Pain. It flashed through Legolas and tore through his sides as though he had been running for months. Never had his arms been pulled quite this tight and tied behind his back; his shoulders ached with the strain. Never had his head felt as though it was going to explode from his neck; never had he simply lain where he had been thrown, in such a condition as he was in, and not even tried to find an escape. He felt damp, but he could not tell if it was because he was soaked through, or because he was covered in his own blood. He heard nothing that meant it was raining.

Guin. Oh…Ilúvatar, where was she? What was she doing? What was she thinking? How long had it been since he had gone missing? What day was it? How long would it be until he saw her again? His insides ached with the need to be near her, to hold her, to see her. How he wished he were there to tell her that he was going to be all right, that he would comfort her…was she panicked right now? Was Gimli with her? Did they find Faramir? Was he still alive?

Where…where am I? Well…at least his thoughts were beginning to form actual sentences now. That was a good sign; he was coming to. He cracked his eyes just slightly, just enough to let a bit of light in; he could see shrub-grass fields in the light of the campfire and the moon. It did not look as any area of any map he had ever seen, but that could still be Ithilien, as there were parts of Middle-Earth he had never visited. He could, quite literally, be anywhere…and he had never been so frustrated or felt more helpless.

He heard a lot of noise suddenly going on off to his right, and then saw feet near his own legs. Then, of course, a voice—the same one he had heard when being called down from the tree. Lovely.

"Vilyath!" called the laughing voice. "Pretty boy's decided to join us in the land of the living!" A moment of quiet, and then a boot ferociously kicked him to the right side of his back, and pain seared through him. He grunted aloud, heard the snicker, and then waited until the man crossed in front of him. With a speed he had no knowledge of mustering, he swiftly and suddenly swept the legs out from him, dropping him instantly to the ground on his butt. He tried to roll, but that was stopped immediately, and shouts were heard just before Legolas's feet were tied together. He struggled of course, but it was fruitless, and he was subdued by another rough beating to his back by a few well-placed kicks. After this, he lay still, falling quiet even as his eyes blazed.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," growled the voice in his ear, the same man he had knocked over.

"Enough, Dragsúl; stand back. Let me speak with him."

The she-elf appeared in front of him, her eyes unreadable, but a little smile was on her face. He did not like it; it made her look sinister. Though…he supposed she was. "That was not very wise, Prince," she said, stressing the final word mockingly. The men behind him, nearest the fire, laughed; he knew he was near the fire as he could feel it on his back. "Struggle, fight…" she shrugged, "why? It is utterly futile, and will only make them hurt you more." When he did not respond, her little smile broadened. "You know…you are as handsome as I have heard tell."

Ignoring her words, but focused on her, he decided now would be as good a time as any to find out what in all the Hells of Morgoth was going on. "Who…who are you?" he forced out, his throat as cracked and dry as he expected it to be.

"Some water, Omarom," she said to the elf who was standing nearby. He nodded and went to retrieve some to help Legolas's parched throat. As he was drinking, Vilyath continued with a wry smile. "As an exception to every other man but one, I might let you call me 'melnur nîn' if you wanted," she said, and Omarom rolled his eyes while Dragsúl snickered. There were a bunch of hoots and hollers from the men near the fire.

He stared at her and then said, a bit nastily, "What if I call you 'crebanengwa?'" She raised her eyebrows as several of the men made low noises in surprise.

"That was a bit uncalled for. You do not seem to understand that I control your entire life at this moment. Let me explain." She glanced up. "Dragsúl?"

"It would be my genuine pleasure." The beating came quickly, but the pain did not leave nearly as soon as he would have liked. He coughed a few times, feeling his blood trickling down his face, his eyes betraying his exhaustion.

"That is a bit better, though I do not much like seeing you in pain, Prince. You need a bit less fire, although…the tiredness in your expression does take away from your attractiveness. Do try and behave though, as Dragsúl would be more than happy to thrash you every moment you are awake, and that would not be very pleasant for you."

"Who are you? What do you want with me?" Legolas forced out.

"I am quite certain there is no harm in telling you as you are not about to escape anywhere," she said with a bit of a smile. "After a short detour, we will be headed for a visit with your dear old dad." Legolas stared at her and she actually laughed. "I am certain he will be quite happy to see you."

"I would like it better if he was dead," Dragsúl said nastily from behind him.

"Ah, but then we would have nothing to negotiate with, would we?" she added, rolling her eyes.

