Ship of Grey

“I do not think he has moved a muscle in the whole time it has taken us to climb up here,” observed Gimli, grunting as he clambered in a rather ungainly fashion over the last of the boulders that formed the top of the hill. They were in the foothills of Ephel Duath in South Ithilien, atop a rise that provided an unobstructed view of the Anduin as it flowed southwards to the Great Sea. “At least the groundcover is more grass than rock,” he added as he offered Aragorn a helping hand. The King, who was slightly less agile than he had once been, accepted the help with a nod, never taking his eyes from Legolas who stood silhouetted against the sky.

“I thought you preferred good stony earth beneath you feet, Gimli,” replied Aragorn, almost slipping from the dwarf’s grip, eliciting a grunt of effort from his helper. “However, I agree that our friend over there does appear to be totally unmoving. I wonder what has captured his attention?” asked Aragorn, breaking into the Elf’s reverie even though he stepped silently up to stand beside him. Gimli stood alongside of them as well, although his approach had been rather more noticeable, as he had not even attempted to be quiet.

“The sea is calling to me, singing in my blood, and in my mind’s eye I can see the white capped waves dancing in the light of the setting sun. Ai! Is that not a gull I also see far on the horizon? Is that not the harsh wail of his cry I hear?” replied Legolas his eyes alight with excitement and longing.

“We do not have the sight nor hearing of Elves, but if you say it is a gull, then so it is,” replied Gimli, sounding slightly distraught. He was concerned with the effect the sea longing had often had on his friend ever since the Lady Galadriel’s prophesy had come to pass.

“Do you think it wise to settle so close to the water? Surely it will only tempt you to follow the Anduin to the Sea?” asked Aragorn who was similarly concerned for his friend.

“I am already tempted to do so every waking moment,” replied Legolas with a sigh, “but there is much I must do here before I follow that course. I am also anxious to help in the rebuilding of the forests of your kingdom, and I will not be content to leave Middle Earth until I have fulfilled my promise to you.”

“And until the last of those who bind you here have lived out their days,” acknowledged Aragorn as he placed an affectionate hand on the Elf’s shoulder. He knew full well that Legolas intended to stay, both out of friendship for the King of Gondor as well as his love for Middle Earth, until Aragorn’s days were ended. It was a painful realisation for them both.

“Well, if we must see your new home from the river, may I suggest we do so before that day arrives?” asked Gimli, feeling a little uncomfortable with the morbid tone of the conversation.

“I am afraid I must leave you two to do so on your own, for it is well past time I returned to the city,” said Aragorn with great reluctance. It was not often that he had the chance to spend time in pursuit of his own pleasures, but he had promised to help Legolas select a site for his village. He was pleased to see that the area Legolas favoured was less than a day’s ride from the city, and although it was on the opposite bank of the Anduin, it would be still a simple matter for the two to visit on a regular basis, time permitting.

The three friends made their way back down to the forest below and accompanied Aragorn on his journey back to Minas Tirith and his kingly responsibilities. Rather than cross the Anduin and so head for the city, Legolas bade his friend farewell on the far shore and headed towards a small stony beach. Gimli watched Aragorn leave then turned to find Legolas walking swiftly in the direction of the riverbank.

“Come on, Gimli, we must make haste,” he called over his shoulder.

“You forget my legs are not as long as yours, Legolas. Slow down a little!” Gimli demanded as he ran to catch up with the rapidly moving Elf. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“To the boat, of course,” answered Legolas light-heartedly.

“What boat?” asked the now curious Dwarf.

“The one that is moored over yonder,” he replied with a wave of his hand in the general direction of the river. “It is the one we left at Parth Galen. I rowed it here some time ago while you were busy in Aglarond. I knew it would be of use one day.”

Gimli did not hide his surprise. He had almost forgotten about the elven boat from Lothlórien, but he should have realised Legolas would not. The Wood Elf was quite at home on the river, having often travelled the waterways of the Forest River to Esgaroth in years gone by.

“Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow?” suggested the Dwarf hopefully, for the light was now rapidly fading.

“We will be there in a few minutes, and the moon will be full tonight so we will be able to see how both Anor and Ithil shine on my new home,” said Legolas, obviously pleased by the prospect. Gimli merely frowned his displeasure, but said nothing as he settled himself at the bow as he had done on the journey downriver during the Quest. Gimli was saddened to hear Legolas sing the melancholy song that spoke of the sea longing that had taken hold of his heart.

The pale grey elven boat moved silently, leaving barely a ripple in its wake as it seemed to glide effortlessly across the surface of the clear water. It was being borne southwards by the swiftly moving currents of the Anduin, and the occasional dipping of an oar into its cool, dark depths.

“I fail to see how paddling down the river can help you determine if that site is a suitable place to settle. Are you certain you would not rather WALK some more in the woods?” enquired Gimli as he tried to pretend he was well at ease in the boat, when in fact all he wanted to do was to set his feet on firm ground.

“I believe that is the third time you have asked me that question since we left the shore, Gimli. The answer remains the same. I have already walked to the location that I deem to be suitable for my people from Eryn Lasgalen, but I also need to view it from the river,” replied Legolas with a gentle smile for the Dwarf’s rather exaggerated gruffness.

“Aragorn was speaking sense when he said it would be foolhardy of you to live too close to temptation. Even I can smell the sea air as we move further south,” said Gimli, his mock anger turning to genuine concern for his friend.

“Nothing can change my need to answer the call of the sea, but have no fear, it is not time for me to succumb to that temptation yet. I have my reasons for wishing to settle near the river.”

“Would you care to enlighten me?” asked Gimli, daring to turn around far enough so that he could look expectantly at his friend. Legolas smiled mysteriously and remained silent for a few moments before replying.

“Besides the fact that the sea is far in the distance, Friend Gimli, when I eventually do travel to the Undying lands, it will be by the ship I intend to build in a haven on the mighty Anduin,” Legolas explained.

Many years later…

The forest of Ithilien had been restored to its former beauty by the grace of the Elves who had followed their Prince from Eryn Lasgalen and this day Legolas felt a need to seek solace in the branches of one of the oldest trees in his favourite part of the woods that he now called home. All day long a creeping sense of despair had been casting a dark shadow over his thoughts but even here he found little comfort from the foreboding sense of doom rising within him, for the trees themselves whispered of impending sadness. A sharp pain pierced his heart as a shadow brushed his soul with a feather light touch, a touch he recognised it instantly. "Aragorn!"  A feeling of unease urged him to climb to the top of the tree, from where he could just barely see the towers of the White City.

Grief overwhelmed him as he saw that the flags on the towers were lowered, signalling the death of the King. Tears flowed freely as he sang a lament for the passing of his much loved friend. The sweet yet mournful song carried through the forest and the other Elves bowed their heads in grief. Aragorn, as he wished to be called by them, was well known and loved by the Elves of Ithilien.  The last strains of song left his lips and Legolas climbed down from the tree thinking that he must inform Gimli of the sad news before he rode to Minis Tirith.

The pain in his heart grew stronger as he approached the city, for he knew that this would be the last time he would enter the mithril gates. Making his way quickly to the palace, he was not surprised to see Arwen waiting for him in the hallway, nor was he surprised when she ran quickly to his open arms.

“I knew you would come,” she whispered through her tears.

 “I felt his passing, I had to come,” was his simple reply as they moved to the privacy of the small piece of Rivendell that was her garden. Legolas put his arm around the shoulders of the distraught Queen as she settled next to him on the stone bench. Comforted by his presence, Arwen rested her head on her friend’s chest and they sat in melancholy silence for a few minutes. It was Legolas, who finally spoke.

 “I must go and make my final farewell.”

 “I know. I will see you in the morning, dear Legolas,” Arwen said watching with sadness as the grief-stricken Elf headed for the Silent Street. Upon entering the House of Kings, Legolas was awed by the majesty of the stone chamber; it was a fitting final resting place for a King.

