Chapter 1.  Unwelcome News

For the fist time since the gates of Minas Tirith had been restored by the skill of the dwarves, Gimli passed through them without even stopping to inspect the stonework for signs that repairs were needed. His mind was set on a single purpose, of such importance that he allowed nothing to distract him, thus the friendly waves and greetings of the people of Gondor were not returned, nor even acknowledged with as little as a gruff reply. His mood was not improved when he found his way to Aragorn’s chambers barred by one of the King’s Guard.

“Now, lad, I know you are only doing your duty, but I must see the King at once! Let me pass!” he demanded loudly as he glared angrily at the guard who was standing his ground in the midst of the hallway.

“As I have already explained, my lord Gimli, the King and Queen are taking their morning meal in their chambers, and I can not allow you to disturb their privacy,” the young man replied patiently, ignoring the Dwarf’s ire.

“And as I have already told you, I bear urgent news for King Elessar,” repeated Gimli, his voice  raised in anger as he  vented his frustration by pounding the handle of his axe on the stone floor.

“Then please join us, friend Gimli,” offered a quiet, yet firm voice from the doorway that was now opened to reveal Elessar, wearing his only night attire and an amused grin. He nodded at the guard who accepted the unspoken command and moved aside to allow Gimli to pass.

“And about time too,” grumbled the Dwarf, fixing Aragorn with an irate glare even as he accepted the invitation.

“You must forgive my guard, he was only following orders,” apologized Aragorn as he led Gimli out onto the balcony where the breakfast table had been set.

“I know, but I think he now also disapproves of your lack of modesty,” commented Gimli, indicating Aragorn’s state of undress and smirking at the shocked expression he had noted on the guard’s face as he walked past him.

“I doubt that he is aware that during our travels together modesty was a luxury we could not afford,” replied Aragorn lightly. Gimli laughed and nodded agreement, remembering the many times they had shared a stream as they bathed. He was just about to comment that he had likely seen as much of the King as the Queen had, but stilled his tongue as he realized Arwen was sitting at the table, listening with amusement to the conversation.

“Speaking of forgiveness, I must apologize for my rudeness. Good morning, my lady,” he said bowing respectfully to the Queen, whose nightgown was appropriately covered by the robe she wore. Arwen stood so that she could return his greeting with a kiss to his brow.

“It is always a good day when you grace us with your presence dear Gimli,” she said sincerely, smiling at the deep red blush on his cheeks that resulted from her display of affection.

“Now, what is this urgent news you have for me?” asked Aragorn as he offered the Dwarf a mug of hot, black tea.

“Legolas is missing!” stated Gimli with his usual directness.

“What do you mean… missing… ?”  Aragorn was stunned, he had suspected Gimli bore ill news, but was not prepared for this.

“I mean I went to Ithilien to see him only to find he was not there. Apparently he had left for an unknown destination, saying he would be gone no more than two or three days. That was over a week ago and he has not been seen since,” explained Gimli. “As he obviously is not here as I had hoped, I know not where he might be found.”

“Have not the Elves searched for him?” asked Arwen, concerned for Legolas who was not only Aragorn’s friend, but dear to her heart as well.

“His friends were not particularly worried about his absence about him until I arrived yesterday.  Legolas often stays longer than planned when he visits Aglarond, which is where they assumed he had gone. Although I would have thought that they knew that not even an elf could travel fast enough to reach my caves in such a short time. Needless to say, they were dismayed to learn I had not seen him and search parties were quickly organized. Unfortunately it was nigh impossible to find a trail to follow since it was discovered that he had taken one of the boats. It is only a guess as to whether he headed upriver or down,” replied Gimli despondently.

“Well if he went north, perhaps it was to visit Faramir’s city?” suggested Aragorn, the hope in his words dying as he realized that Legolas would have included a trip to Minas Tirith in his plans, either before or after leaving Faramir. He never missed an opportunity to spend some time with the King and Queen of Gondor.

“Might I suggest you send a messenger to Dol Amroth? I think it more likely he headed to the sea,” offered Arwen. Aragorn and Gimli exchanged a look of despair as they realized the significance of her words.

“Do you think he has succumbed to the sea longing?” surmised Aragorn. Arwen nodded and placed her arms about her husband’s waist in a gesture of comfort meant to ease the pain he felt at the thought of such a loss. Gimli was not convinced that was the case, however.

“It is a sad possibility, but I do not believe it to be so. No matter how urgently he needed to answer that call, Legolas would not leave either of us without saying goodbye,” stated the Dwarf with total confidence in the bond of friendship he and Aragorn enjoyed with the Elf.

“No, he would not,” agreed Aragorn.  “But I know he has received several invitations from Prince Imrahil to visit Dol Amroth, so maybe he decided to do so.”

“That is what we must find out, and soon,” replied Gimli in a manner that suggested to Aragorn that it was not only Legolas’s disappearance that was of concern. There was more ill news to be heard.

“I will send a message immediately, but what have you not yet told me?” he asked the Dwarf, suspecting he did not really wish to know.

“Thranduil is expected to arrive in Ithilien within a few days,” answered a grim faced Gimli. He had only met Legolas’s sire on one occasion, and the welcome he had received from the elder Elf had been as cold as Legolas’s affection for him was warm.

The Woodland King did not approve of his son’s friendship with a Dwarf, but Gimli took consolation in the fact that neither did he approve of his friendship with King Elessar. Nevertheless, out of his desire not to interfere in Legolas’s happiness, Thranduil had been nothing but polite all the while Gimli had been in Mirkwood.

“Then maybe Legolas has gone to meet him?” mused Aragorn with renewed hope; this was good news. “If he is only a few days away, he must be close to Ithilien.  I will ask Faramir to see if he can locate Thranduil, and hopefully Legolas will be safely in his father’s company.”

                                                    ********

Two days later, Aragorn was heartened to hear that Faramir had entered the gates of Minas Tirith in the company of a blonde haired Elf. His relief was short lived, however when he saw that it was not Legolas, but his father who accompanied the Steward into his study.

“Greetings, King Elessar,” said Thranduil with the barest of respectful bows. “Have you any word as to the whereabouts of my son?” he asked before Aragorn had a chance to speak. The King exchanged a questioning look with his Steward, who shrugged in resignation.

“King Thranduil was already aware of Legolas’s disappearance when I encountered him in the forest. The Elves had also hoped to find him with his father,” he offered by way of explanation.

“I see, I should have realized they would have done so,” he berated himself before addressing his reply to Thranduil.  “It grieves me to tell you that I have no news to report, Your Majesty.”

“Then I must ask that you allow Faramir to guide me to the settlement. I have been reassured that my people will continue the search for my son, and I intend to join them as soon as possible,” said Thranduil, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.

