Notes

*Here Gimli is referring to several incidents: in Moria when he stood beside the tomb of Balin and would not move; when in Sons of Thunder, Legolas searched for Gimli after the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, and in the years between the War of the Ring and now, there was a time when Gimli was quite lost in grief and Legolas had to search for him in the Ered Nimrais and brought him home, and countless other times they have saved the other. The point is, they look out for each other.

**The Ghoul is in the story, Where the Shadows Lie, sequel to Sons of Thunder.

***Gimli helped to bring Legolas' fëa back down the mountainside during Sons of Thunder when he was cut by the Nazgûl.

Khuzdul phrases:

Rûk-Shtôl- Gimli's war axe. The blade edge is called the bit.

Aglâb-shteyn- Song of Mahal, of Stone. Similar to Legolas' ability to hear the Song of the Woods etc.

Sigin-nalâ Idzadân-Úthaar- Gimli's secret Khuzdul name which clearly, he has let slip to Legolas.

Ikhrêm-Mahal- the initiation ceremony that dwarves take in order to allowed into certain guilds or levels of skill in those guilds.

Dedication

This chapter is especially for earthdragon, nina and guest (whoever you are and if you are reading this as well as Battle Under the Trees) on ffnet. As I can't respond to your kind reviews, I will just say that Thalos and Silaneth's story is underway- don't worry. I won't leave you hanging too long but want to finish this one first. I promise you a glimpse of Smaug as well. I haven't finished with dragons? And I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little to find out about Erestor as we have to go back to Legolas for this chapter.

Beta: the very lovely Anarithilien

Chapter 32: Gimli Gloinsson

Earlier

In the darkness, Gimli stood with Rûk-Shtôl braced in one hand, and in the other, the flickering torch. He had followed Erestor into the darkness, running alongside Elladan until

Erestor had suddenly thrown his hand out to stop them, and then gone on a little way on his own. Gimli looked up at Elladan and saw the torchlight flickering over his handsome face, so like his brother's, peering into the dark as if he dared not allow Erestor to vanish from his sight. But Gimli felt Rûk-Shtôl shiver in warning and knew that something approached.

Was a Barrow Wight, even now, charging towards them? Gimli had not faced them in a fight yet for they had been high up on the tumulus and sent their Orcs' bones against the Fellowship, but he had to admit he was a little afraid. Had not Elrohir described them as akin to the Balrogs in might and sorcery? But they were cold and bitter where their brother spirits were hot and fiery.

But though Rûk-Shtôl shivered, it did not flare with blue light that warned him of the Enemy's presence. Instead, he thought oddly, it was a shiver of recognition, or excitement. He raised his head and a surge of emotion heaved through him.

Then Erestor's voice came back to them. Some of the words were indistinct but some had come back strongly and clear.

'…get yourself gone quickly, boy, before he breaks his heart in grief.'

Elladan stepped forwards, holding up his torchlight so it had shone through the darkness and Erestor was limned in torchlight, his lean figure standing ahead of them.

'I hope that's you he's calling boy,' Gimli said for he was disappointed. He had so hoped to see Legolas standing there, maybe a bit glimmery and shiny and insubstantial but there was nothing. Elladan shrugged his shoulders and glanced incomprehendingly, first at Gimli and then towards Erestor.

'I hope you do not expect me to return to Elrohir?' Elladan called softly. 'And I am no boy,' he had added in a different tone that had Gimli glancing up at him.

But Erestor glanced at them impatiently and beckoned Gimli forwards. As he did so, Gimli felt the air change, like walking into sunlight under the new beech leaves in Spring.

'Legolas?' He felt tears prick his eyes and his heart filled with enough happiness that he thought it might burst. He stood and turned about, looking around him, unashamed of the tears that streamed down his cheeks. He could not see his friend but there was warmth on his shoulder as if Legolas were kneeling in front of him and looking into his face in delight, then lay his head against Gimli's shoulder.

Moved more deeply than he thought possible, Gimli wiped his eyes. 'Always,' he whispered. 'I will always find you. As we have promised. As you found me in Khazad-dûm and would not leave me. As you looked for me on the Pelennor Fields. As you found me when I was lost in Ered Nimrais.'*

'So Legolas is here,' Elladan said, smiling with utter relief. 'And my brother's heart is safe.'

Gimli nodded though his brown eyes were full of tears, and he pressed his lips together as if to keep from bursting with the love he had for his wayward friend.

