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If Gimli hadn't known better, he could have sworn the trees were closing in.
Of course, this thought was shortly followed by the realization that, by virtue of where they were situated, it was not altogether impossible to think the forest was indeed doing just that. The burning wrath in the air was less severe than it had been in their last passing, yet he was certain he could feel eyes on himself. Eyes that, as it happened, much disapproved of a dwarf bearing an ax on his belt.
Legolas, of course, was in his true element here. The elf wandered among the trees, his eyes wide with wonder like those of a child, every now and then pausing to listen, as he told Gimli. The trees spoke to him, he insisted, of things of great importance and value, enough so that he was honor bound to take the moment to listen. When he was done with whatever message had just been given to him, he would smile and traipse on along the shadowed floor of the forest, only to soon come to a halt to listen to some unearthly whisper or to greet a tree of particularly impressive age or size.
Gimli, for his part, spent most of his time watching the elf.
It was a relief in part, giving him something to focus on that was not the trees around them, not the imposing shadows crawling close as the day fell to the evening. At the same time, he found himself filling with inexplicable jealousy. For all that they were alone, traveling together as their pact had been with their old companions dispersed this way and that, he still did not have Legolas to himself. The elf only paid attention to the trees, his eyes shining at each new acquaintance as though he were greeting a long-lost friend instead of what to Gimli looked like an overgrown pile of firewood.
Not that they had firewood, of course. Legolas had made it very clear from the beginning that the trees would not think well of campfires, and thus Gimli had gone through a couple of cold nights, trying to draw what warmth he could from the elf beside him. At least they need not worry about threats, or so Legolas had promised him; they were in the woods with Treebeard's leave, and thus protected from its wrath, but had anything or anyone sought to harm them, they would have felt the terror that was Entwood. This had not exactly comforted Gimli, and the first night he had spent dreaming of towering trees and grasping branches slithering closer and tearing him apart for the terrible crime of being there and a dwarf.
He'd been relieved to see the dawn, though the hint of amusement in Legolas's eyes whenever he eyed the trees with suspicion did not exactly lift his mood.
Even so, he did not say anything. He had made a promise, after all, to come here with his heart, and it was quite pleasant to see Legolas so relaxed and happy. For all that the sight of him was Gimli's sole joy between the shifting pillars, he had been in worse places. So his nights and meals were cold, and he sometimes thought he might have as well been alone for all the attention he got from his companion, but it would have been quite childish to complain when he had given his word. Besides, the elf had likewise promised to come to the Glittering Caves alongside him, and he doubted Legolas was any more eager for that experience.
It wasn't that he was utterly unable to see beauty in trees, that much had been proved in Lothlorien. There was a certain charm to the trunks reaching high that reminded him of the grand stone pillars of his home mountain; he rather imagined Legolas could find a similar stream of life within them that Gimli sensed deep within solid rock as he brushed his hand over it. The delicate leaves, too, in bright sunlight were like the finest emeralds, only softer to the touch. Oh, he did admit that trees could be beautiful, in their own strange ways.
However, these were not the trees of the golden wood, elegant and fine even in their ancient age. These trees were alive, even Gimli could sense it, but it brought him no comfort. Their strength was not the support of a fine column but the threat of an opponent's arm, their leaves reaching for him like so many little snares ready to catch an unaware traveler. Perhaps, if he lingered for too long, let Legolas get too far away, he would be snatched away, never to be seen any more than the orcs who had made the mistake of entering.
He did not exactly need an excuse to stay close to Legolas, but it was an extra incentive.
Legolas, far as Gimli knew, was not aware of the extent of his discomfort. Certainly he hoped not, for it would have been cruel for someone to knowingly ask him to go into the woods alone, which was precisely what Legolas did.
It was on their third evening in the forest, with the night quickly closing in, shadows making the trees seem even more imposing than in the daylight. They had just found another small clearing to make their camp in, with Gimli starting to set up a tent for shelter as the sky far above seemed to promise rain, when Legolas came to stand by his side.
"Gimli? Could I bother you for a favor?"
"Aye, of course." As though he could have denied his elf anything. And yes, he could think of Legolas as his elf now; something about that tugged deep at his possessive dwarven heart. "What is it?"
"I think I saw some berries earlier as we came here. They were not far, and right along the path; however, it is now too dark for me to find them. Might your dwarven eyes have more luck than mine? I thought they would be a nice addition to our simple wares."
"I could try and find them, certainly." Not that he liked the idea of moving through the forest any more than they had to after dark. "Assuming you know at least approximately where they are."
"As I said, they were along the path, some ways before it last bent." Legolas gestured into the darkness, and for all that the path now looked like a deep, unlit tunnel in a mountain, the resemblance failed to ease Gimli's heart. "Not too far; I should have the tent up by the time you return."
Gimli's eyebrows flew up. "You're not coming?"
"I could do little in the dark," Legolas said with a hint of regret. "And I should get this done while we still have some light here in the clearing."
"Right." Nothing to worry about, Gimli; you have been wandering through these woods for almost three full days, now. "I'll go and look, but I can't promise to find the right spot, as I didn't notice them on our way here, myself."
"Thank you, beloved." And the smile he got was almost enough for a sun to light his way.
It was not an actual light, though, and the moment he stepped away from the clearing he was swallowed by darkness. It was not the warm, solid darkness of a mining tunnel, not even the stillness of a darkened bed chamber at night. The darkness here was alive, shadows ever shifting and changing, and even with his dwarven eyes it was all Gimli could do to stay on the path. The bend on the road was farther than Legolas had surmised, or perhaps his discomfort made the way seem longer, because it certainly felt like a long trek before the path finally curved to the side.
