Kaimelas left the waggon in Osgiliath, for Faramir had given to the Green Knight three stout draughts to carry their goods through the rocky Emyn Muil. These beasts were heavy, though not as big as the great destriers of Dol Galenehtar, and not so fine about the head or withers; however they were very strong and of phlegmatic temperament, and bore their burdens with ease; and after a few squabbles the rest of the horses treated them as though they had always been a part of their strange herd. Little Isilmë seemed to descry his small master’s sad mood, and walked along with the others in an unusually subdued manner, betimes reaching back with his nose to nudge at Tamin’s foot, as though to reassure himself the daffodil-child still rode upon his back. Bandobras and Gimli rode upon their good little hill-ponies, Bandobras upon Spark and Gimli upon a dark furry beast with large black eyes and silkily feathered hooves that he affectionately called “Burnt Toast.” Kaimelas rode the cart horse, doing dual functions as palfrey, and Legolas of course rode his mighty Hammer.

Two days into the journey did Legolas see that his small esquire appeared not to improve in disposition, but rather to worsen; he dropped back, and waved Gimli away surreptitiously; Gimli, wise in the ways of capricious Elves, winked and went on ahead to ride with Kaimelas and Bandobras. Legolas and Tamin rode together in silence for a while; then Legolas noted his esquire reached within his tunic, and touched the amulet about his neck, and gave a sad sigh.

“Why so low, my Tamin?” asked Legolas gently.

“O Master,” said Tamin, his little face desolate. “I have forgiven Fastred.”

It took a monumental effort on the Green Knight’s part to not laugh or even smile at this; he fought the rebellious grin away and cleared his throat. “Ah,” he said solemnly. “And without the anger to support you, now you are sorry for the fracas, and miss him, and wish to reconcile with him.”

“Yes, Master!” exclaimed Tamin, turning in astonishment to him. “Why you are even wiser than I previously knew, and you know, Master, I thought you quite wise before, and now I see that you are even wiser, and how amazing it is! How did you know, Master, that my forgiving Fastred would make me feel worse than I did when I in bitterness did contemplate him? For surely you have never quarreled with a dear friend as did I, nor had to make it up later! Did you gain this wisdom from a book, Master, and if you did, may I read it too, so that I might become wiser, like you?”

“My dear Little One!” said Legolas, laughing a little ruefully. “I am not so wise that I do not quarrel with my friends; I am only wise enough to learn from my mistakes, and trust me, O Tamin, I make plenty. When one is angry at a person for some wrong they have committed against one, it is comfortable to remain in that anger, and to feed the bitterness it engenders; for so long as in one’s mind that person is a cad and a scoundrel and not worthy of one’s affections, one can feel superior to that person.”

“That is so,” admitted Tamin with a sad sigh. “For nigh on three days have I harbored acrimony in my heart, and replayed like scenes in my mind what I ought to have said to him, to make myself feel better. But when I woke up this morning I discovered I had no longer that sustaining bitterness within me, and I found I still loved Fastred, and wanted to make it up to him; but I cannot, and this hurts me, O Master, so I was trying to think of some way to make the bitterness come back, because the bitterness does not hurt so much as the grief.”

“Beware of bitterness, O my Tamin!” said Legolas, and he had no need to force himself to gravity. “I shall tell you what I said to Brytta once: Bitterness is the poison one drinks, hoping one’s enemy will die. It shall hurt no one but yourself, Little One; it will eat at you from the inside out like wolfsbane. To forgive therefore is a healthy thing; it lightens one’s heart, and helps one to move forward, not dwelling unnecessarily in one’s past, nursing all the hurts and insults, for that bitterness shall bleed out of you, and you become not my little Tamin, bright and fulgent as the sun new-risen; but embittered and unpleasant, resentful of any who might wrong you. And your friends will wrong you, O Tamin,” he said with a wry smile to his wide-eyed esquire. “And you will wrong your friends, out of pride, or ambition, or simply not thinking of others as highly as you ought; and if they are truly your friends, Little One, they shall forgive you in turn. Embrace your forgiveness of Fastred therefore, and let it cleanse you.”

“But Master, it feels so wrong to forgive him,” protested Tamin. “It is almost as though I am saying that in some way he was right, and I was wrong; and that is not true, you know, Master; everyone says it was Fastred’s ill and not mine own.”