"Negotiate? Are you mad?" the elf questioned in confusion. "What are you negotiating for, exactly? What could you possibly hope to gain from my father?"

"Stop asking questions," Omarom said. "Vilyath will tell you what she chooses." Dragsúl kicked Legolas again, this time catching his wrists under his boot and stomping down. The elf felt the crack more than he heard it, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. Oh…wait until I feel a little stronger. I will kill you all…death to every last one of you. Can you see it coming towards you? Wait…just wait…

"We intend to hold you until King Thranduil is convinced that he needs to give us a small part of his land. Beside all of that, Eryn Lasgalen has grown from Mirkwood and encompassed all the land to the South that was once of Sauron. It would be, to be honest, quite a beautiful place for us to live."

"You must be out of your mind," Legolas groaned, rolling his eyes as he rested his head upon the ground, trying to keep his mind off the pain he was in. "First, if anything my Father has not gained land, he has given it away. Most of the southern end of what you term as "Mirkwood" now is known as East Lórien. And you cannot tell me that there is no unclaimed land in Middle-Earth where you and your band of miscreants cannot abide without taking land from my father."

"We are not out to simply claim land. The Master's plan is for Mirkwood, and so Mirkwood it shall be; Mirkwood was a part of us once, before we became outcasts."

"Make a new home for yourselves. Why live in the past?" he asked her softly, and she reached forward to pinch his cheek.

"If you were not so cute, I would slap you across the face for even attempting to make me believe something other than what I believe. But I would prefer to see your face, not mess it up." She sighed. "It is, however, important that you not try to escape. Remember what will happen?" After another swift kick to the ribs, he coughed in pain and looked up rather helplessly.

"I…remember, oddly enough," he muttered. "You must know…you must know that my father will give you nothing. He does not bargain, nor would he allow anyone to stand and threaten his people or their way of life. He will not forfeit Eryn Lasgalen, not for anything…not even for me. You must understand this basic truth."

Vilyath leaned closer to him, looking down in a motherly sort of way. "Legolas, Legolas…do you know nothing about Kings and Queens, about parents who love their children? Those in the highest positions have the most to lose!" She laughed. "Your father will be here in an instant to treat with my Master when he discovers the truth. You think him so high and mighty, so noble? He will be groveling for your life before long. If you ever become a father, you will discover the principle for yourself. Of course, that is providing that you make it out of here alive.

"If you behave, if you are calm and respectful and you do as we say, Dragsúl shall not have to beat you within an inch of your life. I will not warn you again against keeping your mouth shut."

"He will not come," Legolas said, unable to stop himself, "but if for some strange reason that would be completely beyond me he does come here…you had better retreat in any matter that seems best to you and as quickly as you may. Your warriors could never face a legion of my father's guard…not even on their best days."

She laughed. "The sight of you bruised, battered, and broken might be an especially good deterrent. However…we shall see, Prince. We shall see." Vilyath straightened as she rose to her feet, glancing at Omarom. "Make sure he is tied up good and tight; there will be no escaping for this elf…not now, and not ever. And Dragsúl?"

"Yes, Vilyath?"

"Teach our guest a thing or two about keeping his mouth shut if he opens it again, will you? But please, be a bit gentler. He needs to last at least another week or so."

"My pleasure," he said, and Legolas heard him crack his knuckles.

It was bound to be a very long night…however much longer he would last.

Lómë was thundering along the landscape; brush, trees, and grass torn up beneath him. Enguina had permitted him to choose his pace, and since he had chosen this one, she had let him run. The black could feel her anxiety for Legolas and he channeled it into speed as he continued along. Urgency was her main guide, and the land around her was a blur; she remembered none of it.

"Enguina!" The cry came to her ears as if from far away, and then she remembered that she was not traveling alone. She fought her own will about slowing so the dwarf could catch up, and then reined in Lómë until Firgenwine drew up alongside him.

"What is it, Gimli?"

"You know that Firgenwine can't keep up!" he growled, frowning at her as she frowned at him. "Slow down, lass, or you're gonna leave me behind!"

"We have to hurry, Gimli! We are gaining on them; I can feel it!" she called to him.

"I can't keep up with you," he continued. "I'm not the best rider, you know."

