let Legolas' memory be stained with blood?" The she-elf's imploring gaze bored into Aragorn soul, piercing through his grief and forcing his eyes open to what still lay before him. "Will you not honor Legolas' final wish and prevent the deaths of more innocent lives? Isn't that what he would have wanted you to do?"

For a moment Aragorn stood there silent and dumbstruck by the elf's words, feeling the sudden urge to shrug Arwen's arms from off of him and scream at her how she didn't understand the words she said, or how great of a loss Legolas' death really was. Didn't she know how great of a friend and companion Legolas had been? What right did she have to tell him how he should grieve for him? How did she know what Legolas would have wanted? Didn't she even realize how badly he had betrayed Legolas...?

But while a storm of emotions and thoughts raged in the man's grief stricken mind, deep down he knew she spoke the truth. Heaving a weary sigh, Aragorn felt coherence and helpless acceptance return to him. Slowly stepping forward the man wrapped his arms back around his immortal lover, simply needing the feel her comforting embrace around his neck. As he let the sweet smell of Arwen's hair fill his nose, Aragorn closed his eyes tightly, desperately trying to fight back a fresh wave of sorrow that washed through him. But while still overcome with grief, he now felt able to stay a new flood of tears with Arwen there sharing his pain.

"I will miss him..." he murmured despairingly in a soft whisper, as if as an apology for how he had acted.

"So will I. We all will... But we must move on. Legolas wouldn't have wanted to see us so broken up over him..." Arwen agreed sorrowfully, her face buried into Aragorn's shoulder.

Aragorn made no immediate reply, thinking of all those the light-hearted elf had left behind. "Where is Toreingal?" he asked in a quiet voice, suddenly realizing the northern wood-elf was not there in the room with them. "I did not think he would ever leave Legolas' side."

"He wouldn't have. But father forced him to drink a glass of tea last night, only Toreingal didn't know he had slipped some sleeping herbs into it... Mithrandir and father then ordered him to be taken to a spare room. He should be asleep for most of the day..."

Aragorn could not help but stifle a small smile that sprung unbidden to his tear streaked face. Leave it to Elrond and Gandalf to pull such a devious and underhanded tactic as drugging someone insensate like that when all other skills of persuasion failed them. But then again, they would have probably resorted to the same thing with him, had he not finally let Arwen lead him away to his room sometime in the very early hours of morning.

But the momentary mirth of the account only made him all the more bitter to life as he remembered just why such a thing had had to be done. If great care was not taken with Legolas' cousin, Toreingal might yet fall into the grips of a dark depression, which could ultimately prove fatal to the grieving elf.

As Aragorn stood there hugging the elven princess tightly against his chest in a mutual exchange of comfort, the man closed his eyes, trying to only remember Legolas as he had been, strong and brave; not as the tortured elf he had had to watch suffering in undescribable pain. Then, suddenly, in the distant, the sound of hurried footsteps sounded, breaking the anguished man out of his thoughts as they drew nearer and began to slow at the doors of the great room where Legolas had been laid out. Reluctantly loosening his grip around Arwen's waist for appearance sake of not being caught in such an intimate moment, the two broke apart and turned to address the new comers. Aragorn managed to wipe a hand across his sun-tanned face to dry his tears and collect himself before their unexpected guests entered.

Materializing from out of the darkened hallway, the tall and noble figure of Lord Elrond and the white robed wizard Gandalf stridded into the room, both sets of ancient eyes shining with a distinct urgency in them. Their swift footsteps were filled with direct purpose as they made a straight line for Aragorn and Arwen.

"Is something amiss, father?" Arwen asked delicately, sensing the uneasiness in the half-elf's stride.

"Perhaps..." Gandalf interjected with one of his infamous half-riddles as he and Elrond came to a halt in front of the Ranger and elf-maiden.

"Have either of you seen Gimli today?" Elrond asked tensely, coming straight to the point.

"No..." Aragorn heard Arwen's apprehensive reply from beside him.

Aragorn's heart clenched at the mention of the dwarf, and he immediately realized he had completely forgotten about his bearded companion during his bout of unconsolable grief. The man felt almost ashamed for this lapse of memory. While he had been selfishly wallowing in his own sorrow, he had again managed to abandon one of his friends.

Out of all those mourning Legolas' death, no one – not even Aragorn – could have claimed to have shared a deeper friendship with the elven prince than the dwarf Gimli had. At times it had been as if the two could almost anticipate each others words and actions; making them deadly together in battle and resulting in some of the most amusing cross-racial banter anyone could have ever wished to overhear. And the fact that such a profound bond had been forged between members of two of the most venomously opposed races in Middle-earth made the unlikely friendship all the more special and unique.

But what would Gimli do now in his anguished grief, knowing his closest and most cherished friend had died in agonizing pain and torment while waiting for him to return with a cure?

Aragorn didn't even want to think about it. His own guilt had nearly driven him mad. He couldn't even imagine what Gimli was going through; the guilt, the sorrow, or the knowledge that the one person he could have turned to in his anguish that would have truly understood his pain was dead...

~Oh, Gimli... I failed to be there when someone needed me again. First for Legolas, and now for you... Is it my fate to abandon all those I hold dear?~

Suddenly, the man realized his thoughts had drifted and that the room had grown extremely quiet and that Elrond, Gandalf, and Arwen were all looking at him with expectant expressions.

"Well, Aragorn...?" Elrond prompted, eyeing his foster-son with his ancient grey eyes. The Ranger could almost feel the elf-lord trying to see inside his head.

Startled out of his revery, the man quickly shook his head and said, "No, father. I have not seen Gimli since last night."

Elrond and Gandalf both exchanged furtive, unreadable glances to each other.

"What is wrong? Has something happened to Gimli?" Aragorn demanded, becoming increasingly worried by these strange inquiries as to the dwarf's whereabouts.

Sighing, the white wizard answered in a hushed voice, "It seems as though our ax wielding friend has come up missing. He cannot be found anywhere within the halls of Lord Elrond."

"We must find Gimli quickly," Elrond interjected with an unmistakable tone of urgency in his sonorous voice, "King Thranduil's has just been reported by some of our remote scouts to have been seen crossing the eastern border of Imladris, heading straight for Rivendell. Gimli and the other dwarves here are in grave danger. Thranduil is moving with a large military escort. He is reported to have at least a hundred or more soldiers with him."

Aragorn and Arwen drew collective breaths of shock and dread. Thranduil was already moving to wage his war on the Dwarves, starting right here in Rivendell with Gimli and those that had accompanied him to the reunion of the Fellowship.

"When will they arrive?" Aragorn questioned, feeling the urgency of the situation dispelling his melancholy and replacing it with the more familiar and foreboding sense of coming battle.