“Forgiveness does not make the person who wronged you right,” said Legolas. “It makes you free of bitterness.”

Tamin said nothing for some moments, his brows knotted in concentration, staring hard at the top of Isilmë’s head. At last he said thoughtfully, “Well, Master, you have certainly given me much upon which I might think! It makes little sense to me now, but that is likely more due to my being stupid, and your wisdom simply rolls off me, like rain-drops off the back of the grebe. I shall sit quiet and think on it, then, Master, until it soaks into me, and I understand it. Do you mind, Master, if I do not speak for a while? For it is so difficult for me to think and speak at the same time, which is probably why I am always saying such silly things.”

“My poor dear Tamin!” said Legolas, reaching over and caressing the boy’s flossy golden hair. “You are not stupid or silly; you are merely very young, and that, far more than stupidity, is an ill that you might grow out of. Meditate on my words all you like, Little One; when you wish to talk to me again, or have some query I might answer, please do you speak; but do not, I beg of you, think you have done ill to forgive Fastred. I would indeed think worse of you if you had not.”

“Would you, Master?” asked Tamin, brightening. “Well, that makes me feel better, Master; and you are so kind to me, to teach me thus! I will stop speaking and think now; and when I have stopped thinking I will talk to you again; will that please you, Master?”

“It will, my Tamin,” said Legolas warmly, and grasped Tamin’s small hand in his own. Tamin clutched his fingers tight, and kissed them, his face shining with gratitude and tears; Legolas smiled kindly at him, and touching Hammer’s sides with his heels he trotted up to where Gimli sat upon his pony. Gimli looked up at him through his bushy brows; his brown eyes were twinkling.

“Another philosophical conundrum disentangled?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Gimli,” said Legolas, “do you remember our first quarrel?”

“Before or after we became friends?” asked Gimli. “As I recall we quarreled quite a bit ere we gained each other’s trust and affection.”

“We did, did we not?” asked Legolas with a sigh. “But after we became friends, Gimli – do you remember any of our quarrels?”

Gimli thought for a moment, frowning. “No,” he said at last. “I mean, I remember we have quarreled, but when I think on them, their memories have faded; and all I can recall is that it was some stupid thing not worth fighting about. Why; was there a particular argument brought to mind just now?”

“No,” said Legolas, cocking his head. “I cannot remember the reasons for any of our quarrels.” He smiled then, his grey eyes sparkling. “And is that not a splendid thing, my friend?”

“It is indeed,” laughed Gimli, and in companionable silence they went on together.

Hunting was profitable in North Ithilien, and the Elves made good use of their bows, wanting to reserve the dried meats and beans for the Brown Lands when provisions were scarce. They met no one on their way, and oftimes as they rode would talk and laugh and sing together; Legolas was as jolly as the rest, but Gimli noted that at night when the Elves would stop to let their horses and mortal companions rest, Legolas would not sleep; and if he did, it was a fitful slumber, much interrupted by his thrashing about. However Legolas would not discuss his dreams anymore; he said the dark corners of his mind were running out of fresh ideas, and repeating themselves like an old warrior who has but one good tale to tell, and tells it until all are weary of it. But as the days grew to weeks he became paler and grimmer, and the faint light that spun about his fair flossy hair in the starlight grew brighter.

They avoided the Dead Marshes with all assiduousness, accepting the dank discomfort of Wetwang without complaint, and scrabbled and clambered through the Emyn Muil, leading the horses and ponies, for the shingle was loose and treacherous. But their draughts bore wood for fire, and food to eat; and the way was not cheerless, for there was no danger of detection from any enemies – nor of friends; there was no life in those inhospitable places at all. Thus they passed out of Ithilien, skirting the great River past Cair Andros; it brought them some leagues too far to the west but Legolas would not traverse either the way through the Dead Marshes, nor the terrible road past the horrible gates of Mordor. “Once before those black gates is enough!” he said grimly, and Gimli agreed; so they wound their way up the marshy Wetwang and thus through the rocky Emyn Muil towards the Brown Lands.

