Chapter Three
Yuleday,** 3019
Gandalf
propped his back against a convenient rock, sighed, and shook his head.
"I had hoped to elude them for a longer period of time."
"There
was only one set of tracks," Aragorn said quietly, almost speaking to himself.
"It might be a simple scout sent by the pack to search for warmer climes."
"You
know the likelihood of that as well as I do," Gandalf responded with a
meaningful glance at Frodo. "Wargs. Of all the creatures to first test
this Fellowship. You’re certain it was a Warg and not a mere wolf hunting
for food?"
It
was relatively early in the morning, but the rest of the Fellowship had
already fallen asleep. After Legolas and Aragorn had rejoined the company
around midnight the previous night, the Ranger had talked quickly and quietly
with Gandalf as they journeyed. Shortly after that, the wizard had stopped
the discussion and declared that he and Aragorn would be taking the first
and second watches together in the morning. No more would be said on the
subject, though many questions were put to Gandalf, Aragorn, and Legolas.
Eventually, the rest of the Company gave up—though Boromir continued to
mutter angrily beneath his breath—and hoped that the recent mystery would
be explained in time. And now Gandalf and Aragorn sat together and took
counsel on the wolf tracks that Aragorn had found shortly after he and
Legolas left the camp.
"It
was a Warg," Aragorn said solemnly in answer to the wizard’s question.
"It was too large for an average wolf and the length in stride bespoke
a hard body used to carrying burdens. Legolas also recognized it for a
Warg track, and the elves of Mirkwood have had many with the Enemy’s wolves
on the borders of their land."
"And
you scouted the terrain before the rest of us woke?" the wizard asked.
When Aragorn nodded, Gandalf sighed wearily. "He must have come on us shortly
afterwards. Yet we saw no sign of him when we left you and Legolas."
Aragorn
grimaced and took out his pipe, feeling the need for a smoke. "There may
be no cause for concern," he pointed out. "As I said before, there was
only one set of tracks. Elrond’s scouts reported that the main packs were
still east of the mountains. This could be an exiled Warg. No howl has
been raised at our presence and we may be but a passing interest to this
creature."
Gandalf
steepled his hands and studied the Ranger. "A passing interest? How many
times did you say this Warg had circled our camp?"
"But
he has yet to signal his comrades," Aragorn pressed.
"Yet,"
Gandalf noted. "And there is no further sign of him. Perhaps he has gone
to signal them now."
"According
to the trail Legolas and I followed last night, the Warg eventually turned
west toward Rivendell. He was not traveling toward a pack. A Warg pack
that close to Rivendell would not have escaped our notice."
"There
are other reasons for him to turn west. Perhaps he was looking to see if
our party had others further back. Perhaps he has gone to rally more scouts.
Perhaps he was hungry and found game, putting aside our pursuit for a while
until he satisfied his hunger. In any case, it is very likely that this
Warg will soon put others on our trail."
Aragorn
rubbed a tired hand across his weathered face. "Unfortunately, that was
what Legolas and I concluded as well. It seems we have not shaken pursuit
after all."
"As
long as we travel with the Ring-bearer, pursuit will never be far behind,"
Gandalf sighed. "It remains for us to stay one march ahead of those who
hunt us. And for us to do that, we must travel faster."
"Perhaps
I should scout for this Warg while the others sleep. I may learn more of
his movements and intentions," Aragorn mused. "If I find him, I could put
an end to his fell life before he can contact his pack."
"You
might find more of his tracks, but I doubt you will find him," Gandalf
said. "If he does not wish to be seen, then you will not see him." The
wizard looked at the dark trees that sheltered their Company and shook
his head. "No, in this I think we must wait. Scouting Warg or chance wolf,
we must endure him for a little longer. My heart tells me his intentions
will be revealed soon."
"Should
we speak of this with the others?" Aragorn asked, glancing specifically
at Boromir.
Gandalf
pursed his lips with indecision. "They suspect something. Legolas will
not speak of it if they ask him, but their fears may be doubled by their
ignorance. I think…I think it best if we caution them tonight before we
set out. Perhaps we should warn Boromir and Gimli directly, but the hobbits,
at least, should be told no more than necessary. They have fear enough
as is." Gandalf was silent for a moment, still thinking the matter over,
and then he seemed to give himself a shake and return to the present. "Well.
