Hi everyone. Very sorry for the long delay. It's been a hectic semester and I had absolutely no time to write :( Plus I kind of forgot the story while I took a break so I had to get back in the mood. I'm back now!

Any italicized dialogue means that it's in a foreign language. It could be Elvish, Haradrim, or any other language depending on the context. Anything not italicized means it's in English.

"But you are a dwarf, and dwarves are strange folk. I do not like this place, and I shall like it no more by the light of day. But you comfort me, Gimli, and I am glad to have you standing nigh with your stout legs and your hard axe." – Legolas

- The Two Towers

Chapter 3 - Wrath

Gimli awoke to a pounding head and churning stomach. Groaning involuntarily, he emerged out of the sea of foliage, sputtering and spitting out bugs and twigs that could not manage to snag a space in his greatly untamed beard. With a great growl he tugged at the thick, red hair to no avail. He picked up his axe and briefly put it to his beard, but put it back down with a resigned sigh. He looked around at the unchanged scene and became quite concerned with how much time must have passed. There was no sign anywhere of Legolas, and he thought that his friend should have come back to him by now. Either something else had distracted his forest-worshipping friend, or danger had befallen him. Gimli shook his head in denial of the latter possibility. The Elf could not possibly be anywhere safer. This he thought until his gaze came across the perfectly still Orc body. Orcs! Yes, he must find Legolas quickly and get out of this forest before even more trouble found them. Gimli rubbed his head where the tree branch had clubbed him. This was sure to bother him for days. Remembering the trees' vengeance, he moved with the delicacy of a spying ranger out of the disastrous grounds.

He stood there for a moment wondering which direction to head toward. He would have to be careful, for haste would definitely get him even more lost than he was now. A sudden thought struck Gimli and he groaned at the ridiculousness of it. He racked his brain for any other solution, but it seemed he had no choice. Sweeping the forest with his eyes to make sure nobody was looking, the dwarf lay his axe on the grass and leaned into the nearest tree. He closed his eyes and focused all his concentration on his hearing.

He could hear the swaying of leaves and boughs, the chirping of birds, the groaning of trees… nothing useful!

'Have patience, dear Gimli,' he could hear Legolas saying, 'You must listen if you wish to understand.'

"I'm trying..." he mumbled.

With his ear pressed harder into the trunk, Gimli remained as still as a Dwarf could be.

He could hear the swaying of leaves and boughs, the chirping of birds, the groaning of trees, the thump-thump-thump of footsteps….

At this new sound, Gimli's eyes flew open and focused on a man clad in dark red and black armor sprinting toward him so fast he tripped on his own feet several times. He could see the relief on the man's face when he saw him. A quick scan told him that this was a Haradrim man, an archer like Legolas judging by his cobra-like bow. Gimli grabbed his axe and nestled it pseudo-casually on his shoulder.

"Stop where you are if you want to keep your legs," he growled.

The man slid to a stop and put out a cautious hand. With the other, he pulled down the black scarf that had been covering his mouth and nose. He was young, Gimli thought absentmindedly, maybe even younger than Pippin.

"Peace, Stout Sir. I only come to ask for your assistance," he said in perfect Westron.

Gimli looked about him before raising an eyebrow.

"Those are funny words, boy. Who are you and how did you know to find me here?"

The Harad made ambiguous hand gestures – pointing to his ears, behind him, and around at the trees – and answered, "That is a question for another time. Hurry! Your friend is in danger: The trees have attacked his legs and he is in no condition to move."

"My friend?" Gimli repeated. "How do you know this person is my friend?" He adjusted his hold on his axe as he said this.

The man's eyes shot from the weapon to Gimli. He pulled up his mask and spoke clearly, "Legolas; he is your friend, is he not?"

With a beast-like roar, Gimli charged with his axe raised, not giving a damn whether the trees approved or not.

"You lie! The forest would never attack Legolas. What have you done to him? Where is he?"