“If you would allow it, Gimli and I wish to join the search also,” said Aragorn, speaking on Gimli’s behalf as he knew the Dwarf would expect him to.  “Faramir, will you stay in the city in my stead, in case news arrives?” he asked his Steward.

“If you so desire, King Elessar,” replied Faramir formally, accepting the task with a slight incline of his head.

“I would be most appreciative of any help you and Gimli may be able to offer,” answered Thranduil, allowing himself a small smile at the surprised look on Aragorn’s face that changed rapidly to one of respect. It was a measure of the depth of Thranduil’s love and concern for his son that he did not raise a single objection to the proposal, even though Aragorn had been expecting at least a derisive comment, if not an argument from the Elven King.

“Shall I seek out Gimli, and send him to speak with you?” Faramir asked, easily guessing Aragorn’s next request. The King smiled and clasped his Steward’s shoulder in a gesture of friendly affection.

“You know me too well, Faramir, that is exactly what I want you to do. But please allow me the pleasure of informing Gimli of our plans, and see to it that we are not disturbed when he arrives,” he added with a conspiratorial wink as he closed the door behind Faramir. Turning his attention back to Thranduil, he indicated with a wave of his hand that the King should take a seat while they waited for Gimli.

“You have had a long journey, and an unpleasant shock, Your Majesty, perhaps a glass of wine will help to ease your heartache?” suggested Aragorn to the Elf who appeared at the moment to be more a very worried father than a formidable King.

Gimli had been correct in his assertion that Thranduil disapproved of his son’s choice of friends, but that did not prevent Aragorn from admitting that  there was much to admire  and respect about his friend’s father. In face he was actually quite fond the elder Elf, and Aragorn suspected that hidden beneath the façade of unwilling acceptance of the mortal King’s  friendship with Legolas, Thranduil actually liked him as well.

“Thank you, yes, but the need for such formality between us has long passed, Aragorn. Please just call me by my name,” said Thranduil, the simple request seeming to confirm Aragorn’s supposition and causing him to wonder whether the Elf had somehow sensed his thoughts. He did not have time to ask, however, before Gimli strode into the room.

“King Thranduil,” he said tersely, acknowledging Aragorn’s guest with no more than a brief glance.

“Gimli,” replied Thranduil equally as abruptly, his fragile resolve to try and become better acquainted with Legolas’s closest friend disappearing in the wake of the distinctly unfriendly attitude he sensed coming from the Dwarf.

“I take it there is still no news of Legolas?” Gimli asked, pointedly ignoring Thranduil and addressing his query to Aragorn.

“No, but Thranduil wishes to continue the search from Ithilien, and I have agreed that we will accompany him to Legolas’s settlement,” Aragorn answered easily sensing the sudden chill in the air that caused him to question  the wisdom of traveling, even only as far as Ithilien, in such unfriendly company. He quickly discounted the notion as foolish since he was well experienced in dealing with an Elf and Dwarf who apparently had no love for each other. It was unrealistic to expect a friendship to develop between the two, but they both loved the missing Elf and Aragorn hoped they would be united in their desire to find him safe and well.

Still Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief when rather than replying in his usual confrontational style when he disagreed with a proposed plan of action, Gimli merely nodded his agreement.

“I suggest we leave as soon as possible, Legolas may need us,” said Aragorn, suddenly afraid that the Elf was not just missing, but maybe lying injured somewhere and unable to seek help, or perhaps he no longer even lived. His eyes were filled with the fear in is heart at his unwelcome thoughts.

“Be at ease, Aragorn, he has not passed to the Halls of Waiting…  I can still hear the sweetness of his song,” Thranduil reassured him.

“It gladdens my heart to hear that,” muttered a relieved Gimli who had also feared the worst.

“Indeed, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we are likely to find him,” said Aragorn.

Within the hour the gates of Minis Tirith were but a shining speck far back on the horizon.

Chapter 2.  The Storm Before the Calm.

“Go alone, if you must, but I still say it is folly. Surely you can at least tell me where you are going?” demanded Tathar as Legolas untied the rope that held his boat to its mooring in the small haven he had built near the elvish settlement in Ithilien.

“There is no need for concern, I will only be gone a few days, so please allow me a little privacy, mellon nin,” replied Legolas as he stood up and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. He and Tathar had been friends since childhood, and he had been one of the first elves to leave Eryn Lasgalen to join Legolas in his task of rejuvenating the forest that was once known as the Garden of Gondor.

“Very well, but do not forget that King Thranduil is expected within the week. It would be prudent of you to be here to greet him, since you have contrived to have Gimli visit at the same time,” warned Tathar, clasping Legolas’s shoulder in return, and joining him in his merry laughter.

“Have no fear; I fully intend to return before they arrive. It will be a difficult task to keep them civil, and one I would not ask anyone else to undertake on my behalf,” Legolas reassured his friend. “If I did not know better, I could easily believe that Adar sent you here to watch over me, as you did when were young,” he added earning an exasperated roll of the eyes from Tathar.

“The King did no such thing, for he knows as well as I that you can take care of yourself. But may the Valar watch over you should trouble unlooked for find you, mellon nin,” said Tathar as he watched Legolas step lightly into the boat and expertly steer it towards the Anduin.

The warm, humid air smelled of rain, and as Legolas paddled the boat around the bend in the small stream that fed into the Great River, he glanced over his shoulder, a frown of annoyance creasing his brow at the sight of the dark clouds that hung ominously over Osgiliath. He knew that the waters of the river were treacherous during a storm, and briefly considered postponing his search for the ancient tree that the new captain of the Rangers had told him was rumored to live in the forest on the western side of the river, not far from Pelargir. Legolas was determined to find it to see if he could speak with it, and normally he would have asked Gimli or Tathar, to accompany him on such a trip, but of late he felt the need for solitude. The cause was no mystery to him and he was certain his friends had surmised the reason also, but they respected his feelings and his heartache was not spoken of, for the sea longing was something that could not be cured, even with well meaning words.

Besides, he had already argued the wisdom of traveling alone by river with Tathar, and he had no intention of surrendering his victory.

Closing his eyes the better to listen to his inner sense, he felt that this was merely just another of the brief rainstorms that shattered the peace of the day with an intense thunderstorm and drenching rain, spending its fury rapidly before leaving everything glistening wet in the sunshine that followed in its wake.

As he reached the middle of the river, Legolas was pleased to note that the current was very strong, and he took advantage of it by lifting his oar and allowing the fast flowing water to carry the elven boat downstream. He sat down and allowed the serenity of the silence that surrounded him to ease the trouble in his heart, the turmoil that the cry of the gulls at Pelargir had awoken. He tried to imagine what the sea looked like; he had not yet seen it in all its glory, for although he had received many invitations to visit Dol Amroth, it was his fear of succumbing to the siren song of the waves that forced him to refuse them all.

