Chapter 19: Toils in Futility

Gimli looked up to the leaf-dappled vista filling the opening above him. His head ached and his thoughts were somewhat hazy. He tried to remember what had occurred to bring him here. They had been hunting, he and Aragorn. He could remember that much. They had spotted the buck, or at least Aragorn had, he thought. And then something had happened and somehow Gimli had ended up in this dank space many yards below the earth's surface. All of that seemed right to him, but there was something wrong. One question took precedence in his mind: where was Aragorn?

Subtle dread filled him as thoughts of worst case scenarios sprang to focus in his mind. He flipped his head about looking to his left and to his right in fear that the Man may have fallen into this cavity too. "Aragorn?" he called out, but no one answered him. Gimli's eyes searched his visible space. There was no sign of the Man in the light, but that did not mean he might not be there. The earth that had been the ceiling of this hollow now littered the floor in a deep pile of rubble. It was quite possible No, he did not want to think such a thing! Yet it flourished in his mind. Aragorn might be buried in the depths of that pile!

"Aragorn?" he tried again looking to the mound of soil filling his sight.

Nay, he thought. Cease these dread thoughts! You are jumping to conclusions that bare no weight. And yet without evidence to prove otherwise Gimli could not help but feel apprehension.

He fought with himself to be logical and calm. Fear ultimately won out.

Falling back down onto all fours, he frantically began digging, searching through the heavy soil to find a body-sized object. Clods of dirt were tossed aside as the Dwarf sifted through the pile. He made the highest peak his initial point of entry, reaching and pulling at the dirt to mole his way downward. Fortunately, the pile was not nearly so deep as it could have been, only reaching the Dwarf's waist at its highest point. The implosion from the cave-in had sent the debris outward to fill the cavity space in a tapering spill. He found nothing at the center point of the heap and began to spiral his way outward, ignoring the stabbing pain in his foot as he used his body to tool the rocky soil. He pushed against the opening he had made, getting his hands underneath and hoisting huge handfuls as he progressed, digging like a dog at times and swimming out his arms at others. He stretched his reach out to the sides from time to time in case his friend was just beyond the path he made. In his struggles, he uncovered his halberd and he put it to use, utilizing the shaft end as a plow. The toil was tiresome and within minutes Gimli was breathing heavily, gathering air into his stout body with gulping sounds. But he pressed on, letting panic and fear drive him in his quest.

And though he proceeded valiantly, his thoughts came to clear even more as he went on. He tried to remember. Was Aragorn even near him when Gimli had fallen? Think, Gimli, think, he scolded himself. Such a reactionary example you make. The dirt he dug began to rapidly diminish. As he neared the outer perimeters of the circle of light, the soil grew less than a foot deep, and the Dwarf had no need to core down so deep. His brain ticked away as he labored. Memory was an elusive thing to him but it was beginning to draw a more solid surface. He could not recall it clearly, but his memory stirred a picture of Aragorn parting from the Dwarf's side. He continued his probe though this digging was beginning to grow pointless. If Aragorn were here in the outer circle, he would most likely be visible above ground. At least a part of him would be.

Of course, there was always the area beyond the light.

Gimli tried to pierce the blackness with his eyes. Dwarves have exceptional sight into dark places, but even still, they need light of some sort to do so. The light Gimli did have was of no benefit to him so long as he remained in the circle of it. It was like attempting to see while in the midst of a beacon. Blinded in this way, Gimli's worries grew and he knew they would not abate until he found his friend or had determined for sure he was not there. He needed to see beyond the breech if he were to know for certain.

But then the Dwarf began to reason with himself. Mayhap he did not fall? Mayhap he went to get help? Gimli brushed a hand through his hair to wipe the sweat from his brow. It was a likely possibility if they had been separated by the Dwarf's fall. A smile came to his face at the refreshing soothe of that thought before he noticed the sticky wetness on his hand. Looking down, he saw his fingers were covered with blood. Blood! Tenderly he prodded his brow, only realizing now that the substance nearly streaked the entire side of his face. He winced slightly at the pain it brought as he remembered the persistent throbbing that dwelt there upon his waking and continued even now. Looking down to where he had been laying, he saw the sodden soil tainted red by the liquid that had soaked into it. That might have done it. Aragorn may have seen that blood and panicked. He went to seek help. If that is the case, he will be back soon and I need have no further fears nor have labored so hard to find him.

