CHAPTER 10. BENEATH THE EAVES OF FANGORN
"Arise, Master Gimli, for a new sun is arisen, and the day lies ahead of us!"
The Dwarf opened one eye, stared questioningly his friend, and shut it again. He made a muffled noise of annoyance, and rolled over so that his back faced the Elf.
"Come, now, Gimli, soon it will be noon!" Legolas laughed, leaping nimbly around to face him, face alight with open cheerfulness. "Rise, and we may begin our travels. The Fangorn Forest awaits!"
"Is that supposed to be incentive?" Gimli grumbled, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I would do almost anything to avoid that place. It is shrouded in darkness, and has some evil about it that unnerves me."
"I assure you, the forest is not haunted by shadow. It is mere age that unnerves you, for there is age there such as nowhere else in Middle-earth." Legolas replied, picking up his bow and quiver and slinging them over his shoulder.
"Well, whatever it is, I have no wish to experience it." Gimli retorted stubbornly, stuffing his blankets irritably into his pack. "But I am a Dwarf of my word, and it was promised that I would visit the blasted woods with you, so visit them we shall."
Legolas smiled pleasantly, and helped the Dwarf stow away the last of their possessions. He disappeared momentarily, returning leading Arod by the reins.
"Ah, the horse." Gimli moaned, glancing apprehensively at the animal. "I have only just recovered from the ride here. I will be a wretch come the end of this journey!"
"You are welcome to go by foot." Legolas replied smoothly, picking up his pack with effortless grace. "Though I would not recommend it. What was it that you once told me? 'We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances'. Am I right in saying that you are not so strong in cross-country?"
"Do all Elves have such a sense of superiority, or is it just you?" Gimli retorted gruffly.
Legolas smiled slightly, his eyes wide with youthful innocence. "I know not of what you refer to, Master Dwarf."
"Oh, well never mind, then, Master Elf." Gimli said sarcastically, heaving his own pack onto his shoulders. "And I will ride, but let it be known that I will not enjoy it."
"I would not expect you to." came the reply, laced with amusement. "Lead the way, stalwart Dwarf."
Legolas followed Gimli out of the cavern and into the labyrinth of tunnels, leading Arod gently along by the reins. He trailed carefully after his friend, aware that he would soon become lost in the dark maze of caves if he were to lose sight of him.
After what seemed an age, Legolas began to recognize the caverns surrounding them as the ones they had entered through. He quickened his pace, bounding eagerly over the rocky floor, the click of Arod's hooves echoing off the walls.
Stepping out into the open, he felt the warmth of a bright morning sun fall upon his fair face, and a smile flittered across his face instinctively. His lungs were filled gratefully with fresh air; a welcome change from the staleness he had endured underground.
"Well, let's get going, then." Gimli grumbled, the return to open air having seemingly no such effect on him.
Legolas would have scorned Gimli, wishing that he too would enjoy the bright morning, but his cautiousness agreed with the unsentimental Dwarf. They were entirely exposed on the mountainside, and he wished to distance himself from the cliffs as much as possible, the memory of scouting eyes still lingering hauntingly in the back of his mind.
He leapt nimbly up onto the horse's back, and held out a hand to help the Dwarf, who took the assistance with a displeased grumble. He directed Arod onwards hastily, a sudden feeling of unnerve falling over him. His eyes darted across the barren rock with suspicion. He saw not a single scout, nor an army in hiding, yet he felt as on edge as if a battalion were charging towards him.
As soon they had reached flat enough ground, Legolas spurred Arod onwards. He could hear Gimli spluttering with disapproval as they sped forth, their surroundings a blur and the wind whistling in their ears. Only when the clatter of horseshoes on rock changed to the gentle thud of soft earth did Legolas lessen their pace, and even then the change was only slight.
"I am hesitant to ask, Legolas, but what is the cause for our haste?" Gimli queried suddenly.
"The cause? Mere eagerness, my dear Gimli." Legolas lied in response, eyes fixed firmly ahead. "I have been too long in caves; I yearn for the woods."
"That may be correct, but it is not the reason we sped away from the mountains at such a pace." Gimli replied, his tone disapproving. "You are keeping secrets from me, Elf!"
Legolas looked away, diverting his gaze to anywhere but the Dwarf. Gimli murmured in annoyance.
"I have asked before, Legolas Greenleaf, and I will ask again - do you take me for a fool? I have seen your concern, fear, uncertainty. You may think you have fooled me, but you are an open book to your pain! Besides," he added. "Elves are terrible liars."
"That is quite correct." Legolas agreed with a slight smirk, elaborating no further on Gimli's accusations.