So lost was he in his musings, that Legolas failed to notice the increasing turbulence in the current, caused by the storm that had not spent itself over Osgiliath, but was now rapidly moving south, as if it was intent on attacking the lone Elf in his small boat. The first cold drops of rain brought him out of his reverie, and it took all the strength he could muster to paddle the boat towards the safety of the shore where shelter could be sought until the summer thunderstorm had passed. Blinded as he was by the now driving rain, he failed to see the rather large log that was moving swiftly towards him. It hit the side of the boat with such force that Legolas lost his balance and toppled overboard.

Fortunately the elven boat did not capsize, even as its mariner gripped the side with white knuckled fingers and attempted to haul himself back on board. He had almost succeeded when he heard an ominous crack, followed by an excruciating pain in his ankle, as it broke when it was hit hard by the log. Tears of pain filled his eyes, but with a determined effort he finally managed to clamber back into the boat, where he lay still for a few moments, helpless to do anything but catch his breath.

Realizing that his need to reach the shore was more urgent, Legolas attempted to pull himself into a sitting position so that he could use the oar, but his hands slipped on the wet wood and he fell, hitting his head on the edge of the seat with such force that he was knocked unconscious.

Legolas felt as if he was floating through layers of murky water that were gradually becoming clearer as he reached the surface, and on the edge of his awareness, he could hear what seemed to be the whisper of fine steel being drawn from its sheath. Feeling a little more alert at the possible danger, and with considerable effort, he forced himself to ignore the dull ache in his head, and the intensely throbbing agony of his left ankle, and to focus instead on the source of the sounds. A wave of dizziness engulfed him as he tried to sit up, and he moaned loudly as the ache in his head increased.

“I think it would be wise if you lay back down,” said a kindly voice that startled the Elf into becoming fully alert as he found himself looking into the strangely compelling black eyes of a white haired old man.

“Who are you?” Legolas asked the man as he placed a supportive hand behind the Elf’s head, gently lowering him back onto the folded blanket that had been placed there as a pillow.

“I am a friend and a healer. I think you have broken your ankle, would you like me to give you something for the pain before I set it for you?” he asked as reached for a small pouch, that looked much like the medicine pouch Aragorn always carried when on a journey, and selected a few leaves which he added to a small pot of water that was boiling on the campfire.

“I think that would be much appreciated,” agreed Legolas accepting the medicine without question, his elvish insight telling him that the wizened old man could be trusted not to harm him. The herbs worked rapidly, and he felt barely a twinge as his ankle was attended to, and then bandaged by wrinkled hands that were deceptively strong.

“You are of the Firstborn,” stated the healer as he examined the quickly receding lump on the Elf’s temple. Legolas’s eyes widened in surprise and he nodded affirmation. The use of the rarely spoken name for his race only added to the mystery surrounding his rescuer. “Then I expect it will only be a few days before your bruises fade and your bone mends enough so that  you will able to walk again.”

“Thank you, for your help,” said Legolas gratefully as he felt the pain already diminishing, allowing his clarity of mind to be restored. He relaxed even more when he realized that the air around him felt slightly damp, and the sound that he could still hear, was not of swords being drawn, but the hissing sound of constant movement of water over stones, reminding him of the waterfalls in Rivendell, and at Rauros.

“I can hear a waterfall, but can not see it,” he said, now able to prop himself up on one elbow without feeling nauseous. There was indeed no waterfall to be seen, and it appeared as if he was also some distance from the river. “Where am I, and how did I get here?” he asked his companion.

“It is not a waterfall you can hear, but the soothing song of the sea,” answered the man, closely watching the Elf’s response, and so catching the hint of longing mixed with despair that flashed through his eyes. “I believe the Bay of Belfalas lies yonder, on the other side of these hills,” he said pointing to the row of sand hills that were covered with hardy green vegetation and could be seen a short distance away. “As to how you come to be here, I was hoping you could tell me.”

Legolas’s closed his eyes in frustration as his memory of recent events temporarily eluded him. He knew that he had left Ithilien intending to visit…  somewhere, but could not recall anything further, and said as much to the old man.

“I am certain it will all come back to you in time, but do you at least know your name?” he asked the Elf.

“Legolas, of Ithilien,” he replied without hesitation. “And do you also have a name?”

“I am called Gwael.”

“How long have I been unconscious, Gwael?” asked Legolas. The name meant ‘gull’ in the language of men and he smiled at the irony of meeting a stranger named after the very sea birds that were continually distracting him ever since the war.

“I am sorry, but I do not know the answer, Legolas. All I can tell you is that Anor has not yet completed one crossing of the sky since I found you,” Gwael answered.

“It must have been days if I am so close to the Bay of Belfalas,” Legolas mused trying to estimate how long it would take to travel that distance by river.

 “Perhaps you will remember more after you have eaten and taken some rest?” suggested Gwael. “I will return shortly with some fresh fish, try and get some rest while you wait, a few hours of healing sleep will do you no harm. We can talk some more later.”

Despite his curiosity regarding the old man, whose appearance and enigmatic answers reminded him of Gandalf, Legolas found he could not keep awake, and allowed himself to drift into the misty world of elven dreams. Gwael returned to find the Elf’s eyes glazed in slumber, and as he knelt down to pull the blanket more tightly around his patient he whispered softly,

“Sleep well, Legolas Thranduilion.”

Chapter 3.  The Search Begins.

The elves of Ithilien had not been idle as they awaited the arrival of their king and his companions from Minas Tirith, and preparations for the search were well underway. The captain of the Rangers had offered the willing assistance of his men, and several groups made up of both elves and rangers had already left to search the riverbanks and the forest to the north.

Although it was agreed that Legolas had likely gone south in search of the ancient tree, it was not a certainty and Tathar knew that his king would accept nothing less than a thorough search. He had also readied the remaining two boats in anticipation that Aragorn and Gimli would wish to do likewise.

Hearing the sound of horses approaching, Tathar took a moment to silently ask the Valar to watch over his friend before returning to the glade where he would meet the new arrivals.

“Welcome to Ithilien, King Thranduil, King Elessar, friend Gimli,” said Tathar, placing his hand on his heart and bowing respectfully in the formal manner of greeting.

“Thank you Tathar,” said Thranduil, returning the gesture and smiling warmly as he nodded a polite acknowledgement to the other elves who had come to the glade to greet him.

“Where is everyone else, surely the others are also eager to welcome their king?” Gimli asked with just a hint of sarcasm, as he cast a quick glance about him.

“Already continuing the search for my son, I suspect,” replied Thranduil coldly. Tathar nodded in confirmation of the fact, and sensing the discord between his king and the dwarf, quickly intervened.

