Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

A strong sea breeze filled the mithril white sails, driving the graceful ship ever closer to the land the Elves now called home, and every few moments, a stray gust freed itself from the task and danced with untamed gold of Legolas’s unbraided hair. Never before had he allowed the silken strands such unruly behaviour, but as he keenly watched the horizon for his first glimpse of the Blessed Realm, he gave no thought to grooming the tresses back into an orderly array.

“Is this not exhilarating?” He looked at his companion with eyes that shone brilliantly and spoke with a voice full of delight and wonder.

“Nauseating is the word that springs to my mind,” grumbled the Dwarf who had discovered too late that he had no stomach for sea faring. Legolas was filled with compassion for his friend’s plight, the pallor of his skin, and the sweat on his brow from his latest upheaval. The motion of the waves had taken their toll on the Dwarf’s normally strong constitution and he fervently hoped that the trip would end very soon. Legolas, on the other hand, whilst eager to reach Valinor, was enjoying every minute of the journey.

“I am so sorry you are unwell, dear Gimli. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?” he asked with genuine distress for his friend’s state of health, as he gave the Dwarf’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze before he moved to reclaim his favourite vantage point.

“Aye, come down from there at once! I do not wish to arrive in Valinor having to explain to all and sundry that you fell from the ship and drowned,” growled Gimli as he watched with some trepidation as Legolas nimbly climbed the mast, and perched somewhat precariously on top of the sail connected to it.

“Have no fear; it is no more dangerous than climbing a tree. Just think of the mast as the trunk and the ropes as the branches,” declared Legolas as he closed his eyes and savoured the refreshing tang of the sea spray on his lips. Gimli could not help but smile at the childish delight on the Elf’s face and the carefree behaviour he had been displaying since leaving Ithilien, and he decided his discomfort was a small price to pay to see the Elf so happy.

“Nay, but I am certain there are many trees there must be to speak with in the Blessed Realm. We must visit them all!” The thought of traipsing through endless forest as they had done on their travels together in Middle-earth caused Gimli to groan with exasperation. Legolas’s response was a peal of merry laughter that stopped abruptly when to be replaced with a gasp of wonder as elvish eyes caught their first glimpse of the white sands of the shores of Valinor.

“Gimli. I see it! I see the entrance to the havens and the beach beyond! Our journey is at an end!” he shouted ecstatically as salty tears of joy mingled with the dampness of the sea spray on his cheeks. He swiftly climbed back to the deck and enfolded his friend in an exuberant embrace, and then before Gimli could recover his composure, Legolas disappeared into the cabin below.

Although the sea sickness had miraculously eased with the appearance of dry land up ahead, the Dwarf still felt a certain roiling inside borne of his uncertainty of the kind of welcome he would receive. He had not mentioned his reservations to his friend, but he had begun to ponder the wisdom of accompanying Legolas to Valinor.

“Well it is too late to change your mind now, Gimli son of Glóin,” he told himself, putting the thought from his mind as he wondered what the Elf was doing and why he was taking so long. The answer became evident when Legolas emerged almost an hour later, his hair was once again immaculately groomed, and the loose shirt and leggings he had been wearing discarded in favour of the elegant formal robes Thranduil had gifted him especially for this occasion.

“Is my appearance acceptable?” Legolas asked his friend, who was staring into the distance still trying to catch sight of their destination. The Dwarf turned and studied the warrior prince for several moments, impressed as always by his delicate, yet unmistakably masculine beauty, a beauty matched by the brightness of the spirit within.

“That depends on who it is you are trying to impress. Is there perhaps some sweet elf maid, one who you have so far neglected to mention to your best friend, waiting for her prince to sweep her off her feet?” he teased, smirking at the pale blush that only served to make Legolas’s features more fair and to make Gimli even more suspicious.

“Well… there is someone I wish to kook my best for…” began Legolas, deciding to tease his friend and fuel the Dwarf’s curiosity instead of satisfy it.

“A very beautiful Elf who I have loved all my life and have missed terribly,” Legolas replied, thinking he had given his friend more than enough information to discern the obvious answer. He realised he was mistaken when he heard the next question.

“And what is the name of your lady love?” The Dwarf demanded, thoroughly convinced there must have been some maid who had captured such a gentle and loving heart as his friend possessed.

“Elisiel is my adar’s lady love, not mine. I wish to look my best for Nana,” laughed Legolas pleased with his jest.

“Most amusing Elf, “scowled Gimli self consciously glancing at his own attire.

“Have no fear, your appearance is most acceptable, my friend. Nana will see you as I do… through the eyes of my heart.” It was Gimli’s turn to redden slightly at such an expression of affection, and he laughed at his own folly.

“But will the others be so accepting or will they be as Haldir of Lórien was on our arrival in the Golden Wood?” he wondered, hinting at his concern that he would be but one Dwarf among many Elves, some of whom no doubt would not approve of his presence.

“I can not answer that, but you know you have the Lady Galadriel’s favour and you have been granted the grace of the Valar. None will dare openly speak against you, and in time all will come to accept you and your irascible ways,” Legolas assured his friend unable to resist teasing him a little more. They both turned their gazes back to the fast approaching brilliance of Valinor, and Legolas pointed to something the Dwarf’s eyes could not quite discern.

“Look, my friend, do you not see the Lady waiting there for you on the shore?”

“I do not have eyes as far seeing as yours, but I believe I can make out the light of her beauty,” said Gimli, squinting in the direction Legolas indicated. He could now see the shore on which stood something bright, but could not discern the detail. “Should you not be taking the helm?” he asked suddenly realising no one was steering the ship as the stone archway loomed before them.

“Nay, Cirdan’s ships need no hand to guide them to the havens,” replied Legolas with a nonchalant shrug.

“But he did not build this one, we did,” said Gimli becoming somewhat alarmed.

“It makes no difference, it is still his design. See?” Gimli watched in wonder as the ship passed safely through the archway and came to rest beside the wharf. Legolas cast his eyes over the large group of friends that had come to meet him, smiling warm greetings to them all, especially his lifelong friend Tathar and his lovely wife, Mirieth who stood close together with their arms about each other’s waists. Beside them was the one Elf he wished to see more than any other.

With a choked cry of “Nana!” and disregarding the presence of all, even Gimli, he jumped lightly to the shore and ran to Elisiel’s waiting arms. Mother and son held each other in a crushing embrace, exchanging tearful kisses and word of love, so lost in their joyous reunion that they were totally oblivious to the others waiting to greet the new arrivals.

The Dwarf remained on the ship, his feeling of unease having returned as he noticed several Elves eye him with cold regard. Nothing was said, but there were a few murmurs and gasps of surprise when Galadriel offered her hand to help him disembark and he dared to kiss it lightly. Her musical laughter eased his fears and he spoke his greeting.

“Welcome to your new home, Gimli son of Glóin. Come, we have much to talk about, and I think it only fitting to leave Legolas and Elisiel to their privacy. There will be plenty of time for you to make the acquaintance of Legolas’s Naneth at the feast of welcome tonight,” she explained when Gimli seemed undecided.

“As you wish,” replied the Dwarf as he saw that Legolas and his mother had moved away from the wharf and were now seated on the white sand, thoroughly absorbed in their conversation.

Before he and Galadriel had taken more than a few steps, their progress was halted by Tathar, who at first bowed politely to the Lady and then knelt down to hug the Dwarf soundly.

“It is good to see you again, friend Gimli. I trust you enjoyed the journey, despite the company you were forced to keep?” he asked with a wicked grin and soft laughter. His light-hearted banter eased Gimli’s apprehension and he answered in kind.

“I did not! The sea conspired with that crazy princeling to make the trip as unbearable as possible,” he declared, the glimmer of amusement in his eyes confirming his pretence of affronted feelings.

“Then I am pleased to learn that my friends has not changed since last we met,” Tathar replied.

“Nay, he is still as annoying as ever, but happier and more content than I have ever seen him,” declared Gimli with deep affection. Tathar nodded his understanding, and was silently relieved that all was now well with Legolas.

A gentle tug on his hand caused him to belatedly remember his manners. “I am sorry, my love. Gimli, I would like you to meet Mirieth, my sweet wife,” he said, moving aside so that the two could exchange greetings.

“I am honoured to meet you, my Lady. I have heard much of your beauty from both Tathar and Legolas, but neither described it adequately,” said the Dwarf as he kissed Mirieth’s hand.

“And you, Master Gimli, are far more charming than I have been lead to believe,” she replied, causing Gimli to redden slightly at the compliment.

“Come, Gimli. I have a pavilion set up in the glade where tonight’s feast will be held where you can take your rest,” said Galadriel. “Perhaps your friends would care to accompany us?” she suggested.

“Thank you, my Lady,” Tathar said, accepting the invitation, knowing that Gimli still felt a little uncomfortable. The pavilion was but a short distance inland from the shore, set amongst a grove of trees that formed the border of a large, gaily decorated clearing. A large fire had been set in the centre and already musicians were filling the air with sweet melodies. Well accustomed to participating in elvish merrymaking in Ithilien, Gimli was looking forward to a pleasant evening with his feet firmly planted on immovable soil and stone.

Galadriel also sensed Gimli’s initial discomfort with his new surroundings and sought to calm his inner turmoil with words of reassurance spoken in casual conversation as she selected a peach from the platter of fresh fruit that was part of the light repast that had been prepared for the Dwarf.

“Never doubt that you are more than welcome in Valinor, dear Gimli, both as one of the honoured Nine Walkers, and as elf friend,” she assured her companion with the smile that had captured his heart so long ago in Lothlórien.

“I thank you for your kind welcome, and your comforting words my Lady,” said Gimli feeling a little more settled as he took another swig of the finest Dwarvish ale that he had ever tasted. He knew Elves disliked the strong, bitter brew and he briefly wondered how such a fine drop came to be in Valinor.

“I believe Olórin, who you know as Gandalf, had a hand in procuring the ale, but from whence I do not know. Perhaps you should ask him when he arrives,” suggested Galadriel, answering the unspoken question. “Now is there anything more you require, Gimli?”

“Nay, my Lady, all I need after such a refreshing meal is a quiet spot beneath one of the trees where I can smoke my pipe, enjoy this fine ale and perhaps take a brief nap,” he replied as he refilled his now empty tankard.

“As you wish. It is still a few hours until Eärendil begins his journey across the sky and it is his appearance that will mark the official start of the festivities,” she told the Dwarf with an amused smile as she heard him mumble, “How very Elvish!”

“Then I will certainly have sufficient time to rest,” said Gimli with a slight bow as he took his leave and made for the inviting shade of a rather large oak tree. It took him but a few moments of well practised skill to fill his pipe, and as he did so he wondered how Legolas was faring now that he was reunited with his mother again after all this time. Knowing the Elf, the tears of joy still flowed freely, for he was really a very sensitive soul, particularly when it came to his parents. The deep and everlasting love that defined the bond between parent and child was the same no matter the race, Gimli decided upon reflection. As far as he was concerned his love for his long departed mother and father was no different to that which Legolas felt for his parents, but it was not the way of the Dwarves to be as openly affectionate and demonstrative. Sorrow and grief filled his heart at the memory of their loss for even though he was long into adulthood, Gimli missed Glóin very much and envied Legolas the warmth and affection of his mother’s arms.

