Notes: ósanwë. Some of Tolkien's ancient and powerful elves had the ability to do this- telepathy (noun) literally: interchange of thought

Chapter 39: Rescue

When he heard the resounding clang of iron on stone, Gimli knew. 'It is this way!' he cried triumphantly, and he sped off down the narrow tunnel that had sought to distract and turn him back.

It was deep beneath the city. He knew because the air changed and there was great pressure. But there were sounds too, muffled and distant shouting, even a cry of anguish. And then an ominous BOOM. Running more swiftly even than the Elves, Gimli's feet flew lightly over the rocks and stone for it was underground, his element, and he sped towards his dear friend. Like an otter in a river or bird in the air, he thought, or an Elf over snow. Dwarves were fleet and sure beneath the earth, in the earth. It grew cold. He did not allow himself fear.

Ahead of him now was a red glow, reflecting on the tunnel walls, and the shouting was clearer, but there was a terrible, shrill screaming as well.

He knew that sound, like nails scraping on the chalk boards at the entrances of deep mines, where names were chalked of those who went in so in the event of a rockfall, rescuers knew exactly who was there.

Nazgûl.

He did not pause but his fists clenched around the haft of his axe. How could Nazgûl be here? He had seen Khamûl destroyed by Elrohir on the Mindolluin. Angmar had been slain by their brave Eowyn. And every one of the remaining Nazgûl had been sucked into the Void, into the Dark at the fall of Barad dûr.

Hefting his battle axe in one hand, he drew out a bronze and steel-toothed roulette from his belt with the other, flicked a finger over the teeth it so it spun easily. On the tunnel walls ahead the red glow intensified, and suddenly, there was an implosion of sound. It deafened him instantly and he stopped and, dropping the roulette, clapped a hand over one ear. He was aware of Glorfindel close behind, who also had slowed and was shaking his head as if to rid himself of a fly.

But Tindómion was further behind and seemed to escaped the deafness for he raced past Glorfindel and drew alongside Gimli, shouting something and waving them on. The red light ahead suddenly intensified and there was a deep BOOM, BOOM that even penetrated Gimli's deafness. The stone trembled as if something huge were pounding its way towards them. Gimli was thrown back to memories of Khazad-dûm when the drums began in the deep and his heart leapt in his chest. He paused for a moment, aware that Glorfindel too had stopped and Tindómion turned towards them. The light from Glorfindel's wavering torch reflected in Tindómion's eyes, silver, like molten mithril, thought Gimli and his hair gleamed like a river of molten bronze. Suddenly the red light ahead of them was quenched and Tindómion turned to look up the tunnel. He drew his sword and the torchlight poured fire over the runes upon the silver-blue blade. Gurthdur it declared itself. He braced his axe and followed the elven warrior as he edged forwards.

From behind them, Glorfindel's fiery torch threw their shadows ahead of them, enormous, and suddenly the passageway ahead was illuminated. Something was ahead of them, just beyond the edge of the light. It seemed to be lurching towards them, a strange misshapen thing. Lumbering from one side of the tunnel to the other, it was half falling against the stone wall.

Gimli braced himself; it must be the Ghoul, he thought and raised his axe bringing the haft against the palm of his hand, ready to strike.

Suddenly his ears popped softly and he could hear again. The shrieking had indeed stopped although the tunnel still trembled under a pounding BOOM BOOM. A scuffling came from the lurching shadow ahead and a quiet moan. It did not sound like a Ghoul. He heard the scrape of steel as Glorfindel and Gandalf drew their swords.

'What is that?' Tindómion whispered to Gimli.

Gimli stepped around Tindómion for his eyes were the best underground, and peered into the dark tunnel as the shape lurched forwards.

Suddenly he saw them. Not the Ghoul at all but Elrohir, and slumped against him, one arm thrown over Elrohir's shoulder and leaning very heavily, was Legolas!

Gimli gave a cry and rushed towards them, shoving his axe over his back and into its harness. He caught Legolas' dangling arm and hoisted it over his sturdy shoulder. 'You found him,' Gimli said unnecessarily but with such depth of feeling, appreciation that Elrohir gave him a slight smile. 'You have my axe for as long as you live, Elrondion. And my gratitude.'