Of course that made sense, for Gimli could now recall the fringes of an agreement about strategies for attack. That soothed the Dwarf's worries even more and he chose that as his rationalization for the lack of his friend's presence. "All I need do is wait," he told himself, chuckling at the foolishness he had exhibited.

Still he could not be fully appeased until he had searched his surroundings in their entirety to ascertain that the King was not there in the dark spaces. He determined he would rise and work forward into the void until his eyes could adjust and he could see with the sight that was innately his. But first he had need to review his physical capabilities to do such a thing.

The Dwarf had yet to rise fully. It was one thing having crawled his way through the dirt while guarding his ankle against pain. It was another to rise entirely. He did not relish the idea of facing his pain. He decided to delay that for a moment or two more. Instead Gimli carefully ran fingers over his temple and face. His hands found the drying clot of blood at his forehead and more blood matted in his coarse hair. The wound was less severe than he might have suspected, and by far it was less severe than the blood might have indicated. Such is par for scalp wounds. They bleed terribly and scare the life out of all who witness them, only to reveal themselves as mere scratches, he thought,though Gimli was willing to concede his mere scratch could do with a few suture stitches or at least a bandage to help it heal. He tore a strip away from the hem of his bloused tunic and used it to dab at the diminishing blood. He remembered then his waterskin tucked into his belt, and wet down the rag as well as taking a long draw to clear his mouth and replenish himself. He did his best to clean up the wound until the bleeding was stanched though the rag became heavily stained with smears of dirt and blood. Then he tore a new strip away and tied it around his head to bind the wound. Beyond this injury, there were only some bruises of which to contend. That left his ankle. Hissing in curse, he was only too keenly reminded of this injury by the persistence of pain to it.

Wedging the halberd into the dirt, he used it to balance his weight as he came to carefully stand on the healthy foot. With a tentative pause, he muttered an oath and then lowered his foot to the ground. As expected, pain flared at the point of pressure where his ankle met the finer bones of the foot. Gritting his teeth, he stepped down, allowing his weight to settle on the limb and to test the extent of his injury. Gimli winced, eyes watering as he choked back his sound, but now up and standing he forced himself into forward motion, determined to use his leg no matter how painful it might be. Shooting darts of suffering surfaced the top of his foot and he gasped as he nearly fell over in the attempt, using the rod to help balance himself. He took another precarious step. Then again he inched ahead, his leg involuntarily hesitating in taking anything larger. And though his progress was slow, Gimli refused to be daunted. To his credit, his perseverance paid off and the Dwarf came to realize that with each step it became slightly easier. The pain was there, but somehow it was lessened the more he moved on it. Still, there was injury, and though he was hard pressed to determine how extensive it was, he was not about to take off his boot for closer scrutiny. He could likely guess the circumstance. At worst, a bone or bones in his foot had been broken. At best, a major strain to ligament and muscle had occurred. Neither was a life-threatening event, merely debilitating. He could get about, even if he was leaning heavily upon his staff to do it but it was evidence of Dwarven stubbornness and stamina that he would not allow an injury that he deemed minor from stopping him. To Gimli's mind he had fared well, especially considering how far he had fallen. Once he and his friends found a way to get him out of this place, he might even feel gladdened enough to rejoice in that fact. After all, it could have been far worse.

Yet the need to assure himself that his friend was not by some small chance hidden in the darker places of the cave remained and made Gimli attempt greater use of his leg. "I might as well see what there is to see here," he grunted.

