Saruman. Also we are on the very edge of Fangorn, and it is perilous to touch the trees of that wood, it is said.’
‘But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,’ said Gimli, ‘and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet
they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended.’
‘They were many,’ said Aragorn, ‘and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go
under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!’
‘There is no need,’ said Gimli. ‘The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty.’ He went
off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat silent with his back to the great
tree, deep in thought; and Legolas stood alone in the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward,
as one who listens to voices calling from a distance.
When the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, the three companions drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light
with their hooded forms. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them.
‘Look!’ he said. ‘The tree is glad of the fire!’
It may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared
to be bending this way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were stooping down; the brown leaves
now stood out stiff, and rubbed together like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth.
There was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest, so near at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose. After a while Legolas spoke again.
‘Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,’ he said. ‘Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that
Boromir had heard?’
‘I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,’ said Aragorn, ‘but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem
them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter.
And if an Elf of the wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?’
‘You have journeyed further than I,’ said Legolas. ‘I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell
how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.’
‘Yes, it is old,’ said Aragorn, ‘as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two
are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept.
Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know.’
‘And I do not wish to know,’ said Gimli. ‘Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!’
They now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost at once sleep
laid hold on them. ‘Gimli!’ said Aragorn drowsily. ‘Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn.
But do not stray far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!’
With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending
living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along
the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound.
Suddenly Gimli looked up, and there just on the edge of the firelight stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his wide-brimmed hat was pulled down
over his eyes. Gimli sprang up, too amazed for the moment to cry out, though at once the thought flashed into his mind that
‘But the Rohirrim made a great burning here yesterday,’ said Gimli, ‘and they felled trees for the fire, as can be seen. Yet
they passed the night after safely here, when their labour was ended.’
‘They were many,’ said Aragorn, ‘and they do not heed the wrath of Fangorn, for they come here seldom, and they do not go
under the trees. But our paths are likely to lead us into the very forest itself. So have a care! Cut no living wood!’
‘There is no need,’ said Gimli. ‘The Riders have left chip and bough enough, and there is dead wood lying in plenty.’ He went
off to gather fuel, and busied himself with building and kindling a fire; but Aragorn sat silent with his back to the great
tree, deep in thought; and Legolas stood alone in the open, looking towards the profound shadow of the wood, leaning forward,
as one who listens to voices calling from a distance.
When the Dwarf had a small bright blaze going, the three companions drew close to it and sat together, shrouding the light
with their hooded forms. Legolas looked up at the boughs of the tree reaching out above them.
‘Look!’ he said. ‘The tree is glad of the fire!’
It may have been that the dancing shadows tricked their eyes, but certainly to each of the companions the boughs appeared
to be bending this way and that so as to come above the flames, while the upper branches were stooping down; the brown leaves
now stood out stiff, and rubbed together like many cold cracked hands taking comfort in the warmth.
There was a silence, for suddenly the dark and unknown forest, so near at hand, made itself felt as a great brooding presence, full of secret purpose. After a while Legolas spoke again.
‘Celeborn warned us not to go far into Fangorn,’ he said. ‘Do you know why, Aragorn? What are the fables of the forest that
Boromir had heard?’
‘I have heard many tales in Gondor and elsewhere,’ said Aragorn, ‘but if it were not for the words of Celeborn I should deem
them only fables that Men have made as true knowledge fades. I had thought of asking you what was the truth of the matter.
And if an Elf of the wood does not know, how shall a Man answer?’
‘You have journeyed further than I,’ said Legolas. ‘I have heard nothing of this in my own land, save only songs that tell
how the Onodrim, that Men call Ents, dwelt there long ago; for Fangorn is old, old even as the Elves would reckon it.’
‘Yes, it is old,’ said Aragorn, ‘as old as the forest by the Barrow-downs, and it is far greater. Elrond says that the two
are akin, the last strongholds of the mighty woods of the Elder Days, in which the Firstborn roamed while Men still slept.
Yet Fangorn holds some secret of its own. What it is I do not know.’
‘And I do not wish to know,’ said Gimli. ‘Let nothing that dwells in Fangorn be troubled on my account!’
They now drew lots for the watches, and the lot for the first watch fell to Gimli. The others lay down. Almost at once sleep
laid hold on them. ‘Gimli!’ said Aragorn drowsily. ‘Remember, it is perilous to cut bough or twig from a living tree in Fangorn.
But do not stray far in search of dead wood. Let the fire die rather! Call me at need!’
With that he fell asleep. Legolas already lay motionless, his fair hands folded upon his breast, his eyes unclosed, blending
living night and deep dream, as is the way with Elves. Gimli sat hunched by the fire, running his thumb thoughtfully along
the edge of his axe. The tree rustled. There was no other sound.
Suddenly Gimli looked up, and there just on the edge of the firelight stood an old bent man, leaning on a staff, and wrapped in a great cloak; his wide-brimmed hat was pulled down
over his eyes. Gimli sprang up, too amazed for the moment to cry out, though at once the thought flashed into his mind that
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