Gimli growled in frustration. "There are things concerning you that are not right. Many things, if my eyes do not fail me! Do you hide them from me from lack of trust, or merely to spite me?"
"Perhaps it is for your own good." Legolas murmured softly, more to himself than the Dwarf.
"Ah! So you admit it, then." Gimli announced in satisfaction. "You have lied to me."
"I have lied to you not. I have merely refrained from telling you the whole truth." Legolas replied uncomfortably.
"Do not be coy with me, Elfling!" Gimli growled impatiently.
"I am not an Elfling, nor have I been one for several hundred years." Legolas replied cooly. "If you are displeased with my secrecy, then by all means, interrogate me. But let it wait until a more appropriate time; we should use these daylight hours to ride. If we make haste, we may make Fangorn by nightfall."
"I will delay my questions, but only delay - I expect answers when next I ask for them." Gimli agreed reluctantly.
"I am grateful, my friend." Legolas replied warmly, relieved that he had been able to dodge his queries with relative ease. Yet his relief was short-lived - he knew that he had far from escaped questioning, and that the Dwarf would soon want more satisfactory answers.
Legolas dug his heels gently into Arod's side, spurring him forwards. The Rohan steed obeyed the command immediately, galloping forwards with tireless speed. The Elf marveled at the horse's strength and the prowess of the Rohan horsemen who had trained him, and he listened approvingly to the thud of Arod's hooves as they travelled onwards.
The Elf had grown quite fond of the steed in the months of warfare, in which Arod had carried him ceaselessly through battle. He had developed a strong bond with the horse that owed only partially to the innate love of nature and animals that ran in the veins of all of his kind, and Legolas held great loyalty in the steed.
Arod's pure white mane was a silken flag in the wind as the miles of Rohan grassland flew beneath his hooves. Legolas and Gimli were both glad to be seeing the countryside once again, this time from the back of a horse. Neither, and the Dwarf especially, would easily forget the days and nights spent running across the plains in chase of a battalion of Uruk-hai who had taken their comrades captive. There had been little time then for sleep, let alone observing the country, so the land was relatively unfamiliar for the both of them.
They travelled in silence for a long while, until it appeared that the Dwarf could not withhold his ongoing questioning any longer.
"Well, if you cannot tell me about our hasty departure, then I have another question." Gimli stated, voice raised over the whir of the wind and the thudding of horseshoes. "Why did you request a battalion of Elves to be sent to Dol Guldur to rescue Thràin? What business was it of yours?"
"It was not of my business. My kin did not trade with Dwarves in those days, nor do they now, as far as I know." Legolas replied plainly. "I was merely concerned for the welfare of your lord. I cannot imagine the torment he must have endured in the dungeons of Sauron."
"So you fought his Men?" Gimli queried eagerly.
"They were Orcs, not Men." Legolas corrected. "But yes, my people fought them."
"Your people? You speak as if you yourself did not fight." Gimli commented in surprise.
"I didn't." Legolas responded shortly. "I was not part of the battalion, even though it was my counsel that formed it."
"Why?" Gimli asked incredulously. "I was under the impression that you were Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince and warrior of the Mirkwood realm. Was it not your wish to fight?"
"Aye, it was, but my father would not allow it." Legolas replied, a note of bitterness to his soft tone. "My grandfather, Oropher, led the troops."
"And what of Thràin? Did he-" Gimli pressed, but was hastily cut off by the Elf hoping to dodge the question that he couldn't bear to answer.
"My friend, please, I grow weary of interrogation!" Legolas said quickly, with an unconvincing laugh. "And if I may be allowed to speak, I would draw your attention to the horizon."
Gimli shifted his glare towards the distant border, where a thin line of green had appeared to replace the sandy yellow of the dry grassland.
"Fangorn." he murmured, an apprehensive note to his voice. "The accursed forest of the Ents."
"Accursed? Nay, you are wrong." Legolas contradicted, eyes tracing the treeline with approval. "But soon you will see. Even a Dwarf could not miss the wisdom of this forest."
"Even a Dwarf - what do you mean by that?" Gimli spluttered angrily, but he was greeted only by a peal of laughter from the Elf, and a spurt of added haste to Arod's hoofbeats.
The Elf's enjoyment was genuine, and relief washed over him as they hurtled towards the trees. He felt much comforted by the nearing presence of the forest, an instinctive reaction of his kindred, perhaps, and with which came the assumption that the age and wisdom of Fangorn would safeguard them there, as Mirkwood did to its Elvish residents.
Besides, no wise man would follow us into Fangorn. They say it is haunted, a dark wood, Legolas noted gladly. But even if that were true, we are far safer beneath its branches than in the open, where hidden eyes are ever watchful, and unpreventable attack ever imminent.
