Dwarves had never shared the wonder Elves held for the stars that adorned the sky, but to this dwarf, on this morning, they were truly magical. Having dragged himself through the dome that covered the vent, Gimli now lay on his back on the rocky ground and stared at the pale sky, the stars dim in the pre-dawn. He breathed deeply the clean cool air and smiled languidly.

Soon enough, however, his smile faded as he thought of Legolas. The elf would have reveled in these first drops of new air. Despite his oath to return, Gimli felt his betrayal of Legolas deeply.

In time, Gimli forced his body to sit up. Bushes and brambles dotted the field around them, and the distant air was hazy as if from fire. In the grey light, he could barely distinguish the forest beyond the walls of Isengard, and even the hobbit beside him was hardly more than a shadow.

"We did it! I knew we could do it. We made it, Gimli!" Having lain in similar fashion on the ground, Merry now sat up and grinned at him.

Gimli had yet to be overcome with the joy of freedom. He weakly returned the hobbit's smile, reluctant to break his mood but unable to share his delight. "Good for you, lad. I only hope when we return, we are not too late."

The comment quieted Merry, and he paused to lay a hand on Gimli's shoulder. "I hate to leave Isengard without them as well. But we would never have gotten them out with us. We'd have all ended up dead—or worse."

Gimli nodded and forced himself to look to the coming day. "We must still get beyond the wall. Sitting here will only get us returned below."

"Yes, good plan. I think we ought to head for that gateway. It is still dark enough that we needn't worry about being seen, as long as we move in silence. I hope you're good at being hobbit-quiet, Gimli. Follow me."

Despite their fatigue, they made their way through the confines of Isengard without a sound. As Merry and Gimli neared the large portal leading out of their prison, Gimli saw a wide black streak cut into the ground, leading to the gate. The line was formed by the steps of many boots that had made their way out of Isengard. It seemed most of the orcs had left the tower, but there remained sentries to avoid.

They needed to watch the patrol upon the wall for only a short time before they discovered that the orcs focused nearly all their attention outward, clearly more concerned for trespassers attempting to enter Isengard than for anyone leaving.

Timing their approach to when the sentries' attention lay beyond the wall, they neared the wall in bursts of movement towards the next vent or tree stump that could shield them while an orc peered over the barren field. It took longer than Gimli expected, but dawn had yet to arrive by the time they reached the gates. Fortunately, the two found that the last orc to leave had not shut the door behind him, and escaping the last yards of Isengard proved as simple as walking through the streets of Dale.

With the sun cresting the horizon, leaving the gates was more difficult than gaining them, for now they could be easily sighted. But the sentries were orcs, and so not the most vigilant of sentinels. Their escape merely required careful timing and a close watch on all the sentries upon the wall.

Before the sun had fully risen they found themselves amid fields of long grass where hiding was much easier. Finding a small knoll that blocked their view of the tower rising black against the brightening sky, they took a moment to rest in the Wizard's Vale.

"I must say, I had hardly dared to hope this plan would work. We are truly out of Isengard!" Gimli shook his bewildered head.

"That we are," Merry said, as he stood once more. "As much as it looks like the orcs have begun their march to Edoras, someone may still be at home, even Saruman, with a few orcs left behind for company. If they haven't yet discovered we're gone, they will soon enough, and the hunt will start. We want to be long gone by then. No rest for the weary."

Gimli considered rising as well, but his aching feet made him think better of such a move. He knew he would regret sitting soon enough, as it had reminded his body of its weariness and of all its aches and pains. "And so, Master Meriadoc, we turn our feet to Rohan? Is that our plan?"

"As best as I've figured. Pippin thought Saruman meant to march to Edoras soon. Those orcs have set out in the same direction. That is why we had to leave when we did. Pippin was certainly the sneaky hobbit, informing me of Saruman's plans, as well as supplying me with bits of food, bless him."

Gimli half-smiled, wondering what would now be Pippin's fate and whether the hobbit's cleverness might do aught to change that. For a moment, Gimli missed the younger hobbit greatly.

"Pippin made it sound as if Saruman intended to fight against Sauron," Merry continued, "but I smell a rat there. Saruman wants to take control of Rohan himself, if you ask me.