We have talked long and hard, but have gained little new counsel. Let us
close this discussion for now. I will take the last of the first watch
and the whole of the second watch. You, Aragorn, should rest."
Aragorn
chuckled slightly. "I may be in need of rest, but so are you, my friend."
The
wizard brushed off the Ranger’s concern with a wave of his hand. " Have
no concern for me. I have much on my mind, and it is doubtful that I could
sleep anyway."
"But
my mind is also filled with thought. If you wish, I will take half the
second watch."
Gandalf
shook his head firmly. "I am not in need of sleep this day. Rest. We will
talk again tonight."
The
Ranger was tempted to continue the debate, but he recognized the tone of
finality in Gandalf’s voice and knew further protests on his part would
be in vain. "Far be it from me to argue with a wizard," Aragorn said, signaling
his surrender. Gandalf snorted at this and the Ranger smiled. "Until tonight,
then."
Aragorn
rose, found a suitable place to rest on the perimeter of their camp, and
settled himself on the ground. He pillowed his head on one arm and positioned
the other arm near Anduril’s hilt in case he should he have need of his
sword during the day. With a last glance at the profile of the thoughtful
wizard, Isildur’s heir closed his eyes and fell swiftly into sleep.
*****
Frodo
rubbed his hands together and cupped them over his mouth, hoping to heat
them with his breath. The sun was high in the sky, but its rays of warmth
did not reach the small group of weary travelers huddled beneath a copse
of trees. Frodo sighed and pulled his cloak tightly around himself, wishing
for the bliss of sleep where he could be ignorant of the cold, the danger,
and his burden. He could feel the cold touch of gold upon his chest, and
its presence stirred a wealth of strange feelings and thoughts. Already,
Frodo hated his journey. He was growing more aware of the Ring and that
frightened him. With each passing day, the Ring became more prominent in
casual thought. As of yet it was not an overwhelming concern, but it was
a constant reminder of the unique danger and power that was his and his
alone.
And
the Ring set him apart. He was different from the rest of the Company in
a way that did not extend to his fellow hobbits. Most of the others were
uneasy around him. Casual conversation was hampered by a mixture of curiosity
and fear. He would be forever known as the Ring-bearer whether this quest
ran ill or not, and that was also something he was coming to hate.
So
lost was he in thought that he did not realize his watch had come to an
end until a soft touch on the shoulder roused him. Frodo jumped and spun,
his hand straying to Sting.
"Whoa,
Frodo," Pippin yelped, scrambling back a few feet. "Easy. I’m just here
to relieve you."
Frodo
blinked and then relaxed. "Sorry," he murmured. "You took me by surprise.
And I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been."
"Don’t
worry about it," Pippin said, relaxing in turn. "I probably should have
said something."
"No,
I should have been aware of the time," Frodo said with a shake of his head.
"I hadn’t realized my watch was over. If you hadn’t awakened…" The hobbit
trailed off and looked at Pippin. "What’s going on? You never wake up for
your watches."
"I
had problems sleeping," Pippin sighed. "So I decided I might as well save
you the trouble of coming over to rouse me." He glanced behind him, spied
a convenient log, and sat down. "You can relate to that, Frodo, can’t you?"
"Relate
to what?"
"Problems
sleeping."
Frodo
shuffled his feet a bit and looked away. "Perhaps."
The
Took snorted. "Perhaps? Definitely, I’d say. Every time I take the watch,
half of my time is spent watching you toss and turn. Cousin Frodo, what
is wrong? What bothers you so much that you can’t even escape it in your
dreams? It’s the you-know-what, isn’t it?"
"The
you-know-what?" Frodo questioned, hoping to elude the conversation. At
Pippin’s pained expression, he gave up, knowing exactly what the other
hobbit was talking about. "What if it is?"
"Look,
I’m just trying to help," Pippin said. "I’m your friend, Frodo, and as
a friend, I’m telling you that you can’t keep this locked up inside. You’ve
got to talk about it. The more you hide it, the worse it will grow until
it is truly your burden alone. You were given this Fellowship so that wouldn’t
happen. We’re here not only to protect you but also to help you bear you-know-what.
So let me help. Talk to me."
"I
don’t know if…I don’t think here and now is such a good place to discuss
this," Frodo hedged.