"Depending on how hard he pushes his army, Thranduil could reach Rivendell in four days, maybe even less," the half-elf replied in his characteristic calm and collected voice, even with this impending threat looming over them, "That is why we must find Gimli. He and his company must flee Rivendell. They cannot stay here or it will be a massacre. We can hide the dwarves in one of the smaller mountain villages west of here until I can talk some sense into Legolas' father..."

The strained tone in Elrond's voice did not go unmarked by the others as he trailed off slightly at the mention of the young Sindarian elf.

~I do not know if I will be able to calm Thranduil's rage or grief. What will I say to him? I cannot even imagine the pain of losing a child. I do not know what I would do if I ever lost Elladan, Elrohir, or Arwen...~ Subconsciously, the ancient healer stole a quick glance at his daughter, trying to hide his own doubts of his ability to stave the grieving father from seeking retribution for his son's death.

Perhaps sensing Elrond's inner turmoil, Gandalf quickly stepped in and said with an uneasy tap of his staff on the ground, "That is why we must find Gimli. If he is to escape Thranduil's wrath, we must hurry and get them away into one of the outlying villages under Lord Elrond's rule and protection. It will be easier to protect the dwarves if Thranduil does not know their whereabouts."

"But he cannot be found," elaborated the elf-lord, a fleeting tone of exasperated helplessly tainting his voice, "I have already sent out guards to search the city for him, but I fear Gimli may be beyond our protection now..."

Suddenly, from the darkened hallway, the quick, echoing footsteps of someone approached the great room where the small group stood sounded. Emerging into the dim grey light, the blond haired figure of Elrond's captain of the guard, Glorfindel, hurried into the room, an unnatural aura of uneasiness surrounding the normally regal elf.

"My lord," he greeted breathlessly as he gave a hasty bow to Elrond and then stood at attention before his liege.

"Have you found any trace of the dwarf Gimli, Glorfindel?" the elven king asked with the smallest hint of hopefulness in his inquiring voice.

"Nay, my Lord," the golden-haired Balrog-slayer replied with a rueful shake of his head, "Every building in the city and palace has been searched, but we cannot find him..."

"Where could he have gone?" Arwen pondered quietly to herself, worry creasing her fair face.

"While we were searching for Master Gimli, one of the guards reported that there was a horse missing from the palace stables," Glorfindel then suddenly said, offering this new clue to the puzzle, "It was the one he had taken on his journey into the mountains..."

A tense silence stung the ears of all those sanding there in the wide, grey lit room. "Do you think Gimli left Rivendell to escape Thranduil without letting any of us know?" the raven haired princess directed towards her father.

"I do not know, Arwen," he sighed with a grim frown, "Did he not think we would protect him? But if that was the case, how did he know Thranduil was already marching towards Rivendell? I only received the confirmed report of Thranduil's army this morning from an urgent message from one of the outer units of guards on the eastern border... There was no way for Gimli to have known he was in such eminent danger."

"Perhaps he did not flee..." Gandalf suddenly murmured under his breath, more to himself than any of the others present. Tugging at the end of his long white beard, the wizard stared at the motionless body of the elven warrior, Legolas, on the far side of the room with a distant and thoughtful expression chiseled onto his face.

"What do you mean, Mithrandir?" Elrond implored urgently.

"I mean I do not think Gimli left Rivendell to run from Thranduil and his army. Like you yourself said, Lord Elrond, he could not have known Legolas' father was coming. I believe he may be heading east, into the mountains..." the Maia muttered with his answer left open-ended as usual as if purposely trying to force his audience to ask him to elaborate.

Knowing Gandalf's method of answering a simple question with elusive half-answers and riddles, Elrond pushed back a surge of annoyance for having to play the wizard's game, and asked between gritted teeth of feigned patience, "And why would he be traveling east, Mithrandir?"

"Because I fear Gimli has left in a last ditch effort to save Legolas."

"But how does he plan to do such a thing?" Aragorn broke in and demanded incredulously, dismayed by his friend's hopelessness in such an impossible venture.

"By seeking out the sorceress Eronel..." Gandalf finally said, leaving his audience speechless and with mixed expression of numbed shock and horror on their faces.

*************

_The world had become nothing more than an obscure blur in Gimli's eyes. Lost in a frenzied state of desperation and grief, the dwarf careened through the lush green forest around him, driven by one single desperate hope. Trees whipped past him wildly as his sweat-lathered horse frantically galloped at full speed, its legs a blur beneath it as it weaved in and out of the thick trunks, the green and brown of the forest swirling in a menage of color.

_Crashing through the lush undergrowth, Gimli rode blindly forward, heedless of any obstacle in his path as he spurred his struggling mount faster. The dwarf pushed ahead recklessly, hardly even acknowledging the exhausted horse as it stumbled on an unseen root and nearly threw its rider to the ground. But instead of slowing after this near accident, Gimli only kicked the tired creature in its ribs, urging for more speed, desperate to recover the few precious seconds they had just lost. For a day and a night straight now he had kept this pace, pushing his horse mercilessly onwards through the treacherous mountain passes of Imladris towards the hidden valley of the elven sorceress Eronel...

And for that day and night, he had been seized by a fit of delirious grief. Gimli's shattered mind could only focus on one thing, one person, one grief: Legolas.

_He couldn't escape the haunting image of the dead elf's body laying there so still and quiet on an altar of stone no matter how fast he urged his horse onward. Ever since returning to Rivendell from his mission to find Legolas a cure for the poison slowly killing him, and then finding his elven friend dead, Legolas had possessed Gimli's thoughts and consumed his mind like an unshakable obsession. He couldn't rid himself of that single image or the utter horror and despair of when he had found his friend dead.

They had been too late¼ It was all his fault. Legolas had trusted them to return with a cure, but they had been too late¼ He was dead. Dead! It just couldn't be possible! Legolas couldn't die! He was immortal and one of the strongest warriors in all of Middle-earth! He just couldn't be gone, smote so easily as by such a small cut on his finger¼ But he was...

_The grief was unbearable. Gimli could barely keep himself upright on the on the moving horse beneath him. The dwarf's thick reddish beard was tangled and its braid's disarrayed and ratty from neglect to groom it for several days now. Gimli's proud facial hair was soaked with tears that continued to seep from his eyes unceasingly. The only thing that kept him from going insane was the fragile hope that he might somehow change all this, bring Legolas back.

The imprisoned witch said she could help Legolas... Maybe she still could. Gimli did not know the extent of Eronel's magic, but surely such a powerful sorceress could bring Legolas back. It was the only hope he had...