When they passed into the Brown Lands, Tamin looked about them in amazement. “Why there is nothing here!” he exclaimed, staring at the bare rock and dead burnt soil. “I have never seen such a great expanse of so much nothing in my whole life! Why is there nothing here? There are no trees or birds or anything!”

“You are seeing what happens when Morgoth’s slaves gain power,” said Gimli with a wry smile. “Whether they be Orc or spider or Man, all living things die when such evil is unleashed.”

“One thing I never understood,” said Bandobras thoughtfully. “I’ve done some studying and reading, you know, about the Ring and Sauron and all that, seeing as my relatives were rather involved in it all … what beats me, fellows, is how any man could buy into any of Morgoth’s schemes. I mean, what sort of benefit does one get? Why would anyone go along of the likes of Sauron when all one gets is stuff like this?” He gestured with his arm to the vast expanse of dead land, where not even birds circled. “Not much to recommend it, now, is there?”

“You are forgetting what men desire most,” said Kaimelas, distastefully. “Power, pride, and position. The hearts of Men are very corruptible, O Blue Knight; what care they for woods and streams and fresh air? Wealth, pleasure, and the security of strength – promise them these things, O Bandobras, and you might get a Man to commit the most detestable of acts.”

“One need not even offer them anything but pleasure,” added Gimli. “Why, look at Morbel – “

“Enough,” said Legolas a little sharply; the others stared at him, for he had not spoken in some time; he looked tired and irritable. “Why do you disparage our friends and allies so? History does tell us that Dwarves and Elves and yes, even Hobbits, are just as corruptible as are Men.”

“But my lord, one hears of more detestable acts from the children of Men than of any of the other races,” argued Kaimelas. “Surely you cannot deny that simple fact!”

“I do not,” said Legolas. “However I will thank you to remember, Kaimelas, that there are more Men than any of the other races combined; there are more of them, and more crimes and instances of wrongdoing therefore.” He shifted a little on Hammer’s back and rubbed his eyes. “My head is filled with sawdust,” he burst out crossly; “and my eyes with sand. I cannot argue with you. May we have silence? There is a pounding in my ears, and it makes my head to ache so!”

They fell silent then, and Legolas led them with eyes abstract and face downcast; Kaimelas and Bandobras exchanged worried looks, and Tamin felt ready to cry. How had his beautiful Master been brought to this? If only Tamin were able to dispel the terrible dreams that so haunted him! He reached inside his tunic and fingered Hísimë’s amulet; the smooth cabochons rolled softly beneath his fingertips. “Citrine to dispel nightmares,” he thought, and turned his gaze upon the Green Knight. The brilliant luster of his hair was dimmed, and there were dark circles under his eyes; he slumped upon Hammer’s back, and the horse’s great croup rocked back and forth, back and forth; the muscles in the black horse’s legs bunched and stretched. Tamin looked ahead. The land crumpled and folded, brown and dry and sere – not a bush, not a blade of grass, not an insect was to be seen for leagues and leagues; there were not even any birds. All Tamin could see was rough dry earth, rising and falling before and behind them, and the dispirited clouds of dust the horses’ hooves stirred up. He wondered if his Master would like a little company; he seemed very low, and Tamin’s heart ached for him. But what could he do, small Elf-child that he was? He recalled then something his dear Naneth had told him once – “If ever a friend is sad, O Tamin,” she had said, “do you try to imagine how you would feel, if your friend’s sad condition was visited upon you; and when you have fixed this unhappy thought in your head, think then how you would like a friend to speak to you. Do that, therefore, and your chances of success will be greatly increased.” So he thought how he would feel if he were afraid, and tired, and unsure; and decided he would rather someone spoke to him of other things and distracted him. Thus decided in mind, he urged Isilmë to trot up beside Hammer, who merely flicked his ears disdainfully at the little white horse; Isilmë was not discommoded however, and pranced along with the big destrier, his small head high.

Legolas at first did not even seem to note that Tamin had come up beside him; at last he shook himself out of some dark reverie and glanced to the side, smiling. “My Tamin,” he said. “How is it with you, Little One?”

“I am bored, Master,” said Tamin truthfully, hoping his Master would not be angry; Legolas however gave a soft laugh.