"If
not now, then when? And if not here, then where? The road won’t get easier,
and it won’t get prettier. And if you don’t feel like talking to me, then
talk to Sam or Merry or Gandalf or Strider. But talk to someone!"
Frodo
was silent for a long time, looking toward the east and thinking. Pippin
was right. He did need to talk, if only to find some way of putting his
thoughts and feelings into words. And yet who could possibly understand
the burden he carried? Who could possibly know what he was going through
on a daily basis? "I’m not sure where to start," he finally said, knowing
it was a weak answer but unable to offer anything else.
"Well,
let’s start by answering a few questions," Pippin said. "Is the you-know-what
causing your sleeping problems."
"I’m
almost sure of it."
"Good.
We’ve made progress. Next question. Do you have any theories as to why
the you-know-what won’t let you sleep?"
"Maybe.
Not really. It’s just…I can’t seem to get away from It," Frodo stammered,
trying desperately to express what he felt. "Even when I sleep, I feel
that It’s looking at me. Watching me. Waiting for me to slip. And when
I do, slip that is, there will be no one left to pick up the pieces. I…I’m
afraid that when I sleep, something will happen."
"That’s
why we post watches," Pippin explained. "It’s so nothing will happen, or
if something does happen, we’ll be warned."
"But
that doesn’t help!" Frodo exclaimed, forgetting the rest of the sleeping
Fellowship as he began to pace and wave his arms. "None of that helps.
I know that’s why we post watches. I know that’s why Strider goes scouting
every night before we march. But it doesn’t matter, because the forces
we’re dealing with are beyond our control. Even if we see them coming,
what good does it do? How does it help us to get some forewarning before
we’re killed?"
"You
speak as though we have no chance. Is that what you really believe?" Pippin
asked curiously.
"Yes.
No. Maybe. I don’t know anymore," Frodo sighed, slumping onto the log beside
the other hobbit. "All I really know is that I hate this burden and wish
to be back in Rivendell before a comfortable fire listening to Bilbo recite
poems from his book."
"And
knowing that things will get worse before they get better doesn’t help,
does it?"
"I
thought you were trying to cheer me up."
Pippin
shrugged. "I can’t give what I don’t have."
Frodo
smiled slightly. "Thank you for trying anyway."
"You’re
most welcome. Do you feel any better now?"
Frodo
thought about that and found, much to his astonishment, that he did feel
better. The Ring was still cold against his chest, the sun was still a
pale gleam in the sky, and he was still somewhere in the wilderness in
lands he did not know. But despite all this, it seemed a burden had been
lifted from his shoulders. "I do feel better, Pippin," he finally said.
"Good.
Now remember this little talk we’ve had and remember that I’m here. I can’t
take your burden away from you, but I can help you by providing a listening
ear whenever you need it. And so can the others. Just don’t keep things
quiet so long that you can’t even sleep. And speaking of sleep, you’d better
get some. I think Gandalf wants to pick up the pace. Strider said something
to him last night, and after that he looked like he was ready to carry
us if we didn’t move faster."
"I
suppose you’re right for once, Pippin," Frodo said with a slight grin.
"For
once?"
"Hmm.
Yes, it does seem unlikely, doesn’t it?" Seeing the look on the Took’s
face, Frodo laughed and felt more of his cares and worries slip away. "Thank
you again, Pippin. Hopefully I will sleep easier tonight."
"My
pleasure, Frodo," Pippin answered. "And I’ll have you know that I’m always
right."
Frodo
chuckled, laid out his blanket, and tried to make himself comfortable.
Before long, sleep overtook him and he drifted into a world of misty dreams.
*****
Gimli
awoke with a jerk, fearful that something horrible had been done to him
while he slept. He felt frantically at his beard, reassured himself that
it was indeed still there, then reached for his axe. Yes, that was there,
too. Clothes? No, nothing had been done to the clothes. Narrowing his eyes,
the dwarf sat up slowly, expecting to be assailed at any moment but a nameless
something. Reaching for his water skin, he sniffed cautiously and then
tasted it. Yes, that was fine, too. Gimli scowled and looked around. Legolas
would have done something during the day to retaliate for the pipe-weed
in the water last night. But what?
The
dwarf glanced about the stirring camp, wondering what the elf could have
possibly done. Yet there was no sign of any tampering. Legolas himself
was sitting next to Sam, humming softly as he aided him in breakfast preparation.