Gimli managed to wrestle his thoughts away from the elf for a moment and looked around at the surrounding forest. The trees seemed taller and more lush than they had from the other mountain woods he had sped through to get to this serene and secluded valley. The air seemed wreathed in ancient magic by a light, misty fog that hovered low on the ground, coating the area in a ghostly ambiance. Dark clouds hung heavy and pregnant in the sky overhead, but the rain had dwindled away to nothing almost immediately after passing through the narrow gap in a rock face about a quarter an hour ago. A thick heaviness pervaded the air and the dwarf swore he could feel the eyes of some unseen presence watching him. And a strange, unnerving silence stung his ears.

He was close... He was so close now...

The course he traveled now was not the same as the one he, Toreingal, and Gandalf had taken before. This one was smoother and less rocky, but the unnatural stillness of the forest was unmistakable; he could almost feel Eronel nearby, watching his approach.

Giving his panting horse another sharp jab in the ribs with his stubby legs, Gimli drove forward, desperate to reach Eronel's cave and beg her assistance to restore Legolas to life. But before the dwarf even knew what was happening, he felt his elven-bred steed falter. Wickering, the mare suddenly stumbled on the uneven ground and pitched forward, its body weight thrown off balance by its charging momentum.

Vaulted out of his saddle, Gimli toppled through the air like a rag doll before he finally came to a crashing halt as his stout body collided with the hard forest floor. Cursing madly, the dwarf scrambled to his feet, groping for his fallen ax that had been retched out of his grip at some point during his mid-air acrobatics. A little bit shaken but for the most part uninjured by the accident, he stood on unsteady legs and shot a scathing glare at the chestnut mare.

The haggard beast stood with its head bent nearly to the ground, its nose almost grazing the green vegetation blanketing the forest floor. Sweat coated its chest and flanks like a frothy soap. Its sides heaved for air. The proud elven steed looked a second away from collapsing from exhaustion.

"Damn horse!" Gimli snarled menacingly, stalking back over to the ragged beast and snatching the dangling reigns from out of the air. "Come on," he ordered, tugging roughly on the ropes of leather and trying to drag the tired animal.

But the horse could go no further. It had run for almost a whole day straight, covering almost fifty miles of untamed, harsh tracks of land through the Misty Mountains, all the while carrying a particularly heavy dwarf on its back without food, rest, or water. It had had enough.

Refusing to budge from where it stood, the horse merely gave a weak snort as the dwarf continued to vainly pull and tug at its head, all the while cursing unintelligently about beasts of burden.

"Move you flea bitten excuse of a horse! Move! We're almost there! MOVE!!" The half pleading cries of the grief-ridden dwarf echoed though the silent forest around him until finally fading into the distance.

Finally, the reigns could no longer take the strain of the frantically pulling of the dwarf and the unrelenting fastidiousness of the horse. With a sharp snap, the reigns flew apart in two separate pieces, sending Gimli sprawling to the ground, spread-eagle.

Momentarily winded by his ungraceful tumble, Gimli sat up, sputtering an angry string of curses in both dwarfish and common speech that were so vile in context, they could have made even the roughest of men blush to the tips of his ears. Heaving himself to his feet, the dwarf stood trembling with anger and frustration, his hands balled together in fists at his sides. Irritably, Gimli finally accepted the fact that no amount of curses or brute strength was going to extricate the exhausted horse from that spot. All his efforts would be vain and fruitless and only a waste of even more precious time. Scanning the surrounding forest aimlessly as if some other form of transportation would magically appear, Gimli felt tears of frustration and helplessness welling up in his small dark eyes.

He was so close! But the blasted horse wouldn't move! He had to reach Eronel. She was his only hope of saving Legolas.

Biting back a surge of hysterical desperation, the dwarf knew he would have to push on ahead alone on his own power. If Gimli had been in any other state of mind, he might have taken the opportunity ro make some snide comment about how he could have traveled the whole distance by himself on his own two legs without the assistance of one of those overrated animals elves always used to port their lazy bodies around with. But he was beyond such pride now. The devastation of Legolas' death had shaken his spirits too much for that.

Spitting one final curse at the exhausted animal, Gimli turned sharply on his heels and plunged ahead into the surrounding thicket of trees in a stumbling run. The trunks of the ancient and towering trees whipped past him as he stumbled over protruding roots and loose rocks. His breath came in quick, hitching sobs as he ran madly onward, letting the grief and anguish of Legolas' death swell and consumed his ind again.

~Legolas... Hold on, please... Eronel will help you. She can bring you back. She said she could. She has to! She will help. She will help she will helpshewillhelpshewillhelp....~

Battling the fatigue of his weary body, Gimli struggled over a particularly large log blocking his path. Biting back the sharp stinging in his cramping leg muscles, the dwarf scrambled over the log and stumbled on, barely even giving himself time to catch his breath. He could feel his body wearing down, though he fought to press on. The last several days he had lived with little food and even less sleep, and the distress and strain of traveling such a long distance to save the life of his friend was finally beginning to wear down the dwarf's stamina and endurance.

But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he was so close. He had to go on. He owed it to Legolas. The elf's only hope lay with the imprisoned sorceress Eronel and her promise to Gimli that she could save the elven warrior-prince.

Though driven half mad with grief and blame for Legolas' death, Gimli's stubborn dwarfish nature refused to be stamped out. He refused to submit to exhaustion when Legolas' only chance of redemption was so near at hand.

The ground was beginning to gradually rise in slope. The soft, rich soil of the forest floor had begun to become more rocky and steep. The mist-wreathed trees were beginning to thin out, giving way to more room though their leafy canopy still blotted out the grey, cloud packed sky overhead. The air was heavier and harder to breath, as though filled with a thick presence in the air.

Consumed in a maelstrom of desperate hopes, Gimli tore through the dense foliage of the lush green forest of Eronel's secluded mountain valley like a madman. The crashing of his weary and faltering gait echoed through the silent silvan scene louder than what a whole band of orcs could have made.

The dwarf seemed to blunder aimlessly ahead with no set direction in mind. In all honesty, he knew not where the enchanted waterfall of Eronel's guarded cave stood for cert, or where exactly in the remote mountain valley he even was. But in some far corner of his mind he knew he was heading in the right direction. It felt as though there was some kind of invisible string tied to him, pulling him ever forward; as though a tiny voice in the back of his head was beckoning to him just beyond the edge of his consciousness, "Come to me... Yes, this way..."

Heeding this unfounded instinct, Gimli just ran, letting his feet fly beneath him.

~Legolas... Just hold on... I'll bring you back. I'll bring you back no matter what the cost... Eronel will help...~

Suddenly, from somewhere up ahead, the soft tinkle of falling water caught the emotionally distraught dwarf's ears. Pushing more effort into his already stinging legs, Gimli stumbled towards the sound, his heavy boots dragging clumsily across the mossy, rock strewn forest floor.