The first spiral of smoke had barely left his pipe when the lone Dwarf was joined by several of the Elves he had been acquainted with in Ithilien as well as a number of curious onlookers from both Lothlórien and Eryn Lasgalen. Those he knew well greeted him warmly and asked to hear news of Middle-earth, of Ithilien and their beloved King who had not yet indicated if he would take ship one day.

Ever willing to tell a tale or two, not to mention relishing being the centre of friendly attention, the once Lord of Aglarond settled comfortably against the trunk of the oak tree and spent a pleasant few hours answering questions with his usual humour and outspokenness. He was also immensely enjoying the willingness of the various members of his audience to refill his ale tankard whenever his voice grew hoarse from too much talking.

When it came to discussing Aglarond and the Dwarves who remained there, his well known tendency for slight exaggeration was tolerated in its usual fashion, with amused smiles and indulgent glances among his listeners. There was much laughter and friendly banter that served only to make the Dwarf feel more at ease and banished all his thoughts of being out of place amongst so many Elves. Clearly he had plenty of friends who were glad to see him, and he decided that his decision to accompany Legolas had not been in vain.

“You would forgo the comfortable bed in the guest pavilion in favour of sitting beneath the trees?” asked Tathar as his eyebrows rose in mock disbelief and his lips curled in a wicked grin. He and Mirieth had also joined the merry group and he could not resist the friendly barb. “I can not wait to see Legolas’s face when I tell him of this.” The other Elves laughed merrily at the gentle teasing that they had not heard for so long, but that had become commonplace in Ithilien.

“Who do you think constantly expressed his dislike of smoking and insisted I develop this habit?’ asked Gimli. “I have come to believe that it is his form of revenge for all those nights whilst we journeyed on the Quest that Legolas, and his aversion to the aroma and the smoke produced by the Shire’s finest pipeweed, was forced to seek fresh air away from the campfire, usually at some height above the ground in the branches of a tree. However, as I have told him every time he asks, I have no intention of climbing anything It is only to keep him from annoying me that I have now become accustomed to seeking some distance from those around me who do not smoke when I wish to indulge in my pipe. Sitting beneath the trees is as close as I come to behaving like an Elf, and at least the trees do not complain,” explained Gimli in his usual free spoken manner, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had just spoken rather unflattering words about their leader and his present company.

“Not that you would even know if they did, of course, since Dwarf ears can not hear the soft sounds of nature,” Legolas pointed out, in an equally derogatory tone that was nonetheless laced with a hint of amusement. A small burst of laughter followed his words, and all eyes turned to face the new arrival who was walking arm in arm with Elisiel. He ignored the Dwarf’s snort of contempt, and smiled greetings to the many welcomes voiced by his friends and acquaintances as he moved towards his lifelong friend and his wife.

“It is good to see you again, mellon nin,” said Tathar as Elisiel stepped aside to allow her son to be engulfed in his friend’s brotherly embrace.

“As am I pleased to see you,” replied Legolas as he returned the hug in kind. “You have been looking after him well, Mirieth,” he said as he released Tathar and took his friend’s wife into his arms and kissed her lightly on the lips in the usual manner of their greeting. The two had been friends long before she and Tathar had wed.

“I have missed you, dear Legolas, welcome home,” she said warmly. Gimli smirked as he watched the way Legolas behaved with Mirieth and decided a little teasing was in order.

“I suggest you keep a firm hold on your lady’s heart, Tathar lest you lose her to the charms of our friend here,” he said with a wink to indicate his words were spoken in jest.

“We are nothing more than friends, as you well know, Gimli,” declared Legolas, in defence of his and Mirieth’s honour.

“Then perhaps instead of shamelessly flirting with your friend’s wife you should consider seeking one of your own,” retorted the Dwarf, grinning as he took delight in some small measure of revenge for the Elf’s deliberately misleading comments on the ship. There were several nods of amused agreement from the others, Tathar included and Legolas groaned inwardly. He had expected Elisiel, and likely Mirieth, to indulge in well intentioned matchmaking, but not the Dwarf.

“I see we have much in common already, Master Dwarf,” said Elisiel, stepping forward with a mischievous smile that reminded him very much of Legolas’s. Gimli chuckled softly as he wondered how Thranduil had coped with these two, for he realised that his friend had inherited his ‘playful’ streak from his Naneth.

“Since *some* people seem to have forgotten their manners, let me introduce myself, I am Elisiel, Legolas’s mother.” Gimli scowled at his friend, but then smiled charmingly and inclined his head to Elisiel.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady Elisiel. You are even more beautiful than your son described,” he said as he gallantly kissed her offered hand, for in his eyes she was almost as lovely as Galadriel.

“And you are as charming as Galadriel described,” Elisiel replied with a soft laugh at the blush her compliment caused to colour the Dwarf’s cheeks.

“Please just call me Elisiel,” she said then turned to speak with her son. “Legolas, I am reminded that you have yet to pay your respects to Galadriel. I think you should do so now. I will wait here and speak a while with Gimli, we have much to discuss.” Legolas looked warily from one to the other, hoping that his lack of a life partner was not to be the main topic of conversation.

“Ai, Nana,” he replied, smiling with relief as he realised his fears were unfounded when he heard Elisiel ask Gimli to tell her a little about himself, a question the Dwarf could easily take days to answer if given the opportunity and the company of a good listener.

Legolas kissed Elisiel on the cheek then took his leave and made his way to the pavilion where Galadriel was to be found.

“Welcome, Legolas,” Galadriel said as she rose from her chair to greet the younger Elf. Before he could utter a word, she gently tilted his chin and gazed into the brilliance of his eyes as she probed the inner recesses of his heart and soul. When she looked away, Legolas released the breath he was unaware that he had been holding. Galadriel remained silent for a few moments before turning her saddened gaze back to Legolas.

“Your grief at Aragorn’s passing runs deep, as does your desire to see Thranduil sail to Valinor, and is nothing less than I expected to find, but when you think of Arwen … your heart is filled with guilt. Tell me why?”

“When I learned she was suffering such grief at Aragorn’s passing that she no longer even wished to remain with the children born of that love, I should have insisted she sail with Gimli and me rather than being left to wander alone amongst the mellryn, until she faded as they have,” he replied.

“There was no ship that Arwen could take that would bring her here. It was her choice to remain at his side, even unto death and you did all that you could. I saw in your mind that although she refused your company on her final journey, you nonetheless ensured that the Rangers, although unseen by Arwen, guarded her steps. They watched over her in secret until she finally disappeared from Middle-earth. You did all that you could, and for that I am as grateful as I am certain Elrond and my daughter will be,” said Galadriel, as she reached out to gently wipe away the single tear that traced a path down Legolas’s cheek.

“Ai, I saw to her protection even though she denied it was needed because she was not thinking clearly when we parted, or so it seemed to me. My Lady, I do not know how to tell Lord Elrond this sad news, for surely he will ask me to speak of her fate,” admitted Legolas his eyes pleading for advice.

“Do not let sorrow and grief mar your reunion with your naneth and your friends. You have suffered much and the time for unhappiness is past. Go to your loved ones, child. I will speak with Elrond and Celebrían in your stead,” said Galadriel.

“Thank you,” replied a very relieved Legolas as he bowed slightly and turned to leave. Galadriel’s soft voice called after him, causing him to turn back around.

“Have no fear, Legolas. I know Celeborn will eventually be ready to leave Middle-earth and at that time, Thranduil will need no convincing to sail with him,” she stated with certainty.

“How can you be so sure?” Legolas asked, all too willing to believe her words.

“The two beings Celeborn loves above all other await his return, and he promised me that he would not forsake the bonds of husband and Adar, and neither will Thranduil. As Elisiel and I have already discussed many times, this is where their hearts truly lie, it is just that neither of them realise it yet.” Galadriel was pleased to see the radiant smile that shone from the young Elf’s heart added a further brilliance to his handsome face.

Whilst Legolas had been speaking with Galadriel, Elisiel and Gimli were doing likewise; only their conversation was far more light-hearted in nature. Elisiel listened with fascination as the Dwarf employed his considerable story telling talent to describing his life amongst his kin at Erebor. Tathar had quietly suggested the two new acquaintances be allowed some time alone together, but Elisiel realised that the other Elves in their presence were also curious to hear more of the one who had become one of their prince’s dearest friends and had permitted them to stay a while longer.

“That sweet old Hobbit, Bilbo told me much of the Battle of the Five Armies, but I only now realise that most of you fought alongside Thranduil,” she said as she looked around and saw many pairs of eyes dim slightly as the memories of the battle and the lost loves were recalled. Several of the Elves told of the part Thranduil’s army had played in the battle and Elisiel beamed with love and pride for her warrior king.

“Glóin, I believe his name was?” she asked, Gimli nodded. “Legolas mentioned that you and his Adar are not exactly the best of friends. I suspect that memories of the incident in the dungeons did little to enhance your friendship, did it?” Elisiel sensed that Gimli was rather reluctant to speak about such a sensitive subject in the presence of so many Elves, so without uttering a word, she requested to be left to continue the conversation in private. In the blink of an eye the Dwarf found he was alone with the lovely Woodland Queen.

“Nay, it did not. Thranduil is not fond of Dwarves, as you are surely well aware, and he found the notion of his son befriending the son of one of his least favoured beings rather difficult to accept,” explained Gimli.

“But neither are you overly fond of my husband,” she stated, her calm demeanour giving no clue as to her own feelings. “Thranduil has his reasons for his attitude towards your kin, and whilst they may not necessarily reflect my own, I still respect his opinion and will hear no disrespect spoken of him,” she warned Gimli who had seen the same fierce protectiveness of his friends and loved ones in Legolas on many occasions and realised that, like Galadriel, Elisiel was very beautiful but also very formidable if she needed to be.

“I mean no offence but I make no claim to friendship with the King, yet our love and affection for Legolas urges us to tolerate each other,” he admitted, suddenly feeling guilty that was so, for he felt nothing but admiration and fondness for his friend’s mother, regardless of the fact that they had only just met.

“To be able to teach Thranduil tolerance where he would not normally display it, is a feat very few have achieved and that you would attempt to do so tells me you are truly worthy of my son’s affection and friendship. Please know that you will ever have mine as well, friend Gimli,” Elisiel said as she bent down to kiss the Dwarf’s cheek. She quickly drew back in astonishment and Gimli wondered what he had done to cause alarm.

“Did I do something wrong, Elisiel?” asked a rather confused Gimli. Perhaps the deep red colour of pleased embarrassment that now graced his face and neck had startled Elisiel? He had been too stunned to even move when the feather light lips brushed his cheek, but one never knew what would upset an Elf.

“Nay, it is just that I have never before felt the strange sensation of facial hair tickling my cheek. I am certain I will become accustomed to the feeling in time,” she said pleasantly, indicating that she was likely to offer a friendly kiss as the occasion demanded. Gimli decided that he liked the thought of being subject to further displays of almost motherly affection, and was still blushing furiously when Legolas returned from his meeting with Galadriel.