Elrohir nodded exhaustedly in acknowledgment as the rest of the company gathered around them. Gandalf took off his hat, brushed it off and jammed it back down onto his head, and then peered down at Legolas' face with gentle concern.

'We cannot linger,' he said brusquely but Gimli knew that the Wizard was just covering his distress.

There was another BOOM from further along the tunnel and all turned their faces anxiously towards the sound. Small stones shook loose from the tunnel wall.

'What is that?' Tindómion turned to Elrohir but he looked away as if he could not bear the Fëanorian's gaze.

'We should move,' said Glorfindel and ushered them back along the passageway.

'I have cast a warding spell,' said Gandalf. 'It will hide us.' He tutted softly in pity as Elrohir and Gimli shuffled past him with Legolas half-carried between them.

Legolas' head hung loosely, chin towards his chest and Gimli felt wetness where Legolas' body brushed him as he shifted the Elf against him. He knew it was blood and only now did Gimli realise that he was naked, for he felt how cold was his skin and he only had Elrohir's tunic slung hastily over his shoulders.

'Here, we need cloaks and warmth before we go anywhere,' he said.

Tindómion cast his own cloak around the unconscious Woodelf. Gimli thought a tenderness was upon Tindómion's face and wondered at this for he did not recall any great friendship between the two. It was then that Gimli felt the shackle that was clasped about Legolas' wrist and the heavy iron chains that trailed from it. A small growl of anger escaped Gimli, and he gently cradled Legolas' arm, felt along the chains and realised that Elrohir carried the weight of them. Beneath the shackles, Legolas' skin was slippery with blood.

'He cannot go far with these shackles on him,' Gimli said angrily. 'I can almost certainly free him and that will make it easier for both him and us.' He glanced up at Elrohir. 'Whatever that thing is,' he nodded his head towards the BOOM, BOOM that shook the tunnel, 'is it going to be here any time now, or can we spare a moment so I can free him?'

Elrohir clenched his jaw. 'I do not think they can break free of the Mirror,' he said quietly and Glorfindel glanced briefly at Gandalf.

'It is the Nazgûl then? Gandalf sighed unhappily. 'They have come to the Mirror, are on the other side but trying to … What? Escape?'

Elrohir nodded. 'They needed blood. The Ghoul had hung Legolas in front of the Mirror.' He swallowed as if it was hard to speak. 'They were feeding off him…somehow…through the Glass. It had become…viscous.' He choked then.

Gimli could not bear to think of it. 'Then we have time to get these abominable chains off him,' he growled and jerked his head towards Glorfindel's cloak which he obediently took off and laid it on the ground. Gandalf took his own cloak off and laid it over Glorfindel's.

A sudden thunder rolled through the tunnels from the cell and all of them looked up anxiously, first at the roof of the tunnel and then back towards the cell. Gandalf swore quietly under his breath.

Gently, Elrohir lowered Legolas to the cloaks and then eased him back so that he leaned against Elrohir's chest. Tindómion took the flickering torch from Glorfindel and held it closer so Gimli could see what he was doing. Gandalf moved beyond them, further up the tunnel, but Gimli paid them no heed for he was looking at the locks on the shackles.

'Hm. A wafer lock,' he muttered to himself and sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of Legolas, he flipped the toe cap of his boot off, and dug about in the narrow compartment in the sole of his boot, pulling out a tiny slender silver torsion wrench. He fumbled in the compartment again, searching for a narrow screwdriver.

While he did this, Glorfindel unstoppered a silver flask and leaned over Legolas. 'Sip this, gently now.' He held the flask to Legolas' bruised lips that were almost blue with cold. He only allowed Legolas one sip, then another.

Legolas moved slightly as he tasted the miruvor, and cracked open one eye, dull and pained, but when he saw it was Glorfindel, his poor swollen and bruised mouth opened in a soft gasp of wonder.