In the near distance, a lighter shade of grey light filtered through the thick green canopy of green leaves overhead. The trees seemed to be thinning out more and more the nearer he got to the trickling cascade of falling water. Coming to the edge of the main body of surrounding trees, Gimli suddenly burst from out of the stinging silence of the forest and into a small clearing filled with a peacefully serene waterfall. In front of the curtain of the clear mountain spring, a deep, crystal clear pond stretched out, almost twenty feet in diameter. A fine mist hung in the air and around the base of the bubbling stream of water as it tumbled into the pond's basin.

Staggering over the feathery moss covering the few rocks spotting the sandy banks of the pond, Gimli fell to his knees, too exhausted and weary with grief to stand any longer.

"Eronel!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, shattering the peaceful calm of the heavy air, "ERONEL!!"

The ringing of his desperate call echoed into the misty forest around him before fading away into nothing. A stinging silence hung over everything as Gimli knelt prostrate on the ground, waiting for something to happen. What exactly he was waiting for he did not know. The only sound that pierced the air was the soft tinkle of the small waterfall, its cascading waters sounding like falling diamonds as the gurgling water ran over the rocks at its foot. The rushing of Gimli's blood pounded in his ears as he tried to still his breath.

Gimli sat there on the mossy banks of the mirror like pond in breathless anticipation for what seemed like ages, waiting for a sign from the elven sorceress that she had heard his cry. But nothing happened. Nothing came to him except the resounding sting if empty silence.

~Where is she? Why won't Eronel come to me?~ Gimli's grief racked mind wailed in his head. ~I have to find her! She is the only one that can save Legolas!~

Gimli's eyes raked across the pond wildly, searching for any sign of the imprisoned witch's face on its glass like surface. He remembered how she had projected her image to him when he had first come to this enchanted waterfall and hidden valley. But there was nothing, only the silvery white shimmer of water in the pale grey light of the overcast sky.

A sinking suspicion and doubt began to creep along Gimli's spine. ~Why will she not come to me...? Is she unable to help me? Or was it all a false hope... a fool's dream? What if she never did really come to me before? What if her promise to me was nothing more than a figment of my imagination when I knew that the magic water would not cure Legolas? Oh, Aule! I am a fool! Legolas is gone – dead! And it is all my fault! There is nothing I can do to save him now... I failed him...~

The dwarf's final shred of hope dissolved as he sat in the moist soil of the pond's edge. With nothing more to hold onto, Gimli broke down. His ax slip from his hand and fell useless at his side, clattering on a nearby rock by his knee as he covered his bearded and travel-worn face with his dirty gloves. A racking sob escaped his throat as he huddled into himself trying to contain the grief and anguish of his defeat. His shoulders began to shake as he sank lower to the ground.

~Why did I come here? Why? I should have known there was nothing I could have done to save Legolas...~

Burying himself in his personal hell, Gimli hardly even registered the chill of cold air on the back of his neck as he wallowed in his despair. The air around him suddenly felt colder, as if a frigid breeze had blow through the small glade, though there was no movement of air or sound of wind.

*Gimli....* The voice came like a distant whisper in the back of Gimli's mind, bringing him out of his depression enough to startle him into rising his head from his hands several inches. The dwarf sat frozen in place, desperately waiting to hear the delicate feminine voice again to assure himself he was not dreaming. *Master dwarf... I have been waiting. Your coming here was not in vain... I can help. Legolas is not yet totally lost...*

"Eronel..." Gimli stuttered in recognition. A mixture of disbelief, utter joy, and relief stormed his head as he tried to fight back a surge of emotions at the imprisoned witch's sudden appearance.

Trying to place the voice that seemed to resonate out of the very air itself, Gimli swung his head around, as if expecting for the elven sorceress to be found on the pond's very shores right beside him. Finding the banks empty of all living life, the dwarf's searching eyes finally roamed over to the glassy surface of the pond.

There on the silvery glass water, the fair face of Eronel stared back at Gimli, her piercing and disarming blue eyes gazing into the dwarf's very soul. She did not appear any different than the first time he had looked down onto her and momentarily mistaken Eronel for the fair Lady of the Woods, Galadriel.

"Eronel..." Gimli said dumbly, shocked to find her there on the pond's surface just when he had thought all hope was lost.

*I know why you have come...* she said, cutting him off abruptly as if she could see into his very mind and read his thoughts. Eronel's watery image mouthed her words in perfect unison to the voice in Gimli's head though no sound came from the pond's surface itself. Her blue eyes bore into Gimi's until it felt as though he was lost in their stunning sapphire depths. *Prince Legolas is dead...* she said, in a tone that was not asking a question but stating a known fact.

"Yes," the dwarf chocked in confirmation, fresh tears welling in the corner of his eyes at the mention of his poisoned companion and friend.

*And you have now come to seek my aid when the enchanted water of my prison did not arrive in time to save him...*

"Yes..." Gimli nodded in guilty admission, "Please. Can you still help him? Can you bring him back?" There was an underlying note of pleading in his voice as he crouched lower over the pond's edge towards Eronel's image wavering there before him on the glassy surface.

* I can. It is not beyond my power to restore life to him. But I must be set free first to perform the necessary spell to do it and reverse the poison's effect...*

Gimli immediately paused, weighing the sorceress words carefully. Even though driven half-mad with guilt and desperation to bring his best friend back to life, he had not forgotten the story Elrond had told them all concerning Eronel's dark past.

"What guarantee do I have that you will do as you promise after I release you from your prison?" he asked warily, an edge of suspicion in his husky voice.

For a moment, Eronel's gaze sharpened and her fair face fell blank and unreadable, as if she were deciding how to respond to this implied accusation to some treachery she might be contriving. Finally, a saddened expression melted across her porcelain doll like face. *I am plotting no treachery, Master Gimli* she said in an almost hurt voice, *I merely wish to right the wrongs my past sins have done to hurt innocent lives...I want to help Prince Legolas. I am the only one that can save him now...*

Gimli sat there staring at Eronel's watery face in a moment of indecision. Her response sounded genuine enough, and he was desperate to bring Legolas back. Had he not felt to pressed for time or weighed by such guilt or grief, he may have pressed for an assurance more heatedly. But as things were, with his mind so dead set on saving the life of his closest friend, Gimli decided that he had no other choice but to trust in Eronel's guarantee and honor.

"What must I do?" the dwarf asked in a whisper, a new sense of hope flooding over him with the prospect of being reunited with Legolas.