"So, you see, Gimli, we are in a race to arrive at Edoras before Saruman does, to warn the people of Rohan. If we can find our way to the king and tell him what we've learned, they'll have a chance. I don't know if we can win this race, but it's worth a try. And then, seeing as we've warned them of the attack, I'm thinking maybe they wouldn't mind helping us get our friends out of Isengard."

Gimli shook his head, letting Merry's words settle. "Saruman! His desire for power knows no bounds! I agree, he likely seeks to control Rohan. What then? Gondor? Will he march on Minas Tirith, using Aragorn as a deception?" Gimli frowned. "And Pippin said Aragorn was under his spell?"

"Well, Pippin wasn't quite clear on that. I think he didn't tell me everything. Can you imagine, Pippin trying to protect me? But I believe that was what he was doing, dear hobbit. And from what he said and did not say, I gathered that yes, Strider is under Saruman's spell or something like it." Merry shook his head.

"Pippin wanted us to escape for Rohan's sake, but as I said, I'm hoping that it will benefit us as well. I expect we will need more than a hobbit and a dwarf to free Pippin, Legolas, and Aragorn. Especially as Aragorn is held under Saruman's watchful eye, while the orcs always seem to have hold of Legolas. We need help, Gimli. Help of Big Folk. Big Folk with weapons, preferably."

As Gimli leaned against the hill behind him, the eastern sky growing bright and warm on his face, he indulged himself for a moment in fond thoughts of his lost weapon. He would miss that great axe, which had accompanied him in battle for many years. But the orcs had taken it from him when he was captured, and an orc had kept it for his own. He would not now take it back if it were handed to him freely.

Setting aside those useless thoughts, Gimli considered their plans. He was impressed with the hobbit's ideas, despite the problem he saw. He cleared his throat. "Your plan has merit. I applaud you for your courage as well, my dear hobbit. But I fear the Rohirrim will question the word of a hobbit—if they know of your people at all—and certainly the word of a dwarf."

"Well... you offer more than words, Gimli. You certainly appear to have been held captive."

Gimli frowned. He had forgotten his appearance. Did he look as badly as he felt? The bruises and other injuries he wore might speak louder than words, it was true. "We still cannot be sure they will help us. Why would they offer aid for a man, an elf, and a hobbit?"

"They must! Aragorn's not just any man, he's heir to the throne of Gondor! Surely—"

"I am afraid not everyone will welcome such news, Merry. In fact, I suggest you do not reveal to anyone Aragorn's heritage unless you must. The knowledge can be used against him, as you have seen."

"Yes, all right," Merry said. "But surely they should grant us such a favor in exchange for alerting them of the upcoming battle. Without our warning, they will be ambushed."

"True, they may do so. And it is likely the only option open to us. It grieves me to leave our friends in the hands of Saruman and his orcs, but with a favor from fate, they will survive until we return."

Gimli watched as Merry climbed the hill and looked about, sharp and alert. As sure of himself as Merry seemed, Gimli was glad to have the hobbit at his side. The dwarf's weariness was beginning to overtake him. He stood, fearing if he remained seated he would never rise again.

Returning after some time, Merry pointed out the dark swath cut into the ground that continued beyond the walls. "The orcs have indeed left through the front door while we were struggling to leave through the back. I would guess that is the direction to go."

"Yes, we should begin. And we must consider how to accomplish this task before us. We need food and water, and we are without even a waterskin. We have not a blanket against the cold of night. In this condition, we need not wonder which way will take us to our destination, but whether we will arrive at all."

Merry nodded. "I have been thinking of the same. As far as water is concerned, we must reach the River Isen and follow it as long as we can. I think we're both resourceful enough to find food in the wild. If we're lucky, I'll find something I can fashion into a sling shot. We won't want for meat long, then."

"That would be quite a boon."

"Yes, and as for sleeping, I'm looking forward to a bed of grass myself, with only the stars overhead and only the sound of crickets to be heard."

Merry quieted suddenly, and Gimli wondered at the sudden turn of his mood. But there was no time for such contemplation. "We will see how you feel about grass in the chill of tonight." He sighed. "I forget I travel with a hobbit. Hobbits truly believe it will all be all right in the end." The hobbit's way of thinking was a comfort in his growing despair.

"Let us get on with it then. The orcs are on their way but they will move slowly on the march. We must travel faster and stay out of sight. Besides, our friends will survive for a time, but not forever."

And the two began a march of their own.