Arod slowed as they neared the forest, halting beside the thick trunks of the outermost trees.
"Hannon le, mellon nin, hannon le." Legolas murmured, rubbing the horse affectionately.
"What was that?" Gimli grunted, swinging gracelessly off the saddle and landing with a thud. "What did you say? To the horse?"
He glanced around with an air of would-be coolness, but his eyes were wide with curiosity.
"I merely thanked him for bearing us." Legolas replied, sliding lightly to the ground and turning to face his friend with a smirk. "Perhaps I should teach you some Sindarin. Then there would be no need for me to translate such phrases."
"Nay, you keep your strange Elvish words to yourself. A Dwarf has no uses for such a thing." Gimli declared immediately. "We, unlike your kind, feel no need to act superior by conversing in anything but the common tongue."
"Our aim is not superiority." Legolas replied calmly, stroking Arod's flank pensively. "Using the tongue of our forefathers allows us to converse not only with our own kind, but with all manner of birds and beasts, and even the trees themselves."
"You talk to trees?" Gimli repeated, astounded. "I had heard rumors of such things, but I thought them no more than children's tales."
"They are far from fable. The Elves and the trees have long held a bond, one that does, yes, include conversation." Legolas answered simply, shrugging lightly. "My people awoke them at the dawn of days in Middle-earth, and taught them to speak. It is a forgotten art, for the most part, for the tales of those early days have faded from the memories of all but the wisest and most ancient. Yet the ability lies dormant; unused, perhaps, but not lost."
"What do trees have to talk about?" Gimli asked gruffly, staring at the nearby trunks hesitantly.
"That is what I hope to learn." Legolas replied, stepping towards a nearby tree and stretching out a slender hand to touch the bark. "This forest is ancient, and full of memory... and secrets. I sense that there are things hidden among these woods."
"That is comforting." the Dwarf mumbled lowly.
"I see your point." Legolas laughed. "But not all secrets are dark, my friend."
"Can you talk to them?" Gimli asked, eyeing a nearby tree with increasing apprehension.
"Perhaps." Legolas answered, gazing up at the branches with wide-eyed curiosity. "I could converse with the trees of the Greenwood, but these ones may be different. It may well be that they will not reveal themselves in that manner to a stranger. But let us first enter the forest, before even considering such matters; I will be far more at ease beneath the branches of Fangorn."
Legolas slipped his pack over his shoulder, its weight joining that of his bow, quiver, and twin blades, which sat in their sheaths across his back. He bore the weight as though it were feather-light, a word of complaint, as ever, not passing his lips.
He cast a last glance over the grassy plains of Rohan, frowning slightly. His sharp eyes saw nothing out of place, yet he had learnt to trust more than what mere sight could bring him, and he knew that something was amiss. His eyes darted rapidly, each of his movements instinctively sharp and alert. He turned his back on the grassland somewhat reluctantly, as though fearing a sudden attacker from behind, yet he strode beneath the shadowy leaves of Fangorn with relief.
Immediately the air grew thick and dense, and laden with the scent of mingled growth and decay. Their footsteps crunched on the leafy floor, the only sound to be heard among the still trunks.
"Well, we are here, and may I say it is just as unpleasant as I remember it." Gimli commented, stepping cautiously over the tangled roots of nearby trees.
"Unpleasant? No, you are mistaken." Legolas denied, his keen blue eyes wide in awe. "There is more life in this forest than anywhere else in Middle-earth, Greenwood included. There is an ancient memory here that tells tales of days forgotten even by the Eldar. It is... breathtaking."
"Breathtaking seems an apt word to describe it." Gimli agreed, coughing to indicate the stuffy, humid air. "And it's as silent as a graveyard! Where are the birds, the animals?"
Legolas did not respond, but merely smiled slightly, his head inclined skyward as he examined the leaves above them with curiosity and admiration alike that of a child.
"Let us walk a little deeper into the forest, and then we may set up camp." he suggested, stepping forwards with light, tireless strides, whilst Gimli trudged unwillingly in his wake, leading Arod by the reins.
Far off from the mystery of Fangorn, a lone rider flew across the southernmost plains of Rohan with the speed of Oromë himself.
Tirion rode tirelessly through the night and long through the daylight hours, eager to see the King's task completed. He slowed only occasionally to check his bearings, and lessened his speed just enough to see the near-invisible horseshoe imprints that he was following.
The tracks were an almost direct path north-west, following the Eastfold path that bordered the White Mountains. The terrain was rocky in areas, steep and almost impossible to navigate on horseback.