"You have said that several times," Enguina pointed out, frustrated. "But the only way for you to learn is to let Firgenwine do her job. Give her a chance to run and stop holding her back!" He glared at her, and she stared back at him for a few moments before she realized just how uncomfortable she felt at the words she had just spoken. Sighing softly, she closed her eyes and looked at him again, slowing Lómë down to a trot just as Firgenwine broke back. "Gimli…I am so sorry."

He snorted…and then sighed. "I feel as though I'm going to fall right off onto the ground. And aside from that I just feel that I…that…well…"

The dwarf looked very uncomfortable for a few moments, and she looked closely at him. "What is the matter, Gimli?" she asked softly.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly, but she was not about to let him escape.

"Gimli?"

"I just can't do this. I'm slowing you down; we're not going to reach him fast enough. You should've just gone alone and maybe we'd have a chance of finding him in time before—"

"Stop there!" she cried, covering her ears and then picking up her reins again. "I cannot even listen to this! First, we will find him in plenty of time before anything happens. I cannot do this alone, Gimli. I would never have gotten this far."

"You could," he insisted. "I really think I'm just holding you back."

"I really think you are very wrong," she said, taking on his gruff tone. "Gimli, we are gaining on them. It is nearly dusk; their horses are tired and ours are not and they have probably stopped to make camp." She looked up, but then sighed. "There is a storm brewing on the horizon; do you see it ahead?" Gimli's eyes looked forward and he frowned.

"No, lass, I can't say that I see it, but I can smell it." His frown deepened. "It's going to get pretty rough out on this plain, and with lightning, we might want to make our way under some tree cover. At least until the thunderstorm has passed."

Enguina heard Lómë snort, and she nodded. "It is well on its way. They have probably already stopped to seek shelter, but perhaps we can gain on them even more if we wait until it is almost upon us. We might be able to close the gap." She nodded towards the distant thunderheads. "I only hope the rain will not wash away every trace of them."

Suddenly, she looked sharply from his eyes and over his shoulder. The dwarf's head whipped around to see what she was looking at, but there was nothing there. "What?" he asked. "What are you seeing with those elf eyes that I'm not seeing?" He scanned the nearby brush and scraggly trees.

"I thought—" she began, staring hard into the distance, and then she shook her head. "Something is watching us, but I cannot tell where or what…I am not even sure if it means us harm." She turned back to him. "We are to journey on, Gimli?"

"You're right about catching up a bit on them," he agreed. "And I'm sorry that I despaired. I just…I feel a bit useless sometimes," he admitted, "and I don't like it. It's almost as though my effort isn't enough.

Enguina looked at him with sympathy. "I know how that feels," she said softly.

Another camp brought about a similar situation for Legolas, and though they did not know it, Enguina had been right. The storm had brought the band of tired travelers to a grinding halt inside a cave at an attempt to gain some cover from the rain pouring down in great sheets. Vilyath stood near the entrance, gazing out and sighing. There were numerous problems with the rain, not the least being the need to stop; the most pressing issue was the Prince.

"With this rain," she muttered, "we will never reach Londeglai." Already, she knew that the elf was growing weaker, even by the day, and she feared that if they did not reach their destination soon, there might not be anything left to bargain with. Behind her, there was a cough, a thumping noise, and then a sharp gasp of pain.

"Keep your mouth shut," she heard Dragsúl snap, but the elf coughed again.

"Ah," he whispered, and she could hear the pain in his voice, "there is nothing I can do to silence it." There was a brief scuffle, another quick intake of breath, and then she heard Legolas cough once more and mutter, "Do what you will."

"Dragsúl!" Vilyath called and she heard him walk over to her without turning around. The man stepped up to her position on the rock face and looked out with her into the darkness.

"What is it?" he asked, staring angrily out at the rain.

"At least we are dry, which is more than you could say for any other creature out there in this deluge," she growled, and then maneuvered herself to look him full in the face. "You must stop kicking him," she stated, but her voice was hushed.

He frowned deeply at her. "I was enjoying myself. Any particular reason why I should end it?"

She gave him a look that showed him she was barely tolerating the question. "We need him alive, Dragsúl, and he is ill enough. This weather is not doing us any favors; this is the second time we have had to take shelter."

"You told me to—"

"I have changed my mind."

He shrugged. "I suppose I was only finding it mildly enjoyable anyway," he replied.