“Are you, my Tamin? Well I apologize; the way hereabouts is not very exciting. But mark you well how easy it goes; when there is no excitement or adventure, that means no one is getting hurt or disturbed, and we have not run out of food.”

“That is true, Master,” admitted Tamin. “But all the same it would be nice if something were to happen, would it not? Something good, I mean. Would it not be pleasant and agreeable to find other travelers of like mind on the road? Or to discover some new village or people? That would be an adventure, Master, but it would be a good one at least.”

“It might,” admitted Legolas. “But for now I am content that we meet with no one. There is less chance I shall be recognized and impeded that way.”

“I suppose Galás has run out of invectives by now,” said Gimli from behind them; when Tamin turned round to look at him, the Dwarf was regarding Tamin with a grateful smile.

“I would not lay any wagers on it,” said Kaimelas carelessly. “He is quite creative that way, and has had much practice; especially since his royal cousin procreated many centuries hence.”

“What will irritate him the most,” said Legolas, turning his gaze up to the pale blue dome of the sky, “is that I have hobbled him with Dol Galenehtar. He cannot leave just as we are starting the spring planting – he is too busy.” He gave a little twisted smile. “I wonder if Meivel has picked up our trail yet?”

“If you like, my lord, I will ride back and make sure,” said Kaimelas. “I know his signs well enough, and he will be too cross to be very careful.”

“Well, do you not let him catch you then,” said Legolas; “Meivel when he is in a temper is tricky and sullen, and I would not give a brass piece for your hide if he apprehend you. I cannot imagine any of his scouts or lieutenants are pleased with me either, as they must be the receptacles of my captain’s temper. And while I think of it, Kaimelas, if you see Himbaláth, give him my apologies, will you?”

“As your highness wishes,” laughed Kaimelas, and turning his roan mare cantered south.

Kaimelas was gone for three very dull days, during which Bandobras, Gimli, and Tamin did their best to cheer up Legolas; the Green Knight after the second day bid them cease, with better temper than they had anticipated: “How you fuss over me!” he’d exclaimed, exasperated. “I feel like one lone chick with three mother hens! Think you, my friends, that if you pester me enough my dreams will leave out of simple provocation alone? Chatter amongst yourselves if you like; but let me be, I beg you! I am fatigued not only by the dreams which impede my sleep, but by the constant prattling in my ears. I cannot answer you; I cannot converse with you; if I cannot sleep at night, at least let me rest when I am to horse!”

“Good heavens!” exclaimed Bandobras. “If you fall asleep on Hammer you’ll fall right off his back, my lord, that you will, and he’ll go and trample you underfoot.”

“If I fall off Hammer and am trampled, let me lie,” said Legolas, laughing in spite of himself. “Teach Tamin a song, or tell him some absorbing tale! This way I can at least rest my tongue if not my ears.”

So Gimli and Bandobras told Tamin stories, and taught him songs, to while away the dull hours plodding along through the dry and blasted land, and at last Kaimelas returned to them, loping easily over the crest of a bare hill. He looked very satisfied. “Not a sign of anyone,” he said, letting his horse fall in with the others; she seemed very glad to be back, and nudged Isilmë with her muzzle. “I do think me Meivel has gone up the Onodló to seek you there.”

“Good,” said Legolas, sighing. “I am easy in my mind then; Meivel is a canny scout, and I had feared his keen eyes.”

Four days later the dry brown earth softened, and they crossed a small stream, chuckling and dancing over the rocks; they refilled their skins and let the horses drink deeply, for they had had naught but stale water ere entering the Brown Lands. Another two leagues brought them low gorse bushes, twisted and dusty, and the startled bolt of a rabbit; they descended into a low dark valley, and dismounting climbed the steep loose slope up, breathing hard. But when they crested the top of the high down Tamin gave a loud cry of relief.

“Look, Master!” he shouted, pointing north. “Grass! Green grass!” For as far as Tamin’s sharp eyes could see the gentle undulating hills shimmered, soft and rolling, and speckling the expanse of green were little flowering shrubs quivering with birds, which darted to and fro, snapping up the buzzing, humming insects that hovered amongst the stalks. And instead of the dusty, musty smell of dead earth the rich scent of living things seemed to be everywhere, sweet and heady.

“Yes!” said Legolas smiling. “Grass! And do you see what is over there to the east, my Tamin?”