The Elf is a skilled rider, for the path he travelled is not an easy one, Tirion noted. Yet one would wonder why he chose such a route. Why not ride just a league or two further north onto the grassland? There is desperation in this path, haste - almost as though he were fleeing Minas Tirith!
Tirion shook his head firmly - he reminded himself yet again that the reason for his pursuit and the motivation behind it were no one's business but the King's. Yet he could not help but be curious as to what the letter in his pack regarded.
The soldier slowed as he approached what he had first taken as a solid cliff face, but on closer observation saw a small cave hidden among a rocky outcrop. His eyes brightened hopefully - with any luck they had stopped to rest here, and he could have the both of them back in Minas Tirith within a day of his departure.
High above and out of sight, two pairs of sharp eyes watched the figure of the Gondor soldier carefully as he dismounted and approached the cave. The scout eyed the man cautiously, slowly drawing out his bow.
"Should I shoot?" he asked in a low voice of his companion.
The man shrugged. "He is but a soldier. I cannot see what use he would have with him."
The emphasis the scout out on the word 'he' was somewhat reverential, almost fearful.
The archer balanced an arrow onto the string, carefully aiming for a clean shot. He raised his bow to chest height of the man far below, oblivious to the watchful eyes above him-
"Wait!" hissed a voice from behind him, and a pair of hands hastily knocked the bow out of the line of fire.
"M-my lord." stammered the man's companion, turning in surprise. "He is a soldier. Should we not shoot?"
The cold eyes of the scouts' leader looked down on the man with familiarity. His cloth was unmistakably that of the Guard of the Citadel, and as he came closer, he recognized his face.
Tirion, the man recalled. Tirion is his name. A good rider, and a good soldier. It would be a waste to have him killed...
"My lord, he is a danger. He belongs to the Tower Guard, he could alert the king." the bowman stated pleadingly.
The leader frowned slightly, watching the soldier's steps with an air of distance.
They are right, he thought coldly. I am no longer the man I was. Ties to the past must be cut. And yet, he could be of use...
"Shoot, but only to wound." the man concluded finally, his voice full of firm coldness. "Have him and his possessions brought to me."
As his superior turned away, the archer raised his bow, pulling the string taught. At an affirming nod from his companion he released, sending the arrow whistling down to meet its target.
As Legolas and Gimli ventured deeper into the woods, the air grew yet denser, and the trunks and branches grew thickly and allowed little light to filter past their leaves. The Elf passed silently beneath the brush, shadows dappling across his golden hair like clouds marring the bright sun of a midsummer's day. His footsteps were quick and light, and left scarcely a mark on the litter of fallen leaves that lay scattered on the forest floor. Yet his Elven-eyes were bright and wide with curiosity, and they examined every fraction of the forest that they passed through with keen interest.
But soon the trunks grew so dense that they could no longer pass among them, and Legolas resolved to halt for the day as promised.
"Gimli, here we shall make camp." Legolas called out to the dwarf, who was some distance behind him (for in his haste and eagerness, he had neglected to slow his footsteps to his friend's pace).
"Here?" Gimli spluttered, eyeing the trees doubtfully. "There isn't room in here to breathe! We cannot fit here."
Legolas smiled, eyes glittering mischievously.
"Nay, you are right. But we are not going to sleep precisely here." he stated lightly.
Gimli said naught, but frowned inquiringly at the Elf. Legolas let out a short peal of laughter before turning his face skyward. He leapt, agile as a cat, towards a nearby tree, grasping one of the bottommost branches. Swinging gracefully, his feet met the bark, and he crouched there with perfect balance, staring down at the Dwarf below him.
"In trees?" Gimli choked. "We are sleeping in trees?"
"You have done it before." Legolas said dismissively. "The talan of Lorién are not all that dissimilar-"
"They are structures at least, buildings of sorts! I will not sleep in a tree like a squirrel!" Gimli demanded, staring challengingly up at Legolas.
"It is not yet sundown, so your decision may wait." the Elf said finally, leaping from the branch and landing delicately beside him. "But let us rest our legs, in any case. We have covered many miles today, my friend."
"Aye, we have, and we've entered these accursed woods." Gimli grumbled, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "Against my wish, perhaps, but it is done."
Legolas took a seat beside him, leaning comfortably against the trunk of a tree. He unslung the quiver, scabbard and bow from his shoulder, and opened his pack. He seized two portions of lembas, and tossed one neatly to Gimli, who caught it with a gratefully nod.
"So, let us return to my question from earlier: why did we flee the mountains at such a speed?" the Dwarf asked through a mouthful of waybread.
Legolas' face fell, his features marred by uncertainty.