“Ai, Gimli, I see you are as good as your word and have convinced Aragorn to help us in the search for our missing friend,” Tathar said clapping him affectionately on the back.

“In fact, he required no convincing, I merely passed on the ill news, and his concern for Legolas moved him to join the search. However, I will take credit for his choice of attire. It was I who suggested that the clothing he wore as a Ranger would be more appropriate for hunting our elusive prey, than his royal finery,” replied Gimli, his lighthearted words and reference to Legolas hiding his deep concern, and evoking a smile of sympathy from Tathar, but a look of ill concealed rage from Thranduil, who thought the dwarf was being disrespectful.

“And it still sits well on him, despite his years away from the wilds!” declared Tathar, laughing merrily at the glare of mock indignation he received from Aragorn. “Welcome, King of Gondor, it has been far too long since last you visited with us,” the elf said as he drew the man into a brotherly embrace which was returned with the same enthusiasm. Thranduil raised a single eyebrow at the display; apparently Legolas was not the only elf in Ithilien who had befriended the man.

“It most certainly has, but I wish that the reason for my visit was simply to attend one of your feasts, rather than the need to find my friend,” said Aragorn ruefully.

“He will be found, if he does not simply return of his own accord, and then we most definitely will treat you to a feast,” said the elf with a determined optimism that eased the weight on Aragorn’s mind.

“Then am I to understand that there has been no news regarding Legolas since I last spoke with you?” Thranduil asked the one who had journeyed to meet him with the news several days previously.  He had known the young elf all his life and was well able to read the concern in his eyes as Tathar shook his head.

“It grieves me that he has not yet been located, but I have since learned from the captain of the Rangers that he may have headed downriver towards Pelargir,” he replied.

“To the sea?” asked Aragorn in a shocked whisper, as he suddenly questioned his certainty that Legolas would have at least bid him farewell had he decided to sail to Valinor.

“Nay, just as far as the forest on the western shore, where it is rumored a very ancient tree is to be found,” the elf explained.

“A TREE! He has taken off on his own to speak with a TREE! I thought he had already met every tree in Middle Earth during our wanderings. That insane Elf, how dare he be so inconsiderate as to cause us worry over such a thing! Just wait until I see him!”  An enraged Gimli blustered. Aragorn and Tathar exchanged an amused glance at the dwarf’s indignation.

“How dare you speak of my son in that manner, Dwarf!” thundered the voice of a decidedly not amused Thranduil, his eyes flashing with anger as he moved to stand before Gimli. “Apologize at once for your insult!” he demanded.

“I do not think…  " Aragorn began to say, his intention to defend Gimli dying on his lips as Thranduil’s angry glare, and the warning touch of Tathar’s hand on his arm silenced him.

“Legolas would not consider my words an insult,” stated Gimli defiantly, his proud stance showing he was not intimidated by the formidable Woodland King.

“Do you dare to suggest that I do not know my own son’s mind?” asked Thranduil with the soft whisper of steel in his voice.

“I am sure you do, but you obviously know little of his affections for his friends, or theirs for him,” replied Gimli. It was a truth Thranduil could not deny, but one he was not prepared to admit openly.

“I know that his friendships with mortals can only bring grief,” he said coldly.

“That may be so, but do not doubt that Legolas is well aware of the risks to his heart, yet he willingly accepts our love and friendship, as we accept his,” said Aragorn stepping between the two antagonists, unable to keep his silence any longer.

“This ‘discussion’ is achieving nothing but a delay in finding the elf we all love,” said Tathar with the voice of reason. He was already tired of the bickering and silently vowed to make Legolas pay dearly for leaving him to act as intermediary. “I have the last two boats ready, for I assume you and Gimli will wish to head south,” he said to Aragorn, his assumption that Thranduil would not be joining them dismissed out of hand by the king’s next words.

“They can take one, and I will take the other,” stated Thranduil, making it plain he had every intention of joining the search.

“Would you not prefer to remain here with me, should Legolas return, Your Majesty?” asked Tathar, deciding to use a more formal manner of speech as a gentle reminder of proper behavior, which Thranduil accepted, and calmed his anger.

“Nay, Tathar, I believe as you do that my son would have been unable to resist the lure of finding such a tree. I will accompany Aragorn and Gimli, for although I know of the ranger’s skills as a woodsman, elvish eyesight and hearing might prove to be equally as necessary,” he said, surprising them all with his compliment and his renewed spirit of cooperation, indicating to all his concern for his son. “Please show me to the haven, we have wasted too much time already.”

“I agree. Your presence and your skills are indeed welcome, King Thranduil,” said Aragorn sincerely, glaring darkly at Gimli who grunted his disapproval.

“Aragorn, a word if I may,” asked Tatar, drawing his friend aside as Thranduil and Gimli settled themselves in separate boats.

“What troubles you?” Aragorn asked, sensing the elf was worried.

“I need to warn you that Legolas has not been himself of late, the call of the sea is weighing heavily on his heart. He refused to ask one of us to go with him, and I fear that his distraction may have lead to his disappearance,” he told Aragorn.

“I assume Thranduil is well aware of this?” asked a now very alarmed Aragorn.

“Of course, contrary to Gimli’s opinion, the king knows his son very well. It was his concern for Legolas that brought him here in the first place, and now with the added worry of his son’s disappearance…  well…  I think you will find Thranduil more difficult than usual,” said Tathar. “I just wanted to apologize in advance for the trouble you can expect from the King and Gimli, if their recent behavior is any indication. It would have been much easier had Thranduil decided to stay behind,” said the elf.

“Gimli is also suffering from fear and worry over Legolas, and you are not responsible for their behavior. Let your heart be at ease, it is well within my capabilities do deal with such animosity, I have done so before,” he chuckled reassuringly. “Besides, if they become too annoying, I will simply take one of the boats and continue the search alone, leaving them to argue who should take the other,” he told the elf with a mischievous wink. Tathar half believed he would do just that, and sighed with relief that he was to remain in Ithilien.

The two elven boats moved slowly down the stream, the distance between them close enough to allow further planning of the search. According to what little information Tathar had been able to give them, the tree was at least one day’s journey south by river, and it was agreed that since there were already several groups searching the forest to the south of the settlement, it would be wiser for the three to travel further downstream, stopping to seek any sign of Legolas at each of the small stony beaches on the western bank.

The first day’s search continued until the darkness of night made seeing impossible and it was a disheartened company that made camp that night. After a brief meal, Gimli and Aragorn lit their pipes, causing Thranduil to seek refuge some distance away.

“You do not like the smell of pipeweed, Thranduil?” asked Aragorn his manner friendly and inviting some light conversation.