Not waiting for the axe to find his head, the man started to run back the way he came. He was fast, but not fast enough that Gimli would not be able to catch up.

'He must have exhausted himself running to me!' thought Gimli. With a triumphant smile, he raced toward the retreating Harad with a mind to pummel information out of him. The man stopped to turn around every few seconds and hurried on when he saw that Gimli, who was shouting threats and taunts at him, was still on his tail.

Then he suddenly disappeared.

Gimli skid to a stop and angrily turned this way and that in search of his target. He was so preoccupied with looking up that he failed to immediately see the green and gold heap in the grass a few feet from where he was. Squinting, he gasped out loud when he recognized it.

"Legolas!"

All but dropping his axe, Gimli scrambled over to his friend and crouched down to cradle him in his arms. Legolas's eyes were drooping and unfocused, but he did not seem to be sleeping. He was breathing, but very slowly. Gimli lifted the limp arm to feel for a pulse and found that it was weak. He took in the rough bandaging around the Elf's hips and right thigh, which were spotted with red blotches. Gimli scrunched up his face in confusion: Was it true that Legolas was attacked by a tree? Legolas's drowsy eyes rolled in their sockets to land on Gimli's worried face. At first they seemed to look through Gimli, but then they widened a fraction, revealing his constricted pupils. His lips trembled as if struggling to get air out. Gimli delicately put his fingers on Legolas's mouth.

"Do not talk, my friend. I do not know what happened to you, but we had better get these injuries taken care of. Let us find Treebeard," he said.

"No-" Legolas wheezed. "Don't…."

Gimli shook his head and slung Legolas's arms over his shoulders so the Elf was draped over his back like a cape. He was as light as one too. Legolas's legs grazed the floor, but Gimli could not think of a better way to carry his friend.

"Gmli…Gim..li…." he slurred. But Gimli shushed him and focused on dragging the near-unconscious Elf to a safer area. Legolas swallowed heavily and squeezed out one word into his ear:

"Trap…."

"What?"

Before Legolas could elaborate however, a strong voice announced, "Welcome, Stout Sir."

Gimli took a deep breath when he saw five men appear from behind the surrounding trees and slowly encompass him and Legolas – whose consciousness had drifted off by now. Gimli hugged his friend's arms with one arm and pointed his axe at the men with the other. Among them was the young archer he had chased.

"What have you done to him?" he growled at Tyr.

One of the men stepped forward, almost shielding Tyr from Gimli. The way he held himself in front of the others indicated to Gimli that he was the leader. He did not seem the least bit intimidated by the Dwarf, and he was not even armed. In fact, none of the men were. Nonetheless, Gimli did not lower his own weapon.

"You misunderstand," the man said coolly. "We did not do this to him."

"Oh? Am I to believe the trees actually harmed the Elf?" spat Gimli.

Haashim chuckled darkly. "No, the trees did not hurt Master Legolas. They did."

Gimli turned to where Haashim nodded and cursed as he saw the same Orcs he had fought just a few hours ago creeping up behind him; though, he felt a strange satisfaction in seeing that only two had survived. The whole situation was absolutely confusing. What did these men have to do with Legolas, and where did the Orcs come into all this? Even more perplexing was what they needed him for. The archer boy had lured him here using Legolas as bait. If they had wanted to kill Legolas, they would have done so right away. Was Gimli their target? Why? None of this made sense.

Behind him, the Orcs crept forward with painful anticipation; in front of him, the men blocked any means of escape.

"Oh for the love of..." Gimli murmured. He quickly scanned the five men and saw that one of them was clutching a bandaged arm. Gimli smirked – an opening! A heavy Orkish stomp from behind spurred him straight at the injured man, who took a surprised step back. Despite Gimli's short legs, he plowed through the wall of men easily enough due to Jibran's vulnerability (his swinging axe helped quite a bit). It was too simple! This band of bumbling wild folk have underestimated him just because he was a Dwarf.