Legolas’s brief conversation with the Lady had lifted a weight from his heart, and his high spirits were enhanced further by the heart warming display of affection he had witnessed between Elisiel and Gimli. He chuckled at the thought that a simple kiss could cause his friend to blush so, for the normally gruff and very worldly Dwarf, judging by the bawdy songs he had heard Gimli sing on the rare occasions he had accompanied his friend to the taverns of Minas Tirith, rarely displayed his more sensitive side even to his dearest friend, let alone a perfect stranger. Legolas was undecided as to whether he should join them or allow the two more time to become acquainted but in the end the decision was taken out of his hands.

Although the distance between Galadriel’s pavilion and the tree beneath which his friend and his nana were seated measured no more than perhaps thirty paces, twilight was fast approaching before Legolas managed to walk it as his progress was frequently halted by those wishing to personally welcome him home. Many of those who approached him were friends from Eryn Lasgalen that he had not seen for centuries and he eagerly accepted an invitation to sit with each small group and exchange news. Occasionally he glanced across the clearing and was pleased to see that Gimli and Elisiel were talking and laughing together as if they had known each other for years. “I wonder if Adar would be angered by Nana’s obvious approval of one of whom he does not,” mused Legolas soberly, the brightness in his eyes dimming slightly as he thought of Thranduil, so very far away. His sadness turned to an inward smile as he reminded himself that Elisiel was the only Elf either here or in Arda whose displeasure the formidable King would not willingly court. Legolas had rarely heard his parents disagree, and even when they had done so, Thranduil never raised his voice in anger to his wife as he did with everyone else, his son included.

Finally Legolas excused himself from the merry company with promises to accept dinner invitations and the like, and made his way back to the two new friends beneath the tree. He sat cross legged on the grass beside Elisiel and had barely made himself comfortable when the sound of sweet elvish voices filled the air with a song of welcome for Eärendil. As the mariner began his journey across the evening sky the bonfire in the centre of the clearing burst into flame, signalling the start of the festivities. When the singing ended, partners were eagerly sought as the musicians turned their talents to playing lively dance tunes.

“Ah, Legolas beware, the dancing has already begun,” teased Gimli with a smirk that did not escape Elisiel’s notice, nor did her son’s groan of dismay.

“Surely as you have grown older you have overcome your aversion to the multitude of elf maidens seeking you as their partner?” Elisiel asked surprised by her son’s response.

“I have not had to deal with that situation for many years, ever since I moved to Ithilien as it happens. Most of the females who moved there were already wed or betrothed,” replied Legolas with a shrug.

“Although his ‘aversion’ as you call it, Elisiel, did prevent him from attending many of the balls in Minas Tirith and of those he did grace with his presence, Arwen had to practically force him onto the dance floor,” taunted Gimli, choosing to ignore the flash of anger in Legolas’s eyes.

“And I was so hoping to be the envy of all as I danced with the most handsome Elf in Valinor,” sighed Elisiel wistfully, playing along with the Dwarf whose sense of humour was much like her own.

“I can refuse you nothing, Nana, as well you know,” Legolas said, smiling affectionately at the rather obvious hint. Taking her hand, he lifted it up to his lips and kissed the delicate fingers tenderly. “Will you dance with me, my lady?” he asked in his most formal manner.

“Ai, it would please me greatly to accept, kind sir,” replied Elisiel in the same manner. “Please excuse us, Gimli,” she said as she eagerly allowed her son to lead her into the midst of the merrymakers.

The Dwarf was content to sit and watch the elegant and graceful moves of the Elves as they danced, and he had to admit that although there was an abundance of comely faces amongst the male Elves, Legolas’s was indeed more so than most.

His musings were cast aside when the aroma of freshly baked bread tickled his nose and caused his stomach to remind him it was time to seek sustenance. He walked about the clearing and quickly found the tables that were now laden with the many and varied dishes prepared for the feast. Filling his plate and his tankard, and he wisely decided that a solid surface beneath his platter was preferable to trying to balance it on his knees while eating as would be the case if he remained sitting on the grass. Gimli was considering which table was closest to the barrel of ale, and was about to take a vacant place at the one he deemed most suitable, when merry voice spoke into his ear.

“Friend Gimli, it is good to see you again.” As the slightly startled Dwarf turned, his scowl turned to a huge grin as a familiar face smiled down at him, and a friendly had clasped his shoulder.

“It seems I have found you just in time. I see you are about to enjoy this fine feast, but Galadriel has sent me to ask that you join her and some of her other guests instead. Legolas and his mother are among them,” he added with a wink. Gimli did not really fancy dinning alone, and he was all too willing to grant any request Galadriel made of him.

“It would be my pleasure,” said the Dwarf, still carrying his repast as he followed Gandalf back to the pavilion. To his surprise there was no one else at the table as yet. “I see that Legolas is still dancing with Elisiel, but where are the others?” asked Gimli as he watched his friend help himself to small helpings of several of the dishes set out before them.

“As soon as Elrond and Celebrían have finished speaking with Galadriel they will join us,” he replied.

“This certainly makes a welcome change from lembas, and the steady ground beneath my feet makes eating even more enjoyable,” commented the Dwarf. Gandalf raised an eyebrow.

“Am I to understand your voyage was less than pleasant? Galadriel says Legolas told her that you were ill for most of the journey.” To Gimli’s ears, Gandalf sounded as if he already knew the answer and merely sought to make conversation.

“Let us just say that I will readily admit that sea faring is best left to Elves and Men. The only affliction Legolas suffered was to become drunk with delight,” grumbled the Dwarf.

“I expect you were reacting to your apprehension about accompanying your friend to Valinor and the reception that awaited you? Am I right?” Gimli nodded, unable to reply for his mouth was filled with food. “Bilbo and Frodo felt likewise, even though they were accustomed to the Elves in Rivendell.”

“Dear Samwise was thrilled to see Frodo again and nothing but fascinated by everything. He really enjoyed his time here, he even built himself a small talan, much to Frodo’s amusement,” said Gandalf with a sad smile as he fondly recalled the Hobbits.

“Did he indeed! Well, I hope Legolas does not hear of it, he already has some fool notion that I am willing to learn to climb trees and I am sure he will challenge me to do as Samwise did,” declared the Dwarf, his distaste at the thought apparent in his scowling face. Gandalf laughed heartily as he tried to conjure an image of the Dwarf living happily several feet from the ground. The silvery sound of Legolas’s merry laughter joined his, not because he could see what Olórin was thinking, which of course he could not, but because of the look on the Dwarf’s face. The Elf had overheard Gimli’s comment as he and Elisiel, approached, temporarily deserting the dance in favour of accepting Galadriel’s invitation to dine.

“Nay, after seeing how your are affected by the rolling of the waves, I do not think you are suited to live in a talan that sometimes moves with the sway of the trees or the strong breath of the wind,” Legolas assured him in his best long suffering manner before turning his attention to the Istar. “Greetings, Olórin, I am pleased to see you again,” he said with a respectful bow.

“Welcome home my young friend, I am pleased to see your spirit shines brightly with happiness once more,” replied Olórin. “You also are more radiant now that you have your son by your side my Lady,” he added as he gallantly drew back a chair and offered the seat to Elisiel.

“And you are as charming as ever,” she replied, accepting with a warm smile.

“Do your charms extend to us, my dear Olórin?” asked Galadriel as she moved to take a seat, followed by Elrond and Celebrían.

“Of course, Glorfindel is not the only one who enjoys being surrounded by lovely ladies,” he replied facetiously, ignoring the smirk on Elrond’s face. Gimli and Celebrían were introduced, Legolas then exchanged greetings with the two Elves from Imladris, and after initial enquiries as to their trip, and it came as no surprise that the conversation turned to the happenings in Middle-earth. In response to a question from Olórin, Legolas and Gimli, in their usual bantering style, told of their travels together after the War, and there was much laughter as each tried to recall some of the humorous misadventures as well. Olórin laughed uproariously when he heard that the Elves who returned to Ithilien with Legolas, and the Dwarves who had journeyed on to Aglarond had actually travelled south together, and he sorely regretted that he had not been there to witness such a momentous occasion. Or the look that must have been on Thranduil’s face. Elisiel was thinking along the same lines

“How did your Adar feel about it?” she asked, her eyes alight with mirth as she imagined her beloved husband’s likely unpleasant response.

“At first he tried to forbid it,” said Legolas with the slightest of shrugs.

“I did. I told him that as leader of the new colony, it was my decision to make, and that since Dwarves would always be welcome in my forest I saw no reason not to travel together. Adar accepted my argument, and told me he was proud of the Elf I had become,” he stated simply.

“As am I,” said Elisiel as she placed her hand over his where it rested on the table.

“Will you tell us of the Fourth Age?” asked Elrond, ever the interested historian.

Legolas briefly outlined the highlights of Elessar’s reign and the restoration of both Ithilien and Eryn Lasgalen, and Gimli spoke in great detail about Aglarond. He told of the many early battles to establish borders with those countries not inclined to accept the new King, and of the many skirmishes with the remnants of Sauron’s army. The brevity of his description was sufficient for all but the Lore Master, but when he began to ask more intricate questions, Galadriel suggested that perhaps he and Legolas could take the time you record the historical events in detail later.

“Will you tell me of my grandson, and his sisters,” whispered Celebrían, her eyes bright with unshed tears for the kin she would never know. Knowing how near to the surface her son’s grief at the loss of Aragorn and Arwen still lingered, Elisiel tightened her grip on Legolas’s hand silently telling him to draw on her strength to tell what he could of his dear friends’ happiness and the children born of their love. He and Gimli shared their impressions of the happy childhood the prince and princesses shared, and how they had all grown into fine young adults.

“Eldarion has inherited a rule that was finally at peace and prospering. I believe he and his wife were expecting their first child to be born not long after Gimli and I sailed,” he said finally, wishing he could take back his last words as Elrond’s face became a mask of sorrow and Celebrían gasped as if in pain.

“And what of my sons,” she asked. “Have you seen much of them over the years?”

“Ai, we last spoke when they visited my village after Aragorn’s funeral. I told them of my plans and they mentioned that they were likely to follow shortly after I left. They were unwilling to leave until their sister no longer walked in Arda, but they did give me a message for you, my lady,” he told Celebrían.

“What message?” she asked her eyes aglow with excitement at the mere mention of her beloved twins. Legolas glanced at Olórin, who nodded silent acknowledgement to some secret, unspoken question from the young Elf. Legolas rose from the table and moved to stand before Celebrían. He took her hands and as he did so, the air seemed to crackle in a fashion not unlike when lightning was about to strike. Celebrían felt a tingle in her fingers where they touched Legolas and his warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly into it.

“Close your eyes and imagine it is not I, but your sons who are by tour side.” When she did as he asked, Legolas gently kissed first her right cheek. “Elladan sends his love,” he said tenderly then just as gently he kissed her left cheek. “Elrohir does also.” Legolas looked somewhat drained but Celebrían was positively radiant.

