A/N:  Look, I haven't disappeared from the earth!  So very sorry about the six thousand year wait, but school is insane right now.

Happy Birthday to me, and as a gift I give you this lovely new chapter.

Major thanks to seeing-spots for reminding me to keep writing, and keeping me sane while I did it J  And the scene near the end is for Cheysuli because I enjoy pandering to my faithful reviewers (all four of them).

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          Gimli sighed in silent relief as the gates of Helm's Deep closed behind them.  The ride had been unnerving, seated behind Legolas as though nothing were wrong.  They had been worried as to how the elf would travel, but his disconnection from reality did not seem to extend to their horses.  The riding arrangements had remained as always, since with the possible exception of Shadowfax none of the horses could carry a Human and dwarf as well.  Gimli's compact but dense build was countered by Legolas' light form- able to walk on the crust of snow, his weight made barely more impact than the sun and wind.

          Some swift experimentation had proven that Legolas was effectively blind and deaf to the world, but could be physically coaxed to action.  Gimli had had to swallow his dislike of horses as he led the quiet archer to Arod.  From there he had had no idea what to do, but Arod seemed to recognize his friend, and nuzzled at the elf's cheek.  A faint smile had brushed over Legolas' lips and he had embraced the horse's neck happily.  Getting him into the saddle had been easy after that, although he still did not acknowledge any of the other riders.

          Now, safe behind thick stone walls, Gimli felt some of his tension fade away.  This he knew, heavy boundaries hewn over the ages, depths unfathomable without dwarven knowledge.  Legolas would be as safe here as could be in these dark times, and perhaps time could be found to seek out the elf's injured soul.

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          From his mental refuge, Legolas was only vaguely aware of events.  Arod had been a welcome sight, though his vision wavered shakily at the edges and shadows attempted to conquer him.  He knew abstractly that something was not right, but in his cocoon of light could not be bothered to find it out.

          They rode.  He had recognized the easy rhythm of horse beneath him, and a familiar weight behind him, grumbling something just outside his understanding.  Almost he leaned toward it, until a flash of near recognition swept him from the side.  He pulled back from the spectre, afraid.  In that moment of clarity he found himself once more surrounded by Men, strangers all.  The incident with the Riders on the plains of Rohan had not left him; he had acted instinctively to protect his friend, and nearly found himself impersonating a hedgehog for his efforts.  He had been surprised when Aragorn intervened, had not known what to do next.  That moment of indecision left his mind free to roam, and he had been suddenly struck with the realization that he was surrounded by armed, hostile strangers.  He remembered freezing in terror and remaining that way until the circle of Men dissolved, and even then had moved only when Arod had approached him curiously.  No matter what he feared, no matter who had hurt him, he could not turn away from the gentle creatures he so loved.  Even now, with the fear of Aragorn's twice-shadowed heart and the promised battle, he could not help but take some small comfort from his stallion.

          Riding into Helm's Deep chilled him nonetheless.  As the walls of stone closed around him, and the milling crowds overwhelmed his senses, he felt a wave of terror threaten to bury him.  His defenses thickened even as they fell, trying desperately to protect him against a hopeless onslaught.  Amidst all these humans, how could he avoid his phantom stalker?  No one here would find it odd if he were accosted; none would stop a fellow Man from indulging curiosity about the graceful being.  Not even his trusted companion could be relied upon here; Gimli was one soul among hundreds.

          The dark corridors made his watch harder still.  Flickering at the edge of his awareness were the shadow demons he had come to associate with pain and humiliation.  The torches on all sides did little to illuminate the place.  He closed his eyes briefly to shut out the frightening sights.  Then opened them again as the darkness behind his lids seemed to team with life.

          'Peace,' his mind reminded him as the now familiar wall erected itself between him and reality, 'they can only hurt you if you touch.  Stay away, don't feel, don't act, and they can't harm you.  Remain in the light, it is your comfort.'

          In this dark hall, he clung to that knowledge, even as the darkness shoved him further away.  Lurching back in terror as the shadows overwhelmed him, he clutched at the bright shield that had protected him and wrapped himself in shining oblivion.

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          Gimli felt the elf shudder as they dismounted, and was both concerned and encouraged.  He hesitantly placed his hand on archer's arm and was almost pleased when Legolas recoiled.  At least there was something left in his friend's mind to react.  He reached out again, and gently took the elf's hand.  This time there was no reaction, and he sighed a little in disappointment before leading his friend toward the quarters they had been assigned.