As he passed by a particularly large tree, however, something heavy fell on top of him and slammed him and Legolas to the ground. Legolas helplessly rolled across the grass while Gimli scrambled to grab his weapon. He found it the same time an armored foot found his fingers. He howled like an injured bear as the foot ground his hand into the dirt. He thought he heard a bone crack somewhere. The thin cackling of an Orc could be heard above him. A small thought in the back of Gimli's mind scolded him for forgetting about that last Orc.

"Where do you think yer goin'?"

Gimli gave another surprised yelp as the Orc jammed an arrow into his constrained arm. The Orc's honking mixed with Gimli's pained screams until he finally pulled it back out and stepped off of him. Arms free once more, Gimli clutched his mangled right arm and desperately tried to staunch the bleeding. His middle and fourth fingers were starting to swell.

"Yagrad! There was no need for that. He just needs to drink it," Haashim spoke warningly.

"It's faster to put it in his bloodstream," Yagrad retorted. "But I'll make him drink it too if you insist."

Haashim ignored the mockery and beckoned for the men as he walked over to where Legolas was haphazardly dumped on the floor. He scowled when he saw that he was out cold – the Orcs have given him too much. He would have to entrust the task to only his men from now on. He did not want Legolas to be dead by the time they arrive.

Gimli looked from the Orc to the men to Legolas, becoming wildly confused with each second. Drink what?

Seeing that the Orc seemed no longer interested in him, Gimli grabbed his axe with his good arm and tried to stand up, only to stumble ungraciously back down. The world swayed and tilted as he tried desperately to maintain his precarious balance. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Yagrad playfully twirling the arrow he had stuck into Gimli.

"It is a drug widely used in Harad, normally for medical purposes," Haashim answered Gimli's perplexed look. "Used adequately, it puts the mind at peace and helps to forget pain; used in excess, and, well, look at your friend over here."

And look he did. Legolas's eyes were half open once more. He seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. The very sight of his abused friend made Gimli tremble with fury so much that it seemed to burn away the drug inside his body as well. Eyes burning with vengeance, the Dwarf charged blindly at the men with a battle cry fierce enough to make his kin proud. But it was short lived as another arrow found its mark in Gimli's right calf. His legs gave way and sent him tumbling uselessly. The forest was now wildly spinning as the arrow pumped in more drugs into his system. With another growl he crawled toward Legolas, all the while trapping Haashim in his glare. Ironically, he was glad for the drugs because they were indeed numbing the pain of the arrow as he forced his muscles to move. The Orc behind him must have notched another arrow, for the man quickly raised a hand. Gimli knew the man was waiting for him to weaken on his own; the Dwarf knew this was not a battle he could win. But he continued to laboriously drag himself closer to his friend until, finally, the drug's influence reached his arms and they abandoned him. The last thing Gimli saw was Legolas's sad, blue orbs peeking out to meet his dark, drowsy ones.

Legolas remembered being sick. Then he remembered falling, being dragged back up. After that, nothing. Then walking. Or maybe that was someone else walking, he couldn't tell. He couldn't think coherent thoughts. If someone were to tell him to fly like a bird, he probably would have tried despite the absurdity of the order. He bumped into something thick. A tree? A man. No, an Orc. He fell again.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Legolas woke to someone prodding him in the back. The moment he opened his eyes though, a sudden pain exploded in his head, wrenching a sharp grunt from him as if he had been punched in the stomach. His entire skeleton ached and throbbed, and his stomach swam violently. He weakly rolled over and wretched, but nothing came out except saliva. Shuddering with the effort, he dropped his head back onto the ground and listened to his own raspy panting. When his breathing slowed at last, the tap on his back came again accompanied with a whisper this time.

"Legolas. Are you still awake, lad?"

"…Gimli?"

He frowned as he rolled his sluggish brain to recall where he was, and groaned as snippets of his memories came flooding back.

"Don't turn around," Gimli whispered hastily as he put his hands on Legolas's back. "Do not let them see you awake."