“When Legolas kissed my cheeks, it was as if my sons were really here. His lips felt not like his, but like theirs, different from each other, yet the same. I felt as if I was holding their hands and could sense their hearts; Elladan’s with his inner strength, and Elrohir with his gentleness. Thank you, Legolas, that was a lovely image,” she said as tears of joy traced a path across cheeks that still tingled where they had been kissed.

“You are more than welcome. I merely carried the memory locked away in my mind, ‘twas Olórin who had the key to unlock it,” he explained.

“I suppose you still have some powers as you had Arda, eh Gandalf?” asked Gimli who always expected some kind of ‘magic’ from the old wizard.

“More than you would believe even if I told you,” replied the Istar in his usual unenlightening fashion. Gimli grunted with exasperation, experienced enough with the Istar’s skill at avoidance to know no further information would be forthcoming and so he wisely allowed his curiosity to fade, at least for the moment.

The issue of Gandalf and his wizardry was raised again much later that night after Legolas and his Nana had had their fill of dancing and merrymaking and he and Gimli were escorting Elisiel back to her home where they would naturally stay until they decided otherwise. The Dwarf decided to ask exactly how much Elvish power the old man possessed and Legolas and Elisiel who were walking arm in arm a short distance in front of Gimli exchanged a knowing smile and stopped to answer the question.

“He may outwardly appear to be an Elf. He has an ethereal glow about him and eyes made of starlight, but he is in fact, a Maiar and so has powers none of us fully understand,” explained Legolas.

“Have you had too much wine, Legolas? Gandalf does not in the least look like an Elf; he is still the same white haired old man who was part of the Fellowship.”

“It is Olórin who permits us to see him as he wishes, dear Gimli, not the wine. He is not really a living person, but a spirit belonging to the Valar. To Elvish eyes he looks like an elf with a stunning inner glow, and his that glitter with merriment. To you he is apparently still Gandalf.”

“Gandalf, Mithrandir, Olórin… he has almost as many names as Aragorn had!” declared Gimli. Legolas could not help but smile at the comparison. “And all this talk of spirits and mystical powers seems like nonsense to me, so he will remain plain old Gandalf as far as I am concerned,” declared Gimli stubbornly.

Gimli prided himself on the fact that over the years his visits to Ithilien had given him a keen eye for spotting the almost invisible telain that were homes to Legolas and his friends, thus he knew that they had already passed many on their way to Elisiel’s dwelling place. Whilst there was no question that he would be staying with Legolas and his mother as a welcome guest and friend, the thought of sleeping so far above ground made Gimli nervous and he briefly considered asking Legolas to help him build a small shelter beneath the trees, much like the one that the Elf had provided him with for his stays in Ithilien. However, for tonight there was no way of avoiding Elisiel’s hospitality and just as Gimli had resigned himself to accepting the inevitable, he found that they had arrived at their destination. The Dwarf breathed such loud sigh of relief when he saw Elisiel’s home was not a talan but a single story dwelling deep within a grove of trees, that he caused Legolas to laugh and Elisiel to raise her eyebrow in query.

“Gimli has never become accustomed to telain,” explained Legolas as they entered the house. His words may have been diplomatic but the smirk on his face as he delivered them spoke eloquently of his intent to tease the Dwarf.

“Despite your best efforts to convince him otherwise, if I am not mistaken,” she replied with amusement, well able to imagine what must have transpired between the stubborn son she knew so well, and his no doubt equally stubborn friend. Legolas nodded and placed his arm around his Nana’s shoulders, drawing her close for a moment of shared affection.

“Forgive my boldness, Elisiel but I am surprised you live on the ground,” he said unable to hide his delight from his voice. “I was given to believe, by my most trustworthy companion here, that all Wood elves preferred the lofty heights,” he added with just a hint of friendly sarcasm.

“Many, but not all as you can plainly see. I love the trees, but have a fondness for the plants and flowers that carpet the forest floor, and I enjoy being able to wandering among them whenever the mood takes me,” she explained.

Gimli understood more clearly when, after a short tour of the house, he realised that rather than windows, every room, including the one that was to be his, had archways that lead into the forest. He took advantage of that fact when, after an hour or so of restless tossing and turning and finding sleep eluded him, he stepped outside into the stillness of the night. There was a small stone bench near the archway that looked like an inviting place to sit while he smoked his pipe and tried to relax. Apparently he was not the only restless soul this night, for his thoughts were disturbed by a slightly exaggerated coughing as Legolas joined his friend, sitting beneath a tree that was a ‘safe’ distance from the objectionable smoke.

“I never will understand why you prefer that acrid smoke to the pleasant aroma of the forest,” said Legolas as he inhaled deeply of the sweetly scented air that was more potent than that of the forests of Middle-earth. Valinor was even more wondrous than he had imagined, and his senses were so heightened that he did not wish to sleep lest he miss enjoying even a single moment in his new home.

“So tell me, Legolas, is Valinor as you expected it to be?” Asked Gimli as he continued to puff on his pipe. Even had he not been able to see the flush of excitement on his friend’s face, he would have still easily discerned his friend’s joy was the cause for his wakefulness.

“It is even more lovely and wondrous than I ever imagined. It is as if I have found the place where my heart and soul truly will be at peace,” the Elf sighed with contentment.

“I am glad for you, my friend, but perhaps some of the pleasure comes from being reunited with your lovely mother,” suggested Gimli. The strong bond between Thranduil and his son was obvious even to the Dwarf, but even more special to his eyes was that between mother and son. Legolas’s face lit with a brilliant smile.

“I am so glad you and Nana have taken a liking to each other,” he told his friend, his face radiant with love as he thought of Elisiel. “But what of you, Gimli? Do you regret leaving Aglarond to come here with me? Coming alone to a land of the Elves?” he asked, voicing the unspoken concerns he was sure his friend must have felt.

“I would have been alone had I stayed behind,” replied Gimli softly in a heartfelt expression of his love and affection for his dearest friend that surprised Legolas. The friendship between the two had grown stronger and deeper over the years, and both were aware of how the other felt, but this was the first time the Dwarf had spoken in such a manner.

“And I would have missed your company more than I can say,” replied Legolas as he moved to sit beside his friend and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. Gimli accepted the gesture, then, feeling a little self conscious, he laughed and patted Legolas’s knee.

“Besides laddie, it is not such a bad place, and I have been treated well, and of course someone has to keep you from disturbing the Valar when you decide to go exploring,” he said, reverting back to his usual teasing banter. Wrapped in a blanket of comradeship, they sat together for a while in companionable silence until Gimli yawned loudly and they bid each other good night.

Anor had long since chased Ithil from the sky before Gimli and Legolas joined Elisiel for a late morning meal in her private garden. All three were in a leisurely mood and spent the morning in relaxed conversation that was made even more enjoyable by the playful banter between the younger Elf and the Dwarf. Although they discussed the many ways in which they might spend their time, at the moment, nothing seemed more appealing than simply sitting in the garden enjoying each other’s company. The unexpected arrival of Olórin added even more to their pleasure, and after the merriment due to several more tall tales being told finally faded into relaxed silence, he offered the reason for his visit.

“I do not wish to cause either of you pain,” he said to Legolas and Gimli, “but should you wish to pay your respects to the Ring bearers who are no more, I will show you to their resting place.”

“Ai, it is fitting that we do so,” agreed Legolas, his heart suddenly filled with sadness, he had been very fond of the carefree Shire folk, and as proud of their valour as Aragorn had been.

Legolas and Gimli exchanged a sad smile when they reached the memorials to the Hobbits that were to be found beneath the talan that Sam had finally built. There was nothing too elaborate about the three simple headstones, other than an amazingly accurate portrait of each of the Hobbits carved beneath names that were written in elvish runes. Legolas bowed his head and placed his hand over his heart as he whispered the words of farewell while Gimli stood solid as stone and silently said a final goodbye to his friends.

“Frodo chose the style of dear old Bilbo’s headstone,” said Olórin softly.

“And ‘tis fine work the stone carver has wrought, much better than I would have expected from an Elf,” said Gimli, in an attempt to jest despite that fact that his gruff voice was filled with sorrow. Olórin smiled, but Legolas made no response and when they looked at the Elf, they saw his tears were falling freely. In a totally unexpected reaction, he knelt and held Gimli close as if he suddenly just realised his friend was mortal.

“Every one has gone, dear Gimli,” he whispered through his tears. “The Hobbits, Boromir, and Aragorn… there is only you and I left… and one day… you will… I will be alone. Even here in Valinor I can not escape my grief.” The Dwarf was uncertain how to respond, but despite his uneasiness at having the Elf sobbing on his shoulder, he did not release him. Olórin placed a comforting hand on Legolas’s shoulder and spoke softly to him.

“The melodies in Ilúvatar’s song are not all joyful, but you should be glad that you have heard them. Grieve for them as I know you must, but do not tarnish your memories of your mortal friends with sorrow,” he advised.

“I have not done with teasing you yet, Master Elf. Nor have I yet helped your mother find you a suitable wife. I am going nowhere until I have done so!” Gimli declared with such determination that Legolas could not help but attempt a smile.

“Then indeed you will be here a long time if that is your goal!” he stated indignantly, yet giving the Dwarf a final hug before releasing him. As they made their way back to the house, a thought suddenly occurred to Gimli.

“Ai and he brought a copy with him that now resides in Elrond’s library. I will take you to visit him tomorrow if you wish,” offered the Istar. “But for now, there is another legacy that Samwise left, that I wish to show you. It will certainly interest you, Gimli,” he added mysteriously. They walked a short distance further from the headstones and found themselves in a small clearing in the centre of which was a small garden plot. As they both recognised the plants that grew there, Gimli’s eyes grew wide with delight and Legolas groaned with dismay.

The following day Olórin escorted the two friends to Elrond’s home and then left them seated in the library, listening as the Lore Master reaffirmed that he greatly desired to record a detailed history of the aftermath of the Ring War, and to do that he would need Legolas’s assistance, which the Elf was more than willing to provide.

“I must warn you Legolas, that writing such an account will be a long process, especially when the author was as attentive to detail as I am,” he said seriously. Legolas and Gimli exchanged an amused glance at the elder elf’s quite accurate, as far as they were concerned, perception of himself. “I expect at times it will be emotionally draining to be asked to recall memories of the deeds of so many of friends no longer living and I do not wish to cause you grief. If you find you can not continue at any point, I will not press you to do so,” he said to the younger Elf.

“I want to do this, painful though it may be but I thank you for your concern,” replied Legolas with a sad smile.

“Perhaps we should begin with the rebuilding of the White City,” suggested Elrond, choosing a topic that was not of such a personal nature.

“An excellent place to start,” agreed Gimli who was ever willing to speak of his kin’s achievements. “Those mithril gates were a masterpiece when finished but the work was made difficult by the destruction caused by the siege… ” he began, speaking more slowly as he realised Elrond was taking notes. Several hours and much detailed description later, Gimli’s account was complete and they joined Elrond and Celebrían for the evening meal before returning to Elisiel’s home.