          The small room was practically bare, with two small cots, a table, and two chairs.  A small oil lamp burned on the table.  Pragmatic as always Gimli reasoned that it was an improvement over sleeping in the woods and rain.  He led Legolas to the far cot and gently urged him to lie down.  Whether the elf needed to sleep or not, considering how similar his constant state seemed to elvish sleep, he would not be harmed by lying down through the night.

          As he moved his own cot into a protective stance against the door, he mused that here, in the depths of stone, they needn't worry about a flame leading an enemy to them.  Almost on a whim, Gimli left their tiny lamp burning as he settled down.  'Let it be a beacon of hope or something poetic to everyone else; it is a sign that we are as safe as any may be in these times,' he thought gruffly, and drifted off.

          His sleep was broken by screams.  He was out of his bedding and wielding his faithful axe before even realizing two things: the lantern was out, making it difficult to see anything, and…

          And Legolas was screaming.

          Years of training had taught him never to drop his weapon, but only those instincts kept it near him as he rushed toward his friend, guided by the faint light of the elven body.  No physical mark was on the elf, no attacker visible.  He allowed the axe to rest against the wall and tried desperately to lend some comfort.

          "Legolas, wake up!" he commanded, knowing it was likely to be ignored.  Sure enough, the screaming went on uninterrupted, if anything getting shriller.  The elf was shaking in what he imagined was fear.  Remembering the last time they had been in a similar situation- 'Although it was much quieter that time'- he tried to wrap his arms around the quivering archer.  Legolas did not pull away as he had earlier, and Gimli took this as a sign that comfort would not be turned away, at the least.  He leaned in toward the cot, pulling his friend against him slowly, ready to let go should he show any new fears.

          He was vaguely aware of a commotion outside the door, of shouts and confusion and two familiar voices.  He couldn't be bothered to go to them, too busy holding the uneasy form beside him.  Legolas' screams had died down a little, but he had a sinking feeling that it was only due to his throat being sore from excessive usage.  He held tightly to the quaking form as unknown phrases burbled into the dark room, calling for something he could not understand. 

          The door finally gave way to its attackers, sending Aragorn across the half-collapsed cot to the floor.  Even as he got back to his feet Gandalf entered the doorway, staff spilling light over the scene.

          Legolas stilled immediately, turning slightly, so slightly Gimli would not have noticed had they not been so close, towards the illumination.

          "What is it?" demanded Aragorn, glaring around the room as though an assailant were waiting in the corners.

          Gimli shrugged slightly before answering, "I think it may have been the darkness."  He was met by a blank stare from the Ranger, and a thoughtful one from the wizard.  "He calmed when Gandalf brought the light."

          "He's afraid of the dark?!" the Man exclaimed, bordering on contempt.  "Of all the-"  He broke himself off, breathing slowly for a moment.  "I'm sorry, that was unkind of me."

          Gimli privately agreed, and growled under his breath, even as Gandalf waved the Man off.  The wizard approached the bed, brightening the glow just the least bit.  He was rewarded by the peaceful expression that settled on Legolas' face.  "It seems that your assessment is correct, Gimli."

          "Where would this- I mean, he's never shown any signs before…" Gimli floundered, confused.

          Gandalf studied the elf, checking his eyes for any sign of recognition.  "We do not know what sent his mind into hiding.  I can only assume that this is a related symptom."

          "So what now?  We cannot control the sun," Aragorn pointed out sharply.  Then his voice softened and he ran a hand wearily over his face.  "Again, forgive me.  I am overtired and not thinking.  What can we do?  These fits can not be helping his recovery."

          Gandalf nodded as he considered.  "For now- I would say we obtain a larger lamp and ensure that it remains filled overnight.  If fortune is with us we will be far from here shortly."

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          They did as the wizard had suggested, acquiring one of the large lamps from the main hall to set on their small table.  Legolas had not moved again once the steady stream of light had been assured.  His breathing had calmed and his body relaxed, until Gandalf judged that he was truly asleep.  He and Aragorn departed shortly after, leaving Gimli to his broken sleep.

          After the events of the night before Gimli found he had slept in far later than he had intended.  He woke to a stray sunbeam in his eyes and a rumble in his stomach.  Sitting up he saw that their lamp was still burning cheerfully.  In fact, nothing seemed to have been disturbed since the wizard and Ranger had left.  Rising, popping stiff joints as he went, he discovered a covered basket just inside the ruined doorway.  His stomach gave another growl when it realized the cover hid an assortment of breakfast items.