*The water flowing in front of my cave must be removed. I cannot touch it. You must find a way to grant me free passage past the water, and then call me out from cave. Only then will the enchantment be broken and I set free...* the echoing voice of the trapped witch answered in the back of the dwarf's mind.

~Remove the water? How can I do such a thing? How does one stop the flow of a waterfall? I would have better luck if she asked me to move a mountain!~ Gimli pondered the riddle quietly to himself, trying to devise a way such a task could be accomplished. It was impossible!

A sinking feeling seized Gimli's stomach. ~What do I do? If I cannot free Eronel, then Legolas will remain as he is!~ Gimli's frustration began to mount as he racked his brain as to how he could do such a task.

Scanning the waterfall from top to bottom, Gimli's head spun with the impossible odds of succeeding. The fall was nearly fifteen feet high, flowing over he edge of a jagged cliff face. How was he to move the water away from the mouth of the cave? Could he possibly tunnel a way around the fall and then into the cave itself? No – he would need proper tools besides his ax and he did not have the time for such a venture. Was there some way he could possibly divert the waterfall itself? This seemed the most probable course of action.

Slowly gathering his will and rising to his feet, Gimli surveyed the area.

~I doubt I can divert the entire flow of the stream, but perhaps I can partially block it so that the water falls along a different part of the cliff...~ Scanning the rim of the cliff face, Gimli noticed a small tree standing apart from the surrounding forest atop the cliff. It was relatively close to edge of the drop and looked like it was near the very side of the stream flowing down the rock face. Perhaps he could fall the tree across the stream's path.

Resolving himself that that would be his plan, Gimli bent down and retrieved his discarded ax from the moist bank of the pond and turned to look back at the imposing cliff. It was not that high and the cliff itself seemed to have numerous outcrops of rocks that looked large enough to support his weight and provide him with enough hand and foot holds to scale the wall.

Giving a small sigh of resignation, Gimli hurried around the circular pond to the base of the cliff. Managing to grip both his ax and a jutting section of rock with one hand, the miner grunted as he hoisted himself up to where he could catch the tip of his boot in a small niche in the rocks several feet above the ground. He then reached up his free hand and clutched at another outcropping of rocks. The rocks were a bit slippery with moisture and moss, but not entirely unscalable for the dwarf.

As he scuttled up small cliff in short awkward bursts to the next ledge of rock above, Gimli could not help but mutter under his breath about how Aule had not made dwarves for climbing. In some distant part of his mind, Gimli could not help but wonder what Legolas would say if he ever saw Gimli trying to climb. ~Probably would never let me forget it and then try and get me to come up into one of those blasted trees with him...~ he mused.

The climb was not long or extremely difficult because of the large outcrops of rock that provided excellent foot holds, but Gimli still found himself gasping for air when he finally pulled himself over the moss draped rim of the cliff and rolled flat onto his back with a final grunt of exertion. Blessing the Valar that he was safely back on level ground, Gimli heaved himself back onto his feet. Glancing over his shoulder down into the small glade, the dwarf paused as he overlooked the silent and motionless pond almost twenty feet below.

*Hurry, Master Dwarf... There is little time...* Eronel's voice urged from some far corner of his mind.

Remembering his task, Gimli turned and spotted his intended target: a young, bent tree leaning over the small moving stream beside it almost eight feet from the cliff's edge. It was thinner in girth then its larger counterparts Gimli had seen elsewhere in the ancient forest.

~It can't be much different than slicing an orc in half...~ he assured himself uncertainly.

Stepping up to the tree, the dwarf gripped he ax firmly in his grip and swung it over his shoulder, readying himself to deliver the first blow to the chocolate brown trunk. Carefully directing his aim, he swung. The blade of his ax connected with the bark of the tree, where the wood splintered under its impact and left a shallow groove in the trunk. Swinging back again, the dwarf continued to hack at the tree, letting the hollow thuds of his labor echo away into the silent forest. Several green leaves fluttered down from above as Gimli continued to pound his ax into the quivering tree's side.

Finally there came a deep groan from the half-cleaved trunk and the whole thing began to tilt to the side, over the gurgling mountain stream beside it. Stepping back, Gimli watched passively as the tree tipped and began to fall in what seemed like slow motion down over the spring. The loud rustle of leaves and snapping twigs rent the heavy silence of the air as the tree crashed horizontally with a loud splash across the water.

Moving closer to examine his work, Gimli saw the stream partially dammed as the rushed water swelled on the far side of the fallen log. Twin streams of water seeped past the trunk on either side of the fallen tree and continued to fall over the edge, but the main force of the mountain spring had been dammed. Moving closer to the rim of the cliff, Gimli looked down into the small glade below. From his angle it was hard to tell, but even with the two small rushes of water still flowing around his makeshift dam, the waterfall seemed to have been successfully diverted from its normal course and now ran down either side of the cliff.

*It worked... Come back down and call me out...* Eronel ordered in her disembodied, ghostly voice that sent a small chill down Gimli's spine.

Edging towards the lip of the mossy cliff, Gimli looked down uncertainly. From the top at this angle, the cliff seemed much steeper than before. He could see none of the footholds and ledges he had used to climb up with. The descent would be more difficult and dangerous now that he would not be able to see where he was pulling his feet. But the other option of following the cliff until it leveled out with the land more for him to just walk down, although safer, would take too much time; though the dwarf had to wonder how fast he actually had to be to help someone who was already dead...

Gulping down the lump in his throat at the sudden mental image of him losing his grip and smashing into the rocks below, the dwarf lowered himself to his knees beside the rim of the cliff and slowly shuffled backwards towards te steep drop until he felt his feet dangle off into empty air. He tightened his grip on the moss covered edge with his hands (one still clutching his ax possessively) as he gingerly lowered one foot down along the uneven rock face. After a few second of prodding, he finally felt his toes catch a ledge large enough to support his weight. Easing himself over the rim, Gimli clasped at the wall. He felt a small jolt of vertigo in the pit of his stomach as gravity tugged at his stout body, trying to pull him down to the ground far below. Now that he was parallel with the rock wall, Gimli found that he could now discern several more ledges farther down the wall as he stole a quick glance down his chest between his body and cliff. Moving slowly and very carefully, the dwarf made his descent back to the sandy shores of the pond.

When Gimli finally stepped back from the cliff, he could not help but feel a small swell of pride for managing to scale the sheer wall of rock with nothing more to show for his troubles than a few minor scrapes and blisters on his hands and knees. He was also a bit more tired than when he had first set up to climb it. But it was a small price to pay is it was to bring Legolas back. The knowledge that he would soon see his friend alive and well again was enough to dispel the majority of his exhaustion and weariness.