Tamin shaded his hand and peered eagerly to the east. There was a small shining oval, ringed with darkness; as he struggled to focus he saw a small burst of forms flying upward, and heard faintly on the sweet breeze faint hooting calls, like the blats from a crumhorn’s reed. “A little pond!” he exclaimed happily. “And ducks, Master – ducks!”

“I think we should stop here,” said Bandobras, looking critically at the horses; they were dusty and footsore, and were regarding the grass with very professional interest. “Our mounts could use a rest – fresh fodder, not dry hay and grain, and some time to rest theirselves.”

“Fresh fodder for us too,” said Kaimelas, fingering his bow. “Duck! I am not usually a fancier of waterfowl but I aver naught will taste so well to me right now than a good, fat duck.”

“A bath would do none of us any harm,” said Legolas wearily. “Perchance the fresh water will clear my head somewhat.”

They pressed east to the little pond in the high dingle, and Gimli pulled in next to Legolas and asked in an undertone: “My friend, how are you?”

“Fatigued,” said Legolas, smiling faintly. “And I yet have the sense of sawdust between my ears.” He glanced down at Gimli and said, “I note you do not take advantage of that statement as you might.”

“I hardly need to now, do I?” asked Gimli innocently. “If you say you have sawdust between your ears, who am I to argue with you?”

“You are Gimli Lord of Aglarond, and argue as you see fit,” said Legolas, laughing; Gimli was pleased to note the Elf’s mood seemed lighter. “Duck! Yes, that would taste good to me tonight; let us set up camp, and let the horses graze, and while you and Bandobras get the coals going Kaimelas and I will see to the hunt.”

“If there are fish in the pond we might have fish,” said Gimli. “Fried in butter, with fresh herbs – “

“Sadly we have no butter,” said Legolas. “And I am no Laiquenda; I cannot detect the presence of fresh herbs, save I smell them. Bandobras has a pot of sage, I think, but it is dried.”

“Watch,” Gimli muttered; “he will find mushrooms, and cook them in with the duck!”

The horses were delighted to be shed of their packs and blankets, and grazed happily in the thick plush green grass, tearing up mouthful after mouthful, so greedy for fresh food that they would not even take the time to chew, but let the grass fall from their mouths as they hungrily pulled up more. Isilmë dismayed Tamin by rolling in a particularly damp spot, coming up streaked with green all over his pretty white coat, and Kaimelas’ mare showed a sad sign of being in season, which set Hammer and one of the draughts quarrelling. Kaimelas rounded her up and tied her by a long line to a tree far from the other horses, shaking his head.

“Mares!” he said, disgusted. “I knew I ought rather to have traded her in for a good stout gelding. It is no good bringing the ladies along,” he added, winking at Tamin; “they think of nothing but snaring the best of the men!”

“Seimiel is to be congratulated then,” said Gimli. “Or do you imply you were the best she could get?”

“O did you not note how she pursued me, Lord of Aglarond?” grinned Kaimelas. “Why I could scarce proceed down the halls without her at my heels, or go about my duties lest she threw herself before me!”

“Humbug!” exclaimed Bandobras. “How you talk! Next you’ll be telling us you played hard-to-get!”

“But I had to, O Blue Knight!” protested Kaimelas, giving the bewildered Tamin another wink. “If you show notice too soon they lose interest in you, and go fishing for another victim.”

“Just for that,” said Legolas languidly, throwing Kaimelas his bow, which he caught effortlessly, “I am sending you hunting with Tamin instead. I am too weary – I do not think I could hit a thing today; besides which if you continue on in this mien I will be forced to defend Seimiel’s honor to her own husband, which is a ridiculous prospect.”

“Very well, my lord,” said Kaimelas. “Come, Tamin! Let us get a brace of good fat ducks for our dinner!”

“Yes, Kaimelas,” said Tamin obediently, gathering his things. “But I think that is very unfair of you to say such things about ladies. You are wed; what would Seimiel say?”

“It is the husband’s last secret pleasure,” said Gimli; “they disparage their wives in secret to their unwed friends, hoping to discourage us from tying ourselves down in like manner.”