Erestor turned to Elladan, and Elladan smiled in a way that was quite unlike the smile he had given Gimli; it had the same devoted sweetness that Legolas always gave Elrohir and seemed to light him from within. There was an answering softness in Erestor's sharp, handsome face that made Gimli think that the pair of them were equally besotted.

Erestor tore himself from Elladan's gaze and turned back to the dark tunnels that yawned ahead of them. 'Now that we have found Legolas, you must help to guide Legolas back to his body, and then you must get everyone out of here as swiftly as possible.' He glanced at Elladan and said emphatically, 'Both of you.'

Gimli nodded and looked about at the good stone and rock, assessing the depth and speed he needed to get the rest of the fellowship back into the daylight and away from this place.

But Elladan turned angrily to Erestor and caught at him, almost violently. 'Do not think to dismiss me so easily!'

It was not anger that made moved him, Gimli realised, but hurt that he had been so easily dismissed by Erestor. Gimli tugged his beard, remembering that Elladan had assumed that Erestor had been calling him 'boy' when now it was clear he had been addressing Legolas.

'Do you think to walk away from me now when I have followed you so far?' Elladan pulled Erestor round to face him, and just for a moment his eyes blazed so that Gimli thought he was more alike to Elrohir than he had thought.

'You cannot come with me,' Erestor protested but his face was soft with regret, not anger, and gently he sought to untangle Elladan's fingers from the fur cloak he wore. 'You have come this far because you followed me, and I am grateful.' He sighed and said very gently, 'But now your path has to be with Legolas. You must take him back and ensure that he is safe.' And then he added in a low voice that he did not intend for Gimli to hear, 'I took you with me on condition of your oath.'

'You took me because I swore I would follow you anyway,' Elladan muttered, and in the torchlight Gimli could see his face angry still. 'And I will again.'

'Then you will be breaking your promise to obey me.'

Gimli felt he owed Elladan many times over and owed Erestor nothing, for Erestor had deprived Gimli of the pleasure he had promised himself two years before in Minas Tirith of cutting the head of the Ghoul from its shoulders**. So he said helpfully, with a quick, bright grin, 'I can do it. I do not need a nursemaid to get my errant friend back to his body. It isn't like I haven't done it before,' he had added wryly***. He hefted his axe. 'Anyway I haven't got time to waste while you two lovebirds squabble.' And before they could protest, he called, 'Legolas! Come!' And he had stomped off, ignoring the stunned and awkward silence he had just created, supremely confident that Legolas would follow and that Elladan would not.

'Gimli!' Erestor called after him irritably, but Gimli just gave a dismissive wave. 'I know. I'll get everyone out so you can be the hero again,' he said sardonically because he really had not forgiven Erestor for depriving him of the Ghoul . Then he said more quietly over his shoulder to Legolas, 'Did you see their faces?'

There was no merry laugh in response, and Gimli felt he teetered momentarily on a yawning chasm of grief, but then there was that warmth like sunlight again and he wanted to laugh loudly and long. It sped him along, but he kept checking his sense that Legolas was with him for he could not bear to lose him.

A Khazâd's senses underground far surpass any other race and Gimli knew he was not too far from what he referred to as the Treasure Chamber. He knew it was so much more than that and that the treasure had a purpose in the rituals of these long-dead Men, but the gleaming armour of Cardolan's ancient heroes and their gems and gold had moved Gimli's dwarvish heart when he had seen it, not for greed, but for the waste. Buried here with no one to see it, marvel at it. But he supposed that was the way of Men.

As he turned and stumped back the way he had come only moments earlier, the wind teased at his wiry hair and tugged on his beard. For a moment, he thought he was going the wrong way. Pausing, he placed his hand upon the cool stone and allowed the Aglâb-shteyn to flow through and around him. He sensed where the North lay and how the earth's power flowed west to east here and north to south and back. And yet… something suggested to him that he was turned about and to return along this tunnel.

But he felt Legolas' agitation and glanced back over his shoulder, half expecting to see the tall Elf poised with arrow pointing off into the dark. He almost thought he caught a flash of blue fire from the Ale-gezên-aogh, but he did not need it, for Rûk-Shtôl vibrated gently in his hands and the bit glittered with the same blue fire. A sharp metallic taste filled his mouth and he turned quickly, axe braced, to face the danger.