Aragorn looked as though he had just returned from his daily scouting routine
and was speaking quietly with Gandalf, who was eyeing the surrounding woods
with a great deal of mistrust. Frodo and Pippin were packing up their belongings.
Merry was sorting through one of the bags of food under Sam’s direction.
All was at peace with the exception of Boromir, who was stalking the camp’s
perimeter like a predator on the prowl.
Gimli
wondered if the man still felt slighted by Aragorn’s refusal to explain
his secretive conversation with Gandalf. Despite the Ranger’s lineage,
Gimli had noted that Boromir was drawn to the other man as a drowning sailor
might be drawn toward a light on the shore. In this strange Company of
varied Races, Boromir was desperately trying to anchor himself in a familiar
environment. But with Aragorn continually placing his trust in Gandalf,
Boromir was feeling…betrayed. Gimli wondered if he should mention this
to Aragorn or Gandalf and then noticed that the two in question were motioning
him toward them.
Curious,
the dwarf rose and joined them. Boromir was also beckoned over, and Gimli
felt some of his fears for the man die when Aragorn began talking to them
about what had happened the previous evening, but they were quickly replaced
by new fears.
"When
Legolas and I left the camp last night, we came upon a set of tracks that
had not been there before," Aragorn reported, his voice low and secretive.
Gandalf kept a close watch on the hobbits and Legolas skillfully kept them
busy with breakfast and other menial tasks. "We believe them to be Warg
marks," the Ranger continued. "In my scouting this evening, I did not come
upon any new tracks, but we should be wary. It may have been a scouting
Warg and he may even now be reporting to his pack."
"If
this is the case, we must hasten our journey," Boromir said quietly, glancing
at the hobbits. Gimli searched the man’s voice for any telling emotion,
but the warrior from Gondor carefully kept his voice neutral. Gimli could
not tell if the man was upset at being denied this information or grateful
that it had been shared. Perhaps a little of both.
"Indeed,
but how that is to be accomplished remains to be seen," Aragorn answered,
also looking at the hobbits. "They are not used to such travels and hardships.
We must be patient."
"Patience
could lead to our deaths and the ruin of all Middle Earth," Boromir countered.
"There is a time and a place for it, but now is the time for speed. They
must be made to travel faster."
"What
would that accomplish?" Gimli asked suddenly. "If Wargs are indeed on our
trail, they will catch us whether we hurry forward or wait for them here.
We cannot outrun them on foot no matter how hard we press this Company."
"But
there are places of greater safety that we may reach," Boromir pointed
out.
"But
would we reach them before the Wargs reach us?" Aragorn asked. "On this
side of the mountains, there is little in the way of shelter, and I doubt
we shall make the passes before we hear the howls of the pack. As I said
before, we must be patient. We must travel faster, but we must do so by
degrees. It is no use to waste energy now when it might be needed in battles
to come."
Gandalf
shifted suddenly and Aragorn fell silent. Beyond the wizard, dwarf, and
men, Sam was putting the final touches on their cold breakfast and Merry,
Pippin, and Frodo were watching the others curiously. Legolas shrugged
as if to say he could think of nothing else to keep them further occupied.
"Breakfast
is ready," Sam announced. He looked around and for the first time noticed
the tension in the air. "That is, whenever the rest of you are ready for
breakfast. It can wait."
"We
are ready now, Sam," Aragorn said, moving forward and helping himself to
dried fruit and salted meat. "And you have our thanks for the meal."
Gimli
took his own breakfast with some trepidation, fearing that Legolas had
devised a malicious trick and that it awaited him in his meat or his fruit.
But breakfast passed without incident—much to the surprise of everyone—and
before long, the Fellowship was on the trail, journeying through the dark
night toward the mountains.
*****
Around
midnight, Gandalf called for a halt and watched as the hobbits broke out
what they termed "walking food." This consisted of anything that could
be eaten with little preparation and was readily accessible. The wizard
had once catalogued how much a hobbit could eat in a day, and even now,
it never ceased to amaze him. The elves might be renowned for the glory
of their feasts, but the hobbits should carry equal renown for their ability
to eat everything at an elven dinner and more. Gandalf wondered what would
happen when the "walking food" ran low and the hobbits were forced to go
without for a while.