"Mmm," she muttered, and she heard the elf cough behind her again. She glanced over her shoulder, and then left Dragsúl standing at the entrance, making her way to where Legolas lay on the stone. She crouched down in front of him and looked into his face. He was certainly becoming paler, and it was obvious he was growing ill. The elf's eyes flickered open for a second, as though he was trying to get a look of who was going to hit him next without them knowing that he was checking. Instead, when he saw it was her, he continued to stare at her, eyeing her features with apparent practice.

"What do you want?" he dared to ask, even after all of the times she had told him to remain silent. His voice was scratchy, but demanded an answer. She shook her head.

"Are you ill, Prince?" she asked him, her voice softer than it had ever been when she had spoken to him before. He continued to stare at her with no change of expression.

Should he say anything? What difference would it make? Would they allow him medicine, to take care of his wounds? Unlikely; so what would be the purpose in voicing his concerns? He already knew he was feverish; his hip and shoulder wounds were paining him in such a way that he knew they had to be infected…this would be a waste of his breath.

"I am not well," he said flatly, and she realized that he was an elf seldom accustomed to admitting weakness. She looked into his eyes and then raised her head to Omarom who stood near the back of their small shelter, many of the men and elves at his feet on their sleeping mats.

"Omarom, will you bring the Prince some water?" she caught Legolas staring at her, surprise all over his face. "Do not look so surprised," she added hastily, "I need you alive when we get there,"

He continued to stare as the elf returned with the water and helped him drink. "Thank you," he said softly, giving a sigh, "that is very kind of you." His voice was drawn and tired, and he was exhausted, but he could not sleep. He had been unable to find rest for more than a few minutes at a time, and he was having strange dreams. They were sometimes about Aragorn and Arwen fighting something unseen, humorous things about Gimli, but they were mostly about Enguina…and dark things, hidden from his mind that kept waking him for no reason. When he woke, there would be a hollow hole in his chest, a sickening doubt, as though something horrible was about to happen…not that he already was not in very deep trouble. Yet, there were unknowns: how was Faramir? Were Enguina and Gimli riding after him as he was lying here drinking? Would Aragorn be far behind? Part of him prayed that no one would come; too much danger…did he want Enguina involved in this? Their wedding was in a month…he could have groaned aloud.

"Are you still awake?" He blinked his eyes at Vilyath's words and looked at her.

"More water?" asked Omarom, but Legolas shook his head, coughing a bit. No, if he drank anymore he might retch, and that was the last thing he needed. He suddenly wondered if there was some sort of drug in the water…but then he realized that he could have cared less. What would be the use of poisoning him? And if it were a drug that would make him sleep, he would not refuse it at this moment.

Vilyath watched Omarom walk away, sighing. "If this incessant rain ever ends," she grumbled, "we would shortly be in Londeglai."

"What…what is that place?"

"It is where we are to meet the Master," she replied, realizing she had spoken out loud the first time. She shrugged. "It is not on any map, if that is what you are asking." She gave him a wry smile. "If you are hoping to be found, your friends will not find Londeglai."

For the first time in days, Legolas actually smiled. "You do not know my friends very well, Vilyath. Not very well at all."

She let that go for a moment. "What were you thinking about before when you went silent for so long? Your father?"

"No," he whispered, "someone else." He moved on quickly; he was not about to speak of Guin to her. "Who is this 'Master' you continue to mention?"

"You will meet him soon enough," she appeared irritated, suddenly unwilling to answer his questions. "Stop asking so many things. You should be resting now."

He blinked slowly; he wished he could be resting. Vilyath began to speak again, but she was interrupted by an eerie growl that came from the darkness outside their cave. It was uncommon, and the strangeness of the noise sent a shiver down Legolas's spine. "Something is here."

"I thought I had heard something," she replied, and there was an immediate snarl from the rain. She stood quickly. "The Messenger has arrived." She hurried to the front of the cave, muttering something to Omarom as she passed, and stepped out into the rain; Legolas could no longer see her, and no longer had the energy to follow her with his eyes or lift his head. He dropped it back down onto the stone and heard Omarom come to a stop nearby and he watched several guards draw back from the entrance.

"The Messenger?" Legolas asked softly. "What is it?" The elf leaned down and covered him with a blanket; up to that very moment, Legolas had no idea he had been shivering with the chill of being soaked to the bone.

"A big, brute of a beast," the elf replied, "and you should not wish to meet or see it."

"Gives me the shivers just thinkin' of its ugly face," muttered another man from nearby.

They heard sudden shouting from the front of the cave and the screaming of a man who was clearly in pain. Vilyath also began shouting, her voice ringing clearly with no need for strain on Legolas's part to hear what was said.