Far off came the sound of battle. It was eerie standing there in the darkness with only the light of a torch and hearing blade fighting blade, steel against armour. He could not hear the words spoken but he discerned voices in the din, for Dwarves' hearing underground is sharp and keen. Putting his hand upon the stone, Gimli felt the disturbance in the Aglâb-shteyn and knew that Erestor and Elladan must have found the Barrow Wights and were fighting them.

He hesitated, feeling the instinctive urge to run to their aid, but he had another charge to keep, and he felt Legolas tugging him on. Reluctantly he followed, but even as they hurried through the dark, a terrible moaning came from behind, growing louder, closer, pursuing them.

Gimli ran faster, his boots pounding the rock floor. 'Run, Legolas!'

Wind rushed up through the passageway and suddenly was upon him. It tugged at his beard and hair, blew out the torch light spitefully so he was plunged into pitch darkness.

A blur of green smudged the air in front of him and he knew this was Legolas. 'Go on, Legolas,' he urged. 'I am right here. Do not wait for me.'

It was no hardship for a Khazâd to be in darkness, and Gimli ran unerringly over the rocky floor, his heavy booted feet pounding the rock beneath him. He could see far off the pinprick of light that came from the torchlight in the chamber. 'Look!' he panted. 'Aragorn is there. And Elrohir. Fast as you can, Legolas. Keep up!' he panted, out of habit for he could see the air smudged ahead of him and then turning back for Gimli. 'Keep going!'

Suddenly that pinprick of light disappeared.

With a cry of dismay, Gimli halted abruptly and peered into the dark. He was aware of his panting breath loud in the silence and tried to breathe softly, quietly. 'Legolas? Are you here?' he said softly. 'Has that light been snuffed out, or is there something…' He licked his lips. 'Is there something between us and the treasure chamber?' He lowered his voice again, so it barely brushed the air. 'Is there something waiting for us, up ahead?' He felt a warmth around him and wished he could hear what Legolas would say. 'Do we go on?'

He put one hand out to the rock wall to steady himself. Something very cold touched his fingers, covered his hand like wet silk. He pulled back in horror, thinking of Shelob wrapping Frodo in a cocoon… The thought of it had filled him with phobic horror and now his heart gave a heavy thump in his chest.

He tried to breathe in, but it was like spider's silk was over his mouth now and he felt like he was suffocating. Panicked, Gimli gasped and the cobweb seemed to cling to his throat and force itself into him. He felt like he was drowning and could not breath. Rûk-Shtôl tingled in his hands, but he could not lift it, and when he tried to call out, the words were strangled in his throat.

Suddenly there was a green-gold light, a light breeze that was not the insidious wind pulled at him urgently, and he thought he heard Legolas calling him, plucking at his sleeve as he had done on Moria when Gimli had been overcome with grief for Balin's loss.*

Gimli! Gimli! Wake up! Run!

The voice was familiar but sounded far away and long ago.

Fog, he thought. It is fog that the Barrow Wights use, and the wind. Not Shelob's web. There is no spider scuttling about and trapping him as a fly. Now that he had realised, he could see how the fog had crept along the tunnel and around him, it filled the tunnel and he realised that this was what cut him off from the pinprick of torchlight from the burial chamber. But even as he recognised what it was, the fog billowed and densified, forcing itself into his nostrils and mouth. It closed over his eyes, filled his ears and pressed against him, bound him so he could not move.

'Twas long ago you stood at Balin's grave …. insisted a different voice. Not Legolas at all. This was very cold. Frightening. It sounded like it came from the grave... Lost, all lost. All those souls…

As are you.

The voice was in the wind that murmured and whined, now high, like it swept fast over the moor and now it dipped low like it came from the ground.

Cold in his grave is Balin, entombed in stone. Forgotten bones ground to dust… Khazad-dûm is forever lost.

Through the grey fog, flashes of blue light flickered, and Gimli thought he saw Legolas' face, translucent and afraid, swimming before him in a greenish light like in a forest glade. Rûk-Shtôl glimmered in answer and the blue flashes increased in intensity and urgency. Gimli felt them stirring him, pulling him back to wakefulness.

Gimli! Gimli! You are Khazâd! Legolas urged him. Awake! Abkun!

Sluggishly, Gimli moved his fingers, but as he breathed, the grey fog that filled him squeezed his lungs slowly and pressed against his beating heart, slowing it.

