Chapter One

Legolas could feel the familiar ache in his chest, the swift tightening and release every time he breathed. He had been resisting the call of the Sea for years -- more than Gimli could count, and Legolas did not keep track of the passage of time; it made one weary, when one was immortal. And, when one was immortal, it was best not to tire of life. This was a pain he had never gown used to, a longing he could postpone but never ignore. He inhaled the scent of fresh flowers, filled himself up with the song of the earth and felt the ache ease somewhat. Only the friendship of Gimli and others and the sweet song around him relieved the ache at all. The birds, the trees, the ground beneath him sang of peace, a peace that Legolas had helped to achieve. But despite the beauty of Middle-Earth, Legolas had heard the gulls cry, and ever since his heart dwelt far across the Sea where his body longed to be. He loved his friends dearly, but the call could not be ignored. He was one of the Elves who had been Chosen to hear the call, and he was expected -- had been, for years. But then, he could not come yet. Now, Gimli had grown old, and the Hobbits had long since departed -- two to Valinor, and two to the Halls of Mandos -- and at last Aragorn had bid good-bye to his friends, his love Arwen, and all of Middle-Earth. He passed the crown to his son and was buried in a great ceremony. Legolas exhaled, and the ache flared in his chest. He had sworn to dwell in Middle-Earth until the reign of King Elessar was ended, and now that time was upon him. He missed his dear friend, but the Sea overwhelmed all other emotion. Legolas crossed his courtyard in Ithilien and ran his fingers over the bark of an old oak. Idly he wondered who was more ancient, he or the oak, and felt ancient. He closed his eyes and breathed, listening for the tree’s unique language. Instead, his mind was swept away to white shores, and the cry of gulls filled his ears and trickled like liquid -- like the Sea itself -- into his soul. The pain surrounding his heart blossomed, sharp and searing. His breath hitched, and his equilibrium, the legendary calm and serenity of the Elves, was shattered.
‘Legolas!’ a gruff voice called. ‘Open your eyes, ye fool and stop listening to that infernal Siren’s song.’
‘That’s not so easy,’ Legolas murmured, and opened his eyes. ‘Hello, Gimli. It is a beautiful day, but not for me.’
Gimli shook his head. The melancholy that had stolen slowly over his friend was now complete. The cheerful, playful Wood-Elf had been eaten away by War, and what the Ring and Sauron had not corrupted, the Sea-longing had.
‘Stop talking like an idiot,’ Gimli growled. ‘Tis a beautiful day for all, even a Dwarf above-ground.’
‘You remind me of that often, but I do not hold you here.’
‘But our friendship does. I would not leave a friend to suffer, even an Elf,’ Gimli stated. He put a hand on Legolas’ elbow.
‘Your heart serves you well, my friend,’ Legolas said in a soft voice.
‘But yours begs for a better place,’ Gimli said. ‘That time is nearly here, and then maybe that damn longing will be appeased.’
‘But the Fellowship is not all ended,’ protested Legolas. ‘You are here. You remain here. You have not died.’
‘No, I have not, but you talk as though you wish I was,’ Gimli said.
‘You know that is not true!’ Legolas turned from Gimli’s worn face. Gimli sighed gustily. Legolas was not even himself, the arrogance and the insults had been replaced by apathy and acceptance.
‘Surely not, but even an Elf should take the bait of a Dwarf!’ Gimli tried.
‘This Elf is weary of life, old friend. I have seen my share of war and peace, and I wish to sail.’
‘This is terrible.’ Gimli shook his head and stroked his beard, thinking. ‘We have to do something about this. You cannot just fade away here.’
Legolas turned again and gazed at his friend. ‘Never thought I a Dwarf would be such a dear friend,’ he began.
‘Perhaps you never thought ere you were introduced to me!’
‘But a dear friend you are, and I swore to remain in Middle-Earth until all the Fellowship was ended.’
‘Aw, my friend,’ Gimli said. ‘I can see in your eyes the pain you feel. Build a ship, Legolas, and sail over Sea. Then you will not suffer.’
‘But to leave you--!’
‘Ai, what else is there to do?’ Gimli brushed a lock of silvery-white hair off of Legolas’ face. ‘Ay, what else indeed,’ he muttered. Light filled the Elf’s eyes. Colour swept into his cheeks. Gimli nearly stepped back, startled by the sudden change.
‘I know, I shall take you with me!’ Legolas cried. He threw his long arms around Gimli. Gimli sputtered.
‘Take a Dwarf to Valinor? Convince all of the Eldar and the Valar too to allow a Dwarf into the Undying Lands? Lad, are you quite mad?’ Gimli shouted.