Glorfindel quirked an eyebrow and smiled back. 'Welcome back, child,' he said softly. 'You have done well. Your people, your father will be proud.' And he patted Legolas' shoulder very gently for the Woodelf's skin was marked with a hundred cuts and little slashes beneath Tindómion's cloak and Elrohir's tunic.

But Gimli saw Glorfindel flinch a little when he saw the wounds, and when the Elf-lord straightened and drew away to confer with Gandalf, his eyes were full of pity, but they blazed with anger too that such cruelty had been done to Legolas. Gandalf bent his head towards Glorfindel as they stood together further up the tunnel, talking softly and listening to the Nazgûl raging against the Glass and pounding against their prison.

Gimli ignored the sound of the Nazgûl, instead he carefully, gently fitted the slender wrench into the lock and fiddled, listening to the clicks and obstructions, to the way the pins were arranged. Meticulously he picked each pin and twisted. In his head, though he was cursing the Man who had done this to his friend. Bearos. The Ghoul. And the Nazgûl of course. And thinking of the ways he would kill the Ghoul when he, Gimli Gloinsson, caught up with him if Elrohir had not already killed him first.

At the sound of Gimli's quiet muttering, the slightest smile slipped over the corners of Legolas' bruised mouth and his eyes showed a seam of leaf-green beneath the thick fringe of lashes. A breath whispered from his lips. 'Elvellon.'

Gimli felt his eyes prickle and he blinked hard. 'I can't leave you alone for five minutes but you get yourself into trouble,' he said, his heart bursting in his chest. But Legolas did not answer. There was a deep, resonant pounding from the cell. Something huge moved within. It…they… wanted to get out. Gimli hoped very much that Gandalf and Glorfindel were right.

He was aware, although he did not listen for he was focused upon unpicking the lock, that Glorfindel spoke softly now to Elrohir and that Gandalf was listening attentively, asking a question here.

Within moments, the lock clicked open and he was able to slide the shackle from one wrist and then, knowing the precise pattern of the pins in the lock, it was easy to unpick the other. Beneath each of the shackles, Legolas' skin had deep abrasions and was bloody and raw. But it was nothing to the cuts and wounds that were all over his arms, chest, belly and thighs. Gimli pressed his lips together in anger and pity for his poor friend.

Legolas groaned quietly as the second shackle slipped from his wrist and Elrohir cradled him with tender concern.

'Hush, beloved,' he said soothingly. 'You are safe now.'

Legolas opened his eyes and gazed up at Elrohir with absolute adoration, absolute trust. His bloody fingers caught at Elrohir's and Elrohir held Legolas' hand so gently, as if it might break.

'Lift him, gently,' said Elrohir and Tindómion leaned between Elrohir and Legolas so that he could slide his arm beneath Legolas' shoulder and help to lift him. Legolas' gaze was drawn to Tindómion's face, and when he saw who it was, he gave a small, astonished smile for he had not yet seen who his rescuers were. But Gimli was watching Elrohir: in that moment, his face transformed, from tender compassion to intense anger, jealousy.

So, thought Gimli, there is something between Legolas and Tindómion. It could only have been between their return from Phellanthir and the time the Fellowship left, he thought shrewdly. A few days at most. So nothing meaningful…Much like Haldir…and Eomer…And that servant in Rivendell. There had been other even briefer dalliances on the way, much to the Hobbits' astonishment, concern from Sam and wide-eyed , open-mouthed admiration from Pippin and Merry. Gimli was certain that Elrohir knew about Tindómion. Clearly. But briefly he wondered if Legolas had spoken of any of the others to Elrohir. And thought he probably had not.

Suddenly there was a shrill scrape of steel; Glorfindel drew his white sword that gleamed in the darkness. The Elf lord stepped in front of the group and held aloft their single torch so light fell into the tunnel ahead. 'Declare yourself,' he called into the darkness.

'Glorfindel!'

Elrohir gave a glad cry for it was Elladan. He appeared suddenly out of the darkness, illuminated by the torchlight. Behind him was Erestor, dressed in outlandish clothes, thought Gimli, that were elegantly cut and dashing and dreadfully exotic.