          "Looks like we're being well taken care of today, elf," he said with forced cheer.  Then again, considering how long it'd been since they'd eaten last, it wasn't hard to muster enthusiasm for good food.  Placing the basket on the table, he moved to Legolas' side.  The elf had not moved; not a surprise, he mused, but a bit disappointing anyway.  Trying to decide if the glaze over Legolas' eyes was still sleep or merely his detachment, he studied the still form.  A glimmer of an idea came to him.  Retrieving a fresh, still warm muffin from the basket, he waved it temptingly under his friend's nose.  A discrete sniff showed that at the least the archer was aware of his inanimate surroundings.  Gimli smiled triumphantly and helped the elf sit before handing him the muffin.  Legolas did not react to the movement, nor to the dwarf's presence, but did begin to eat.  'Well, at least he's not going to starve,' Gimli told himself, and sat down to enjoy his portion.

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          Eowyn came in a short time later.  "You're wanted in the main hall," she said with barely concealed anger.  "They want your input on the defense plans."

          Gimli hid his amusement at the way she specifically refused to add, "Because you're male."  "Will you stay with Legolas for now?" he asked instead.  She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off.  "I do not trust leaving him alone in this state.  He is defenseless, while you are anything but.  And," he added slyly, "it will be easier to tell you the outcome of this planning session if I know where you are."

          She smiled wryly, obviously remembering that in him she had an ally.  He chuckled at that, and she stuck her tongue at him in an incredibly juvenile fashion before taking the vacated seat beside Legolas. He heard her beginning a one-sided conversation as he went.

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          It was past dark when he finally made his way back down their corridor.  They had argued and discussed and planned for hours, before deciding that no decisions could be made at the time.  Gimli just rolled his eyes, muttering, "Humans," under his breath.  He hurried his step, realizing that he hadn't told Eowyn of Legolas' fears of the shadows.  Although, with his less-than-mild reactions, surely she would have noticed?

          Scenarios of chaos played through his mind.  He found that he needn't have worried, though.  The small room was well lit when he arrived.  He blinked in surprise to see Legolas missing from the small bed, and blinked again when he found the elf relocated to a chair beside the table.  Eowyn smiled at him as she rose from the second chair, laying down a rough comb as she finished twining a strand of hair.

          "You got him to move?" Gimli asked gruffly, a bit put out.  He felt strangely resentful that his friend would react to others.  Eowyn's smile simply widened as she shook her head.

          "He moved himself!" she said delightedly.

          Gimli was certain he'd misheard.  "What?"

          She nodded, still grinning.  "Just around sunset he started getting a little twitchy.  I was about to go find you when I heard him get up.  He just wandered over and filled the lamp, then lit it and sat down.  He hasn't moved since, but it's still an improvement, right?"

          He nodded dazedly.  "Did he acknowledge you?"

          She sobered.  "No.  In fact, I don't think he was aware of anything but the lamp.  He half tripped over the cot, then kicked the chair accidentally.  I don't think he even noticed that I was here."

          Gimli nodded, mildly disappointed despite the seeming improvement.  Eowyn tied off the braid she'd been finishing as she approached him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.  "He is improving, Sir Dwarf.  We must be patient."

          He nodded grudgingly.  She stepped back and began a braiding a second strand of her long hair.  Gimli's eyes darted from the hypnotic twists she made to the tangled and matted hair of his friend.  Certainly Legolas had not been in a state to take care of it.  He looked back at her.  "Show me how to do that," he demanded.

          Eowyn raised a brow in surprise, then shrugged and motioned him closer.  He shared what he had heard at the mostly useless meeting while she forced his thick fingers through the repetitive patterns of the more elaborate braids.  If she thought it odd to be teaching a dwarf fancy hair twists, she made no further comment on the fact.

          Approaching footsteps broke their concentration.  Gimli dropped the plait he'd been working as though it had become a firebrand, glad his beard and the lamplight hid the flush he was sure was there.  She smoothly caught the strand and calmly finished it as King Theoden appeared in the doorway.

          "Any change?" he asked quietly.

          Gimli shared a brief glance with Eowyn before replying.  "Very little.  He rose and lit the lamp earlier, but so far has not reacted to either of us, nor anything but light and shadow."

          Theoden nodded slowly, acknowledging that an unasked question had been answered.  Legolas was not likely to be recovered enough to be helpful in the attack.  He knew it seemed callous of him, but he truly wished the elf would suddenly be whole again, in part for his own sake, but also- and, if he were truthful, mostly- for the benefit of his people.  The archers of Rohan were well trained, but he did not fool himself to think they could match elven eyesight and skill.  The fair archer's skill would have been a great assistance.

          Well, he could only pray for them all.  "Eowyn, would you come with me?" he said, changing topics abruptly.  She nodded and rose, giving her hand to the dwarf and grasping it lightly, encouragingly.  "Master Dwarf, if you will excuse me."