“Now, Gimli,” chided Bandobras, but Legolas laughed and said: “Begone with you both! And mind you return not lest you bear our supper!”

Kaimelas and Tamin disappeared into the reeds and willows, Tamin chattering happily, and Kaimelas reminding him that they would have no luck unless he held his tongue; Legolas sighed, yawned, and stretched out on the grass, closing his eyes. Gimli stumped over and looked down on him. Legolas, he thought, looked fairly awful; he had seen him worse of course, and was thankful it was but nightmares and not any physical danger which threatened him. “But I wish he would get some sleep,” he thought; “he is too pale, and getting thin; and it is not like him to be so indolent.” He did not realize he stared still until Legolas opened one eye, and squinted up at him, his mouth quirking into a smile.

“Do I look that bad, Gimli?” he asked.

“Compared to what?” grumbled Gimli. “Do you think you could sleep at all? Bandobras and I will keep quiet if you like, and let you rest.”

Legolas hesitated, and bit his lower lip. His eyes were troubled and dim. “I – am almost afeared to sleep,” he said in a low voice. “I close my eyes and I can smell it, Gimli – smell decay – and smoke. And I hear the voice, I hear the serpent, ever hissing at me.” He shivered, though the sun was high and bright. “Even when I sleep, I get no rest.”

“Well, you’ve been trying to sleep at night,” said Bandobras, coming over and sitting beside him on the grass. “Dark at night, and all sorts of strange noises – things always look worse in the nighttime. Maybe if you try to sleep in the sun, it won’t seem so bad.”

“Think you so?” smiled Legolas. “Well, perhaps you are right, my Bandobras; I will try to sleep, and perchance the dreams will elude me.”

“That’s right,” said Bandobras, patting his head. “You just rest here, now, my lord, and get some sleep. Gimli and I’ll get the rest of the doings together. Not to worry; we’ve got it all in hand.”

“Of course you do,” said Legolas warmly, grasping Bandobras’ hand and smiling at him. “What a pair of old nursemaids you are! Cosset me by all means, you two; but leave me in peace or sleep shall not find me here.”

“An Elf, begging us not to speak!” said Gimli to Bandobras. “This is a stupendous event; I am dumfounded.”

“Hush, Gimli,” said Legolas closing his eyes, but he was smiling, and Gimli was pleased to see the flush of color on his cheeks once more.

Bandobras disappeared to find something “eatable” in the marshy area round the southern side of the pond – “Mushrooms, maybe!” he’d said with enthusiasm, not marking Gimli’s grimace – and Gimli let Legolas alone, stretched out in the tall green grass. The horses grazed round him but did not seem to disturb him at all; betimes Gimli would look up from the fire or the packs, and see only Legolas’ still form, pale hair spread over the glossy grass, hands outstretched, fingers lightly flexed; he did not move. He hoped Legolas slept well, and wished to check, but had no desire to waken him; but after a time, when the sun crept across the little clearing, lengthening the shadows of the low willows and glimmering warmly on the little pond, he stole across the camp to Legolas’ side, trying to make as little noise as possible, though it was hard to tip-toe in his heavy boots. But at last he stood by Legolas’ side, looking down on him, and sighed in relief.

Legolas was deeply asleep, and his slumber stole centuries from his fair face. He looked like a very young Elf, younger even than Tamin: fresh-faced, pink-cheeked, sweet-lipped, his long slim hands still and his chest rising and falling softly with each breath. His golden hair spread like the sun’s aureole round his head, and as Gimli stood and watched him, Legolas stirred, frowning a little, and shifted upon the grass, rearranging his arms; then with a sigh returned to his deep sleep. “Finally!” thought Gimli; but just as he was turning to go he heard Legolas give a low whimper. He looked back; Legolas’ face was twisted in fear, though his eyes were still closed, and he breathed heavily as though he were running. His fingers clenched and his body stiffened. Alarmed, Gimli knelt and lay one hand on his friend’s chest; Legolas convulsed, his eyes flying open, and he cried in a terrible voice: “Frodo!”

His arms were flailing; one fist caught Gimli on the temple and he grunted. “Legolas, Legolas!” he exclaimed, trying to hold Legolas’ thrashing hands away. “It’s me – it’s Gimli!”