Elrond and Legolas had decided to allow several days between their meetings so that the Lore Master could prepare a rough outline of their talks for the younger Elf to comment on when he returned. Legolas found he looked forward to his time with Elrond, not only because he was interested in what they were doing, but also because the once fearsome warrior occasionally told tales of his and Thranduil’s younger days.

However, whilst Gimli was content to satisfy Elrond’s curiosity about Aglarond and the rebuilding of Minas Tirith, he quickly lost interest when the conversation turned to the antics of young elvish warriors or the political aspects of the Fourth Age. So it was that the Elves had become accustomed to the Dwarf excusing himself almost on arrival, knowing that Gimli was pleased to simply wander out into the extensive gardens where there was many a quiet place to sit and enjoy his pipe.

On this particular day he chose a grassy area that formed the bank of a shallow stream that flowed through the trees near the edge of the gardens, and as he watched the clear water trickling over a small rocky ledge, his thoughts turned to how he was to spend his days. Gimli did not begrudge his friends their mutual interest and was the first to admit that he was not as scholarly or as interested in the written word as was Elrond. He preferred to preserve history carved in stone, yet he also needed something to do to pass the time. His face lit with a brilliant smile as the solution to his dilemma crossed his mind.

After examining his surroundings more closely, Gimli’s well trained eyes soon spotted a rock formation that met his requirements and he began making plans. Although the task would likely take many years to accomplish, the Dwarf was certain both Elrond and Celebrían would appreciate the gift. Pleased to have a sense of purpose, he returned to the library and made a few sketches of the miniature of Imladris he planned to carve into the rock.

“What a lovely idea, Gimli,” exclaimed Celebrían that night at the evening meal when he explained what he proposed to do.

“Of course you have permission to begin whenever you are ready,” added Elrond, equally pleased with the Dwarf’s plan.

“Gimli is not only an expert stone carver, but he is an artist as well,” commented Elrond the next time they met as he studied the drawing Gimli had done of the structure he planned to carve into the stone.

“Ai, the fountain he built for Arwen’s garden was admired by many as a masterpiece of sculpture,” said Legolas, ever willing to praise his dear friend’s skills.

“I think we should ask him if he would be wiling to provide some sketches for the book,” suggested Elrond as he and Legolas sat at the small table on the balcony outside the library, enjoying a goblet of wine and a break from their work. They had been discussing Aragorn’s final years as King, and both were feeling their grief.

“Did my sons attend the funeral?” asked Celebrían, who often sat and listened as Legolas answered Elrond’s endless questions in as much detail as he could.

“Nay. We said a private farewell a few days before,” he whispered as he bowed his head with renewed sorrow.

“How could you not…?” began Celebrían, stilling her voice as she saw Elrond shake his head.

“Enough questions, my love,” he said as he placed a comforting arm about the shoulders of the grief stricken young Elf.

The work on his gift was proceeding much too slowly for Gimli’s liking, since he only tended to it when he accompanied Legolas on his visits to Elrond. One day he inadvertently mentioned his frustration to Celebrían with whom he had developed unexpected friendship ever since she had begun bringing refreshments at mid day and then remaining to keep the Dwarf company as they shared the meal. Gimli found Celebrían to both charming and extremely helpful when it came to recalling some of the smaller details of her home and she often remained with him until Legolas was ready to leave.

“Then you might consider staying with us for a while, should you wish to spend more time on your carving,” suggested Celebrían. Gimli was taken aback by the offer and briefly considered it.

“It would be most convenient not to have to stop in the midst of a delicate task,” he said thoughtfully although he was reluctant to leave his family as he considered Legolas and his mother to be. “Perhaps I will stay a few days every now and then,” he replied finally deciding such an arrangement would be highly suitable. To his relief, both Legolas and Elisiel thought it a good idea also.

“Of course, I expect you to make me a similar gift when you are finished rebuilding Imladris,” teased Elisiel. “If I can not have Thranduil, I can at least have a replica of his palace.”

As the miniature Imladris began to take shape. Elrond’s wife was not the only Elf to take an interest in the Dwarf’s handiwork. Those who had taken to stonework as a craft came to watch Gimli work, and to learn the techniques that were legendary even among the Firstborn. Naturally Gimli was eager to show his talents and he soon found himself with several keen and talented students. To the astonishment of both Elf and Dwarf, the initial rivalry between their two races quickly vanished and neither saw each other as anything other than simply as beings with a common interest.

Such detail was carved into every part of the replica that well over a three years, no time at all for the Eves, but seemingly endless to Gimli, had passed before the work was completed. In gratitude for the gift, Elrond and Celebrían invited all the artisans and many of their friends to celebrate its unveiling. To the delight of all, Olórin made an appearance and added the final magical touch… the welcoming lights of the Last Homely House shone once more.

.“Thank you, Gimli, it is absolutely beautiful and the workmanship is perfect,” Celebrían said to the Dwarf, who blushed as she bent to kiss his cheek.

“Aye. I think Elisiel desires a carving of Thranduil’s Halls,” he said with an affectionate smile for another of the elvish ladies with whom he had become friends. “Please excuse me, I believe my students beckon for my attention,” said the Dwarf as he noticed one of his friends waving to him.

“It is just as I remember it,” Celebrían sighed as she rested her head on Elrond’s shoulder and gazed at her former home that held so many happy memories.

“Ai, and let us hope that the lights call our sons home to us as they always did,” he whispered as he turned a pleading gaze to where Eärendil watched from above. “Tell them we miss them, Adar.”

Upon hearing the excitement in Elisiel’s voice and feeling the gentle hand shaking his shoulder, Legolas slowly refocussed his eyes from his inner dreams and gazed questioningly at his Nana’s radiant face.

“What has happened?” he asked as he sat up slowly, grimacing slightly as he noticed that the pale light of dawn still lingered.

“There is a ship on the horizon!” Legolas awoke fully at the import of this news, for not since he and Gimli arrived had another sailed from Middle-earth.

“Adar is coming!” he declared happily as he searched his heart and found that the melody that was his bond with Thranduil was no longer merely a faint sweet sound in the background, but growing louder and stronger.

“Ai, Thranduil is coming home,” whispered Elisiel as she hugged Legolas close and mother and son shared their tears of joy.

“I must tell Gimli,” said Legolas as he threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. A sudden alarming thought crossed his mind. “I wonder what Adar will think of living under the same roof as a Dwarf?” he asked Elisiel who offered a reassuring smile as she made her way to the door to allow her son his privacy as he dressed..

“I am certain he will learn to accept dear Gimli in time, but I suspect your Adar’s thoughts will be elsewhere when he arrives,” she said with a gleam of desire in her eyes that caused Legolas to blush at the implication of her words.

“Ai, he will only have eyes for you, my sweet Nana,” he agreed with a smile as he kissed Elisiel’s cheek.

Gimli received the news with mixed feelings. He was happy that the day Elisiel had been waiting eagerly for had finally arrived, but he was filled with trepidation as to how he and Thranduil would greet each other. As far as the Dwarf was concerned, he was prepared to make every effort to befriend the elder Elf, if for no other reason than to please Legolas and Elisiel. He hoped the once King of Mirkwood would feel just as mellow.

The white sails of the ship could only be seen drawing ever closer as Legolas, Gimli and Elisiel made their way to the harbour. Not surprisingly, they were not the only ones awaiting the ship, for there were many curious onlookers as well. Among them, were Elrond and Celebrían who had also just arrived, both almost glowing with happiness and anticipation.

“It appears that Thranduil is not the only one expected this day,” said Elisiel as she rushed to greet her friends. The two women exchanged a friendly embrace and much laughter ensued as their merriment was fuelled by the prospect of being reunited with their loved ones.

“It seems we will also be graced with the company of Elladan and Elrohir, if the light in your eyes is any indication, my lady,” commented Legolas as he inclined his head slightly in greeting.

“Indeed, and not only are my sons coming home, but so too is Adar,” she exclaimed with delight. “Oh, Elrond what am I to do?” she asked, turning to her husband with a hint of dismay in her voice.

“Elladan.” Legolas answered for him and Elrond nodded his agreement. Celebrían’s departure had weighed heavily on the hearts of all who loved her, yet Elladan had tried to ignore his grief in a desire to be strong and offer comfort to his younger brother. Such an act of love was worthy of one in return.

“Decide on the way to the dock my friend,” suggested Elisiel. “Look! Galadriel is already there, and the ship has passed through the entrance, we should hurry!” As the group quickly moved off to be closer to where the ship would come to rest, Gimli caught Legolas’s attention with a quick tug on his sleeve.

“I think I will go to the clearing and ensure the preparations for the welcoming celebrations are in order,” he told his friend.

“As I have tried to tell you before, you have nothing to be concerned about Adar’s arrival. It does not mean you are no longer welcome in our home, but you will have to speak with him sooner or later” replied Legolas, easily discerning a reluctance to do so was the real motivation for his friend’s departure.

“Aye, and so I shall but it may be that our conversation would become a little heated and I do not wish to spoil your mother’s reunion with any words of ill feeling or anger between your father and me,” explained the Dwarf.

“You have such a compassionate heart and loving spirit, dear Gimli, ‘tis no wonder that you have become so well loved amongst my people, which is something totally unheard of for a Dwarf, especially since many of your stone carving friends are from Mirkwood,” said Legolas as he looked back to see the ship had finally come to rest and heads of gold, silver and black could be seen setting the gangplank in position.

“It would seem so, although I sometimes find myself wondering if some are not simply befriending me to try and win your favour and perhaps convince you to court one of their sisters,” teased Gimli with great affection.

“Not that you would even entertain such unlooked for solicitations on my behalf,” said Legolas, eyeing his friend warily.

“Of course not! So far I have refused them all!” Gimli snorted with exaggerated affront.

“Why have you never said anything to me about this before?” asked the Elf with a frown.

“As I tell the kin of your would be suitors, such is for your heart alone to decide. Were you interested in any of the maidens, you would have made your intentions known,” Gimli replied with a shrug. Legolas was not comfortable with the notion of his friend being used in such a manner and said so.

“I see no harm in seeking to find a match for a loved one, and I take no offence from those who do. Anyway, the arrival of Elrond’s sons, who we both know are as equally sought after as a certain Wood Elf, will undoubtedly take some of the unwanted attention away from both you and me,” chuckled the Dwarf.

“I believe it has already started,” said Gimli as he pointed to where Elladan and Elrohir were standing with their arms wrapped tightly around Celebrían. Several of the maidens nearby were openly gazing at the handsome sons of Elrond with more than a passing interest. Legolas smiled as he imagined his friend’s likely reactions to such attention, should Celebrían ever let them escape from her arms, and then turned to witness the sight he had waited so long to behold.

Thranduil all but ran down the gangplank and caught Elisiel in his arms, twirling her around before setting her on her feet and claiming her lips in a kiss so passionate that a few eyebrows were raised at their lack of propriety. Legolas sighed with contentment to see his parents together once more.

“Well, there is no mistaking how much the King of Mirkwood loves his Queen,” commented Gimli, obviously impressed by Thranduil’s ardour.

“The same can be said of the Lord of Lothlorien and his Lady,” said Legolas as Celeborn greeted Galadriel in much the same manner.