"No! I said 'no!' Drop him now!" There was an angry snarl and Legolas winced at the gurgling of the man who was clearly breathing his last. "Damn you, Girith! Not the Master's own men!" he heard Vilyath snarl back at him. "You foolish beast! He would sooner kill you for such an act."

"Stay back," Omarom warned the others who were nearing the front of the cave to get a look at the creature. "Do not be fools." A sudden snapping caused her to give the beast an angry glare.

"The elf is going to your Master, remember? You will not be eating any prisoners or guards! You can take him the news that we have his prize; he is certain to be pleased. Are we still to meet him in Londeglai before we journey toward Mirkwood?" Another yowl and snarl. "Good, then, make him aware that we will travel as quickly as we may once the rain ends. The horses will be dragged down into the mud were we to travel now, and what is left of our band might become quite ill. We must be careful, what with you eating the men and—"

He snarled in her face, and Legolas heard Omarom take a step back even though he was nowhere near the encounter. "Settle down," she added contritely, "I need to watch out for what is left of our people. And what do you mean 'if he gets there?' What are you trying to tell me?" She listened to him for a moment, and then she stared at him. "There are trackers? Truthfully?" She snorted. "This may actually get exciting. An elf and a dwarf, you say?" Legolas's heart began to race, and he strained with his utmost ability to hear what was to come. This had to be Enguina and Gimli; he needed to hear word of them.

"How far behind are they, Girith?" she continued questioning the creature, and she was shocked by the reply; Legolas could hear it in her voice. "A half-day's ride away?" With such news, now the idea of a confrontation did not seem so exciting. Vilyath had clearly seen how the Prince and his companion had decimated their ranks; she should be wary. She let out a sigh of frustration, squared her shoulders, and Legolas could nearly hear the smile in her voice as she replied, "Well, you were in search of fresh meat, Girith. This is a perfect opportunity for you. The Master would want them gone; make sure that it is a permanent solution to the problem." She looked through the rain and into his yellow eyes. "Catch my meaning?" The beast let out a howl, and she could tell he was thrilled with the idea of the chase. "And do not return to bring me news of failure. Meet us in Londeglai."

Within moments, the great creature had turned on its haunches and hurried off into the stormy night. She stepped back out of the rain, finding herself completely alone; no one wanted to be near the monster. Wringing out her hair, she turned and walked slowly back to where Legolas lay, Omarom still standing near him. Most of the other men had turned into their sleeping bags to wait out the downpour.

"Call him back," Legolas said, and Vilyath looked down at him.

"What?"

"Girith…your beast," he said with a struggle. His teeth were nearly chattering, but he forced control into his voice. "Tell him to lead them here, and then you will not have someone else's life on your hands. They are innocent; they are not involved in any of this. They do not even know what you want."

She leaned down toward him and shook her head. "I will not call him back; your friends made the mistake of pursuing you, and for that…I am afraid their lives are at an end. Girith does not show mercy. If they had left you well-enough alone, you might have joined them after your father gave us the land we are due. Now…" She shrugged. "All you can do is mourn them."

His heart ached. Whatever this Girith was, he was a force to be reckoned with, and Enguina and Gimli were walking right into a trap…with no knowledge of it at all. Could he dare to hope that both of them would survive the encounter? He had to do something…he had to warn them somehow…but how?

"Can nothing I say sway you?" he asked softly. "Have you no conscience? Please, I will do anything—" His voice broke off in a fit of coughing.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Do I detect a hint of despair, Prince? You know those who follow us, do you not? Good friends? Close? Loved ones?"

Fury welled-up inside him so that his temper exploded and he spat in her face. "Go to the Hells of Morgoth!" he shouted. He was so loud, and so angry, that his shouting covered over Dragsúl's rush forward to silence him. "You are as much a monster as that beast!" The kick came swiftly, and there was a loud crack and searing pain across Legolas's mid-section. For a moment, the elf could not breathe, and Dragsúl pulled his knee back again to drive another kick home.

"No!" snapped Vilyath, pulling him back. "He has had enough, Dragsúl. Enough. Let him go." She turned him aside, and wiped her cheek with her wet sleeve. "Forget them, Prince," she stated over her shoulder as she moved away. "Girith always protects the Master."