Elladan strode forwards and hugged Elrohir with an intense relief but careful not to jostle Legolas, and then pulled back to look at his brother. 'Fool, going off with Bearos like that and not a word to me!' As he spoke, he cast a healer's eye over Legolas.

'I had no choice,' Elrohir said but he smiled. Then he said with anxiety, 'Estel?'

'Is recovering. He has a new nurse to take care of him.' Elladan smiled but did not say who the nurse was so Gimli wondered if the Hobbits were looking after him. He enjoyed the thought of Merry and Pippin squabbling over feeding Aragorn soup.

Glorfindel sheathed his sword and turned to Gimli. 'Gimli, will you go with Elrohir and Elladan, take Legolas back so he can be attended to.' Glorfindel turned to Erestor and began to speak but the counsellor held up one hand with great authority.

'I will stay to guard the Mirror.' Erestor gave Gandalf a wicked grin. 'I promise not to lose it.'

Gandalf looked irritated at the jibe and to Gimli's great surprise Glorfindel did not protest and Gimli thought he knew it was probably not worth it. He recognised stubbornness when he saw it; he had seen it in Legolas. And Aragorn. And Pippin. And Gandalf. In fact the whole Fellowship were remarkably stubborn at times and had it not been for Gimli's silky diplomatic skills that all dwarves had intuitively, he thought, (apart from Dwalin. And Thorin of course.) the Fellowship would never have left Rivendell.

As if he knew what Gimli was thinking, Erestor gave Gimli a flash of white teeth and the torchlight reflected for a moment in his amber eyes, making Gimli think of a wolf that had once padded into the firelight of his little campfire, looked at him and melted back into the forest.

'How bad is he?' Elladan was asking and Elrohir was about to reply when there was a monumental pounding, BOOM BOOM BOOM that went on for several minutes relentlessly and Erestor and Elladan looked about themselves in alarm.

'We have been hearing that getting closer, the closer we came to you,' said Erestor.

'It is the Nazgûl trying to escape the Mirror,' said Glorfindel briefly. 'The Ghoul brought them to the Mirror from the Other Side, used Legolas as bait it seems.' He shifted uncomfortably.

Suddenly Legolas twitched and his head rolled back, his breath was loud and rasping. Elrohir immediately put his hand on Legolas' cheek and turned the Woodelf's face towards him. 'Legolas?' he cried loudly, panicking. 'Legolas, open your eyes. Can you hear me?'

Legolas raised his head wearily, blinking owlishly at Elrohir and squinting at him as if he were trying to focus on the other's face. Elladan lifted the Woodelf's arm and pressed his own fingers lightly against Legolas' wrist. 'His pulse is erratic. Is he still losing blood?' he asked Elrohir urgently. Gandalf's cloak fell open and the bloody wounds could be seen on his torso.

Suddenly Legolas spasmed and his head rolled back against Elrohir's shoulder. 'He is falling into unconsciousness!' cried Elrohir frightened. 'We need to get him back to the city. Now!'

'Go on,' Glorfindel said to Elrohir urgently 'Take him to the Houses of Healing. Get yourself seen to as well. Go! Gimli- go with them.' Glorfindel pulled Gandalf's cloak over Legolas again as he barked out orders . 'When you get there, Elladan, send a message to Beregond that we have found the Mirror and for him to send a troop to guard it and to help us search for Bearos. We will begin the search and leave marks so they can find us.' Without a trace of irony he added, 'Erestor will stay here to guard the Mirror until they arrive.'

Elrohir and Elladan had already moved away, carrying Legolas between them and Gimi followed anxiously. Legolas was drifting in and out of consciousness and murmured something that Gimli could not hear but the Dwarf was suddenly afraid that even after all this, they might still lose him.

Elladan looked back over his shoulder. 'Will they be safe?' he asked. Gimli turned his head and saw that Glorfindel and Gandalf stood talking intensely, and Tindómion stood with them. But Erestor stood a little apart, further down the tunnel and looking with intensity towards the cell. The tunnel shook and the reverberations brought more little stones skittering loose of the roof, bouncing off the walls, off them.