Over the years Aragorn had aged, with the passage of time reflected in increasingly greying hair, and wrinkles of wisdom on the handsome face, serving as a constant reminder of his friend’s mortality. As he walked over to Aragorn’s resting place, Legolas looked with amazement at the face of the King. This was the Aragorn he had met in Mirkwood when he was but a youth, restored by the gift given to the Númenóreans.

Handsome and fearless, even in death, truly a great King, thought Legolas as he reverently touched his hand to his forehead and lips, in the greeting of Men and bent over to place a farewell kiss on the still, cold forehead, whispering the words he had heard used a long time ago.

 “Be at peace, King of Gondor. Namarie, mellon nin.” 

The silence of the night was broken only by the sound of soft tears falling on the stone floor as, illuminated only by Elvish light fading with grief, Legolas stood alone, waiting for the dawn. As the first pale light of morning filtered into the chamber, Legolas cast one last glance at the unmoving form of his friend and with a final nod of farewell, he returned to the palace.

“My grief is too great, Arwen. I can no longer remain in Minas Tirith, and I fear that my time in Ithilien is also nearing an end. As soon as I build my ship, Gimli and I will sail for Valinor. We shall not met again,” he told the Queen as they stood in her garden and watched the sunrise rise cause the light of the last star to fade from view.

“No we shall not, but know that I understand my future also lies elsewhere. Without Aragorn there is nothing here for me,” she said sadly. “May the Valar protect you and Gimli on your voyage,” she whispered through her tears. Legolas held her close and chastely kissed her lips before releasing her.

“Namarie, Evenstar,” he said softly. Arwen turned to answer, but Legolas was gone.

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As he had promised, Gimli had provided much assistance to Legolas and the other Elves during the building process, but had often become exasperated with them, as they spent too much time, in his opinion, on making ornate carvings with which to decorate the ship.

“I think you will be pleased to know that, despite the best efforts of these Elves to delay me, your ship is now ready to sail,” he told Legolas one evening.

The melancholy Elf brightened at this, for he had spent much of the last year grieving the loss of Aragorn. “That is indeed good news my friend. There is no longer a place for Elves in Middle Earth; our home now lies over the sea.  Let us make haste and depart.”

“Us? You mean for me to accompany you?” asked a rather surprised Gimli.

“Yes, surely you realise that you are to travel with me to Valinor?” asked Legolas.

“I am not an Elf,” stated Gimli.

“No, but have you not been named elf-friend, and do you not carry a token from Lady Galadriel?”

“Yes, but… “ Gimli began to protest, until he saw the dismay on Legolas’s face.

“Then you will be granted passage. I am asking you to come, for I can no longer resist the call. I fear I am unable to remain here until the end of your days, and I do not wish to leave you alone,” the Elf said earnestly.

“And I do not wish to see you suffer on my account. I will gladly risk the wrath of the Valar if that sets your heart at ease,” replied Gimli.

“Thank you, my friend. Rest assured no harm will befall you, we have the favour of the Valar,” said Legolas with the utmost confidence.

“There is however, one small problem. We have no wind for our sails, we shall have to wait for favourable weather,” Gimli pointed out.  Legolas laughed, the sweet sound was music to Gimli’s ears; it had been so long since his friend had been happy.

“Friend Gimli, surely you have been among Elves long enough not to underestimate our power where nature is concerned. Our ship sails when we are ready.”

So it was that, using the light of the stars to guide the path, the grey ship sailed down the Anduin to the sea. Legolas stood on the deck, finally feeling at peace, as he tasted the salt from the air as it crystallised on his lips, and felt the warm wind ruffle his hair.

No one saw the ship as it sailed by although some claimed to have felt a slight breeze as it passed.  Others thought they saw a faint light moving southwards towards the Great Sea, but all anyone knew for certain was that the light of the Elves had left Ithilien.