“I do not understand why you wish to fill your lungs with smoke when the evening air is clean and fresh,” admitted Thranduil as he climbed easily onto the lower branch of one of the trees that bordered the campsite, settling himself against the trunk as he gazed into the night sky. As he did so, both Aragorn and Gimli were reminded very much of their missing friend, and even though the distance between was short, Gimli was startled to realize just how much alike in appearance Legolas and Thranduil actually were.

“Your son is of the same opinion for I have heard that comment from Legolas on many occasions,” Gimli told Thranduil as he blew a puff of smoke into the air. “He also seeks the solace of the trees whenever a pipe is lit,” he added with a genuinely friendly smile in an attempt to ease some of the tension between them. It was a decision the dwarf had reached as they had traveled downriver, made not because he had taken a sudden liking to the elder elf, but because it would please Legolas if they could at least be civil towards one another.

Both Gimli and Aragorn had not failed to notice how intently Thranduil scanned the shore for any sign of his son, nor had they failed to notice the worry filled eyes that were much like those of their friend. Their companion was no longer the King who disapproved of his son’s choice of friends, but instead he had become the loving father who was concerned for his son’s well being.

“Do you still sense his presence?” Aragorn asked Thranduil after a long silence.

“Ai, it is as before, but now I am hearing something else,” he added as he closed his eyes in concentration for a few moments.

“What is it?” asked Aragorn, judging by Thranduil’s relaxed posture that it was good news.

“I hear the whisper of an ancient voice on the breeze, the words are in a language I do not understand, but I am certain it is the tree Legolas was seeking,” he replied his eyes bright with delight at his discovery.

“Is it close by?” asked Aragorn, also relieved at the pleasing revelation.

“It is not here, but further down the river, possibly only a few hours distant. I suggest you both rest now, for we should be ready to leave at dawn’s first light,” said Thranduil, who did not need, nor require sleep.

As Aragorn and Gimli drifted into slumber, they could have sworn it was the soft, sweet voice of Legolas, rather than his father that they could hear singing praises to the stars.

Later the next day, their joyful anticipation at finding the tree, and hopefully Legolas soon faded into despair as they saw no sign of their friend on the rocky shore where they landed the boats. Aragorn’s tracking skills told him it was likely several centuries, if not longer since anyone had used the pathway he finally found and their disappointment was compounded when, despite his best efforts, Thranduil was unable to understand the voice of the ancient tree.

“I sense only that the ancient one is curious about us, that we are the first beings he has seen in many long years,” said Thranduil, confirming Aragorn’s findings as he removed his hand from the gnarled trunk, and bowed respectfully to the tree, as Gimli had seen Legolas do many times during their stay in Fangorn.

“Then Legolas did not reach his goal,” stated Gimli as they made their way back to the boats to take a short break before heading further south.

“No, but I see the signs of a recent storm, perhaps he sought refuge elsewhere,” said Aragorn, who had been carefully searching the shore for any clue, no matter how small.

“We have no choice but to continue on,” said Thranduil. The others nodded agreement, and soon the ancient tree, and the hope they had felt at finding it, lay far behind them.

Chapter 4.  Whispering Waves

The pale luminescence of Ithil and the brilliance of the shining jewels of the night had taken possession off the sky when Legolas awoke. As he turned his gaze upwards to the beauty of the stars, he was relieved to discover that his headache and nausea were now nothing but a fading memory, and his sense of balance had been restored.  His ankle however was a different matter, and although the pain had diminished to a dull, throbbing ache, the broken bone still felt decidedly uncomfortable.

Putting his discomfort aside in favor of a desire to learn more about his surroundings, Legolas gingerly raised himself into a sitting position, and leant back against the trunk of the small tree beneath which he was resting. Glancing around, he discovered that the tree was actually on the edge of a grassy clearing located on a low rise above the river. The Anduin had been hidden from his sight by several larger trees that grew just beyond the golden shadows of the fire, and from his sitting position he could now clearly see the ripples in the black waters that were caused by the swiftly moving current.

A slight movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned to see Gwael kneeling in front of the fire, cooking the fish he had caught while Legolas slept. Since it appeared that the old man had not yet noticed that he was awake, the elf took the opportunity to study his rescuer with interest. To his eyes, the healer’s face appeared to be just as wrinkled, and his beard and hair just as white as that of any of the old men of Minas Tirith or Osgiliath, but Legolas was certain he was not from those cities. There was a definite aura of mystery surrounding Gwael that he could not explain. 

“How are you feeling, Legolas? Are you hungry?” the healer asked without lifting his eyes from his task as he spoke. Legolas shook his head slightly in surprise; he should have suspected that his movements would not go undetected by the old man, if that was all he truly was. The elf had begun to suspect that perhaps the healer was actually an Istar, for he certainly behaved as enigmatically as dear Gandalf had been wont to do.

“My ankle is yet to heal, but otherwise I am well. At least my thoughts are no longer cloudy,” Legolas reported happily for he truly was feeling quite recovered. “And now that you mention it, I am indeed hungry. That fish looks very appetizing, may I have some?” he asked as his stomach growled its agreement that a meal would be most welcome.

“Of course,” replied Gwael, placing the fish on a makeshift plate formed by several thick leaves woven together. He carried the food and two mugs of hot tea over to where Legolas was sitting.

“Has your memory returned?” he asked as they ate. Legolas had intended to be the one to ask the questions and satisfy his own curiosity, but he did not wish to offend Gwael. He thought for a moment and then replied in the affirmative.

“Ai, but before I explain how I came to be injured, may I ask how I come to be this far away from the riverbank?” asked Legolas, deciding it was his turn to question his companion.

“I am not so old and lacking in strength that I can not carry one as light as you over this short a distance,” replied Gwael indignantly.

“Then where is my boat?”

“Its location is a result of an unfortunate circumstance of which you need to be made aware,” Gwael replied with more than a little sympathy as he pointed to the elven boat wedged between the rocks at the river’s edge.

Legolas let out a small cry of dismay, for fingers of moonlight shone through a gaping hole in the side, making the craft impossible to use until repairs could be made, repairs for which he had neither the tools nor the wood on hand and that would have to wait until he could return to Ithilien and collect the needed supplies. If he had traveled as far as he suspected it would be a long journey home unless someone came to his rescue, and he briefly wondered if anyone was even looking for him, laughing out loud at his own foolishness. Of course they would be and, as he thought on it a little longer, he realized that they would also be blaming themselves for not accompanying him.

“What do you find so amusing?” asked Gwael curiously.

“I was just laughing at my unfounded doubts over whether or not my friends would be searching for me. Judging by the waning of Ithil, I have been gone for over a week and they must be extremely worried, especially my father,” replied Legolas, now full of remorse for the worry he knew his disappearance was causing those he loved. It would be a few more days before he could walk without assistance, and that meant he would be stranded in the glade until then. Even with elvish swiftness the journey back to Ithilien would take many days.