Gimli quickly dashed to the far side of the pond, right in front of the cliff face. Between the two small streams of water that still gushed around the fallen tree trunk damming the mountain spring and down either side of the waterfall's original course, Gimli now saw a cavernous hole hollowed into the side of the small hill of rock. Naked of the waterfall that had once fallen over its entrance, the cave stood like a gaping black mouth of darkness. It looked cold and deep. The dwarf could discern no movement from within beyond the wall of blackness facing him.

"What must I do now?" Gimli shouted into the stillness of the glade. Without the gentle roar of the enchanted waterfall, the stifling silence of the forest seemed have intensified to deafening volumes.

*There is still a magic barrier keeping me from leaving this cave...* Eronel's ghostly voice said softly from the edge of the dwarf's thoughts, *You must call me out, announcing your consent that I should be allowed to pass through the magic still barring my way. The Elves that imprisoned me here placed an extra magical ban across the entrance of my cave so that I can only leave if given permission by a one who willingly gives their consent that I be freed...*

The dwarf nodded in understanding.

This was it. Once Eronel was freed, she would restore Legolas and everything would be set right again... Gimli felt almost elated with the knowledge that he would soon be reunited with his elven friend. He sucked in a shaky breath of air to calm his rapidly beating heart. Squaring his shoulders, the dwarf called in his loudest voice, "Eronel! I call you out of your cave. I grant my consent that she be freed from whatever magic still keeping her prisoner within!"

The heavy silence of the hidden valley filled the air and rang in Gimli's ears as his voice faded into the distance. A blanket of utter stillness covered the land. Nothing stirred under the leafy boughs of the towering trees surrounding the silver pond and the remnants of the waterfall that had once fallen there.

Gimli glanced around uncertainly, a small twinge of panic beginning to grow in the bottom of his stomach. ~Did it not work? Did I do something wrong?~

Suddenly, a low rumble coursed through the ground. Startled by this, Gimli looked down at the quivering ground beneath his boots. He could actually see loose dirt dancing up into the air as though some giant being was banging its fists against the underside of the forest floor. The rumble quickly intensified. It soon became a loud roar, crashing like an avalanche of boulders down a mountain side. Ears still sensitive to the complete silence he had endured since entering the valley, Gimli clamped his hands tightly over his ears, trying to shut out the deafening roar.

The dwarf had to struggle to keep on his feet as the ground quaked violently beneath his feet, but it was like everything was happening at once. The dark overcast sky overhead thickened into a swirling black mass of clouds. Lightening forked across the sky. Deafening thunder crashed. A wild wind whipped through the glade where Gimli stood, beating against his body and sending up a whirlwind of dirt and leaves circling into the air around him.

Trying to shield his face against the battering wind, Gimli was finally overwhelmed and fell to his knees on the banks of silver pond. The waters' once smooth and glass like surface was now broiling madly again its shores in agitation. Squinting through narrowed eyes, the dwarf saw sparks of energy flashing in the air around him, cracking loudly. Dazzled by the light, Gimli clenched his eyes tightly close as the world around him erupted into chaos.

And then, through all this turmoil, the sensation of the very air itself being ripped in two overtook the quelled dwarf. It felt as though the very fabric of his being was been stretched apart. Gimli's mouth opened to scream, but whether he actually did or not the dwarf could not say; he could hear nothing over the overwhelming roar of wind and thunder in his ears.

And just as everything seemed to reach its peak where the noise could roar no louder and the earth could not shake any harder without crumbling away into dust, a blinding flash of white light suddenly exploded. It was like the world had been pulled so taunt that it had finally snapped in two. Following in its wake a powerful concussion wave of force swept out over the land, knocking Gimli flat on the back as the hammering force slammed into his chest. Stunned, the dwarf lay motionless as the howling wind and the earth's rumbling began to die away around him like a passing storm. Half blinded and ears still ringing madly, Gimli slowly eased himself up to sit, totally bewildered by what had just occurred.

Blinking back the spots dancing in his eyes, the dwarf's swivelled around on his neck, surveying his surroundings. As his vision slowly cleared he suddenly became aware of the falling rain crashing down around him. The soft hiss of it filled his ears. The cold, fat drops of water lashed his face and streamed down into his eyes and beard, soaking his mud-caked clothes to the skin. Gimli shivered slightly as he wiped the cold rain from his face.

As his eyes finally came into focus, Gimli looked around where he still sat dazed and confused in the mud. He could only gasp in horror at what he saw.

A sea of dead, skeleton-like trees stretched on for as far as the eye could see around him. Their leafless, bony branched jutted up over the twisted and crippled black trunks like groping hands stretched up pleadingly towards heaven. A shadowy gloom seemed to now hang in the air around the bases of the dead and decrepit trees. The ground was bare and blackened as though scorched by some terrible fire.

Startled by this sudden change of scenery, Gimli's head snapped down towards the pond beside him, expecting to find it still silver and clear, untouched by whatever pestilence had devoured the hidden valley's once lush green forest. But instead of pure and clean water, the dwarf was meet with a murky brackish sludge. Diseased and sickly brown weeds broke out of the pestilent pond's oily surface along its edge.

Sickened by the defilement of the beauty that had once surrounded him, Gimli staggered back from the diseased pond, repulsed. His head spun as he stared into the stagnant pool. The stench of wet decay and rot slowly began to waft up and permeate the rainy air. Gimli reflexively gagged as the foul smell filled his nose and coated the back of his throat like a thick tar. His stomach turned in revulsion and he felt as though at any moment he would be sick.

But as Gimli swayed on his feet, dizzied by the devastation and decay around him, a loud cackling laugh brought the sickened dwarf out of his swoon. Following the sound, Gimli looked to the very center of the muddy bog before him.

There, hovering several inches above the oily surface of the water, a thin emaciated woman stood tittering with malicious laughter under her breath as she indifferently surveyed the decimated remains of the forest glade around her. Waves of small ripples radiated out across the pond's surface from under the woman's feet to its rounded shores as though a gentle breeze was stirring the water. Her hollow, mirthless chuckles echoed out over the pounding rain in Gimli's ears and sent a cold chill down his spine.

There was no doubt in Gimli's mind as to who the mysterious woman was. It was Eronel, the imprisoned sorceress he had just set free. Her pointed ears and tall stature were unmistakably elven, but he had not been prepared for what he saw.

The dwarf stared in dumbfounded shock and revulsion. The elf standing before him was nothing like the fair image of the beautiful maiden he had seen glinting in the enchanted water of the mountain pool. Eronel's long golden hair was dirty and unbrushed, reaching down to the backs of her knees. The filthy tresses hung like a massive nest of knots and tangles over her bony shoulders and down her back. Even from a space of twenty feet or more, Gimli could see wide empty spaces between the black and rotting remains of Eronel's teeth as her head tipped back in sardonic laughter.