He decided to step out of the circle of light, if for no other reason than to see better. Not that the light from above was glaringly bright, in fact it was rather dim for the filtering of the leaves above, but in contrast to the pitch blackness of the cave surrounding him, it was still quite penetrating, especially since the hour was nearing mid-morning and the sun was rising higher in the sky. Out of the circle, his eyes could adjust to the ambient light thrown off by that halo ray. He used cautious steps to move forward. His ankle ached terribly and he did not wish to jar it unnecessarily. Furthermore, he could not see what lay ahead and that was a scary proposition. Without knowledge of what lay in the dark, he could step unsuspectingly into a potential abyss just out of the reach of light. He used a free hands to reach out, in case any projectiles might be awaiting him while he used the halberd end to touch the ground ahead to judge the firmness there. Six feet, that was as far as he dare go before he stopped and allowed his eyes to adjust. And slowly it came. Slight contrast was illuminated from deep shadow to even deeper shadow, and while it was not much, it was plenty for Gimli to understand and know his surroundings.

He walked the perimeter of the circle, his feet sinking with each step as his staff helped him maintain his balance in the loosened dirt. The soil tapered off where he stepped, and in his progress, he came to see the depth of fresh dirt in these dark places was mere inches, not feet. Rocks and sticks projected out with greater frequency and with that Gimli could see there was nothing here resembling the body of his friend. That was a good thing, and while he was apprehensive to do otherwise, he decided he needed to relax and trust his hypothesis on Aragorn's whereabouts. Which left him with only one thing more to do. Wait.

Dwarves are not usually a patient people. As is their make up by body type, the race is compact, industrious and strong. By nature, they do not sit around well. Unlike Hobbits who can linger for the greater part of a day idly pondering only their next meal, a Dwarf is most likely to be off forging, gathering, hunting and preparing said meal or meals as well as procuring materials and resources to maintain their own livelihood for days, weeks, or even months ahead. Dwarves are keen at efficiencies, hoarding and inventorying with dexterity and foresight. Their minds are sharp, planning for all circumstances, for their lives in dark places over the years have made them perceptive to those things not readily available there. As such, Dwarves grow easily restless, and Gimli was only too aware that this waiting spell would be excruciating if he did not devise something to occupy his mind. He decided to make use of it by getting to know the place in which he was held.

Looking about the dark tunnel, he let his eyes and ears accommodate his curiosity while he stepped deeper into the dark. The chamber was much larger than he might have anticipated. So large in fact that the light did not reach the far ends of it. But there was enough there for Gimli to ascertain that he was in a rounded room of sorts at least thirty feet wide by sixty feet deep, if not more. It was difficult actually to tell scale without an object of Dwarven proportion to judge the distance and so he painfully walked it or as the case might be, hobbled it ignoring what he could of his discomfort. The ceiling above was at least twenty feet high, except for the place where the light leaked out, to which there was no ceiling at all, and the walls in that space were nearly ten feet deep. Other than that opening, the ceiling was relatively free of any projectiles. "A young cave," Gimli muttered, and from the sound of water trickling and dripping in the distance he could guess at the source of its formation. "This must have been the home of an underground river of recent time," he surmised to himself.

He picked up a rock to examine its make. "Limestone," he said to himself, recognizing the lightness of color and measuring the density of the stone intuitively. Like one who works with the soil and can tell just by touch of its quality for planting, Gimli could do likewise with stone. It was almost as if he could feel its origins at his fingertips. This rock was porous, though denser than most limestone, yet still soft enough to allow the earth's waters to seep through and lead it onto a path of greater destinies. But then as he continued his tour, at the other end of the cave he found an interesting find. "Magnetite?" he asked. Although not an unusual stone to find in caves, it was one usually mined, not deposited. The presence of such a heavy ore mineral in a space sheathed in porous bedrock made him ponder the possibility of something he and his people had long come to know. He could almost see the stone's tale as his sight roamed the walls looking for veins of other minerals. He smiled at the thought that came to his mind.