And then he heard Legolas as clearly as if he stood right before him and shouting his name.

Gimli Gloinsson Angren-Pau! Elvellon!

Gimli stirred. He squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate and clenched his jaw. His short, clever fingers twitched, and his hands gripped his axe.

Gimli Gloinsson, Sigin-Nalâ Idzadân-Úthaar!

At the invocation of his true name, a sharp memory leapt into his mind; the Ikhrêm-Mahal and how he had felt the hands of his ancestors reaching out to him as they were named, one after another after another, all the way back to Durin. Like they claimed and blessed him.

As they did now. He almost thought he saw Thorin Oakenshield himself, standing as proud as he ever did and looking back at Gimli.

You are Khazâd, Thorin seemed to say. Sigin-Nalâ Idzadân-Úthaar.

Gimli braced himself and bunched his muscles as if he were bound by chains, slowly he lifted his great axe, Rûk-Shtôl, though the sinews in his arms stood out and his muscles strained. He clenched his teeth with the effort and then suddenly, he found his voice. He roared with fury and strained against the fog that coiled about him, pressing down over him, that sought to bind and suffocate him. A deep green light flashed over him, like an arrow piercing the fog and suddenly he could breathe.

Swiftly, he raised Rûk-Shtôl and sliced through the fog. It recoiled swiftly, like a live thing, and then shot forwards again, rearing up over Gimli as if it might strike.

You will not escape, hissed the cold voice. I am coming.

There was no misunderstanding now that the Barrow Wight was coming for him, was coming for them both, and the fog was merely to keep them there until it arrived to devour them both.

Bright green-gold light leapt between Gimli and the fog. He could see Legolas' shape clearly now. 'No! Legolas!' he cried.

The fog suddenly struck, pouring around Legolas and Gimli like the tide rushing in and drowning them. Gimli whirled his great axe and the Ale-gezên-aozh flared blue as Dwarf and Elf slashed at the grey fog that filled the passageway.

Suddenly, a tall figure clad in black strode from the fog. Power crackled like lightning around it, and it raised a glittering sword in its fist, and in its other hand was a long black knife, glittering with black and red runes.

Gimli stared in horror and spun about to guard Legolas. 'Legolas! Run!' cried Gimli. He raised his axe at the crimson figure and brandished it threateningly. 'If you think to have him now, Barrow Wight, you are much mistaken!'.

Then the tall figure was upon them. Gimli swept his great axe in an arc about him, and the black knife sliced the air above Gimli's head. The figure leapt back out of Gimli's range and at the same moment, the fog curled back like it had been whipped and suddenly was gone.

It was no Barrow Wight though, Gimli saw. It was Elrohir! He stood breathing hard and holding the Mergyll-Dagnir on one hand, his sword in the other. His face was very stern.

In relief, Gimli pulled Rûk-Shtôl in towards himself and glanced up at the Elf. 'Good thing I saw it was you,' he said gruffly. 'I could have had your head off.'

Elrohir raised an eyebrow in a manner that reminded Gimli intensely of Elrond. 'I knew you were close,' he said breathlessly. 'I could feel it.'

Gimli realised it was not fear or exertion that had made him so, but that he was terrified, his face distraught and desperate.

'Where is he?' he began, his voice despairing.

And then softly, his face altered completely; such peace stole over him, as if he had beheld a great wonder and a green-gold light washed over him like a blessing.

Gimli felt everything become a bit blurry then and shook himself. He wiped his eyes surreptitiously and said gruffly, 'Come on, lads, we can't hang about here. The Barrow Wights sent that wind and fog, and it said it was coming. It may be just around the corner.' He remembered Erestor's instructions and added, 'We need to get Legolas back and then get out of here.'

A scatter of footsteps came running towards them now and torchlight showed Merry and Pippin running towards them, and Aragorn close, Anduril drawn and glittering in his hand

'Gimli! What is going on here?' demanded Aragorn.

Gimli patted his arm reassuringly. 'We have Legolas. He is here, with us now. But we must hurry. There are Barrow Wights still out there and I don't know how long Erestor can hold them.'

'Where is Elladan?' Elrohir asked suddenly as if he had only just now noticed the absence of his brother.

'With Erestor,' said Gimli. 'He insisted on going with him and we have to get Legolas back and then get everyone out,' he added assertively.