“You were expecting a visit from your father, Thranduil I believe he is named?” asked the old man, momentarily stunning Legolas into silence at the unexpected question.

“Ai, but how do you know my father’s name?” asked Legolas when he found himself able to speak once more.

“I met him once, long ago,” Gwael replied nonchalantly.

“When and where?” demanded Legolas a little harshly, becoming annoyed with the man’s evasiveness.

“Our paths crossed briefly at Mithlond, the day your mother sailed West,” Gwael told him. “I witnessed their final embrace before she boarded one of Cirdan’s ships.  I recognized who you were immediately when I saw you lying unconscious on the river bank, for your features are much the same as his. There is no mistaking you for other than his son.”

“Adar has never mentioned meeting you at the Havens,” said Legolas, remembering nothing but the sadness and heartache he had experienced as he said farewell to his naneth at the borders of Mirkwood. It had been with great unwillingness that he had agreed to her request to say goodbye there and not at the Havens.

“His heart and mind were with the ship and its precious cargo, not on an old man with whom he exchanged a few words,” explained Gwael, interrupting Legolas’s remembrances and bringing his thoughts back to the present.

“I see,” he said, accepting the explanation. “In answer to your query, as far as I recall, I had set out in search of an ancient tree that I was told grew near Pelargir, and in my haste to find it, I disregarded the danger of an approaching storm. My mind has been in turmoil of late and I became distracted by my thoughts,” he admitted.  “I remember falling into the river, and the sound of my ankle breaking as I tried to climb back aboard my boat. The last thing I recall before waking up here was that I slipped and hit my head.”

“It seems that a series of rather unfortunate occurrences has led to our meeting,” commented Gwael, as he wandered around the glade, picking up and discarding several fallen branches before finding one with which he was content. He leaned on it heavily to test its strength then handed it to Legolas. “See if you can walk using this as a staff,” he suggested. Legolas took the staff, and after a few attempts managed to take a few steps, that resembled hopping rather than walking. His movements were not graceful, but at least he was no longer confined to his bedroll. “Excellent, now please continue with your tale,” said Gwael.

“I have only myself to blame for my poorly considered plan, I should have asked Gimli or Tathar or perhaps even Aragorn to accompany me,” decided Legolas with the wisdom of hindsight.

“Do not judge yourself so harshly, Legolas. The storm would still have raged, and the mighty Anduin would still have carried your boat swiftly where he willed, regardless in whose company you traveled,” stated Gwael with a certainty that only served to add to Legolas’s disquiet.

“Are you saying our meeting was in some way planned?” asked the elf incredulously.

“I sense you are troubled by the notion, but yes, I believe our paths were destined to cross,” answered the old man honestly

“Why?” asked Legolas warily.

“Rather that tell you, let me show you,” he answered.

Now even more wary and extremely curious, and despite his inner fear of where it would lead, Legolas was compelled to accept the invitation, and with the help of the walking stick that Gwael had found for him, they made their way slowly to the sand hills, with Legolas hopping most of the way to avoid putting undue pressure on his injured ankle. Fortunately they did not need to climb the dunes for keen elvish eyes spied a narrow path leading between two of the smaller sand hills. As they neared their destination, Legolas was mesmerized by the whispering voice of the sea that was growing ever louder, until it became a thunderous roar, seeming to pulse with its own heartbeat and in time with his. As the path fanned out before them onto a wide expanse of sandy beach, he tasted the tangy saltiness with which the warm breath of the air kissed his lips, as he stood still, gazing with wonder at the constantly moving blackness that stretched to the horizon becoming as one with the dark night sky.

“Legolas, come with us!” 

The waves seemed to whisper invitingly as they retreated back into the sea after they had broken on the shore. A firm hand on his arm prevented the elf from attempting to follow the sweet voice, which he so dearly desired to do. He glared angrily at Gwael, who was alarmed to see such an intense longing burning in the bright depths of the elf’s eyes.

“Let me go!” hissed Legolas as he vainly tried to pull free of the old man’s grasp.

“No, I can not, it is not yet time for you to go,” said Gwael earnestly.

“What are you saying, can you not hear the waves calling me?” asked Legolas who was quickly becoming distraught. “Why did you bring me here if not to let me go?”

“I brought you here to face your fear, and to help ease your heart of its turmoil,” replied the old man. “Yes the sea is calling to you, but you should listen more closely to your inner voice, are there not others who also call to your heart?” He could easily see lure of the sea was waging a war with the elf, who had remained silent as he tried to resolve his inner conflict.

“Tell me about your friends, tell me about Gimli and Aragorn,” suggested Gwael as he indicated with his hand that Legolas should sit with him on the sand that glowed pearly white in the darkness.

“What do you wish to know,” asked Legolas in a subdued manner.

“Do you love them, do you cherish their friendship?”

“Ai, they are both like brothers to me, especially Gimli,” Legolas replied allowing an affectionate smile to curl his lips as he thought of the Dwarf.

“Do you wish to leave them?” asked Gwael, staring intently into the elf’s eyes.

“Nay, it would cause me much grief were I to do so. I would be taking heartache with me to Valinor,” Legolas said sadly.

“And would it not also greatly grieve them were you to sail to the Undying Lands, leaving them behind? Do they not return your love and friendship in full measure?” asked the healer in an effort to make Legolas recognize that not only his feelings were at stake.

“Of that my heart has no doubt,” agreed Legolas without hesitation.

“Yet since they are both mortal, their days will come to an end in but a short measure of elvish time. Would not the wisest solution to your dilemma be for you to stay in Middle Earth until their days are spent?”  

“Ai, even now the sea calls strongly to me, but even stronger are the bonds of friendship of which you speak. For love of the King and the Dwarf I will delay my journey to Valinor,” agreed Legolas, suddenly feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his

heart.

“A wise decision. Shall we return to the campsite?” asked Gwael.

“Nay, I think I would like to stay here tonight and watch the new day dawn over the sea,” said Legolas, smiling serenely as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the sea air.

“As you wish, but I shall return to the camp, for I prefer to sleep in my blankets,” said Gwael, satisfied that Legolas had regained his control.

“Before you go, I wish to thank you most sincerely for healing my injuries, and the turmoil in my heart,” said Legolas as he leaned over to embrace the old man who was still sitting next to him. “I would like you to have this, as a token of my gratitude,” he said handing the old man the treasured leaf clasp that he had been given in Lothlórien.

“I require no payment other than your peace of mind,” said Gwael, who was nevertheless touched by the gesture.

“Then regard it not as a payment, but as a gift,” insisted Legolas, pinning the clasp to the neck of the white woolen cloak the man wore.