'The roof will not come down if that is what you mean,' Gimli replied for he knew in his bones that these tunnels would not cave in. 'But the Ghoul is loose down there and I would not wish to be on my own there. It overpowered Legolas after all. And he is no weakling.'

Elladan seemed to hesitate and he half turned back. But Elrohir urged him on. 'We must get Legolas into the warm, Elladan. He is in shock and to lose him now will break me utterly.'

But something about Elladan's face made Gimli wonder if losing one of their companions that they were leaving behind in the Tombs might not break Elladan in the same way.

0o0o

The glamour that Mithrandir had cast about them held. Glorfindel could feel it like a veil of starlight cast over them and he could see it still over the three Elves and one Dwarf as they slowly disappeared back towards the city. He glanced at the iron slab that was shut over the cell. The Úlairi still raged within though their prey had fled and the tunnel thundered every now and again as they were beneath the sea and the tide roared above them. Something huge was throwing itself against the Glass, he thought. Or the walls themselves. Were the Nazgûl so substantial, so present in the Dark that they could cause such a tremor in the earth?

'Will it hold it?' Tindómion asked cautiously, coming to stand next to Glorfindel. But Tindómion had not been to Phellanthir. He had not seen the Glass bowl and stretch under the battering from the Balrog, Ruinátoró. His beautiful face was pensive and he rested his hand upon the hilt of his sword, Gurthdur. The sword glittered even in the darkness of the tunnel, for it too had been made by Celebrimbor and perhaps it remembered the hands of its maker, perhaps was offended by the corruption of the Mirror by the Nazgûl.

Glorfindel rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was becoming fanciful. The effect of the Mirror perhaps. In Phellanthir, he had seen Erestor's memories, knew his thoughts and certainly did not wish that to be visited upon him again. Nor did he want to be seeing Tindómion's, or Mithrandir's memories.

'The Glass will hold as it did in Phellanthir. There is nothing in there now to keep the attention of the Úlairi here,' he said boldly. But as if to contradict him, there was a resounding BOOM that shook free small stones in the roof that skittered down over their heads. He saw that Elladan had stopped and was looking back towards Erestor, one hand outstretched as if reaching for him. And then Gimli moved between them and the small group continued, disappearing slowly into the dark.

'But they know this is the doorway,' Tindómion said pointedly, continuing the discussion.

Erestor grunted agreement. 'They will not simply pack up and leave, Laurëfindë.' He leaned over and smoothed his hands over his flamboyant thigh-length boots.

Glorfindel suppressed his annoyance at the use of his old name. Erestor did it deliberately. 'I do not expect them to,' he said sharply, ignoring Erestor's smirk. 'Nevertheless, they cannot break through.' He did not look at Mithrandir as he said this. He did not say that Elrohir had told him about Angmar's belief that Aícanaro could cut through the Glass. Nor did he tell them that the blade of elenalanta had chipped the Glass. He had shared that with Mithrandir only, and now the Wizard glanced at him briefly.

'I have put the same warding spell upon the one in Phellanthir as this one,' Mithrandir said assertively. 'And the Glass has held in Phellanthir.' He tapped his staff impatiently upon the stone floor. 'Now. I suggest we follow the trail of this Ghoul whilst it is still fresh.'

But even as he spoke, quite suddenly, the pounding stopped.

The silence.

Glorfindel felt the hairs on his neck prickle. He held his breath, aware of his companions' stillness, alertness. The Úlairi may even now be sliding through a tear in the fabric of the Mirror, slipping out of the Glass like smoke.

Nothing.

In the absolute and eerie silence, the distant rumble of Gimli's voice rolled back through the stone tunnels.

It was Tindómion, unusually, who broke the tense silence. 'I felt the stirring of others even in the chaos of the Úlairi,' he said softly. He glanced at Erestor first and then Glorfindel. 'Elrohir said that he saw only Angmar and his brethren, but in Phellanthir, there was the Balrog.' He did not say there was Maedhros also but it hung on the air unspoken, heavy with accusation.

'The Úlairi are not alone in there,' said Erestor defiantly.