Gimli looked away, seeking out the tunnels he knew would be at either end of this hollow and perhaps in side chambers as well. Now that he was seeking them and he had his senses attuned to them, he could feel the slight breeze that one finds moving from one cave space to another. Air was circulating, which he could have guessed from the sound of dripping water, but the motion of air told him there was a vast environment about him and beyond him. The tunnel before him was a mere crawlspace, but he knew it would lead to a whole catacomb of other spaces like this one. If luck held true and the rock and terrain remained consistent, they would interlace these plains for miles. Thinking of the possibility of what he considered might be there astounded the Dwarf. He laughed slightly as he considered the irony of it. "So Legolas, this is the key to your new waterfalls. Your people have changed the ecology enough to cause a wealth of caves to be opened up. You, who would shudder at the thought of such a bleak place you sit on a nest of enormous potentials," Gimli commented. "A Dwarf could find a nice home here." It was all he could do to keep from exploring further. He dropped the stone back to the ground and went to stand again in the circle of light.

He wished Aragorn would return. He hated to think that the day was getting on without him, and felt guilty for having ruined their hunt. At least we shall have a good tale to tell, Gimli consoled. That is, if he ever were to leave this space. We will have to devise some type of hoist for I am certain I cannot climb a rope with my leg in this state, the Dwarf considered, and then again he looked up hoping to see Aragorn arrive. But since the Ranger did not appear, Gimli began prodding around in the dirt with his shaft to see what might be there of interest. If nothing else it might keep his mind occupied for a time until his friend showed himself again.

Poking further in the dirt he uncovered some tree roots and a number of sticks and branches. Deciding to make this a productive use of time, and knowing it would make his foot feel better to be up and moving about rather than sitting and allowing it to cramp and swell, he started hauling the wood aside, collecting it more for the sake of finding something to do than to have use for it. In a short time he had a sizable amount of sticks and branches collected in varying sizes as well as a pile of rocks and an odd assortment of vine-like roots. He used the halberd's shaft end as both a crutch and also to dig in the dirt. When he had gone through the entirety of the soil highlighted in the circle of light and had forked though it all he felt satisfied that he had found everything there was to find. He had kept himself busy for some time, and looking up at the sky, he judged the time to be nearing late morning. Surely Aragorn would be showing up at any minute now.

Having accomplished everything he had set out to do, Gimli decided it was enough. He was fairly tired, though he refused to believe it had anything to do with suffering injury. Yet a rest would do him good while he waited out the last few minute to pass before his escape at the hands of his companion could occur. Settling himself on the peak of the stones, Gimli came to sit. And as patiently as he could he waited there, hoping that at any moment Aragorn would arrive.

****

Arwen allowed one leg to swing free, using the limb as an extension of her body to reach out and find what she supposed was her buried husband. Her boot sank into the loose dirt, sinking to her knee without finding anything substantial to step into. It was an odd feeling, finding nothing firm beneath her, yet realizing the weight about her leg hindered movement. She moved her free appendage, trying to find something that might indicate the presence of a body below her. There was nothing.

Realizing she must go deeper, she pulled up, keeping her immersed hand in the sodden clay as a grapple in case her footing didn't take hold. It was a precarious situation in which she found herself. One slip and the unsafe walls would find her careening hopelessly downward into the granular dirt and entrap her forever in a tunnel that would become her wretched tomb. She repeated the process that had brought her lower into this hole. Wedging both legs into the wall before her, she took small steps to lower herself down while her fingers dug into the clay on either side of her, finding a spot weak enough to allow her to get a handhold. The tunnel was getting progressively narrower and the distance between walls was such that her knees were starting to press into her chest. It caused her to be poised in an awkward position, one that made lowering and stretching out her leg again even more dangerous as pulling them back was becoming more difficult. She was nearly sitting on the surface of the loosened dirt, and had she not known its consistency was that of quicksand she might have found comfort. She had reached the visible end of this cone.

Except it wasn't the end and she knew well this fissure most likely went on for tens of yards more. If Estel had gone deeper than her body could reach, she would be buried too if she attempted to find him there. Worse still, the attempt and her body pressing down on the uncompacted soil above might wedge him in even deeper. She prayed this next effort might reach him, for she knew beyond this move, all efforts would be futile and deadly.

Her hands dug into the walls, and again she was able to furrow in, this time finding handholds on either side as deep as her elbows. It gave her the solid grip she would need, for beyond her own body weight, if she found him she would need to pull him up as well.