“Thank you, this is indeed very generous of you,” said Gwael as he rose and began walking back to the camp. When he reached the entrance to the pathway, he looked back to see Legolas standing ankle deep in the shallows, his face radiant with happiness as he sang softly to the sea.

“Namarie, Legolas,” he whispered as he turned and disappeared between the dunes.

 Chapter 5.  Changes

Tiny, foaming wavelets unceasingly chased each other along the shore, soothingly caressing Legolas’s ankles as he stood in the shallows. The water was quite cold and although it eased the ache of his injury, after a time he turned his back on the sea and sought the warmth of the white sands. The beach sloped gently uphill until it reached the foot of the dunes that ringed the cove and Legolas chose a spot, close to the foot of the ‘Sandy Mountains’ as he named them in a moment of whimsy, to spend the night. For the first time in many months, the burden from his heart was lifted and his thoughts were untroubled and as he settled himself comfortably on the shifting sands. The slight rise afforded him both a view of the whispering sea, and the shining stars that watched over it, making his contentment complete.

As beautiful as he had found the sea to be at night, it was even more so by day. The constantly moving water took on the soft pink hue of Anor’s awakening, changing slowly to reflect the brilliant blue of the sky as dawn broke. Pale pink turned to sparkles of shining white as Anor rose higher in the sky and the bright light of the new day danced on the waves making the blue waters shimmer. Gulls wheeled overhead, their loud cries echoing the softly spoken words of the sea that Legolas felt in his heart, the words that told him of the beauty of Valinor, beauty that he had but to take sail to see for himself. Once again he felt the desperate longing to do so, but this time he gathered his strength of will to resist the temptation, for in his mind’s eye he saw Aragorn and Gimli, both grief stricken and standing before him, barring his way to the ship he intended to board. Although he felt his heart torn between his two choices, he made the one he had always known he would, even though he had only just admitted it to himself the night before. His love for the Man and the Dwarf was so strong that he willingly allowed the hands of his friends to hold him back.

Shaking slightly from his ordeal, but relieved that he had at last gained  control over his distracting affliction, Legolas decided it was well past time he returned to the campsite. As he stood, he tested his injured ankle and was relieved to feel that the pain had all but gone, and the break had healed enough to allow him to place a little weight on it. The injury was still quite tender, however and he realized that he would still need to use the walking stick for a few days more. Making his way slowly back to the clearing by the river, he contemplated the direction he should take to seek aid, for he felt that he was now healed enough to travel.

He needed to return to his home and his friends and alleviate the concern and worry he knew they would be feeling at his disappearance. Thranduil had certainly arrived in Ithilien by now, and Legolas hoped that Tathar would forgive him for leaving him to deal with both the King of Mirkwood and the no doubt distraught, Gimli.

With a hint of his usual sense of humour, he wondered whether it might not be wiser to follow the coastline to Dol Amroth, which lay around the headland he could see in the distance, rather than fight his way through the undergrowth on the banks of the Anduin in an attempt to return to Ithilien. Prince Imrahil would surely offer him refuge!

His light mood followed him back at the campsite, but quickly vanished as he found all that remained of the fire was nothing but palely glowing embers, and except for his medicine pouch and blanket, there was no sign of Gwael anywhere. Seeing no real cause to worry for the moment, Legolas merely assumed he had gone fishing for their breakfast again, and set about rekindling the fire and collecting some fresh water from the small stream that branched from the Anduin, to boil for the herb tea they both enjoyed. He had seen no sign of the old man, and wondered if perhaps he had found a new fishing spot.

 As the morning wore on, Legolas became increasingly concerned as to why Gwael had not returned and fearing that some misadventure had befallen his friend, the elf decided to search further upstream for him.

                                            ***********

Thranduil effortlessly heaved his boat onto the rocky shore where Aragorn had decided they should spend the night, and as he did so his eye was caught by the barest glint of metal amongst the reeds that grew in the shallows. He moved the greenery aside to take a closer look at the object, and was filled with a sense of dread as it revealed itself to be an arrow; the distinctive fletching leaving no doubt that it belonged to Legolas. It was the first sign, albeit an ominous one to Thranduil’s way of thinking, which confirmed that his son had in fact traveled south.

“Aragorn, Gimli, I have found something!” he shouted to the others who were busy collecting wood for the fire. He handed the arrow to Aragorn, who studied it for a few moments, allowing himself a small smile of relief.

“The arrowhead has not even a scratch on it, it has not been used,” he said as he handed the arrow back to Thranduil who laid it across his palm as he tested the weight.

“Ai, so I noticed. I presume Legolas was not under attack when he lost this arrow, but the shaft is far heavier than it was when it was first made. I fear it has been in the water for many days and has simply been carried here by the current,” said Thranduil.

“But it is also possible that Legolas chose to spend the night on this bank,” suggested Gimli optimistically.

“Indeed it is, and perhaps there are other clues nearby,” agreed Aragorn, abandoning his search for firewood in favour of seeking further signs of his friend. Gimli and Thranduil joined him and after several hours, all they had found were a few more unused arrows, and Legolas’s water logged travel pack. That the elf had not been there was obvious, and their fear for his safety increased as Aragorn was forced to conclude from their findings that the boat had capsized, likely in the storm.

“Well, it is an elven craft, built by Legolas himself and if his boasting is to be believed, it would not have sunk,” stated Gimli as the speculation continued during their meal. Aragorn smiled at the jest, and looked warily to Thranduil, whose countenance was disapproving, but for the gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“It is no idle claim, you were told the truth, Gimli,” replied Thranduil, using the Dwarf’s name for the first time in a friendly manner. He had come to know that Gimli meant no insult or disrespect, and that his lightly spoken words were simply his way of dealing with his despair.

“And at least we can be certain we are headed in the right direction,” added an astounded Aragorn, referring not only to their search, but also to the mellowing of the animosity between Gimli and Thranduil. He wondered what Legolas would make of the change! “Tomorrow we will reach Pelargir, where will stop and make enquires.”

                                                     ******

“Aye, there was a fierce storm along Anduin several days ago, King Elessar, but I am sorry to say there has been no report of any elven boat being washed ashore,” said the harbour master apologetically as he and Aragorn sat enjoying a tankard of ale aboard the man’s ship. Thranduil and Gimli had been invited to join them, but preferred to spend the time wandering among about the docks, questioning as many sailors and fishermen as possible. Gimli was well known as one of the Nine Walkers, and so was Legolas, or so Gimli had believed until he and Thranduil had shared more than a few amused glances as the King of Mirkwood was mistaken for his son.

“Well, your features are very similar, and most men know nothing of elves, other than the fact that your kind are ageless,” Gimli commented to the elder elf after the first few cases of mistaken identity.

“And can you see any difference, Gimli?” asked Thranduil, more than a little curious to know what the Dwarf saw.