‘And I shall do it, too. I have asked for no reward for assisting in the salvation of Middle-Earth. You beheld Galadriel, Lady of Light, and have sung her praises ever since. She favoured you. She will find a way.’ Legolas twirled on his heel and sprang into his hall. His swift feet carried him silently to his study, where he sat and began to think. Surely there was a way to communicate with the Lady of the Golden Wood. As he thought, he grew tired, and sleep crept over him. It was a strange thing, he thought, for an Elf to dream. They did so rarely, content to live within the song of the stars and to see with sleeping eyes the world of the waking. But oddly, he dreamt.

‘You have been a faithful servant, Beloved one,’ came a whisper of a voice. ‘You were correct when you said you have not been rewarded.’
‘What is this? An Elf, dreaming?’
‘This is no dream. This is illusion and reality.’
‘The two are mutually exclusive.’
‘Do not argue. Long have you withstood the call of the Sea, Legolas Greenleaf. Come home.’
‘I cannot! Gimli--’
‘You are correct. It is highly irregular for a Dwarf to be friend to an Elf, but we shall allow it. You have both served Middle-Earth and the Valar well. Come home, Legolas. It is time.’

Chapter 2

Gimli returned to Aglarond, and life for Legolas crept forth. He remembered little of the passing weeks, and the Sea-longing was a buzzing in his skull and an ache in his chest, and he did not sleep. He barely ate, and even the sight of the stars at night could not calm him. So he did the only thing he could think of to do.