She was panting her exertions, but she took one deep breath, mentally preparing herself and making sure all was ready before she gave herself permission to let loose. She dropped her leg and let it drift down, slowly sliding into the heavy muck, stirring the limb against the weight of the soil so that it might drop with gravity in a straight path downward. It descended to mid-thigh, her skirt hitching to her hips as she did so, and yet she felt nothing of his body below her. She sobbed a small cry, and then decided to take the risk she knew she must if she were going to find him. She dropped the other leg down, using only her hands now to keep her in place. The weight of her body as well as the earth pulled her downward. The tug on her arms and shoulders increased, but she paid little heed to it. Instead her thoughts were below her as the other leg drifted down to meet the first. With both legs free to move, she was now immersed in the dirt beyond her hips and her skirt was fully leveled to her waist.

She used her sense of touch to reach out to him below. Her legs scissored the mud, slowly kicking into the thickness of the wall indicating the ends she might make for lateral movement. She tried in the other direction. Sweat broke out on her face as the effort to fight the mud-like dirt grew more difficult. Again, she met only the narrowing walls of the cone below her, now only a small space less than three feet apart. Pointing her toes, she pressed further into the deep, making circles that descended inward as she sightlessly searched to find him. She felt nothing.

It had been many long minutes and though she had previously had hope she might reach him before his lungs expired, that thought no longer seemed to hold sway over her emotions. It did not seem possible that he could have survived this long. Did she dare to try to go more? Would he even be alive?

Furthered by her desperation and her inability to uncover him, she was no longer able to refrain herself. She let out a wailing cry of frustration, lamenting to the murky clay walls her despair. The overwhelming realization that she could not find him sank in. Grief felled her heart. "Oh, Estel! No, no, no!"

"Ar - wen?"

She froze. Had she just heard his voice?

Could it be possible? It was such a faint cry, if it had existed at all, and she could almost believe she had imagined it. She held her breath as she listened again.

There was a groan and then "Arwen?" It was somewhat muffled, foggy and faint but it was there. She gulped feeling a happy note escape her throat. It was his voice!

"Arwen?" he cried out, stronger now and rising with panic at the unfulfilled question.

Her heart pummeled joy, as shaky breaths rasped out with her excited response, "Estel!"

"Arwen? Where are you?" She looked around. Where was she indeed? Waist deep in muck that seemed to be trying its utmost to pull her down, centered in a vertical chute long yards below the earth's surface where no sane being should be, covered head to toe in mud with muscles aching for relief. That is where she was. And she might have answered his question but she knew these words would not come out well and she was just too happy to know he was alive. She did not wish to taint the moment. She was in an inhospitable place that she deserved not to be in, and all she wanted was to be reunited with her love and freed from this miserable hole. She searched to find the source of his voice though she could not detect from where it came. Quizzically she looked about her, throwing her head back to see if he somehow spoke from above.

"Estel, where are you?" she said arcing her head towards the light. Her voice sounded strangely hollow as it echoed in the tunnel.

"I amI do not know. I am in a cave of some sort. Where are you?" There was a hint of fear in his voice that she recognized. She knew what he was thinking and she knew she needed to squelch his reaction before he felt compelled to do something. Like rescue her.

Her own fears began to revise themselves. He had groaned. Was he in pain? He had not answered her calls. Had he been unconscious? He would fear for her though she felt she had better rights to fear for him.

She followed the sound of his voice, it came from within this space, but not from directly above. It was more as if he spoke to her from an adjacent room.

Deciding there was little reason to remain submerged in slippery soil that chilled her bones, she began to pull herself out, grunting at the effort as she answered him. "I am in a hollow too, though I do not think we share the same space. Mine is rather narrow." Satisfied she had answered his question as best she could without belaboring the event with details, she moved on to another question of her own. "I heard you moan, as if in pain. Are you well, my love?"

"A slight bump. 'Tis nothing," he answered, brushing off her concern.