“Well what are you waiting for, laddie? Go and say hello to your father, I will speak to you later,” said Gimli as he gave Legolas a friendly shove in the back to head him towards the dock. The Dwarf watched the emotional reunion of the Elf and his parents, and then wandered slowly towards the clearing, suddenly feeling very much alone.

“Why so sad, Gimli?” asked Olórin who seemed to appear from out of nowhere startling the Dwarf.

“Gandalf! You have certainly not lost your skill at catching people unawares,” said Gimli with a smile to soften the gruffness in his voice. “What brings you here? Our paths have not crossed for years.”

“These feasts to welcome new arrivals are always most delightful, and I have a mind to sit and share some Longbottom Leaf with the only other being who appreciates it,” said the Istar with a wink.

“An excellent idea,” agreed the Dwarf as they chose to sit in a spot near the edge of the clearing where their smoking would not bother the sensitive noses of the Elves.

“Legolas looks happy,” commented Olórin as the Elf entered the clearing with his arms around each of the waists of his Nana and Adar.

“Aye, that he does, and little wonder. His family is together again,” replied the Dwarf.

“As I told Legolas, I do not wish to become involved in a confrontation that could darken Elisiel’s happy reunion,” Gimli explained.

“So you sit here alone feeling sorry for yourself. It may be that you would find a friendly greeting awaits you. It has been many years since the war, and the very fact that Thranduil is here means that he must have changed slightly since you last met.”

“Or Elladan and Elrohir simply threatened to give him a sleeping draught and put him on the ship if he did not sail,” suggested Gimli with a wicked gleam in his eye. Olórin laughed merrily and nodded knowingly.

“I believe they made that threat to Celeborn,” he said without explaining how he knew and Gimli did not ask. “Anyway, whatever the reason, he is here now and I think you might be pleasantly surprised at his response.”

“Very well, I will do as you suggest since it is unlikely you will give me any peace until I do,” grumbled Gimli. He put out his pipe, stood and straightened his tunic and walked confidently over to where Legolas and his parents were now seated. He cleared his throat noisily to attract their attention and was rewarded with encouraging and affectionate smiles from both Elisiel and Legolas.

“Welcome King Thranduil. I am pleased to see you safely arrived in Valinor. I trust your voyage was enjoyable,” he said with a respectful bow. The once Woodland King stood and returned the bow and then to the astonishment of all, favoured the Dwarf with a brilliant smile.

“Thank you for your words of welcome, Gimli son of Glóin, but you need not address me as King, for I no longer near that title. Please call me Thranduil,” he replied. “As for having an enjoyable voyage, it was not. My stomach protested to the movement of the sea in a most disagreeable manner,” Thranduil admitted.

“Gimli was sea sick, too Adar,” said Legolas with unseemly mirth at Thranduil’s and Gimli’s mutual plight.

“And I had to endure the presence of my annoyingly cheerful companion,” added Gimli. Thranduil actually laughed out loud at the friendly insult aimed at his son.

“You have my sympathy. Fortunately for my sanity, Celeborn kept his grandsons’ exuberance more or less under control.”

“If I may be so bold, your attitude towards me seems a little more friendly these days, and your mood quite jovial,” said Gimli who was feeling more confused as the light hearted conversation continued.

“There is little point in holding a grudge that belongs to the world we left behind, we are both here to start a new life. I can not help but respect you for the sacrifice you have made out of love and friendship for my son. To be willing to follow him over the sea to a land filled with less than friendly strangers speaks of your courage and the strength of your bond. You are most welcome to remain in my home, and hopefully we can also become friends.” Gimli was overwhelmed by Thranduil’s words, and even more so by the hand that grasped his in a warrior’s clasp.

“I thank you for your words and gratefully accept your offer of continued hospitality. I am also prepared to forget the animosity of the past,” said Gimli as he returned the grip in kind and winked Legolas whose eyes shone brilliantly with happiness now that his Adar and his dearest friend were at last on friendly terms.

“Excellent, and now if you will excuse me, I believe I hear dance music. Come, beloved shall we scandalise the Noldor with a display of Woodland affection on the dance floor?” he asked Elisiel in a seductive voice, causing her to blush prettily as she took her husband’s hand and lead him eagerly to join in the dance.

“Well that went better than expected, although I suppose the next time I see Gandalf he will be gloating insufferably,” said Gimli with a sigh of resignation as they watched Elisiel and Thranduil move as one in time to the unheard music of their hearts.

The peace and tranquillity of the Blessed Realm remained undisturbed for there were no foes to be fought or battles to be won, unless one happened to be a participant in the fierce rivalry induced by the occasional archery tournament. So it was that determined as he was to win again, as well as for the pleasure he derived from the sport, Legolas could often be found engaged in target practice. The large open grassland that the archer had chosen as a practice field was bordered on one side by a stream that collected into a pool shaded by the canopy of many ancient yet friendly trees, and was deep enough for bathing after several hours’ practice with the bow. It was beneath one of these trees that Gimli was sitting, with pipe in hand, his back resting against the rough bark as he watched the former warrior through half closed eyes.

“I hear Haldir is highly favoured to win the Midsummer tournament this year, perhaps I should wager against you this time,” commented Gimli with a wicked grin, knowing that the Elf would rise to the bait.

“If you are in a mood to lose, then please do so, but do not forget that I won by three clear shots last year. Haldir has lost his edge,” retorted Legolas without missing a target as he spoke. The archer had lost none of his skill even though it had been many decades since he last nocked an arrow in defence of his home or his kin.

“Perhaps he has for he has been occupied with other pursuits in recent times, but now that he has a lovely wife who will likely reward him in a most appropriate manner if he wins, I venture to suggest he will be trying so hard to impress her, as well as avenge his loss to you. It appears to me that the outcome is definitely swinging in his favour.”

Legolas glared at his friend then proved his prowess by shooting several arrows in rapid succession, each hitting the most distant target directly in the centre. Gimli offered a nonchalant shrug and appeared to be totally unimpressed by the display as he continued his teasing.

“Of course you could always even the odds by taking a wife of your own,” replied Gimli with a positively evil smirk as Legolas sighed wearily with frustration at the turn the conversation was taking and actually missed a shot.

“My dear Gimli, how could I possibly ask any fair maid for her hand when I know she will have to endure such impolite teasing from my closest friend?” the archer enquired with exasperation as he moved off to collect his arrows.

The early afternoon sun enfolded the Dwarf in a warm embrace, and as he had been inclined to do of late, he slowly drifted into a restful sleep. Legolas sat beside him examining his arrows trying to ignore the loud snores that indicted his friend was deep in slumber. Legolas was concerned that Gimli had become far less energetic over the last few years but until now his mind had refused to admit what his eyes could so plainly see as he studied the Dwarf’s aging features more closely for few moments.

When had his hair and beard turned so grey? And were those wrinkles around his eyes even deeper? Fingers of fear gripped Legolas’s heart as he recognised the sign of a mortal who was ageing. I will lose him to the Halls of Waiting soon, he thought sadly as a shadow fell across his inner light and memories of his final parting with Aragorn filled his eyes with tears of grief. Legolas remained sitting quietly by Gimli’s side, lost in his melancholy thoughts until his friend awoke.

“Have you finished your practice for the day?” asked the Dwarf as he looked around and faced the Elf sitting next to him. The still unshed tears made Legolas’s eyes shine more brightly than usual and his apparent sorrow caused Gimli to ask a different question. “Is there something amiss my friend?”

“Nay, I was just thinking about Aragorn,” replied the Elf with a sad smile as he spoke his friend’s name.

“And of how the passing of time is showing its mark on my face as it did on his?” enquired the Dwarf, understanding the words that remained unspoken. Legolas nodded.

“Humph, my hair may more closely resemble the colour of Gandalf’s, and I admit to requiring a little more rest, but I still have many good years left to me,” said Gimli reassuringly. Legolas’s raised eyebrows spoke eloquently of his scepticism but he kept his thoughts to himself as Gimli continued speaking. “As a matter of fact just this morning I was thinking that it was high time I did something energetic to overcome my recent lethargy. What say you? Shall we pack some lembas and water and explore Valinor together as we did Middle-earth so long ago?”

“I say that would be an excellent idea,” agreed Legolas who was more than willing to indulge his friend’s whim, for already the aging Dwarf suddenly looked so much younger at the prospect of another adventure. “Although, as I recall, you voiced a strong objection to the very idea on our journey here,” he teased.

“It was not the exploring I objected to, but the frequent stops you are certain to insist upon so that you can speak with the trees. You know I can not hear them, and one sided conversations are rarely interesting,” replied Gimli with a shrug.

“Ai, then this is a day for celebration, for at last friend Gimli has admitted that trees *can* speak!” Legolas declared merrily to the surrounding forest, laughing with delight at the ruddy hue that coloured the slightly embarrassed Dwarf’s cheeks. A gentle rumble sounding much like distant thunder filled the clearing and a confused Gimli looked to the cloudless sky only to find there was no storm in sight.

“What was that? Have I unwittingly invoked the Valar’s wrath?” the Dwarf asked warily. Ever mindful and a little fearful of the spirits who also dwelt Valinor, he could have sworn he heard his name being whispered on the breeze. Legolas knew the sound for what it was and could not contain his mirth and several moments elapsed before he was able to offer a coherent reply.

“‘Tis not the roll of thunder you hear, or the Valar’s’ voices raised in anger, my dear Gimli. What you hear is the sound of laughter and the whispered words of the trees.” Legolas told him.

“I am no Wood Elf, so how is that possible?” asked Gimli in stunned disbelief.

“Because it is my will,” explained a friendly voice from beyond the edge of the forest. The speaker who appeared to be an Elf who glowed with exquisite beauty, and was dressed in the garb of a Mirkwood warrior stepped from among the trees. There was no doubt in Gimli’s mind that this was one of the Valar and his assumption was confirmed when Legolas bowed respectfully before the newcomer.

“My Lord Oromë, to what do we owe this honour?” he asked, speaking with great reverence as he recognised the Lord of the Forests.

“Well met Legolas Thranduilion and Gimli son of Glóin. I was curious to see for myself the friendship that has developed between one of the Firstborn and a child of Aulë. I would hear more about how such a bond came into being, and of your travels in Middle-earth, for I have a great fondness for that land,” replied Oromë as he settled himself on the grass beside Gimli and Legolas.

After the awe of actually finding themselves in the presence of one of the Valar had diminished, Legolas and Gimli spent the rest of the afternoon regaling Oromë with the tales of their adventures together from their first meeting in Imladris to their journey across the sea. The Valar listened with great interest and asked many questions and soon the others found themselves enjoying his company as much as he seemed to be enjoying theirs.

“It has been far too long since I last heard such an excellent and well told tale. You have a gift for words, as well as stone carving, Master Dwarf,” he said when the story was ended. Even though Legolas had told of his own adventures, it was Gimli who had spoken at great length, as he was wont to do, about their time together.

“Thank you, I am glad someone appreciates my talents instead of accusing me of being ‘long winded’ and speaking with exaggeration,” he said with a pointed glance at Legolas.