          He returned the light grip.  "I thank you for all that you have already done, lady," he replied gruffly.  She nodded, smiling sadly, and went to the doorway, where she stood beside the human King.

          Theoden turned to go, then hesitated.  "Master Dwarf," he began.  Gimli turned to him.  "If there should be anything you need, please- the resources of Rohan are at your disposal."

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          Gimli stared at the empty doorway for a brief, confused moment.  Then he shrugged and looked back to his friend.  "Now what shall we do for the evening?" he asked rhetorically, not expecting nor receiving an answer.  His gaze fell on the comb Eowyn had left on the table, and he recalled his earlier notion.  He pushed it away, embarrassed, but it came crawling back and wrapped its tentacles around his brain.  He fingered one of Legolas' limp braids, eyeing the tiny strands that had come loose in the past day of hard riding.

          Making his decision- after all, no one would see him, and Legolas surely would not be telling anyone- he set to unbraiding the remains and separating as many tangles as possible with his fingers.  He might tease Legolas about being prissy, but knew the elf simply preferred to be near and organized in his appearance.  He could not be comfortable like this, even if he couldn't express that discomfort.

          This was an unfamiliar pastime for him.  Obviously with his extensive beard he was accustomed to detangling hair, but rarely did he perform the task for anyone else.  This was usually a task between lovers or very close friends, or from parent to child.  He'd had few lovers, no children, and only a handful of companions close enough to request his assistance.  Too, dwarves tended to be fiercely independent.  It took massive trust- or broken fingers- to ask another for help.

          Legolas, he mused as he caught a particularly stubborn strand, could almost fit two of those categories right now.  The elf was quickly becoming a close companion, despite the almost legendary dislike between their races.  Not that he'd admit that, of course.  He had a reputation to uphold.

          'Aye, a reputation.  Gimli the jelly-hearted, they'll call me,' he grumbled to himself, although he knew he didn't mean a word of it.

          In his current state, Legolas occupied a place long reserved for the children of his race, the only children he'd ever encountered.  Both needed care and assistance in their daily lives and- he chuckled a little- both were unlikely to give any thanks for that help. 

          The last of the knots came loose and he bit back an undignified exclamation of triumph.  Pretending his cheeks weren't flushing yet again, he ran gentle fingers through the silky strands.  The elf's hair was so completely different from his own, fine to his coarse, straight to the wildly bushy habits of his dark, seeming to glow with the inner light of the Firstborn's race.

          Carefully, fighting to remember the patterns Eowyn had taught him so recently, he began to replace the braids his friend always wore.  The elf had remained unresponsive throughout the process, even when a particularly stubborn tangle caused Gimli to yank too hard.  Now though, it seemed he had relaxed slightly, leaning almost imperceptibly into Gimli's clumsy work.  'Or perhaps,' the dwarf thought cynically, 'you are only seeing what you wish to see.'

          It took him far longer than he had expected to finish his self-appointed task, but he was well pleased with the results.  He came around the chair to study the effect from the front.  A few small strands stood out under his critical eye, but nothing major.  He gave a small hmph of satisfaction.

          He was not prepared for Legolas to lean forward and rest his head on the dwarf's shoulder.

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          'Someone-

          'Kindness.  Gentle touch, not like…'  His brain shied away from finishing that thought.  He sighed in contentment as he rested against the warm comfort source.  'This is a good shadow,' his mind told him, 'warmth and life, not like…' And again he pulled up short.  The wavering flame beside him dimmed momentarily, hiding from the soft breeze he was vaguely aware brushed his skin.  He shuddered involuntarily at the unanticipated sensation, remembering the shadow-creatures' touches.  Sudden warmth surrounded him, driving off the chill, and his world of shadows focused for one moment.

          'Gimli…'

          The clarity was short-lived.

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          "Gimli…"

          The dwarf looked down in shock, pulling away slightly to look his friend in the eye.  The clear blue gaze held none of the distracted quality it had held for so long now.  "Legolas?" he whispered, almost holding his breath.

          Legolas blinked slowly and looked around the room in evident confusion.  "Where- I'm- Gimli?  What..?"  His voice held painful confusion.  Gimli could only watch helplessly as the elf fought his disorientation.  Legolas ran a confused look over the small cot, to the overly large lamp on the table, and to the still damaged doorway.  Gimli nearly cried out when the elf's face showed brief terror before going slack and unreachable again.  Gimli turned quickly, trying to see what had triggered the relapse.

          Aragorn stood in the doorway.