After even Omarom had left him, Legolas despaired, pain spearing through him. He lay there for a long time it seemed, listening to the sounds of sleep and rain upon rock. This was the one situation he had hoped to never find himself: captured and alone with no way out while his family was in mortal danger. What was he to do?

There is always hope. The words came back to him as if out of a dream. Aragorn's words, some years ago, but still true and ringing fresh in his mind. It was that last shred of hope that Legolas still clutched when all of his faith seemed to have run out. He reached for that pinprick of light, and he prayed unceasingly for the peace and presence of mind to think of something, the strength to do, and the courage to take action. Ilúvatar had always been near; all Legolas had to do was reach out and seek him.

Enguina stood beneath the overhang of trees, water trickling down from the leaves onto her tunic and her hair. Soaked through, she hardly noticed. There was barely any light, but she knew that the sun was rising behind the heavy onset of clouds because the sky was beginning to lighten. She stood poised, looking outward into the darkness of the shrouded and stormy morning for any sign that it was about to let up.

"Confound it!" she heard Gimli cry from the small bit of shelter they had found. "This rain is intolerable! I don't think there's anything I hate more than being wet!" At his words, Enguina had to smile even though what she had seen brought her some gloom. She turned to look at him, watching him shake his head back and forth like a mongrel, water spraying from his beard. Nearly laughing at him, she smiled grimly.

"I hate to be the one to spread the cheer," she stated with sarcasm, "but we are not going to see an end to this incessant rain for the next few hours at least."

"Get back over here and out of the downpour, lass, before I have to come out there and drag you back in here!" She laughed at him outright.

"I doubt you would leave the dry shelter to come out here for me, Gimli." She turned back to the horizon and frowned again. She wondered and worried for Legolas. Had they stopped as well? Or was the elf somewhere out in this soaking rain, forced to ride a horse as she had been for many days? She worried so for him, knowing how wounded he was, knowing how terribly wounded Faramir had been…seeing his blood on the ground... She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm, tugging.

"I said get inside," Gimli growled, "and I meant it!" He pulled her towards the shelter, and Enguina rolled her eyes, allowing him to do so. "Now stay dry!" he said, letting her go ahead of him into the warmth of the tiny cave.

"Oh, Gimli…" she sighed, sitting down near the fire he had built them, "do not be such a worry-wart. I am perfectly fine."

He glared at her. "When you get some sense, I'll quit." He threw himself on the stone across the fire from her, frowning. "Do you think we'll lose the trail?"

Enguina nodded, frowning as well; that had been her worry since she could smell the storm coming. "The trail has been washed completely clean…everything from here forward looks as though it is a huge mud puddle; a swamp, I suppose I should call it."

Gimli sighed, frustrated. "Perhaps we shouldn't've stopped, then. If they are stopped as well, we might have had a chance to catch up."

Enguina sighed. "I thought of that, too, Gimli, but I think we may only succeed in drenching ourselves and making our horses ill. They could use the rest anyway," and then she paused, stretching her sore legs out by the fire, "and so could I. I do not believe my legs have ever hurt this badly." She glanced at him, blushing. "I have never had a reason to travel so far, so fast on horseback."

Gimli chuckled at her expression, and she took to looking at the fire again. "I haven't in many, many years. Mine hurt, too. At least you're not laughing at me like he would be." She cracked a smiled at that, and a comfortable silence fell between them.

"Gimli," she said softly, "can I ask you something?" He could tell that she had been thinking.

"Of course, lass," he replied. "What is it?" She lifted her head finally to look at him instead of the fire.

"It is something that has been in the back of my mind for many days now, and I have been meaning to ask you about it. Do you remember the first night we spent at Henneth Annûn?" Gimli nodded slowly, not quite sure where this was going. "There was a comment that you made as we were sitting out there on those rocks that struck us all and I was wondering if you could explain it. Perhaps this is not the time to bring it to the surface, but as we were sitting here, I remembered it." Gimli shrugged.

"I don't remember what I said, lass. You'll have to refresh my memory."

Enguina eyed him intently. "You said that perhaps living underground was overvalued." Gimli grunted in acknowledgement, but Enguina continued. "I know that you have always desired to live in the Glittering Caves, yet still you have not gone to do so. And then, you made that comment to Legolas that it is not everything. What is everything, Gimli? Is there something that has changed your mind? I do not know if you will tell me what is hurting you, but if you will, perhaps I can help."

Gimli frowned, finally raising his eyes to her. "What you said is it, lass," he replied, his voice hushed, as he smiled sadly. "Change, Enguina…simply change."