"Why are you here? What happened?" Legolas whispered back. He was starting to interpret the stimuli around him one by one: his hands were tied in front of him as well as his legs. Gimli seemed to be lying behind him in a similar predicament, hidden from the view of the men in front of Legolas. The men were just far enough that the light of the campfire did not reach the two. The group stood between them and the Orcs, who were grunting and growling amongst each other. Their weapons lay with the men's.

"I… they lured me in using you as bait. I was foolish, Legolas. I was too blind to the obvious."

"That makes two of us, my friend," Legolas sighed.

The two friends stayed silent until Gimli asked the question that had been on his mind.

"What do you think they want with us?" he asked.

"They plan to sell us," Legolas hissed. "In harad."

Gimli's lips went dry as the silent words struck him. Harad! Gondor had been the furthest he had ever been away from his home, so he would be going beyond the borders of what he had considered his world. And how dare these men even think to try and sell them as if they were some merchant's goods.

A soft thud from behind him interrupted his thoughts and cut his conversation with Legolas. The sound of boots treading on grass came closer and closer, and Gimli glanced up to find Tyr looking down at him. The young archer maintained only brief eye contact before continuing on towards his leader. When he reached him, all the men simultaneously turned around as if following a script to where Legolas and Gimli lay – no longer feigning sleep. Haashim stood and gestured for Tyr to follow. Legolas made a weak attempt to sit up, but could not get past his elbows. He cursed himself for recoiling when Haashim reached out to touch him, and was mildly surprised when the man simply prompted him up against a nearby tree. Next to him, Tyr was doing something similar to Gimli. Nonetheless, the Elf still shot Haashim a loathsome glare and shrugged his hand off. Haashim ignored the glare and handed Legolas a small piece of what looked like dried meat. Legolas sat patiently and indifferently with his bound hands on his lap.

"Eat, Master Legolas," said Haashim. It was neither a threat nor an order. It almost sounded as if Haashim was offering it out of genuine concern for his hunger. The hypocrisy sickened Legolas to the core. When he continued to ignore the man's presence altogether, Haashim's expression hardened, his lips tightening once more.

"You will only make it harder for yourself if you act so childishly. Trust me when I say that you will need to eat if you wish to have enough strength for the journey."

"Save it for yourself. It will be a while before we are out of these woods now that you are lost once more," replied Legolas none-too-gently.

If the words struck Haashim, he did not show it. Instead, he let out a soft sigh and delicately put the jerky on Legolas's leg.

"If you will not eat now, then save it for later. You will thank me for it." He gave Gimli a piece and retreated, but not before ordering Tyr to give them some water.

Gimli took his jerky and turned it this way and that.

"What do you think this is made of?" he asked.

Legolas could not hold back his snort.

"Dear Gimli, you have the worst of timings," he chuckled.

"Well, I am quite hungry – and thirsty."

"You can have mine if you want. I can get by."

"No, save yours. What he said, that man-"

"Haashim."

"-Haashim, is right. You will need your strength." Gimli took a bite out of his jerky and chewed experimentally before continuing, "But not for the journey to Harad. We are not going there."

Legolas smiled slyly at his friend.

"You are right – we are not going there," he repeated. He said no more for Tyr had arrived with their water. He had two cups in his hands and handed one to each of them. Gimli took it without question and washed the jerky down. Legolas, on the other hand, drummed his fingers on the cup and watched the water tremble under his touch. Truth be told, his throat was severely parched and he nearly ached for some water. Seeing the cool liquid slosh around in the tiny cup was painfully alluring. With a resigned sigh he sipped the water first to make sure it tasted fine, then downed the rest of it when it tasted as sweet as honey. He almost gave a content sigh – almost. Tyr stayed to watch that they drank it all before collecting their cups and leaving.