Turning
his attention away from the hobbits, Gandalf next rested his gaze on Boromir
and Aragorn, who stood talking together. That was a good sign. If Aragorn
did become the king, he would need the support of his steward and that
would eventually be Boromir. A close friendship might not be necessary,
but a working relationship was vital. Fortunately, it seemed they were
beginning to develop one, though awkwardness continued to hamper their
efforts.
Next
up for evaluation was Legolas. The elf and dwarf had been strangely quiet
all night, and Gandalf wondered what new plot was afoot. Having had the
final say yesterday, Gimli was wisely refraining from further acts. But
Legolas…it was not like the prince to ignore the gauntlet that Gimli had
thrown. Something was underway, and Gandalf desperately hoped that whatever
it was would prove harmless enough. They could ill-afford to bring the
Wargs down upon them through some mishap between a quarrelling dwarf and
elf.
This
brought Gandalf to the other half of the pair. Gimli was studying the elf
closely whenever it seemed that Legolas was not paying attention. The dwarf
also feared retribution, and Gandalf couldn’t help but smile at the elf’s
cleverness. The wizard had no doubt that vengeance would be forthcoming,
but making the dwarf wait for it was cruel and genius.
Gandalf
also noted, with some amusement, that Gimli seemed tired. The dwarf had
been casually boasting of his endurance the other day, but it appeared
now that his endurance had been put to the test and found lacking. Small
trails of sweat wound their way down from his temples, and his breath was
heavy and forced.
"Aragorn?"
Legolas’s
low tenor broke though the silence like the breeze whistling through the
treetops, barely noticeable and yet instantly commanding the attention
of those who noted it. Gandalf moved toward the elf even as the Ranger
did, and a shiver of foreboding swept through the old wizard’s frame.
"Do
you see something?" Aragorn asked quietly.
"Nay,
but I hear movement," Legolas whispered, watching the surrounding forests
with all the venerable knowledge and experience of an elf raised in the
woods. "Something stalks us, but this something is skilled beyond the measure
of an ordinary creature."
"Could
you flush it toward us as you did with the spiders that day in Mirkwood
when we were hunting?" Aragorn wondered.
The
elf swung his pack down, readied his bow, and smiled grimly. "Your wish
is my command, my liege."
Aragorn
smiled back, clapped the elf on the back, and slid Anduril out of its scabbard
as the Legolas slipped into the forest.
"What
do you suppose is happening?" Pippin asked, watching the activities with
interest.
Merry
shook his head darkly. "Whatever it is, Strider and Gandalf don’t look
happy about it. And Strider has his sword out."
"I
thought his sword was broken," Pippin wondered aloud.
"It
was mended in Rivendell," Boromir explained quietly, coming up behind the
hobbits and also watching the proceedings closely.
"What
is happening?" Gimli asked, joining the group. Sam and Frodo were also
looking on silently.
"It
might be just me, but it’s almost as if they’re hunting something," Merry
said slowly. "I used to go after foxes in the woods west of Buckland with
my cousins, and it looks like they’re trying something similar."
"You
may be right, Halfling," Boromir said. The man stood with them a moment
more and then moved toward Aragorn and Gandalf. Gimli considered joining
them as well, but his back was screaming at him and his legs felt they
could not move a single unnecessary step.
"We
know so little of this land," Frodo murmured. "What could they be hunting?"
"Food?"
Sam suggested hopefully, having noted that their supply of provisions could
be increased.
"No,
not food. There will be time enough to look for food later," Gimli murmured,
giving in to his weariness and plopping to the ground. This exhaustion
was strange, and the dwarf was becoming concerned.
"What,
then, do you think it is?" Pippin asked, but the dwarf made no answer.
He continued to watch Aragorn.
For
his part, Aragorn’s senses were straining for any hint of the unseen. Only
dimly aware of Boromir’s questioning glare behind him and Gandalf’s silent
support, he stared into the woods and listened for any sign of the stalker
or of Legolas. Shortly after the elf’s departure, he had heard the sounds
of stealthy movement that had caught the attention of the elven prince.
But not long after that, all sounds had ceased.
"Wait
for me," Aragorn eventually whispered, starting forward.
"Aragorn…"
The wizard’s voice was an unspoken warning.