Tindómion turned, hand on his sword. He leaned in slightly towards Mithrandir and his long hair streamed down his back. 'Who else is in there, Mithrandir? Morgoth?' he said aggressively. 'Apart from my kin, that is.' His eyes burned silver-bright. 'My kin whom your lords banished to that dreadful place.'

Mithrandir did not speak and Glorfindel began to protest that it was hardly fair to blame Ólorin but Erestor interrupted. He stood, almost leaning towards the iron slab of a door, as if listening.

'Yes.' Erestor cast over his shoulder. 'My lord Maedhros is there. Certainly. Cast into the Dark by the Valar.'

Glorfindel threw a look at Erestor, irritated that he was fueling Tindómion's anger with Mithrandir, as the Valar's representative. 'You do not know if he can come to this Mirror or if he is somehow bound to Phellanthir. Why didn't he come to Legolas' aid as he came to ours?'

'Because he has no connection with Legolas. Perhaps he could not sense Legolas' need? He does not know him,' Erestor said quickly and Glorfindel tutted and shook his head. 'It is true,' Erestor said assertively. 'He came to Phellanthir for me…For me.' His voice was soft. He smiled at Tindómion. 'If it was you in danger, he would have come here for you. Of that I am sure.'

'You have no way of knowing how the Mirror works, Erestor,' Mithrandir said grumpily and Glorfindel could not blame him. 'Come, we do not have time to stand here all night arguing!'

Tindómion had breathed in sharply. It was clear now that he would not abandon this hopeful aside but seek an understanding, even if he would join the hunt he would not leave until he was satisfied. He was so like Feänor sometimes, it hurt. Now he asked, 'Was it only Maedhros? Of all the Elves, is he alone in there?'

Ah, thought Glorfindel with compassion. It was Gil he longer for. He sighed. 'Yes, we saw only Maedhros.' He glared at Erestor for feeding Tindómion's hopes.

'It is not Maedhros coming here that alarms me,' Glorfindel said sharply. 'So much Power and energy focused in this one small space has already attracted attention. We have all felt Him turning towards this place.'

Erestor nodded far more cheerfully than Glorfindel thought he had any right to. 'I know you are right, dear Laurëfindë.'

'And much as I would like to taunt Morgoth, tease and torment Him, I intend to stay well away but on guard.' He gave Glorfindel a look . 'You know this is the only way.' He grinned irrepressibly. 'And you have a Ghoul to hunt. Why are you waiting? You are like an old washer woman! Go.'

Tindómion and Mithrandir were already moving further along the tunnel. Tindómion knelt and looked down at the floor for the Ghoul had been bleeding and there were splashes easily seen in the torchlight.

Glorfindel tried not to grind his teeth at Erestor's irritating jibe. He misgave Erestor's staying to guard the Mirror but to leave either Mithrandir or Tindómion here was to court Morgoth for He would know Ólorin was here and would sense the blood of the House of Feanor in Tindómion's veins. Erestor had at least witnessed the power of the Mirror in Phellanthir and knew how dangerous it was. Glorfindel hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should tell his old friend that Elrohir had struck the Glass, but his fear was too real that Erestor might lose his reason and actually try to summon Maedhros and release him from the Dark. He shared a look with Mithrandir, who shook his head slightly to reinforce Glorfindel's own judgment.

Glorfindel nodded at Erestor. 'Very well. But you must promise me two things.'

Erestor grinned irritatingly. 'Anything, Laurëfindë.'

'First, on no account are you to go in there or lurk outside the door or be within fifty feet of it. Your task is to guard the door and make sure that the Ghoul does not return here.'

Erestor bowed elaborately, clearly enjoying the lace that cascaded from the sleeves of his blue velvet coat. Glorfindel thought he looked ridiculous. 'Secondly, you are not to try and capture or fight the Ghoul if it appears. If it does, then you must stay hidden and wait for Elladan's reinforcements. They should be here soon.' He hesitated, thinking that perhaps he should risk it and leave Tindómion, or that he himself should stay.

Erestor raised an insouciant eyebrow. 'Laurëfindë,' he said tartly. 'I hope you are not questioning either my valour or my ability to hide?'