When Gimli next came to Ithilien, his found Legolas varnishing a large grey ship. The Elf was on his knees, brow furrowed, deep in concentration. It was evident to Gimli that he had been very busy the weeks that Gimli had been away.
‘Ai, Legolas, you’ve gone utterly mad. Have ye slept at all?’ Gimli circled the structure. Legolas did not look up. His hair, normally loose with his warrior braids, was twisted up against the nape of his neck. He put down the varnish brush and began to sand down some rough edges.
‘I have built a ship,’ he said finally. He sanded inside of a finely carved leaf and its surrounding swirled branches. Gimli sighed.
‘I can see that. So you have finally made up your mind, eh, elf?’
‘I am going to sail down the Anduin and pass over Sea at last, and you are going to come with me.’
‘Oh, I am, am I? When did I decide that? What of the Glittering Caves? What of my people?’
‘What of your dearest friend?’ Legolas countered. He rocked back onto his heels and met Gimli’s dark eyes.
‘Ai! Lost his mind, he has. Legolas! Use your keen Elven sight for something! Can you not see that a Dwarf will not be allowed entrance into the Undying Lands? There is a reason they are called that, you know!’
‘Your unkempt beard is preventing rational thought,’ Legolas commented, smiling serenely.
‘Oh, no you don’t, elf! My beard has nothing to do with this. Eh, your hair is arranged in quite the feminine fashion,’ Gimli retorted.
‘The better way to keep from accidentally sanding it off,’ Legolas replied, unruffled.
‘Your pristine Elven tunic is collecting dirt. Odd, that. I had heard that dirt does not stick to Elves.’
‘And strangely, dirt seems to seek out Dwarves, particularly in tangling their beards.’
‘Our beards are nobody’s business, elf, but privately, they are kept quite clean, I’ll have ye know.’
‘Yes, you wash it regularly with ale,’ Legolas smirked.
‘And you never wash,’ Gimli grumped.
‘I have no need. Dirt does not stick, remember?’
‘Smug meddling Elves.’
‘Confounded Dwarves.’
‘Always bragging about their extra-sensory senses, their hair, their flowery impossible-to-learn language.’
‘And Dwarves are short-tempered, in fitting with their stature.’
‘Always rambling about trees and stars, and their accomplishments -- Imagine! Teaching trees to talk! And they glow in the dark--’
‘Always building caves and lurking about underground, cutting off the sounds of Arda--’
‘Legolas, peace, friend. Just tell me why you did not sleep.’
‘I slept.’
‘You have been working on this for weeks non-stop, I can tell. I know you, elf. You have pushed yourself to complete it.’
‘And I shall continue to do so until it is finished. I cannot bear this longing anymore, Gimli. I must eradicate it. I must sail before I crack.’
Gimli studied his friend. He had never known an Elf to speak of insanity, not that he’d known many Elves, but he knew of them, and he knew Legolas. He had spent countless years in the Elf’s company, and even in the company of some of the Silvan Elves Legolas lived with in Ithilien, and the prince had always been calm and serene. He had never been impulsive, although he was meticulous and driven. But Gimli knew that Elves had minds and temperments like the ocean when it was purring like a kitten. They felt no urgency, in general. They were content to exist, to be, to breathe in Ages past, and let Arda evolve around them. The prince was not so different. He was filled with solemn and pleasant humour, and he was kind, and Gimli knew that Legolas dwelt a third in the past, half across the Sea, and a third in Ithilien. Legolas did not feel the time passing as Gimli did, yet suddenly he could not bear the Longing anymore. In a way, Gimli understood. His friend had suffered for years and years, despite the peace and prosperity surrounding him. His normal Elven constitution was changed by the Sea much as it warps wood, and now he was impatient, hurried, impractical. His hair was never so neatly braided anymore. His clothes could almost be called rumpled. His inner glow and beauty had faded in the intervening years, and Gimli son of Glóin worried for his friend. Legolas needed the Undying Lands the way a plant craves water. It was time, nay past time, and Gimli knew he could not return to the Glittering Caves again.
He could not let his friend face this voyage alone. It was settled then.
‘Alright, elf, I’m going with you,’ Gimli announced.

