Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
As they made their way through the desolation, to the very gates of Mordor, Gimli noted that they were on slate just as Legolas always knew, without thinking, what trees they travelled under or the hobbits would have been aware of edible plants or roots.
They came across a lake; dark, murky, greasy filmed, surrounded by jagged shards of broken stone.
‘Defiled,’ thought the dwarf.
Slate lakes should be still, clear, a mirror of the sky. Slate should be handled gently, worked with careful precision.
Had he not hated the Rakhâs already, Gimli reflected, he would have hated them now.
Rakhâs – Khuzdul for orcs.