She rolled her eyes. She knew well how Aragorn belittled his own injuries. After all these years, she knew him well enough to know how he reacted to bodily incidents of concern. He could have severed a finger but he would tell her it was merely a scratch. On the other hand, a scratch to her own body he treated as if it were a mortal wound. With a hint of exasperation, she decided her own conclusion was probably right. "I will judge that when I see it. Tell me what you can see of the space you are in."

"It is a hollow of some sort. I really cannot see much except for the light above. The hole where we broke through is visible to me. Beyond that I know little. I would judge myself to be some thirty feet down," he said.

She was following his voice as she lifted herself out with her arms. Her muscles were straining with the effort, but in a moments time she had an earth-covered leg out and had managed to prop it against the wall as she tried to release her other leg. She grunted as she pulled. She felt her boot tugging off the submerged foot, but managed to twist her ankle around to keep it on as she felt the discomfort of mud filling in around her foot. She grumbled as she pried herself out and said, "Are you on solid ground?"

"Aye. It feels like rock. Arwen, are you all right?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. She knew he was responding to her grunting noises.

"I am well," she rasped out somewhat breathlessly as she continued to free her other foot. She dared not go into details at the moment about what she had just gone through on his behalf, for she feared he would not immediately appreciate her selfless efforts. "I just seem to have gotten myself into a tight position but I can get myself out." She grunted again as she managed to dislodge her foot. The muck made a dull popping sound at her release.

"What was that?" he asked.

She opted not to answer the question. "I believe we were split up in the fall. I have been listening to your voice. You seem to be in an adjacent space to mine. My tunnel is sloped, and I am attempting to climb up it to reach you," she said, looking up to the light. She had determined that the entrance to his space must be at a higher point near the top of this chute, though his voice seemed to echo from below, like he was in a deep cavern.

"I have yet the rope," he offered. "Let me find something to weight the end and then I might throw it up to you to pull you toward me."

That was a fine idea and Arwen sighed with relief. Her arms and legs felt incredibly fatigued. And though she was sure she could have made it further upward on her own, the freedom not to make that journey individually brought a smile to her face. "That would be welcomed," she said.

She waited a few moments while she heard him rustle about in the dark, and then she heard him call, "I have tied a rock the end. I shall try it now." Seconds later she heard the sound of something pelting a wall, and then a grunt. "Ow!" she heard him cry.

"What happened?" she asked with concern, boosting herself upward toward him again, immediately forgetting her fatigue.

He answered through clenched teeth, hissing in pain. "I missed the hole. The rock at the end of the rope landed on my foot."

Arwen could not stifle the giggle that burst out.

"It is a heavy rock," he protested and she worked to straighten her expression so she might answer him with a more supportive voice, "Of course it is. Please be careful, my love." Still, she was laughing inside. Severing a finger was one thing. But give him a stubbed toe or a minor illness, now that was another issue entirely.

She heard him exert himself again in the throw, and while she heard his footsteps move backwards so that he might avoid being hit again, she saw the rock that he tossed rise up from above, silhouetted by the light, and land with a soft thud in the dirt of the tunnel. It rolled downward several feet, but landed shortly on the ledge where she had originally landed. Its fall littered loose dirt upon her face, spraying her to muddy her appearance more. Quietly she cursed as she spit out the debris and then she looked back. The rock was just out of her reach.

"Do you see it?" she heard him ask.

"Yes, but it fell short. I will have to climb to reach it."

"Be careful," she heard him say fearfully. She gritted her teeth at the fray his nervous cries were having on her temper. It was not the first time he had offered cautious warning to her when she would have appreciated encouragement more. She had already made it through the more difficult part of this tunnel where the walls were far slicker, and her attempt to reach him though he hadn't really been there had been far more dangerous. This portion would be the easier section of her climb. But then again, she reasoned, he did not know what she had just gone through for his sake. She would tell him, later, when the danger was passed and he could handle it without total abandonment of safety to himself.

In a few minutes of slow ascent, wedging her body against the wall to hoist herself up, she slid herself onto the ledge and breathed a happy sigh. "I am there," she exclaimed.

"Good," she heard him breathe. "Now tie the rope about yourself and I will pull you up."