Elrohir looked down at Gimli furiously and Gimli, veteran that he was, took a step back. 'What? You mean my brother has gone to fight the Barrow Wights?'

Aragorn stepped between them and took Elrohir's arm. He forced Elrohir to look him in the eye, and said firmly, 'We have to get Legolas back first, brother. Then we will go to their aid.' Then he added, 'They do have the Palantir.'

Elrohir breathed in suddenly as if the emotion were too much for him and Gimli felt a deep compassion for him. He reached for Elrohir's hand and gripped it kindly, as he would Legolas. And to his astonishment, he felt Elrohir clasp him back.

'Come,' said Aragorn and he led Elrohir back to the chamber of the Last Prince.

The two rushlights that remained lit the chamber shown dimly, but the gold and silver amplified it, reflected it back many times and once again Gimli saw Legolas' still body, lying on the plinth and covered with Elrohir's sable cloak. His long hair seemed lifeless and dull, and his face was so very still.

Pippin patted Gimli's arm as they followed Aragorn and whispered, 'I am very happy to see you, Gimli.'

And Gimli whispered, 'You too, Pippin.' He glanced towards Frodo, who stood near Legolas' body, Sting drawn and Sam beside him with one of the Mergyll-Dagnir, for they had remained to protect Legolas' body.

The Man, Baranor, stood behind and he watched Elrohir with a strange expression; compassion perhaps, as if he saw him properly for the first time.

0o0o

Elrohir was oblivious to everything but Legolas. His body looked so cold lying there, the yaré-carmë looked dull and lifeless and those long green eyes that had looked upon him with such devotion, lust, laughter, were closed like they would never open again. He thought how close he had come to losing Legolas forever and bowed his head in agony of hope and fear. His heart was too full, the emotion too overwhelming and he put his hand to his eyes and bowed his head.

But he is here now, Elrohir told himself. He could feel Legolas enveloping him in his nyrdh- fëa, for he felt the love that was emanating from him. He reached out a hand, and though Legolas could not physically take it, he felt Legolas close about him, and though Elrohir's face was wet with tears, he cared not.

He did not even notice Aragorn beside him, or the hobbits who drew close and formed a protective wall about him, for they knew the Barrow Wight was coming. The gem that Maglor had given him pulsed, and he closed his hand over it, feeling the warmth spread through him, and Power charged, thrust through him suddenly.

He leaned over Legolas' body and took it in his arms, cradling Legolas' head against his shoulder so he could gaze down into the lovely, still face. Legolas' lips were cold and pale, but he kissed him and pulled him close like he would warm the body with his own heat and fire. Crimson power charged through him, that strange energy that Galadriel had taught him to use, and for once he was grateful. The gemstone was fire at his throat, and he looked unearthly.

He felt the moment that the green-gold nyrdh-fëa that was Legolas closed about him. Like great wings it clasped him so gently. He felt Legolas lean his head down to rest upon Elrohir's own shoulder, felt the warmth of Legolas' cheek against his.

Yearning and desperate need were all Elrohir felt. He could not imagine life without Legolas, an earth where he was not.

I will go where you go, he said silently, believing that Legolas would hear him. I will follow you to the ends of the Earth, into the Abyss, into Mandos' cold unfriendly halls.

A strange sensation of warmth suffused him and he thought he felt Legolas sinking down and over and through him, like a dove settles into its nest. Elrohir thought he could almost, but not quite see, the moment that Legolas lingered over his earthly body, and it glowed with eerily beautiful light. Elrohir felt his own face was lit by the sunlight filtering through the beech leaves in Spring and that Legolas walked with him in some forest glade and turned to him and smiled beatifically. Elrohir's heart soared; he was completely immersed in Legolas' Song. The forest river ran beside them, bronze and green and gold, its chuckle light and merry, and it gladdened Elrohir's heart so that he felt like he had been walking through a desert for many days and now he could drink. He looked down at Legolas' face, smiling through his tears.

And suddenly Legolas' body heaved, gasping a breath. And then there was another.

His long green eyes flickered, and a warmth slowly flushed his skin.

Elrohir wept unashamedly and he heard Gimli give a gulp beside him. 'Ah, you're home now, Legolas. Dear friend,' said the Dwarf thickly. And he put his square, thick-fingered hand upon Legolas', and Elrohir saw through his own tears that Legolas squeezed back.

Xoxoxo

TBC