Am I a foul friend for not entrusting him with this information? Legolas pondered sourly. I merely wish not for him to be alarmed, as surely he would be. He is content here, even if he will not admit it. It would not do to mar our journey with the shadow of danger.
"It is not a matter of importance." he said finally, his tone light and casual. "I merely felt a dampening on the air; I did not want to make you ride in the rain."
"You thought you felt rain?" Gimli scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How does one feel rain?"
"Apparently not with ease, for the day has been as bright and clear as any." Legolas laughed, relieved that his lie had kept the Dwarf at bay yet again.
It is for the best, Legolas concluded finally. Gimli would fear for the worst, and perhaps even demand our return to the White City. But that is not an act I am yet willing to complete on any terms but my own.
"Elves." Gimli coughed, shaking his head. "What strangeness they bring to Middle-earth, I will never be able to explain."
"Mae pennen." Legolas murmured, smiling.
"What?" Gimli barked inquiringly.
"Mae pennen, mellon nin - well said." Legolas explained. "It is certain: I should teach you some Sindarin, so you can converse with myself and my kindred."
"It is not suited to me." Gimli denied immediately. "Your tongue is quick and gentle, like running water - the tongue of my people is like tumbling rock, or the clang of steel. They are suited to our people, and with them they shall stay."
"As you wish." Legolas agreed mildly, nodding curtly.
"Now, that is an art I am curious about." Gimli said suddenly, nodding towards the pile that lay beside the Elf.
"Archery?" Legolas said incredulously, picking up his bow.
"Aye." Gimli said, nodding. "I am constantly wondering - how can a device of wood and twine be as lethal as one of welded steel, be it sword or axe?"
"Perhaps I could show you sometime. But here there is naught but trees for targets, and they would dislike me firing arrows into them almost as much as they would the bite of your axe." Legolas commented.
Gimli grumbled something about trees' sensitivity, to which Legolas laughed lightly.
The time passed quickly, with the Elf's newly renewed sense of cheerfulness too joyful for Gimli to dampen with his dislike of the forest. But too soon the sun dipped below the horizon, and night fell over the woodland. With no resources to light a fire (for despite the Dwarf's pleading, Legolas refused to take even a twig from any of the trees) they decided that a solid rest would do them no harm.
Legolas tethered Arod to a low-lying branch, tying the knots firmly with the memory of their last visit to the forest in mind. He seized his possessions, and climbed the nearest tree with nimble agility, watched carefully by Gimli.
"I refuse to sleep in a tree." he repeated firmly, arms folded across his chest like a stubborn child.
"You may sleep where you will." the Elf stated indifferently, shrugging as he hooked his bow and accompanying items onto a nearby branch. "Though personally I would rather take my chances in a tree than the fell creatures that roam the forest floor come nightfall."
"Fell creatures? Of what sort?" Gimli demanded, a subdued anxiousness in his voice.
"They say those alike that of Mirkwood; the spawn of Ungoliath. Giant spiders." he added, at the Dwarf's look of confusion.
Gimli raised his eyebrows and glanced around nervously.
"It cannot be so bad." he mumbled, shuffling across towards the tree in which the Elf was perched.
Legolas bit his tongue to hold back laughter as the Dwarf began his attempt to climb; his beard seemed to be obstructing his vision, and his arms wrapped only halfway around the thick trunk. Legolas offered a hand, which Gimli accepted, if only after giving him a very dark, accusing look. He hauled the Dwarf into the branches with mild effort, for though he was immensely heavy, so was the Elf immensely strong, despite his slight frame.
Gimli settled onto a branch opposite Legolas, in evident discomfort, glancing at the ground nervously every few seconds.
"I knew of hobbits' dislike of heights, but I knew not of Dwarves'!" the Elf exclaimed, eyeing his friend with mingled surprise and amusement.
"Why do you think we mine to the depths of the earth?" Gimli replied with a bitter air. "Our dislike of heights is perhaps stronger than that of the halflings!"
"Well, it will do you no harm." Legolas said reasonably. "Perhaps you will find your fear lessened, ere the sun rises."
Gimli grumbled incoherently, and fell moodily silent. Legolas smiled understandingly, leaning back against his branch in far more comfort than the Dwarf.
A breeze brushed gently through the leaves surrounding them, carrying on it the comforting, earthy scent of the woodland. Through the branches overhead the clear night sky was visible, dotted with the glittering stars of Varda.
Legolas breathed an easy sigh, feeling more secure now in the sanctuary of the forest than he had been since leaving Minas Tirith. His eyes flickered shut, and soon Gimli's snores were joined by the Elf's soft breaths, barely audible above the whisper of the wind.