“You are an excellent story teller, friend Gimli, but I still believe you use far too many words,” stated Legolas haughtily. Oromë burst out laughing.

“You two banter in much the same manner as Aulë and I do on occasion,” he told them with obvious amusement at the astonished silence his words elicited from them both. “And speaking of my friend reminds me that I did not only seek you out to hear an account of your travels. Legolas, I believe Gimli suggested that that you and he should explore Valinor, and I am here to assure you that Manwë welcomes you to do so. I would be pleased to welcome you to my forests, and Aulë invites you to visit him in his Halls. He is as intrigued by this unusual friendship as I am, and would like to meet you,” said Oromë kindly.

“We would be honoured to accept such invitations, my Lord,” said Legolas speaking for them both.

Thranduil and Elisiel also thought Gimli’s suggestion to be an excellent idea, and while Elisiel prepared their travel rations, Thranduil made a quick copy of the map of Valinor that Elrond had given him. When he handed it to Legolas, he drew his son aside to speak in private.

“I am not so certain this is a wise course you have chosen to follow. Have you noticed how easily Gimli tires of late?” he asked without preamble.

“Ai, and he has begun to complain more often of aches and pains when he exerts himself, or whenever he feels the chill of evening,” replied Legolas with concern. He leaned against the comforting of his Adar’s chest as Thranduil placed an arm about his son’s shoulders.

“As I have seen all my mortal friends do. You were right about the pain and grief that I would fill my heart at their loss Adar but I do not regret making Aragorn and Gimli my close friends. After learning to know and love them as I have, I see that my loss would have been far greater had I not done so.”

“So I have come to realise,” admitted Thranduil as he kissed the much loved brow. “So tell me, how long do you expect to be away on this journey of exploration?”

“I can not say. It depends on how Gimli fares for despite his assurances, I do not think he will have the strength to travel very far.” As much as he wished it were not so, Legolas was aware of the Gimli’s diminishing strength, but he respected his friend’s need for privacy and so did not speak of it with the Dwarf.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Legolas nodded. “Use your ship to take you to the places you would visit. I believe there are many coves and safe havens to be found from which you could explore further inland.” Legolas’s face brightened, never feeling more grateful for his Adar’s love and understanding as he did at this moment. The radiant smile vanished in a heartbeat as a shadow of dismay crossed his fair features.

“You need only travel short distances by sea, and I am certain Elrond knows of some remedy for the sea sickness,” Thranduil reassured his son, grimacing as he recalled his own experience with the decidedly unpleasant affliction.

Elrond did indeed know of a potion to relieve the discomforts of the condition, and when he spoke privately with the Dwarf he also offered him a salve that would help ease the aches and pains of his stiffening joints as well as a tonic to help invigorate him.

“Thank you, Elrond. Even one as stubborn as I can not deny the changes that time has wrought on my once sturdy body,” said Gimli as he hid the medicines in his travel pack, knowing that the sight of them would only upset Legolas and likely cause him to cancel their plans out of concern for his friend’s ailing health.

“You are welcome, and I trust you will find great pleasure in your travels with Legolas,” replied the elder Elf with a deep sadness.

“I intend to, for you and I both know that my next trip will be to the Halls of Waiting,” said Gimli openly acknowledging that which he knew Elrond had foreseen.

Chapter 8. A Secret is Revealed

Gimli had great faith in Elrond’s abilities as a Healer, but the Dwarf still vividly recalled how appallingly uncomfortable he had been on his first sea voyage and could not quite believe even an elvish potion would be of use against the affliction. So it was to his intense relief and delight that, in a very short time after he and Legolas set sail, Gimli realised that he was no longer plagued by the sea sickness. In fact he found the rise and fall of the craft as it rode the gentle waves to be a very relaxing motion which, when combined with the warm caress of Anor’s rays, was likely to lull him to sleep if he stayed sitting too long in the one spot. Gimli knew that all too soon he would succumb to eternal sleep, and so did his best to remain awake to share the joys of their last adventure with his friend.

Legolas had not needed to hear the words spoken between Elrond and Gimli to know that the Dwarf’s time was drawing to an end. The evidence of Gimli’s aging was apparent to his eyes, as well as his other senses. He could feel his friend’s ever increasing fatigue, and there was no denying that the Dwarf’s usual earthy odour was enhanced by that of the salve that archers commonly used for soothing aching muscles and joints after prolonged practice sessions. Had he realised his friend was in such need of pain relief, he would have offered it to Gimli, but the prideful Dwarf had never once hinted that was the case. Nor was he likely to, for Legolas knew that his friend was trying to spare him from a grief that was inevitable. He was grateful that Elrond had seen fit to supply his friend with such, for he could not bear the thought of his dear friend having to live with any unnecessary pain.

“Would that there was such a simple remedy for grief,” thought Legolas with much sorrow.

******

Their journey of exploration followed a simple pattern of choosing a likely looking cove in which to anchor the ship and then disembarking with travel packs and high spirits to explore farther inland. Gimli could easily manage two or three days on foot before becoming too weary, but usually that was enough time to allow them to see some of the rugged natural beauty of Valinor.

“It is much like Middle-earth in places, especially these mountains,” commented Gimli as they walked slowly along the narrow pass through The Pelóri that would lead them to Valmar and Aulë’s Hall.

“Ai, but do you not notice the difference?” asked Legolas as he suddenly realised what should have been obvious. Gimli looked around, and shook his head. “This path is much too even and easy to follow to be simply a natural road. I suspect the Valar have made it so, maybe just for us,” he added his eyes alight with wonder. The Dwarf could not help but agree.

“Aye and I am pleased that they decided to assist us in such a manner. I do not relish having to fight my way over boulders and such to reach our destination,” said Gimli as he stopped and inhaled deeply a few times to calm his laboured breathing. As he absently rubbed knees that had begun to ache, Legolas offered him some water and a look of concern as he suggested they take a rest. Gimli sat only long enough to swallow a few sips of the miruvor Elrond have given to him to use as a tonic, and then insisted they be on their way.

“We have been invited to visit Aulë, and I for one do not dare disappoint any of the Valar,” said Gimli with a hint of awe in his voice whenever he spoke of them.

“A wise decision,” agreed the Elf.

Anor's last rays had almost vanished into twilight when they reached Aulë’s Hall, and although they seemed to be alone, there was a table set with a generous meal, a bottle of wine and a jug of Gimli’s favourite ale. The Dwarf’s eyes lit with delight at the sight of the food and drink.

“This repast is obviously for us,” he said as he took a seat and helped himself to a large platter of meat, cheese and fresh fruit. Legolas smiled at his friend’s enthusiasm and not feeling very hungry, delicately nibbled on an apple as he poured himself a goblet of the wine.

“An excellent vintage, would you not agree Thranduilion?” asked a deep yet melodious voice from the doorway. “Although I must admit that like Gimli, son of Glóin, I much prefer good, stout ale.” Legolas and Gimli both stood and bowed respectfully to the almost glowing Elf who was the image of Aulë.

“We are honoured to meet you, my Lord Aulë,” said Legolas speaking for them both.

“Indeed, well met, but please just call me Aulë,” he replied and gestured for them to resume their meal. “Oromë was supposed to be here by now, but in his typical manner has probably been detained by the tale some tree is telling him.” Legolas and Gimli exchanged an amused glance at the slight barb, which was not unlike that which the Dwarf would have said of the Elf.

“Nay, not this time. I was speaking with Olórin about that matter we discussed a few days ago, if you must know,” Oromë said as he entered the Hall and greeted his fellow Vala with a friendly embrace.

“Then you are forgiven for your tardiness,” replied Aulë. “Come join us at the table.” Legolas and Gimli bowed their heads in greeting as Oromë sat beside Legolas. As they ate they spoke of many things, and when the conversation drifted to Aglarond, Gimli and Aulë seemed to forget the others were even present.

“Come, Legolas, they will be talking of dark caves and shiny rocks for hours. Let us take in the sweet scent of the evening air and the shiny gems of starlight in the night sky,” suggested Oromë as he took Legolas’s arm and lead him outside. “Tell me of the forests of Middle-earth,” he said as they lay side by side beneath the stars. Legolas willing answered the Vala’s questions and it was almost midnight before they returned to Gimli and Aulë. They left early the next morning to return to the ship and continue their journey, promising Oromë that they would soon walk in his woods.

“The Dwarf is an extraordinary creature, and so devoted to Legolas,” commented Oromë as he and Aulë watched the two friends laughing merrily as they disappeared from view.

“Ai, ‘tis heart-warming to see such a strong friendship between two such different beings. They have sacrificed much for each other.”

“Gimli is called elf friend by many of the other Firstborn as well, they will sorely miss him,” said Oromë with sadness for the grief his beloved Elves would soon feel. “I wonder whether Legolas would have found such acceptance in a colony of your Dwarves.”

“I believe he would have, my friend.”

******

“I begin to understand why you enjoy sailing so much,” Gimli said one day as he came to stand beside Legolas who was steering the ship towards one of the many coves they would eventually visit.

“Because the salt air is refreshing and the soft sounds of the water have a very soothing effect on my spirit,” Legolas answered as he closed his eyes to allow his senses to relish both these at once.

“If you say so, but I had something else in mind,” said Gimli with an air of mischief. The Elf raised and eyebrow in query, silently inviting his friend to continue. “This form of travel is decidedly easier than horseback and is very easy on tired old dwarfish legs and no doubt even young elvish ones.”

“I never thought to hear you admit that a Dwarf could tire, but I assure you Elves do not!” Legolas retorted with an affronted glare that caused Gimli to chuckle before becoming serious.

“Do you not sometimes tire of immortality?” he asked suddenly finding a means to broach a topic that was of great concern. He needed to make Legolas understand how he felt about death so that his passing would not cause too much grief for the Elf.

“Nay, how can I? I am of the Firstborn and it is our gift from Ilúvatar,” replied Legolas..

“As was Aragorn’s mortality, and so is mine,” said Gimli as he held Legolas’s gaze. “He did not fear death and neither do I, yet as our bodies age and become of little use we weary of them. I know not what happens to the souls of men, but I do know that my soul will join my kin in the part of the Halls of Waiting reserved for Aulë’s children. Neither of us can deny that I am destined to be parted from you soon, but please tell me you understand I will go willingly when the time comes.”

“Ai, I do understand,” nodded Legolas as he placed a friendly hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder. ”Nonetheless I will grieve for you as I did, and still do, for Aragorn and the others.” They stood in silent remembrance of the members of the Fellowship who were no more, until Gimli decided it was time to alter the tone of their conversation to something less morbid.

“Be wary of crying too many tears my friend for I imagine a grieving Elf who is in need of comfort might be very attractive to the many fair maids who would console him,” teased Gimli with a wicked grin. Legolas rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation at the less than subtle hint.

“Only if they wish to be disappointed will they approach me,” he whispered softly, not expecting the Dwarf to hear.

“My body may be ageing, but I can still hear quite well. Why would they be disappointed?” he asked. Legolas did not answer immediately, but there was an unmistakeable pink tinge on his cheeks and the delicate tips of his pointed ears. Gimli frowned at this unexpected response, and then clapped Legolas on the back with delight.