Almost immediately, Legolas felt a rush of satisfaction and relief flood through his veins. He felt comfortable and relaxed; all the aches, pains, and misery were becoming numb. He knew he ought to be surprised and rather suspicious at how powerful a cup of water could be, but he felt too happy to care. Next to him, Gimli was gazing at him with a far-off look.

"Something feels funny," he mumbled. "I feel so light."

"Me too…" Legolas frowned at how slurred he and Gimli were starting to sound. Even his wounds were bothering him less.

"Strange…" Gimli murmured, blinking heavier with each passing second.

There was something on the tip of his tongue, but Legolas could not quite get coherent thoughts to form. He recognized an inkling of frustration hidden somewhere in his foggy mind as his brain slowly shut down. This was just like when the Orcs force-fed him some kind of mixture that had rendered him completely vague and helpless. His uncooperative brain just barely made the connection and he gasped out one word before he blanked out altogether.

"Water…"

The Orcs and men were quarreling when Gimli finally got his senses together. The drugs did not make him pass out per se, but rather made him act like a Dwarf that had had one too many drinks. He would trip over his own feet, sway, giggle at times, and not think straight. He had been led through the forest by a big man (Bakar, if he remembered correctly) who held a rope connected to his wrists like a dog on a leash. Legolas had been walking – stumbling – in front of him, led by Umar. Once or twice, he had seen his friend vomit. As they stood in place now, Gimli could clearly see the commotion at the very front of the procession where Jibran and Haashim were confronting the Orcs, Mauluk and Gaznag. He jerked his head subtly to clear his head of the remaining drug.

"…go around damaging the trees like that." It was Haashim. "You will wake up the spirits! I swear this forest is swimming in Elvish magic. You claimed to have seen this yourself, Mauluk. Unless you-"

Haashim suddenly cut off and sighed heavily as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Mauluk gave a soft snarl. The man weaved his fingers in his hair, twirling and pulling, before he continued in a softer voice.

"Unless we want to lose more men, please make sure yours do not disturb the trees."

He looked specifically at Gaznag as he said this. When he finally turned around to continue on his way, Mauluk cuffed Gaznag not-too-softly on the head, eliciting a frustrated yelp from the smaller Orc. Gaznag wasted no time in complaining.

"Are you listening to this whelp? He's not even half as big as you. What is this? The Mighty Mauluk groveling at a sand rat's feet?"

"Watch it Gaznag," Mauluk whispered dangerously, "If you don't shut yer trap soon I might just let you cut the trees just to watch 'em kill yer sorry skin."

Though Gaznag lowered his gaze at the clear threat, it did not stop his tongue from running off.

"We don't need him, Mauluk. The traitorous rat tried to trick us before, who's to say he can't do it again? See how he only lets his own men touch the prisoners? He might be plotting to run away with them right this minute. But we can't let 'im do that now can we? Look!"

Gimli frowned as he caught Gaznag glancing at him with those beady, black eyes of his. The Orc's lips curled back to reveal filthy, black gums. Mauluk followed his subordinate's gaze without a word.

"We can snag 'em in the dark when they aren't looking. Take it for ourselves. Since when do we share with men?"

Gaznag could see the gears whirring in his leader's head. He grinned to himself – Mauluk had always been so gullible. His grin ripped even wider when Mauluk straightened up.

"Get Yagrad," he ordered. Gaznag practically bounded away like an excited hound.

Since then, Gaznag was getting more and more out of control.

It appeared that Haashim's little warning to Mauluk had flown over his head, for the giant Orc was leaving Gaznag to do as he pleased. The smaller Orc was swinging his blade at every tree he could reach like a cruel guard clanking on prison bars. It was driving Haashim mad. The thin alliance with the Orcs was nerve-wrecking enough, but now he had to be extra alert for any strange tree behaviors too. Pasting on what he hoped resembled a smile, Haashim walked over to where Gaznag was viciously hacking at a particularly knarled tree. As Gaznag worked to dislodge his axe from the tree's roots, however, the tree creaked and groaned, making Haashim freeze in his tracks.

