His Queen

Chapter 30 - Kitra

The group moved cautiously through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the soft bed of leaves beneath them. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to press down on their shoulders, causing even the stout Gimli to hunch his back. Ever vigilant, he crouched down and dipped a calloused finger into a small pool of deep red blood on a nearby leaf. He raised it to his mouth, slowly tasting it before spitting it out in disgust.

"Orc blood," Gimli grumbled, his voice low and gravelly with disdain.

Kitra, walking just behind him, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I could have told you that," she muttered under her breath, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli continued to move forward with a sense of urgency, their feet pounding against the forest floor in unison. Alana and Kitra followed close behind, their senses alert for any danger that may lie ahead. As they pressed further into the heart of the forest, Aragorn suddenly paused, his keen eyes scanning the ground for any clues. He knelt down to examine the strange marks etched into the dirt below.

"These are no ordinary tracks," Aragorn murmured, his brow furrowed in confusion as he traced the mysterious patterns with his fingers.

Gimli, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, shifted uneasily on his feet. The air felt thick and suffocating, as if it were pressing down on him with a heavy weight. He glanced around anxiously, searching for some source of relief.

Legolas, his keen Elven senses attuned to the environment, lifted his head to look up at the towering trees. His pale eyes seemed to shimmer with reverence as he spoke in a hushed tone. "This forest is ancient," he said, his voice carrying a hint of wonder. "So many memories linger here...and perhaps even some lingering anger."

A deep, ominous groaning sound reverberated through the dense forest, causing them all to pause and tense up. Gimli's grip tightened on his trusty axe, ready to defend himself and his companions from any potential danger.

Kitra, always sensitive to the feelings of nature, noticed Gimli's tension and rolled her eyes with exasperation. She reached out and gave him a sharp slap on the back of his head. "Put your axe down, Gimli," she chided, shaking her head. "You'll only make things worse."

Gimli grumbled under his breath, feeling foolish for reacting so quickly to the unfamiliar sounds of the forest. With a sheepish expression, he slowly lowered his axe as he realized what Legolas had meant by the forest's "anger." "Oh," he muttered in understanding.

Legolas turned towards Gimli, his piercing blue eyes alight with a knowing glint. "They have feelings, my friend," he explained in a hushed tone. "The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Gimli, ever skeptical, shook his head with a disbelieving grunt. "Talking trees. What do trees have to talk about?" he grumbled, his rough voice thick with doubt. "Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Kitra suppressed a laugh at Gimli's blunt comment and shared a quick smile with her cousin Alana. The two rangers exchanged a knowing look before Alana nudged Kitra with her elbow, their senses attuned to any signs of danger.

Legolas's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings, his keen senses on high alert. His voice dropped as he spoke in Elvish to Aragorn, his words laced with urgency. "Aragorn, nad no ennas... Something's out there."

Aragorn turned to him, his hand instinctively grasping the hilt of his sword as he responded in Elvish. "Man cenich? What do you see?"

Legolas's keen eyes remained fixed on the looming shadows of the forest, his voice taut with tension. "The White Wizard approaches." The words hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.