She followed his instructions and soon found herself being hauled upward. She could hear his grunts as he exerted himself, and she aided him where she could by pushing with her feet up the damp slope. When she pulled nearer to where the rope dropped down, she could see how they had become separated. The tunnel walls were not smooth or straight. Rather, they were jagged and bent, with ruts popping out in places, and rock and stone ledges jutting among the roots. It would have been easy for them to have fallen in different directions seeing how much the tunnel turned about. It was at one of these bends that the tunnel split. She had not seen it for the obscuring of the rough ground and shadow had hidden it from her sight. She pulled both feet up onto a heavy shelf that looked as if it could hold her weight with ease.

"Hold there, Estel! Hold!" There was danger ahead. Now that she was nearer, she could see the gap that opened up into the secondary tunnel. As the rope pulled along the edge, she could see dirt unravel along the lip, and she worried about the integrity of the soil around that hole. The cavern he was in seemed much vaster than the space she held, and she was unsure there was anything beneath that opening that might bear the weight of a leveraged pull.

"What is it?" he called out somewhat breathlessly.

"Do we have a plan for what we do here?" she asked.

"As a plan goes, we are attempting to get you to a place that is out of harm's way." She knew he said this calmly, but to her well-versed ears, she could almost hear the irritation in his voice. And she could feel her own ire come up in answer to. Or maybe her anger had been there all along. Now that it flared up, it seemed rather familiar.

"Then as plans go, you have succeeded, for I would say I am safe for the moment." She had tried to say this in the kindest voice she could muster, but still it came out tinged with biting terseness.

"That is good," she heard him answer, and she felt the rope slacken as he dropped to the ground in exhaustion. "I do not know how much more I could have hauled.

Under her breath she growled, but feigned humor to lighten the mood. "Forgive me my great girth, Aragorn," she retorted with a sarcastic snort.

"You know I meant no slight. I am merely commenting that I was working against gravity," he said in an exasperated voice.

"Aye, I do know it," she answered in a patient voice, deciding to let the matter drop. "So now that I am safe, do you have a proposal?"

"I am open to suggestions," she heard him offer, and in her head she could see the customary shrug that would accompany such an answer.

She looked above at the light and the slope of the tunnel, then turned her eyes on the crumbling lip of the hole, then back up again. She measured the distance to the top in her mind, taking in the circumference of the opening and how much effort she might need to take in the climb. And then she made her assessment. She could do it. The last bit would not be easy, as the opening was too wide for her to use her prior tactic of bracing the walls, and the slope was rather steep. But she also noted the dirt did not appear so soft and wet and there were more exposed roots to grab onto to gain hand and footholds. It was also rather dangerous, for without the support of the walls to brake her, she could end up falling back into the pit from which she had just removed herself. Or worse, she could fall into the hole Aragorn was in and then they would both be stuck in that place. Or even worse than that, she might break her neck in the spill, as she realized now that would not be such a difficult thing to do given the rutted condition of this narrow pit. They were both lucky they had not suffered serious injuries in their fall.

"I think I see a way," she said. "I will climb to the top and out of the hole. Once on safe ground I will find a way to anchor myself or tie off, and then you may follow, climbing up the rope and out of the hole to join me."

"I have another idea," he said quickly, and she tried to keep herself from feeling discounted before hearing his thoughts. "If you can find a way to anchor yourself now from the point at which you are, or even go further to a lower elevation, then we can use gravity and your weight on that end of the rope so I may climb up to meet you there."

Again a comment about her weight? But she knew he was not really slighting her, instead using it as tool in their endeavor. She put her touchiness aside.

She looked at the hole and gauged her response. If successful, it was not a bad plan, for they could proceed on together to clear the opening and be of aid to one another in the last bit of climb. Further, it would not be such a hard pull to make at this point. Bearing his weight here be better than it would be higher up. But her fear remained for that ragged opening. She gave her answer, "I can see where such a plan would have merit, but I am hesitant to implement it. The opening into your hall does not look solid. I am afraid it may decay with the weight added by your climb over this ledge. And then the passageway to the top would be cut off to us completely."

