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・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
GIMLI'S DISCOVERY of the orc blood halted our progress, and I couldn't hide my disgust as he tasted the viscous fluid coating the hedge.
"Ugh, that's disgusting," I muttered, wrinkling my nose in revulsion as Gimli wiped his finger clean.
As Aragorn and Legolas spread out to search the immediate area, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease settling over me. Aragorn's keen eyes caught sight of something peculiar on the forest floor, drawing our attention.
"These are strange tracks," Aragorn noted, crouching down to examine them closely.
Gimli grumbled in agreement, casting uneasy glances at the dense foliage surrounding us. "The air is so close in here," he remarked, his voice tinged with unease.
Meanwhile, Legolas seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting upwards to the towering canopy above. "This forest is old... very old. Full of memory... and anger," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
A low groaning sound echoed through the trees, causing me to instinctively clutch onto Legolas's arm.
"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas observed, his senses attuned to the subtle movements of the natural world.
As Legolas wandered off to investigate a suspicious sound, Aragorn approached me with a sense of urgency.
"What do you see?" he inquired in Elvish, his voice hushed with concern.
I scanned our surroundings, detecting a presence lurking nearby. "The White Wizard approaches," I replied, my tone tinged with excitement despite the danger.
Aragorn's hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to defend against any potential threat. "Do not let him speak. He will put a spell on us," he cautioned, his voice barely audible above the rustling of leaves.
With weapons at the ready, we turned to face the blinding light that suddenly engulfed us. Gimli hurled his axe towards the source of the light, but it was effortlessly deflected by a figure cloaked in white. Legolas' arrow met a similar fate, shattered into splinters before it could find its mark.
Before Aragorn could make a move, his sword grew unbearably hot, forcing him to relinquish his grip. Shielding our eyes from the blinding glare, we braced ourselves for whatever came next.
"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a voice echoed from within the light, its tone calm yet unnervingly authoritative.
Aragorn demanded answers, his frustration evident. "Where are they?"
As the figure emerged from the blinding radiance, revealing the familiar face of our fallen comrade, Gandalf the Grey, now transformed into the White Wizard, I couldn't contain my excitement.