Glorfindel suppressed a sigh. He was unusually anxious about leaving Erestor but Erestor was not some untried warrior. But neither was Legolas, he reminded himself. He took a step towards Erestor and clasped his shoulder. 'This is no Orc,' he said firmly. 'This thing tricked Legolas, overpowered him. You will stay hidden and you will not tackle it yourself should he return before us.'

It was Erestor's turn to look irritated. 'I am not a fool, Laurëfindë. I do know how to keep watch and not be seen.'

Glorfindel held his gaze and nodded slowly. 'Be safe, old friend.'

'Get gone, old fool.' But there was affection in Erestor's voice too. He gave Glorfindel a little shove towards Mithrandir who had turned to wait. Tindómion was already a little way ahead.

'He has gone this way,' Tindómion said, touching the dark stain on the rock. 'Come!' With a look at Glorfindel and Mithrandir, he set off, his feet swift and sure over the rock and Glorfindel followed him, Mithrandir close behind.

They followed the Ghoul's tracks down a narrow passage that led off from the main passage and then another. Glorfindel left marks on the stone, scratching a sign with his knife on the rock, knowing that Elladan and Erestor would know it. Tindómion knelt frequently to look at the blood stains, touching them with the tip of his finger.

'These are not yet dry,' he said, looking up. 'The Ghoul must have fled this way before we arrived.' He glanced at Glorfindel.

'We might still find the route he takes into this place then,' Mithrandir said, hitching up his white robe for he had given his cloak to Legolas. 'At the least we may find his hiding places and set a trap.'

The torchlight flickered slightly, so their shadows rippled on the walls.

'That air current is from outside,' Tindómion said in a low voice. 'Either there is another egress going to the outside, or he must have opened a door. It is this way!'

Glorfindel doused the torch then and nodded Tindómion onwards.

He led them swiftly, fearlessly through the darkness. An underground stream ran across the tunnel at one point and the walls grew wet and slimy. Suddenly there was a dim watery light.

Tindómion turned, his eyes glittered silver, hard. He said nothing but Glorfindel knew there was an answering gleam in his own eyes for they both wished vengeance upon the wickedness done to Legolas. More silently now, they edged forwards. Glorfindel touched the stone wall of the tunnel, felt it was mossy, damp. He looked up to see that they were emerging through a cleft in the rock, and ahead and above them was the moon. He breathed. That was the source of the light, not Bearos.

He was about to speak but Tindómion silenced him with a cut of his hand. Instantly the three of them froze.

Glorfindel peered over Tindómion's shoulder. They were emerging into the wilderness about the Hallows, the rocky outcrop covered in gorse and wild heather, pale stone boulders covered in lichen dotted about the mountainside and there was the sound of running water and beneath their feet was mud, not stone.

Tindómion dropped to one knee and peered at the ground, then touched it.

'Tracks here. Something long-footed, dragging one foot…or paw. I know not. Newly made.' In the moonlight his eyes glittered.

Mithrandir nodded. 'That is Bearos. He is no longer a Man, but truly a Ghoul, a creature of the dark. If he is ahead of us, we might still catch him with the three of us.'

Glorfindel nodded. 'Tindómion, just edge out there and listen, look. Your scouting skills have always been exceptional.'

Tindómion nodded once and disappeared. Glorfindel knew he would be standing, hidden in the open air, but the glamour cast about him would be like a net of mist. He would listen, to the shift of the air, to the slightest scrape of a foot or hand, or claw. He would see the trail of movement, for Tindómion had a gift beyond that of other Elves; he knew this well for he himself had mentored and nurtured Tindómion even in Lindon when he was companion, and more, to the King.

It was a moment only before Tindómion called to Glorfindel through ósanwë.*

He is here.

An image appeared in Glorfindel's mind, given him by Tindómion. Something moved ahead of them, over the hillside opposite, slowly, unsteadily. Clawing its way up the hillside towards the city wall.

There!