Robed in a long, tattered robe of soiled dark blue, the witch looked thin and half starved. The elf's old fashioned robe hung like a dirty rag wrapped around her emaciated body, showing the ages it had clothed her in the long years of her confinement. Her once clean and radiant porcelain skin was a sickly pale white, completely devoid of the faint but ever present glow of light in her skin that all the other elves Gimli had meet had. Haggard and withered like the forest around her, Eronel nevertheless stood tall and straight, laughing as her eyes came to rest on the dwarf gaping at her from the stagnant pond's side.

As her ice blue eyes locked with Gimli's, it felt as though a shard of ice had been driven through his heart. Though ugly and wretched in appearance, Eronel's piercing eyes had lost none of their power in the lonely years of isolation she had spent in the black recesses of her dank prison. Gimli immediately felt naked and feeble under the elven sorceress' intense gaze. Burning deep within her piercing blue depths, an inner light danced in Eronel's eyes like the sparks of a smoldering inferno.

Again, Gimli fell dumbstruck and speechless as he stared open mouthed at the female elf as her malicious laughter slowly faded in her throat and she turned to face the dwarf with an unreadable smile etched across her face, her rotted black teeth bared at him in an almost flirtatious way.

"What is the matter, Master Dwarf?" she asked, a hint of mockery tainting the title she had just addressed Gimli with, "Does my appearance startle you?"

"I... I was just expecting you to look a little bit...," Gimli groped for a suitable response that would not seem insulting, "different..." he finally settled on, feeling confident that she had not picked up on the hesitation in his voice.

"Different..." Eronel mused to herself, a victorious smirk pulling at the corner of her flaccid lips, "Yes, I'm sure you expected me to appear much fairer... The long years I spent in the darkness of my prison have done little for my beauty."

Gimli's eyebrows furled in confusion. "But your face in the water..," he stammered as his eyes shifted between the elven sorceress' wasted face and the surface of the brackish pool she hovered over.

"It was an illusion," she confirmed with another decayed grin, "I know how mystified and foolish you mortals can be when dazzled by beauty. In knew you would hesitate to release me if I appeared to you as wretched as I really am, so I conjured an image as fair and beautiful as that flighty fool of a queen, Galadriel..."

"I would please ask you not to insult the Lady of the Woods in my presence," Gimli growled, bristling with subdued anger at Eronel's careless insult.

"I see Galadriel has managed to ensnare a dwarf to add to her endless collection of admirers. How proud she must feel..." Eronel quietly commented to herself, openly inviting war with the Lock-Bearer of Galadriel.

"I did not release you to insult the Lady Galadriel to my face, Eronel," Gimli warned as discreetly as he could, valiantly fighting back the rising anger in his chest. Eronel still had to bring Legolas back. He couldn't risk the chance of getting into a fight with her and incurring her wrath if he wanted her to fulfill her promise of saving Legolas. The rebuking of such disrespectful remarks would have to wait. Right now not even the honor of the fair elven queen was enough to deter Gimli from the single task he had set out to do. "The day is growing short. We must make haste back to Rivendell. It is at least a day and a half's journey, and Legolas is already being prepared for his funeral," the dwarf said, turning to lead the freed sorceress in the direction of the waiting horse he had left behind, "If we do not hurry we may be too late..." *And I doubt I could survive another such occurrence...* he added as a bitter mental afterthought.

But before Gimli walked even two steps, he froze in place as Eronel's cold laughter broke out anew and chilled his blood. Glancing over his shoulder, Gimli was dismayed to find Eronel unmoved from where she hovered over the very center of the murky, weed chocked pond. The malicious glint in her icy gaze unnerved him. "And what, prey tell, do you find so amusing?" he demanded, his guard immediately rising.

"I fear you are already too late! Much too late!" she laughed mockingly, "The young prince Legolas is beyond any aid you could possibly bring him now."

"But you said you could still save him!" Gimli cried in horrified disbelief, hoping what he had heard was false as he wheeled all the way around to face her, "You said you could bring him back if I released you!"

"I lied you fool! I never intended to save that elf!"

"Lied...?" Gimli repeated in dumbstruck shock at Eronel's confession, "But you said you had changed and that you wanted to make amends for your past sins."

As her sunken face twisted into a cruel smirk, Eronel said, "Again, a lie. You were only too easy to deceive. You were so distraught over your friend's death that I could have probably convinced you to do anything for me..."

"Why? Why did you lie to me that you could save Legolas?" the dwarf whispered in incomprehension as disbelief and shock froze his mind.

"I needed you to break the charm keeping me prisoner in that festering cave," she explained with a victorious crooked smile, "I needed someone foolish enough to willing give their consent that I be freed, and you fulfilled your role perfectly, Master Dwarf"- her tongue again mockingly rolled over the syllables of Gimli's title - "The Elves that enchanted the waterfall and imprisoned me in there for so many years put that final barrier there because they knew no one with any common sense would ever willingly set me free. But they had not anticipated the stupidity of a dwarf... You were so gullible to believe I could still save Legolas from my poison, you made my ruse almost too easy. How quickly you came back to me when you found that your friend was gone when you returned..."

Eronel gave a malicious laugh as she continued, savoring the look of horrified betrayal on Gimli's face, "Do you want to know how your little friend Legolas died? Just before I disposed of him, he was whimpering and crying in pain, calling for you as my poison slowly ate away at his body."

"What do you mean 'when I disposed of him'?" Gimli demanded, "You killed him, didn't you!"

"Heh heh heh..." the witch laughed, "Yes. I killed him. My poison was moving too slow. I needed to be sure that he would not have any need for the enchanted water you and you two companions took from my waterfall. I needed to make sure you thought I could save Legolas when you returned and found him dead so that you would free me from my dark prison. Do you know he tried to warn one of his mortal friends about me, but the Man dismissed his warnings as mere hallucinations? It was most entertaining to watch... After he left to go find help for the elfling, I snuck in and tied off the last loose end to my plan. The look on that mortal's face when he came back and found his friend only moments dead was priceless. I suspect he blames himself for Legolas' death..."

*Aragorn...* The dwarf's stomach clenched in sickness as he thought of the Ranger and his promise to Gimli that he would not leave Legolas side until he returned with a cure. Aragorn's friendship with Legolas went deep and was not to be taken lightly, Even though consumed in his own grief Gimli had known the man was distraught over Legolas and that his promise to watch over the elf while Gimli was away had not been entirely for the dwarf's sake but also as a personal undertaking. *By Aule, I didn't even realize how near he must have been when Legolas died...He must blame himself for Legolas' death even more than I...*

Hot anger for the pain two of his closest friends had suffered at the hands of Eronel's treachery boiled deep in Gimli's heart. "And what do you plan to do with yourself now that you've lied and tricked me into freeing you when you should have rotted in your cave for another thousand years, witch?" he cried, glaring at the ugly hag of an elf before him.