"What in the world…!" he exclaimed.

As he looked on, the tree continued to twist and shake unnaturally against the wind. Its crooked branches unraveled themselves and stretched high – almost like a man stretching after a good night's sleep. In fact, he could have sworn he just saw two eyes in the rough bark blinking blearily. The tree grew taller and looked at the large group before fixing its eyes on the Orc that had attacked its roots. By now, the entire party had stopped and were gaping at the unbelievable scene before them. The Orcs looked quite unnerved and took several steps away. Gimli blinked and almost cried out in joy as he glued his eyes on the man-like tree standing tall and proud before him.

"An Ent!" he breathed.

Instead of smiling warmly like Treebeard, the Ent's eyes flashed and an incomprehensible grumbling noise issued from deep within it.

"Burárum!"

At this sound, the other surrounding trees started to wake up as well, shaking and tossing their leaves as the first one had done. Soon, the group found themselves encircled by a grove of Ents.

"An Ent meeting…" Legolas mumbled in Elvish followed by a tiny giggle. "We have disturbed them…."

Umar grabbed Legolas's arms and shook him so hard that Gimli became nauseous just by looking at him.

"He is casting a spell on the trees! Curse you, curse you! Let us leave him and take only the Dwarf before he kills us all with his Elvish devilry," he cried at Haashim. His eyes, wild with fear, never left the Ents. The other men had already gathered around their leader and seemed to agree with Umar.

"No!" Haashim shouted back. "We take them both." But he, too, was looking on at the ancient beings with fear and awe.

The Ents had all risen by now and were closing in with malice.

"Burárum!" The first Ent roared again, cueing the others to strike. The group scattered like ants as the Ents swiped and stomped mercilessly at them. Haashim barely ducked in time as a whip-like branch aimed for his head. The Orcs already had swords in their hands and were swinging them aimlessly, which caused the Ents to rage even more. They roared and lifted their legs – roots – up high before smashing them down as if attempting to squash everyone. The men cried out in fear and ran around blindly.

"Haashim!" Tyr called, "A cave!"

Haashim looked over to where Tyr was frantically waving his arms and pointing at a clear opening in a rock formation.

"Go!" he shouted at his scout. Then, he called out to the rest of his team. "Everyone! Follow Tyr!"

Umar immediately dropped the rope he was holding and sprinted toward the cave with his arms held protectively over his head. Haashim scowled and ran back to where Legolas was on his knees, shaking his head slowly as if to ward off an annoying bug. When the man dug his arms underneath Legolas's armpits to drag him, he found that the Elf was surprisingly light. Without a second thought, he hoisted him up on one shoulder as he would a bag of sand – Legolas was as heavy as the clothing on him. He ran back to the cave with Legolas and shouted for Bakar and Jibran to follow. Bakar copied his leader and lifted a malcontent Gimli up to run. The Orcs caught up on the men's plan and proceeded to flee to the cave as well. The Ents pursued them and continued to swat at them with their lethal limbs. Gaznag, the slowest among the Orcs, risked a glimpse behind him and saw the closest Ent lash out at him. With a squeak, he ducked quickly and ran faster than his short legs could carry him. He caught up to Jibran, who was lagging behind due to his injury, grabbed the man, and threw him behind him just as another branch swung at them. The branch caught the man and sent him catapulting toward a faraway tree. Jibran bounced off the thick trunk and lay unmoving in the dirt in an awkward position.

As Gaznag ran into the cave, the Ents beat against the entrance causing the entire cave to rumble and shake. The men watched in horror as the trees ripped down giant boulders at once. As he realized what they were trying to do, Haashim shouted for everyone to move in deeper. The Ents' beating and banging were bringing down the entire ceiling, showering them all with rocks the size of a man's head. It was every man for himself as they tried to clamber over the debris to get to a safer area. The light from the entrance became cut in half, then only a quarter remained, until it was cut off altogether with a final bang, sealing them in complete darkness.