Chapter 3

‘Do you remember the battle of Helm’s Deep, where I passed your count by one?’ Gimli asked Legolas, brush in hand. Legolas smiled.
‘Of course. You would never let me forget such an occurrence. But you, Dwarf, should forget not that ultimately, I have killed more Orcs.’
‘How do you figure that?’ Gimli brushed sawdust from the curves of the grey ship. Beside him, Legolas was carving the wood, still smiling cryptically.
‘I have been alive in Arda far longer than you, Dwarf. I grew up in Eryn Lasgalen and I have been shooting arrows and killing Orcs for many years before you were born.’
‘It does not count, then. I was not around to compare, therefore, all of those Orcs are useless to your final tally, and ‘twas me who killed more Orcs by the time the battles were through.’ Gimli grinned. He tossed the brush into the green grass by Legolas’s foot. ‘All finished.’
‘Not I,’ Legolas said, biting his lip as he worked. ‘But nearly. It is past time, I say. I want to be on the way already.’
‘Of course you do. And just think, elf, I shall see the Lady of the Golden Wood again.’ Gimli’s hand crept inside his pocket to finger something unseen. Legolas laughed suddenly, the bright clear sound filling the air. Birds and trees seemed to thrill at the sound.
‘Imagine, a Dwarf in thrall to the Lady Galadriel! Surely she greatly desires to see you again as well.’
‘And why should she not?’ Gimli grumbled. ‘I am a fine specimen of Dwarfhood, and I am strong, talented with axe, handsome...’
‘O but you are,’ Legolas said, and laughed again. He set his knife down on the ground and loosed his hair from its binds.
‘It is well to hear you laugh again, elf. I had nigh forgotten the sound.’
‘It is you who brings laughter bubbling up, friend. I am happier now that you have stayed with me, and pleased you have chosen to accompany me.’ Legolas sat down cross-legged in the soft grass. He rolled a blade between his fingers, admiring his ship. She lay on her side, nearly complete. Gimli frowned, a thought intruding on his consciousness.
‘Legolas--’
‘I wonder if the Lady Arwen has finished stitching the sails yet?’ interrupted the elf. Gimli frowned in Legolas’s direction this time.
‘I thought Elves had all the time in the world, and no need to interrupt those around them!’ Gimli said.
‘I apologise,’ said Legolas. ‘Go on.’
‘This is perhaps not the time to mention this, but I worry about you, elf.’ Gimli cleared his throat. ‘I do not think simply passage into the Undying Lands grants me the same immortality as you possess. I am glad to travel with you, and I do not begrudge you your pleasure in having me with you. I only worry that you will be -- upset -- when I die.’
‘You are accurate when you say this is not the correct time for such thoughts. I ought to have many more years of irritation from my sturdy Dwarf, why should I worry now?’
‘Admit it, elf, you miss Aragorn and the hobbits. You miss Elrond, and your father.’
‘My father is not dead and I shall be reunited with Elrond when I pass over Sea.’
‘Point taken.’ Gimli grew silent. Legolas stood up and stretched, one fluid movement that looked like water flowing rather than the movement of muscles. Gimli, well-used to the strangeness of his friend, was nonetheless startled by the familiar sight. Gimli watched as Legolas passed under the boughs that crossed over the doorway and into his home -- if it could be called that. The walls were little more than flowing material stretched between tree limbs, and the floors were packed dirt with mossy stepping stones throughout. Gimli understood his friend’s need to live within nature, and was not surprised that his home was not truly enclosed by anything. Gimli remembered that in Imladris there had been true walls and stone, but that it was built around tree and bush. In some ways he had been more comfortable there. Here, though, Legolas lived within a house that may as well have been nothing but the trees themselves. There were stone ceilings, but every few feet these were broken up by large airy holes, and beneath each one was a basin to catch the rain should it rain. In Legolas’s room, however, there was no ceiling to speak of, and when Gimli had asked if Legolas minded the rain, he had smiled mysteriously.
‘I mind not any of nature’s fury,’ he said. ‘I will admit it can be an interesting experience, to be awoken by rain fall, but in Ithilien it is always light and misty, and a joy to feel on my brow.’
Gimli had shrugged. Legolas slept on nothing but a soft blanket spread over the grass, his room being the most open one in the house. His only concession to it being indoors had been the flowing material stretched around the room. That and a large brocade curtain to keep out prying eyes. Legolas had explained it once. He may have loved his subjects and fellow Elves, but he craved privacy at times, desiring to be alone, especially when the Sea-longing struck him as forcefully as it did sometimes.
‘There are times, friend, when I cannot sleep even outdoors. Some days, I do naught but lie around in my room, aching and aching and unable to breathe. I would like to be able to breathe comfortably again, Gimli!’ he had cried. Gimli had been moved by this declaration, and he had held his friend and rubbed the elf’s back trying to soothe him. It had worked, and Legolas had smiled, saying that his mother had done the same when he was naught but an elfling. Gimli had felt distinctly maternal, and it was an odd feeling to say the least. He had wondered at the time if he would ever have a child of his own, but as the years had passed, he had been content to lead his people in Aglarond and be as if a father to them. Gimli sighed and stretched himself. It was drawing on towards twilight. He gathered up the things scattered around the ship and brought them into the house, putting them away and then seeking his chamber.