Legolas froze, staring up at him; his eyes were filled with horror and grief, and did not seem to see him. At last though he focused, and he blinked, and sagged back onto the grass, throwing one arm over his eyes. “Gimli!” he said; his voice was thick with relief. “O Gimli – I was in Moria – I watched the troll kill Frodo. I saw him die.”

“But he died not,” said Gimli anxiously, patting his friend’s arm, and wishing he had something wiser to say than to deny the truth of the dreams. “You know he lived; he was successful, and sailed into the West as recompense for his labors.”

“I know. I know, Gimli.” Legolas scrubbed at his face; he was weeping. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “But I saw him die just the same, and I could do naught to save him. He even cried out to me to help him – but I was powerless – powerless.”

They were silent for a time, sitting together in the grass; all round them the late spring burgeoned; they could hear ducks and geese and larks, and the buzz of insects and the nicker of their steeds, and the crunch of the big hooves as they wandered through the grass, the grunts and whickers, the light whistle of the breeze in the reeds. The air was filled with the scents of the little pond, fresh and moist and earthy, with the smoke of the cook fire and the homey comfortable smell of horses. Off in the reeds a frog plucked a deep string, and another answered: a duet of love in the wetland. Then they heard voices approaching from the north: Tamin and Kaimelas, joined by Bandobras; Gimli could not descry the words but Legolas heard Bandobras say: “And look, gents! Mushrooms! Nice little singer’s and sow’s ears. Won’t that go good with them there ducks you got!” He chuckled to himself, knowing Gimli would grumble, and pushed the dark horror of Moria from his mind.

“Gimli,” he said. “Please say nothing to the others about this dream.”

Gimli looked thoughtfully at him. Legolas did look a little better; he had color in his cheeks at least, and though the dark smudges were still there, his eyes were bright and shining. “Please, my friend,” Legolas begged, taking his arm. “It will worry them baselessly; let us say only I slept – and I did, you know, Gimli; I slept, and I feel in good health.”

“Do you?” grunted Gimli, getting to his feet; Legolas rose smoothly beside him, brushing grass from his hair. “Well I shall say nothing, then – but I do not like this, Legolas; I do not like these dreams which torment you. They are sapping your strength needlessly.”

“They are speaking to me,” said Legolas, turning his eyes thoughtfully to the north. “I know not what they say to me – but I know I am being warned, Gimli.”

“Warned!” said Gimli. “You are being haunted, my friend.”

“The two are not mutually exclusive,” said Legolas.

“Sadly, you are right,” said Gimli.

They stayed two nights in the dingle by the pond, resting their horses and themselves. Then, fresh and eager to gain their destination, they filled their skins, and headed north once more. The dark expanse of southern Mirkwood was to their left, and they skirted the edges of the wood, looking ever for signs that people were about; however they saw but the ruins of villages long abandoned, broken down and decaying, and though Kaimelas and Legolas would betimes walk beneath the trees listening, they would emerge puzzled, shaking their heads.

“It is most disturbing,” said Legolas a few days later. “I cannot feel either my Lady Mother or my Lord Father’s presence here. There is not even an echo of my people. There is no longer the press of evil as there used to be, that is true; but these woods are empty.”

“It’s a tad far south yet, ain’t it?” asked Bandobras, looking suspiciously at the dark ancient trees. “I mean, technically speaking we’re still in Celeborn’s territory, ain’t we?”

“Even so I would have expected to meet someone, or at least feel their spirits,” said Legolas. “I have always known where my parents and my people were, and my father could feel me from leagues away.” He laughed then and said, “My poor Lady Mother! Lest she actively sought me she could not descry me; I have always been able to creep up unbeknownst behind her. But I cannot do so with my Lord Father. He always knows where I am, and when I will come home. It did make, I must confess, quite a bit less fun for me when I was an Elfling; but it is comforting nonetheless to know of that connection. But his mind is closed to me; I cannot find him.” He turned, and looked at the dark mass of Eryn Lasgalen spread out before him; he shook his head, troubled. “I was right to come,” he said. “Something is amiss.”

“We will know more what is happening in four days’ time,” said Kaimelas. “We will be home then.”

“We left our home three weeks ago, Kaimelas,” said Legolas shortly, and turning from him went back to his horse.