Glorfindel looked at Mithrandir. Mithrandir nodded, acknowledging that he too had seen the images. 'That is indeed Bearos. His sight in the dark will be exceptional. And his hearing and sense of smell is that of a wolf I think. He will know as soon as we give chase.'

'Then we had better be swift and silent.'

0o0o

It did not take long for Gimli and his companions to emerge from the Hallows and in no time, he was following the three Elves slowly up the steps into the Houses of Healing. They had acquired an escort now of Cendir's men who surrounded them with quiet concern for they had all fought alongside Legolas in the siege of the city and searched for him too to no avail. Cendir himself was leading a troop into the Hallows to join Erestor in guarding the Mirror. Gimli noticed too that Arduin had been with them.

Immediately the Elves and Dwarf appeared, a small swarm of brown-robed healers gathered around them like concerned bees. They talked in soft, quiet voices that did not alarm but when they tried to take Legolas from Elrohir, he gripped the Woodelf more tightly. But he was almost too exhausted to walk himself and Elladan gently prised him away from Legolas and allowed the healers to take the Elf whilst he supported his brother into the calm quiet of the Houses of Healing.

Gimli followed somberly. He could see how Legolas spasmed and twitched even on the stretcher that was carefully borne upwards into the same room he had stayed in when they brought him back from the Mindolluin. It was unfair, thought Gimli, chewing the end of his beard anxiously, that the Nazgûl were so determined to have him as their victim. He thought the two incidents not unconnected and it was no coincidence that Elrohir was both the aggressor and the saviour. The cuts and wounds too were almost identical. Almost as if the Nazgûl were replicating the scene. Was there something else going on here, he wondered? It was almost a scene from a play, staged for the benefit of some audience.

At that moment, Elrohir moved between Gimli and Legolas' stretcher. The Elf-lord seemed to lurch a little and Gimli frowned. Elrohir seemed to move differently. He slouched a little and his limbs lacked their usual grace.

But he had been beating back the Nazgûl in that pesky Mirror, he thought generously. No wonder he looked different. Yet he had almost snarled at Tindómion when he came between Legolas and Elrohir.

They had laid Legolas carefully on a soft bed and were removing the cloaks and tunic. One of the healers, a woman who appeared soft and gentle but Gimli remembered as steely and insistent, ushered everyone but the sons of Elrond and two healers from the room.

'Even your iron stare, my lord, will not move me and you must be content with trusting me to make the lord Legolas comfortable,' she said. And so he had to do as she said and remain sitting in an antechamber and waiting.

It occurred to him to send a message to the House of the Fellowship, and then more grudgingly, to Aragorn for they would be so relieved to know that Legolas was recovered. A boy was passing and Gimli called him over.

'Here, would you earn yourself a penny?' he said. The boy narrowed his eyes calculating and Gimli sighed. 'Two then.'

He sent the little mercenary off with a hurried note and two coins for his trouble and Gimli settled down to wait.

While he waited, he put his mind to tracking through the events of the past few weeks and piecing together what he did and did not know. And gradually he worked out the events…but what he did not know was why Bearos would only speak to Elrohir.

What was it that he had called him? Ravion? Raveyon…no. There was an emphasis -Ravéyön.

Gimli nodded to himself thoughtfully. It was the name Legolas had given him when they were on their way to the Morannon and Legolas was still recovering from the last assault by the Nazgûl. Gimli still thought Legolas should not have been allowed to go with them but he admitted the Elf had been useful.

So Bearos had already been possessed, or in communication with the Nazgûl, he thought. But how? He had stolen the Mirror, yes, so maybe that was how…But how did Bearos, who had but lately come from the Mountains and was not in Ithilien, know about the Mirror?

Scratching his head, Gimli pondered. Bearos must have come with knowledge. He must have had some contact with them before…but this was not like the Easterlings or those Men who had served the Nazgûl or Sauron. He had been changed…

He must have had something.

And there was that nagging sense too that this had repeated the incident on the Mindolluin, that it had somehow been staged. But that meant it was for someone's benefit. And who could that be?

Gimli slowly rose to his feet and rested on his axe. He always thought better when he was doing something.

Searching Bearos' house seemed a good idea.

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