She looked at him, and finally understood. She understood that he would no longer be Legolas' singular companion and fellow traveler. No more would they be able to roam where they chose, explore what they may, and go where they wished. No longer would Gimli be able to joke with Legolas that they needed another companion, because she was now there. There was someone taking his place; she was the one taking his place and the realization caught her completely off guard.

"Oh, Gimli—"

"Oh, don't apologize! I'm happy about it!" he grumbled. "For the most part. I can't help the way I feel, that I think the way I do. I'm ashamed to admit there were times when I looked at Aragorn and I was glad that Legolas wasn't all dewy-eyed like he was and that he'd be that way forever." He snorted, and had the decency to look humbled. "I was wrong and selfish. Legolas is so much happier now that you've found each other, and I…I know there's no one better for him.

"What more can I say, lass? It's hard to let go of a way of life that I've been living for the years since the War, but you know what they say? Change is good, yes? So we'll make do."

He fell silent for a moment, thinking, and Enguina said softly, "Legolas feels that pain, too, Gimli. There is a part of him that wishes to remain a bachelor forever; to continue to spend time as he has always spent. Do not believe that he is not thinking of how much he loves you, Gimli. It was one of the first things we spoke of in our many walks in Minas Tirith. His bond with you is closer than his bond with anyone beside Aragorn. It has been on his mind since the moment he asked me to wed him." She sighed gently and frowned. "But choices always bring change—"

"And his life is better with you in it," Gimli stated, nodding.

She was silent a moment. "That is not what I was going to say," she said stiffly.

He raised his head to smile at her. "I know, but it's true. Legolas was always a bit jealous of what Aragorn and Arwen had together, though perhaps I shouldn't say jealous. I should say, covetous; he wanted to love someone the way that they love, without reservation or hesitation or condition. I remember him saying that there were years he had traveled with Aragorn, and every night the man would sit in the treetops and pray that Ilúvatar would watch over her, and he'd say his goodnights to her." Enguina smiled.

"She must have been doing much the same after they became engaged."

"Well, Legolas told me this was even during a time when Arwen barely knew him. He was always focused on her; he never strayed."

"Never?" she raised her eyebrow. "He wandered in Middle-Earth for nearly fifty years, Gimli. I find it hard to imagine that he—"

"Never," Gimli insisted.

"The Race of Men do not love as elves love, Gimli," she said sadly, "or even dwarves. Do you really believe that if something were to happen to Arwen that Aragorn would not do his duty to his people and take another?"

He looked at her. "I think he'd die without her," he insisted stubbornly. "They complete each other in ways I've never understood, Enguina, just as you and Legolas do. In you, Legolas has found that all-consuming love; the love that causes all other light to dim." He smiled. "It makes him lose focus of anything else in the world."

"Come now, Gimli," she said, thinking of an unfocused Legolas, "Legolas is always focused, as is Aragorn. There is never a time when I see them otherwise!"

"It's when their ladies leave that they lose the focus. See, when you're there, they concentrate on you, but when you leave, they're still concentrating on you! For example, just the other day you'd left Legolas and I near the wall and moved on ahead. You weren't paying any attention, but Legolas was still watching you walk away, and he walked headlong into the sign for the apothecary's shop."

She laughed with him, blushing. "Did he really?"

Gimli nodded. "Aye, lass; so you see, there are many things you don't know about Legolas when he can't tell you them himself…" he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, "and that's certainly one of the things you'll never hear from his lips. He can't admit he's so taken with you that he runs into signs."

She smiled and rested her chin on her palms, her elbows on her knee. "Gimli, I am so glad that you are my friend."

"And I'm glad you're mine," he said with a laugh, "though I think you benefit more than I!" He snickered, winking at her. "We really should find some rest, though."

Enguina's face fell suddenly, a sudden urge striking her. She needed to know anything and everything about him that she could. "Gimli…please, do you have any other amusing Legolas tales?"

"Well," he said, looking thoughtful, "I'm sure I could call a few more forward into my mind for you." She began to smile, and then Gimli moved into his greatest story-telling mode, and Enguina found herself thinking that if one day she were to have children, this was the dwarf she would want telling the tales as he had his arm wrapped around their backs as they sat on his knee. She could not help but hang on his every word, and there they sat, long into the night, laughing in the midst of all the rain and the trials they might face the moment it had ended.