“You have found someone!” he stated with certainty that changed abruptly to mock anger. “How dare you keep such a secret from me? Who is she? Do I know her?” he asked in rapid succession, his curiosity piqued beyond enduring.

“Ai, I have found someone, but I have not yet sought her parent’s permission to court her, and so we have kept our relationship private,” explained Legolas. “I do not believe you two have met, but I fully intended to introduce you when we return from this trip.”

“We should go back now. I do not wish to deprive your lady love of your attentions for a moment longer,” said Gimli with sincerity and sensitivity as well as an intense interest in meeting the one who would hopefully be there to love and hold his friend when grief overwhelmed him.

“There is no hurry, for she and her parents are at this moment travelling to Tirion to visit with her brother and his wife and to see their newborn child,” Legolas told his friend.

“I imagine your parents are delighted,” said Gimli knowing full well they would be happy beyond measure for their son.

“I have not told them yet, either. You are the first to know,” Legolas admitted with a warm smile for his dear friend that was returned in kind.

“Legolas, what say we cut our adventure short and return home after we have paid our respects to Oromë in his Halls?” Gimli suggested as he helped the Elf weigh anchor.

“Are you too weary to continue?” asked Legolas feigning innocence of the real motive for Gimli’s suggestion This was not the first time such a change in plans had been mentioned, and Legolas knew full well that it was Gimli’s curiosity, not his ailing health that was the cause of his sudden desire to return to dry land.

Ever since Legolas had admitted to being in love, the Dwarf had spent almost every waking moment asking him endless questions about Lilieth, and he obviously eagerly anticipated meeting the maid who had captured his friend’s heart.

“Nay, but since you told me that it was Elladan who introduced you to your fair maid, it occurs to me that perhaps she might fall for his charms in your absence.”

“I have no cause to be jealous or to fear I will lose my love to him or anyone else. You forget that I also mentioned that Lilieth already rejected his suit. Even if she did not love me as she does, she would not turn to Elladan.” Legolas laughed reassuringly.

“Who happens to be very fond of the younger sister of Haldir’s wife,” Legolas told him, the gleam in his eye the only hint that he was about to tease his friend once more. “I think that perhaps it is as well that I found Lilieth on my own, for if you intended to assist Nana in her matchmaking, I am sorry to say that your knowledge of the state of affairs between the unwed Elves is so severely lacking that you would never find me a wife.”

“Well, that is to be expected since I do not spend my nights merrymaking until dawn. But surely you miss her?” asked Gimli, trying a different approach.

“Ai,” replied the Elf wistfully, his features softening as he thought of his love. He did miss her, more than words could say. He longed for her sweet kisses and to hear the silvery sound of her soft laughter. “We will visit Oromë’s woods then perhaps it will indeed be time to go home.”

The foliage high above their heads rustled softly, offering a wordless welcome as Legolas and Gimli wandered with Oromë along the meandering path that lead to the Vala’s Hall. The Dwarf was not certain whether he heard both his and Legolas’s names being whispered once, but something was faintly brushing his mind and there was no doubt he sensed the friendliness of the trees as the travellers passed them by. He cast a sideways glance at his two companions and felt his heart fill with joy at the look of wonder and pure bliss that enhanced the younger Elf’s fair features as he all but danced among the trees, singing his reply. Never before had he seen Legolas so radiantly happy.

“I know that as a Wood Elf you love nature as I do, but you seem delighted beyond measure to walk in my woods,” Oromë said with some surprise to Legolas who reluctantly turned his attention and smiling eyes away from the trees to respond to the Vala.

“My heart sings with happiness, for my spirit is once again one with the forest.” In response to Oromë’s questioning look, he explained further. “After I heard the white gulls cry at Pelargir, the call of the sea stole my love for the woodlands from my heart and I lamented the loss.”

“If you felt so melancholy, you certainly fooled me most of the time. I believe you happily spoke to every tree in Arda during the course of our travels, even those dark, angry ones in Fangorn,” grumbled Gimli with feigned annoyance.

“And you also became the leader of the Elves in Ithilien, rather than answer the call to come home,” said a puzzled Oromë.

“I remained in Ithilien for other reasons as well, but I was never truly content to be there, and both longed for and dreaded the day I would finally sail.” Legolas said as he looked to the Vala for his understanding. Oromë smiled sadly knowing the Elf was speaking of the mortal King he had loved so well, and not wishing to cause Legolas any further grief he turned his attention to the Dwarf.

“And what of Treebeard himself, Master Dwarf? Did you not find the Ent to be more than a little interesting?” he asked. Legolas spoke before Gimli had a chance to reply.

“Treebeard is the only being in Middle-earth who takes longer to tell a tale than does my dear friend Gimli,” Legolas teased, unable to remain melancholy in such a pleasant surrounding.

“Naturally Legolas found him to be fascinating, and I will admit that for a tree, or whatever he is, the creature was entertaining, not to mention a welcome ally once he finally decided to deal with Isengard,” Gimli replied with a deceptively quick movement that was meant to result in a playful shove in the back. Legolas was swifter however and he nimbly avoided his friend’s outstretched hand and leapt into the branches of a tree, promptly disappearing from view. Gimli had barely time to roll his eyes in exasperation at the Elf’s mercurial behaviour when Legolas dropped lightly in front of them both, with concern dimming the brightness of his eyes.

“There is an echo of evil in these woods that chills my blood. It reminds me of Mirkwood,” he stated.

“That is not surprising. What you feel is that which you spent most of your adult life fighting, is it not?” Oromë asked as he stopped walking and sat cross legged on the grass of the small clearing they had just entered, gesturing for the others to do likewise. He and Legolas had both noticed the Dwarf was moving rather slowly and by mutual agreement they chose to rest, giving the Gimli no chance to object as he would likely have done.

“Ai.” Legolas nodded. The darkness that hovered dimly in his mind was indeed reminiscent of that which had slowly invaded his forest home.

“Are you saying there are ugly spiders in these beautiful woods?” Gimli asked as he unconsciously reached for the battle axe that was safely in board the ship, not on his back. Neither he nor Legolas had needed to bear weapons since leaving Ithilien for no danger lurked in the Blessed Realm.

“There once was a similar evil lurking in the darkness of the thickest parts of these woods, but Ungoliant was far more fearsome and deadly than her descendants that invaded Thranduil’s realm,” he said as he watched horrified realisation dawn on Legolas’s face.

“Ungoliant!” whispered the Elf with a mixture of fear and awe. Gimli’s eyes widened, for even the Dwarves had heard of the giant spider from which Shelob and those wickedly cruel, yet clever creatures of Mirkwood had eventually sprung.

“Do you wish to see it?” asked Oromë as if it was of little interest. Legolas and Gimli exchanged a glance and were of the same mind on the subject. Both had had enough of dark places and evil creatures.

“Nay,” they replied in unison. The clearing was filled with the silvery laughter of the highly amused Vala.

“I must say I am surprised to find your Halls on the ground rather than swaying precariously in the trees as the Elves commonly favour,” Gimli commented when they finally arrived at the Vala’s abode that was actually built around living trees. They accepted the invitation to enter and were soon settled in comfortable armchairs that were placed around a small table that bore some light refreshments.

“Oh, I have a talan as well, but only use it when I wish to hide from Aulë or Olórin,” the Vala explained with a smile in his eyes that told his words were only spoken in jest.

“How does one *hide* from Olórin?” Legolas asked in astonishment as he and Gimli exchanged a meaningful glance at the seemingly impossible notion. Over the long years they had known Olórin, both had become well accustomed to the wizard’s unlooked for presence.

“Usually not very successfully,” admitted Oromë with a wry grin that elicited laughter from the Elf and Dwarf.

“Indeed, he has always appeared to us whenever and wherever he chooses, both here and in Middle-earth,” added Gimli.

In fact the next time the Dwarf saw Gandalf, the white haired old man was gently shaking his shoulder as he tried to rouse him from a deep sleep. It took the Dwarf several minutes to focus his eyes, and when his vision finally cleared, he could not help but gasp at the sight before him.

Legolas knelt before the Hobbit’s graves, and the tears that flowed freely from his sorrow filled eyes were being tenderly wiped away by an elf maid whose beauty Gimli was forced to admit, rivalled that of the Lady Galadriel. ‘That ids obviously Lilieth,’ he thought to himself as he watched the maid take Legolas in her arms and hold him as only a lover could.

“What has upset you so, Legolas?” Gimli asked as he moved towards his friend, not really surprised when there was no reply from the distraught Elf. As he looked around the clearing, he noticed many of his stone working friends were there as well, singing a sweet yet mournful lament that reminded him of the one the Galadhrim had sung for Gandalf.

“Who do they mourn, Gandalf?” he asked the wizard, who had move up to stand beside him so that he could place a comforting hand on the Dwarf’s shoulder.

“Someone they grew to love dearly,” whispered Olórin. As Gimli turned to face his friend he was astounded to see that the voice came not from an old man, but a being of exquisite elven beauty who shone with an inner light as radiant as mithril in moonlight.

“Ai, this is how the Elves… and those who are on the path to the Halls of Waiting… see me,” he said in reply to the unspoken question. Gimli was shocked into silence as he slowly understood the true meaning of the words.

“Are you saying I am no longer living?” he finally managed to ask, as he held his hands up and carefully inspected them. Aside from feeling a little cold, they seemed no different and certainly not ghostly as he would have expected. Olórin smiled slightly at the Dwarf’s disbelief and nodded sadly. “When did I die? And if I am truly dead, how is it we are witnessing what I can only imagine is my wake?” Gimli demanded harshly as fear of what awaited him welled in his heart.

“Your soul was called to join your kin in the Halls of Waiting just as your journey with Legolas ended and the ship passed through the entrance to the harbour. Knowing how deep the bond of love and friendship is between you and Legolas, and at Aulë’s request, no less, Oromë entreated me to approach Námo to allow you to delay your final journey for a few moments. We knew you would not find rest until you were assured Legolas would not be alone, and as you can see for yourself, he is not.”

“Lilieth is lovely, and even in his sorrow I can see how much Legolas loves her. I am very happy for him, and grateful to the Valar for their compassion,” said Gimli unable to smile as he was overwhelmed by sadness.

“Aside from being dead, you mean?” It was a weak attempt at his usual humour yet it served to bring a hint of a smile to Gimli’s lips. “I would have liked a chance to bid my friend farewell.”

“Perhaps that is possible but only with action rather than with words,” Olórin told the Dwarf. Gimli was confused for a moment, but suddenly it was as if a fog lifted from his mind and he knew exactly what to do.

Legolas placed an affectionate kiss on his love’s brow and taking her hand stood to follow the others who were now leaving the glade. He looked up sharply as the trees whispered a final farewell to Gimli as if the Dwarf had just passed beneath them, yet he was even more startled to sense a well known presence by his side, clasping his arm in a strong warrior’s grip that vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving a feeling of peace and love in his heart, and a locket containing three golden hairs in the palm of his hand.

A Dwarf Among Elves by jenolas