"Legolas
may need help," the Ranger answered. "I will not be long." He started forward
again and then stopped. A cry echoed out of the woods, there came the sounds
of a scuffle, and then everything fell quiet again. After a minute of tense
silence during which none dared to move, Legolas emerged from the undergrowth,
shaking his head and cursing quietly beneath his breath.
"I
saw him," the elf told Aragorn. "And it is as we suspected, but he has
gone now, and I doubt he will return this night." Legolas sighed and looked
away. "I should have been faster."
"He
is alone and thus more wary than usual," Aragorn answered. "I doubt any
of us could have driven him. He would be doubly on guard."
"We
can do no more about him this night," Gandalf said. "Come. It is time we
were underway again."
The
wizard turned and walked toward the hobbits and Gimli, Legolas picked up
his pack and shouldered his bow, Aragorn sheathed Anduril, and Boromir
glowered angrily off to the side, wondering why Aragorn put more trust
in wizards and elves than in his own kind.
*****
"A simmering
stew with potatoes, fresh carrots, onions, pork, and the Gaffer’s special
secret ingredient."
"A
stew? Come on, Sam, you can do better than that," Pippin scoffed. "What
about a big turkey stuffed with bread and greens and a big bowl of apples?"
"Apples?"
Sam shook his head. "The turkey’s fine and you’re all right with the stuffing,
but where did you get the apples? You don’t serve apples with turkey."
"I
had apples with turkey once," Merry commented.
"No,
I agree with Sam," Frodo announced. "Apples don’t go with turkey. What
was it Nob and Hob said? Apples for walking?"
"That’s
right, Mr. Frodo," Sam nodded enthusiastically. "Apples for walking. It’s
yams you’ll want with that turkey, not apples, Mr. Pippin."
"You
know what you’ve all forgotten?" Merry piped up. "Mushrooms. Mushrooms
go with any meal."
Behind
the hobbits, who were now talking about food rather than eating it, Gimli
staggered in a weary daze. His pack pulled at him, his shoulders ached,
his legs dragged, his back moaned, and all his energy seemed spent. Every
moment was a painful drudging experience, and the night dragged on as though
it would last forever. Gimli was vaguely aware that Gandalf, Aragorn, and
Boromir were regarding him with open concern, but he was too tired to view
this as an affront to his pride. He wished only for this endless journey
to cease and leave him to collapse on the path.
Gandalf
called a halt to the marches earlier than usual. The others noticed this
and also noticed Gimli’s exhausted state, but the dwarf himself remained
oblivious. When his foggy mind finally comprehended that they were setting
up camp for the day, he dropped like a stone and refused to move. Having
already set up his own bed, Merry wandered over with the intention of moving
Gimli’s pack over with the rest of the packs. But when he tried to lift
it…
"What
do you have in this?!"
The
dwarf managed to open heavy eyelids and send the hobbit a glare. "I know
how to pack for a long journey. The night’s travels must have tired you."
"Let
me see," Pippin offered, trying to sling the pack onto his shoulder. His
efforts were pitifully unsuccessful and he quickly gave up. "All right,
now I want to know you have in here."
"Cloak…some
food…" Gimli mumbled, closing his eyes and wishing the hobbits would go
away and leave him alone. A rustling caught his attention and he opened
his eyes again. "What are you doing?"
"Well
no wonder your pack is so heavy," Pippin exclaimed, peering into the dwarf’s
bag.
"Is
this normal for dwarves?" Merry wondered. "I know they like to mine and
they probably know a lot about different kinds of rocks, but on a trip
like this, do you really want to carry them with you?"
Gimli
stared dumbly at the hobbits until something deep within his mind clicked.
"Rocks?"
"Rocks?"
Boromir echoed from across the camp. "You’re carrying rocks?"
"Big
rocks, too," Pippin observed.
Aragorn
and Gandalf turned grim expressions on Legolas. The elf, who was in the
process of arranging his own bed, managed to project an impressive air
of innocence that fooled no one.
"Rocks,"
Gimli muttered, directing his own dark glare at the elven prince.
"Merry,
you have first watch," Gandalf announced, trying to divert attention away
from the elf and dwarf. "The rest of you, get some sleep. We’ll have to
make up for lost time tomorrow."
"We
may also have to make up for a lost elf," Gimli growled beneath his breath
as weariness ultimately overcame him and he drifted into dreams.