The evil sorceress looked down on the betrayed dwarf, beaming victoriously. "Thanks to your gracious service to me, I can no personally see out the rest of me plan for revenge against all my enemies..."

"What do you mean?" Gimli snarled, hefting his ax up threateningly over his shoulder at the witch.

"My simple minded dwarf..." Eronel said, shaking her head sadly at Gimli's ignorance, "Have you already forgotten of the war already brewing between the Dwarves and Elves of Middle-earth? My revenge against the two races that imprisoned me in that dark hole over two thousand years ado will come from the Naugrim and Eldar themselves. Their brief alliance against me has faded away into foolish hatred and mistrust for each other. Their racial rancor seems to have grown like weeds over the last few centuries..."

The vengeance and wrath on Gimli's face for Eronel's deception fell into horror at the repugnant she-elf's words. In the revelation of his betrayal, he had completely forgotten the impending threat of war looming on the horizon. Thranduil was going to wage war on all dwarves, blaming Gimli for his son Legolas' death.

"Before I depart, I feel I must thank you, Master Dwarf," she continued, mockingly using her title for Gimli, "For without you none of this would have been possible."

"What do you mean?"

"It was you that rediscovered the forgotten dagger of that horrible little dwarf that wounded me and drove me into the cave I was caught and sealed in. It was only by pure luck that mindless elfling Legolas managed to poison himself on the blade, but if you hadn't given it to him, I would have never been able to have persuaded you to release me."

A cold malicious laugh sprang from her mouth as Eronel gloated over her own cunning and treachery. "But I must admit, I never thought my plan would work out so well. Not only am I free to spread a new wave of darkness over the land and rule over Middle-earth, but the two races of my greatest enemies will soon destroy themselves! I could not have hoped for a sweeter revenge! I can already smell the blood in the air! And it is all because of you, my foolish and gullible dwarf!"

Lifting her head up triumphantly towards the heavy black clouds overhead, Eronel gave another cackle. "I again thank you for your assistance, Master Dwarf," she emphasized snidely, "But I fear out time together has reached its end. There are still matters to attend to before Dwarves and Elves meet in bloody battle... Farewell!"

"You are going no where, Eronel," Gimli cried angrily, launching himself forward with his ax swung back to strike the foul witch.

But before Gimli even reached the rancid pond's edge, a brilliant white laugh exploded around the elven sorceress and blinded the dwarf. He could hear her evil laughter crowing at him from somewhere beyond the wall of white locking his vision. A startled cry ripped from Gimli's throat as his hands flew up instinctively to shied his eyes from the flash. Overbalanced by the heavy ax raised over his shoulder, the Gimli fell backwards to the pool's shore. The back of the dwarf's helmed skull bounced off the ground as his body crashed onto the black and withered forest's floor.

Eronel's laughter lingered in Gimli's ears as the light slowly receded and began to fade and dim around the dwarf. Finally her maniacal cackling faded from the air and the hiss of falling rain rushed back, filling the void of silence.

Shivering cold and wet, Gimli slowly raised himself up from the thick mud he lay in. Cold rain lashed through the sickly black branches of the dead trees and slapped Gimli mockingly in the face. Crawling to his knees, he looked around frantically, searching the pond's surface for any sign of the elven sorceress. But the stagnant pool's murky waters were empty and speckled by the drops of rain pelting into its surface. A damp chill hung in the air, freezing Gimli to the bones under his drenched and muddy clothes. The diseased forest felt dead and empty around him, silent except for the fizzle of rain in the air. Eronel had disappeared.

Gimli stared at the empty place where she had stood hovering over the defiled water only a moment before. Her words echoed in his head like an unending chant of death and darkness.

Alone in the rain drenched forest, in the middle of no where, Gimli felt the world crumbling around him. The grey clouds seemed to be manifesting his misery as rain continued to shower down around him, cloaking him in a mist of sorrow and regret.

*I failed Legolas again... And not only him but Aragorn and everybody else. I was a fool to think anything or anyone could help bring Legolas back from the dead. He is gone forever, and it is my fault. Eronel was right... all of this is my fault. Legolas is dead and now war will claim the lives of countless innocent people... and all because of me...*

His mind contaminated with Eronel words, Gimli remembered one of the last things she had told him before she had disappeared. *Legolas died calling for me. He died in pain and agony, and yet he called for me – me! the one who brought him all his suffering! I did not deserve to be Legolas' friend. She killed him when I should have been there at his side. It should have been I, not Legolas that died. It is my fault war will kill thousands of Elves and Dwarves, and that Eronel is again free to destroy Middle-earth...*

Whatever had been left of Gimli's sanity since leaving Rivendell in search of Eronel's cave final shattered. Consumed with bitterness and shame for all the pain and death he had caused, Gimli broke down and hung his head low, weeping into cupped hands as the rain continued to wash over him. Mingled with the cold rain coursing down in face, Gimli's tears streamed down his bearded face. His anguished howls of lament echoed away into the dead forest of the pestilent valley before finally fading under the pounding rain that poured over the land like tears shed from heaven...

****

TBC...

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OK, before I get mean reviews for still not bringing Legolas back (still no hints as to if I will or not... *grinning unconcerned at all the readers already leaving death threats for reviews*) I want to just reiterate one more time: STICK WITH ME!! You saw how much I had to write just to deal with Aragorn and Gimli. Think of Thranduil and everybody else. And don't forget about Toreingal... He's going to be a mental case to deal with... This story may take a bit of time, but I am very confident that I have worked out the rest of the story in my head and that there will be no more writer's block.

Anyway, I wanted to explain Gimli obvious stupid-move-of-the-day of freeing Eronel. You have to realize he's distraught over finding Legolas (possibly his closest friend in the whole wide world of Middle-earth) dead, and thinking it was all his fault. Eronel worked off Gimli's desperation to find a way to somehow bring Legolas back and manipulated his emotions into blindly setting her free, convincing him that she could somehow magically restore Legolas' life.

Before I let you go, I want to leave a hint for next chapter. Remember Thranduil's commander, Celion, from the last chapter? Well keep an eye out for her because she's going to have more than a five second, walk-by character role and will become an intricate element to the story later on... Hope I gave you something to sink your teeth into!

Please don't forget to review? Even if you totally abhor reviewing, at least let me know you actually read my fic. Thanks to all the others that reviewed last time. See you all around next time.

Signing out

-LAXgirl