There was movement, then, somewhere to his side, and Gimli's head turned in a snap, eyes peering into the darkness. He could not make out anything but trees and branches, certainly nothing big enough to have caught his attention.
Unless, of course, it had been the trees themselves that moved.
Gimli cursed his stupidity for leaving his ax behind at the camp. Then, he supposed bearing it would not have exactly endeared him to the trees, either. Treebeard had been quite clear on his opinion on such weapons, for all that Legolas had tried to convince him that Gimli's ax was not for trees at all.
He hurried his steps along the path. Not long now, he thought, not if Legolas had recalled the spot right.
In his hurry he did not see the root sticking out of the path until it had caught his foot, bringing him down.
It was an undignified fall to be sure, and Gimli might have taken a moment to be grateful that Legolas hadn't been there to see him fall like some little lad with his head too far in the clouds to bother looking ahead, if not for the sharp pain in his ankle. Twisted, at the very least, hopefully nothing worse. Curse his luck.
Gimli made to get up on his feet, only to fall again when the pain was too much for him to bear right now. Lying on the path again, he lifted his head to call for Legolas; surely his voice would carry far enough. However, just as he opened his mouth, another shift of movement in the woods made him freeze. The trees, he was sure of it, were leaning in. Leaning closer.
He must not draw their attention. Not when he was unarmed and wounded.
Gimli lay there like a fool, gritting his teeth at the pain as he waited for it to ease enough that he might make it back to the campsite, berries be damned. All around him the forest kept shifting, moving about like a mass of foul creatures, ever ready to strike if he showed even a moment's weakness. Waiting. Hungry. Filled with wrath.
He thought of shouting out again, risk be damned, the trees knew exactly where he was. However, the sound died in his throat, fear choking him before he could get anything out. It was a physical weight on his shoulders, more so than it had been on any of the days they had spent wandering the woods, and all of a sudden his nightmares from the first night came back to him, all too clear and sharp.
His trembling hands clawed at the tight-packed dirt of the forest path, seeking for something solid to find his strength from. It would not have done for him to start weeping like a little lad, however cold was the fear clawing at his heart.
Then there was another shadow, softer, lighter, and then Legolas was striding up the path towards him.
"Legolas?" Gimli blinked. "I thought you said you'd work on the tent."
"I was worried when you would not return." Legolas knelt beside him and gathered him close. "Are you hurt?"
"Aye, I twisted my ankle. Nothing rest won't heal, I don't think, but for now it's hard to walk."
"Why did you not call for me?" Legolas reached an arm around him, carefully helping him up without too much weight on his bad foot. "It's some ways away, yes, but you have a good voice. I'm sure I would have heard you."
Gimli could not answer, he found, not without betraying the tremble to his voice.
"Gimli?" Legolas turned to look at him, a frown on his pale face as he set enough of Gimli's weight on his arm that they could start a slow trek back to their gear. "What is the matter?"
"I was afraid." Gimli's voice was barely more than a whisper. "Of the trees."
"Afraid of the trees?" Legolas repeated, incredulous. "But… why? Why now? I know it's not the dark, you have no trouble with darkness. What would have brought such sudden fear to you?"
"Sudden?" Gimli snorted, and the sound was closer to a sob than he might have liked. "Elf, I've been battling with my heart not to run fast and far ever since we first set foot in this accursed place."
"Truly?" Legolas frowned, and his eyes were darker than could be accounted for merely for the shadows now enveloping them. "I didn't know."
"I didn't expect you to. I didn't exactly make a fuss of it, and your attention was more on the trees anyway."
Legolas was quiet for a while, though they did not cross a long distance on the dark path. Finally, he whispered, "I am sorry, my star, for not noticing."
"I didn't want you to notice." Gimli sighed. This, this was why he should have kept his mouth shut. "It's nothing, anyway."
"Nothing? How could it be nothing? If that fear was enough to seal your voice, how could you bear it every day?"
"You are happy here." Because that much, at least, was obvious. "This is all so new and wonderful to you. I didn't want to betray your joy, certainly not when I had given my word to follow."
"I never thought for a moment it was like that for you. I… I was only thinking of my own discomfort in caves, which I surely could overcome for your sake."
"And so I overcame my fear. Well, I thought I had, until my accursed luck decided to prove otherwise." Gimli gave Legolas's back a small pat. "Don't worry yourself with it, my heart."
"You should have told me."
"And what would that have accomplished? You might not have known, but I did when I gave my word. And you had made an oath never to come here alone as long as I was still living. What good would my refusal have brought, but deny you such great joy?"
"Oh, Gimli." There was a soft kiss pressed on his hair. "There is no joy that could be worth bringing you such pain."
"I'll survive. Though I won't lie and say I won't be glad when we get out of this place."
"We'll set out first thing tomorrow, if your ankle allows. No, don't say anything," Legolas interrupted before Gimli could do more than open his mouth. How he could have noticed was quite beyond the dwarf. "I've had my joy, and met more new trees than I could have hoped for. It's time for me to stop being selfish."
"It's not selfishness to wish for something that delights you."
"It is if doing so puts my greatest delight in danger instead." Legolas drew him just a bit closer. "You are more important to me than any number of trees, however ancient and wise they may be."
"Aye," murmured Gimli. "And you are more precious to me than all the gems in all the caves that the mountains could ever hold."
The trees still seemed to be closing in, but he slept soundly that night.
There was no reason not to, when the prince of the woodlands held him as safe as he would have his own heart.