"But it held your weight while I pulled you up," he argued.

Another yet a third slight? She growled. "Barely. And I do not weigh as much as you do," she answered, emphasizing the words so he could know she was growing weary of this.

"But if we apply your idea, how will you pull me up should you reach higher ground?"

"When I reach higher ground," she corrected, "I would find something to root myself to for your pull. Or perhaps I could reach the trees to tie the rope off."

"There is nothing to hold onto up there. We fell in the meadow. There were no trees for another fifty feet or so uphill where Gimli is at. This rope will not reach that far," he argued.

"Then if there is no tree or rock to tie off to, I will have to find strength within myself," she answered coolly and with self-confidence in her ability.

"I do not think you are that strong," he said.

She winced and muttered, "And of course I would have my weight to aid me." Then she pushed her hurt feelings aside. "I am stronger than you may think," she voiced sternly.

"Nay, I think my idea is better. Prepare yourself so I may begin," he ordered.

"Estel, I do not think this is well-conceived! If the opening collapses inward, then the way clear will be lost. In that instance, even if this tunnel remained intact, we would be unable to cross without an adequate bridge," she argued, trying to make him see just how precarious their situation could be.

"It is worth the risk," he said flatly. "Prepare yourself."

Irritated that he would not see the situation for the danger it posed toward their rescue, she asked, "Why will you not consider my idea?"

"Because it is dangerous," he answered with annoyance.

"It is far less dangerous than your proposal," she quipped.

"Yet if you fall in the climb you may injure yourself needlessly. By being up there with you, I can make the climb out and pull you up without fearing for danger to come to you," he reasoned.

She growled. He was trying to rescue her. "Aragorn," she shot back, "I am fully capable of getting myself out of this predicament as it currently stands, whereas you seem to be the one clearly stuck. Allow me to free myself so that I may free you. The danger to me is not nearly so much as it might be to both of us if your attempt is not successful!"

"Arwen, I will not argue this," he sighed. "There is danger above ground. I told you that before we even left and I will not send you out to face it alone. Prepare yourself as I have instructed," he ordered. And then as an afterthought, he said, "Please."

"Yes, your majesty," she scowled beneath her breath as she repositioned herself, wedging her arms and shoulders as she had before while her feet stretched out to easily touch the opposite wall. She did not want to give in but she knew when his need to play hero kicked in, there was little she could do to deter it. When she had herself as ready as she might be, she called out. "I am prepared," she called. Mentally she scoffed at him. His insistence on aiding me is what brought me here. I would have been fine had he not tried to help me stand, thus pulling me down into this hole with him. He thinks I am too weak to fend for myself above ground, but here it is nothing that I play the role of anchor in his climb.

"Then I shall begin," he said and with those words she felt all of his weight pulling on her body. Firmly she had pried herself in, and with muscles tensed, she was a formidable force. Arwen was strong, though sweat poured from her body as the effort continued. She was Elf after all, bred of the Eldar race. Her physical traits had not left her when she made her decision to wed. She lived still in an Elven body. Granted, it was a female Elven body, but it was yet stronger than the typical Human female might be. She could meet the challenge.

Unfortunately, the hole's rim on which the rope tugged was not up for the contest. Just as she had predicted, the lip began to disintegrate. Immediately she heard the sound of dirt and rock caving in on his space, and she felt slack given as he jumped back landing softly on the ground. He had stopped climbing. But even with his weight off the rim, the damage did not end. Like a domino effect, the tunnel before her began to wash away into a growing gulf. With widened eyes she watched as the opening grew wider and wider, and with sudden horror she realized it was not going to stop there. Like the opening of a fault line, the earth collapsed inward on itself and in few seconds Arwen saw their escape to the opening above gone. But it was not over yet. Instead the decay followed, moving onward and downward into the well swallowing up the ceiling above the cavern in which Estel stood, taking away her floor. She gasped. It was coming at her, sucking in all the denizens of this cage into an even greater trap. In mere seconds, Arwen once again felt the earth give way and there was no doubt that she was falling again into the darkness. She screamed as the shadows consumed her.