“Aye, the light of youthfulness shines clearly in Legolas’s eyes.”

“What do you see in mine?” Thranduil asked, looking Gimli directly in the eye. The dwarf returned the stare unflinchingly.

“A joy of living not unlike your son’s but tempered by ageless wisdom and overshadowed by the concern of a loving father for his son,” answered Gimli. Thranduil offered the barest smile and nodded agreement at the dwarf’s perceptiveness.

“Your affection for Legolas runs deep does it not, Gimli?” asked Thranduil.

“Aye, as does Aragorn’s,” replied Gimli, inclining his head towards the man who was walking in their direction.

 “I am afraid I have learned nothing, other than the storm Legolas was caught in was unusually ferocious, and a small craft such as Legolas’s could easily have been carried swiftly towards the sea on the strong currents,” said the subject of Gimli’s conversation as he approached.

“Then we must continue our search without delay,” said Thranduil.

                                                      ******

Legolas had found no trail to follow, but had nevertheless spent the rest of the day searching for the old man. He refused to heed his inner sense that told him he was alone, that no living creature other than the trees and plants were within the boundaries of his perception. It was only the encroaching darkness that forced him to return to the grassy clearing.

The injured elf had foolishly long since discarded the walking stick because it hindered his movements through the undergrowth, and was now suffering the consequences of his actions. Without the support of the staff, he had trodden too heavily on his injured ankle and it had begun to ache again. Legolas briefly considered seeking the soothing waters of the sea to ease his pain, thinking that maybe Gwael awaited him on the beach. He did not really believe it to be so, for he somehow felt that the stranger had mysteriously disappeared of his own free will.

The short distance to the cove seemed more like several leagues to the weary elf, so he decided to use the cool waters of the Anduin instead to relieve his pain. Once it had diminished, Legolas walked carefully back to the camp and relit the fire that had died completely after being neglected all day. He brewed himself some tea, using the leaves that he had taken the time to collect during his search and sipped it slowly, enjoying the comforting feeling of the warm liquid as it traveled through him. He was not really hungry, but would likely be in the morning, so he quickly built a small wooden fish trap, and placed it in the river, near the boat.

With one last hopeless search around the clearing, Legolas lay beneath the tree and drifted into his dreams.

Chapter 6.  Lost No Longer

Filled with mounting despair and becoming increasingly concerned for Legolas’s safety, the two kings and the dwarf quickly returned to the dock where the boats were moored and made final preparations to depart. Aragorn was handing the fresh supplies to Gimli and Thranduil to stow on board their boats when two young fishermen stopped behind him, arguing loudly.

“You were the only one to see it. As the Captain said, it was dark and your eyes were deceiving you!” declared the elder of the two.

“I would expect you, my brother, to believe me! It was definitely an elven boat, just like those,” argued the younger sibling, as he pointed to the grey craft in which Thranduil and Gimli stood, their attention fixed not so much on the fishermen, as on the subject of their argument. Aragorn turned swiftly to face the youths, and was immediately recognized as the King, even though he was attired in ranger’s clothing. Thranduil was not the only one who was possessed of power and majesty.

“You Majesty please forgive us if we caused any offense,” said the elder brother as they both bowed respectfully to the King.

“You have given no offense; in fact you may have given me cause for great hope. Where did you see this elven craft?” he asked the youth who had claimed to have seen the boat.

“Stranded on some rocks at the mouth of the Anduin, Your Majesty,” he replied, unable to resist a smirk of triumph at his older brother. The King obviously believed his tale.

“How is it that you alone claim to have seen it?” asked Gimli, not willing to allow himself hope lest the sighting come to naught.  The youth looked reluctant to speak, but his brother was not.

“It is the first time my brother has sailed into the open sea, and he was leaning over the rail relieving his stomach of its contents,” he said scornfully.

“A common occurrence for first time sea farers, if I am not mistaken,” commented Aragorn. His words were gentle and sympathetic towards the youth, but there was no mistaking the rebuke in the steely glare with which he favoured the elder brother.

“It was when I looked up that I saw the boat, wedged between the rocks,” explained the emboldened younger brother.

“Aragorn, we must make haste. If the boat is grounded, then Legolas may indeed be injured,” said Thranduil speaking for the first time. Gimli and Aragorn exchanged a smile of amusement as the brothers gazed in open mouthed wonder at the majestic elf who spoke in such a familiar manner to the King. Aragorn nodded his agreement.

“I thank you for your information, please accept a small reward for your aid,” Aragorn said as he reached into an inner pocket and took out two coins, giving one to each of the youths.

 “Come, Thranduil! Gimli! This is the news we have been waiting to hear! Now that we know where to find Legolas, I will ask that we be given the use of a ship. We will reach the Bay of Belfalas much quicker under sail, for we will be able to travel by night as well as day,” he exclaimed.

 The harbour master readily acquiesced to the King’s request and offered the use of his own ship, proudly proclaiming it to be the swiftest ship that sailed, having never yet been defeated in the annual races. Thranduil’s suggestion that the young man and his brother be asked to accompany them, to assist in the search, was met with approval and soon the ship was making best speed downriver, its white sails filled with the strong winds from the north.

“I can understand why you requested the one who spotted the boat to accompany us, but why the elder as well?” asked Aragorn as he and Thranduil stood at the bow of the swiftly moving ship. It was early morning on the third day of their voyage and the gulls overhead heralded their approach to the wide estuary where Anduin met the sea.

“You of all people should appreciate giving the younger brother the chance to prove his elder sibling to be in error,” replied Thranduil, his eyes alight with a mischief borne of his relief that they would soon find his son. Aragorn laughed heartily knowing exactly to whom Thranduil was referring… the sons of Elrond, and his foster son.

“But how do you know of this?” he asked the King of Mirkwood, his curiosity piqued for as far as he was aware, neither Thranduil nor Legolas had brothers.

“Not all the messages that passed between Imladris and Mirkwood were concerned with the fight against the Shadow.  Elrond and I often compared our approach to fatherhood, and the trials of raising sons,” admitted Thranduil. Aragorn was dumbfounded. He had never suspected that such information was contained in letters he had most likely delivered himself on one or two occasions.

“Your son and my foster brothers were past their majority and already skilled warriors when I was born.  I find it difficult to imagine them as troublesome youths, but yes, you are correct. It was always a pleasure to prove Elladan or Elrohir, or even both, wrong,” conceded Aragorn. The man and the elder elf stood side by side in a brief moment of silent camaraderie, before Thranduil spoke again, changing the subject.

“I wish you to know why I do not forbid, although I disapprove of, the friendship that binds Legolas to you. Long after your days are ended he will still grieve for you…  and Gimli,” he added as an after thought, the Dwarf was mortal too, after all. “The thought of seeing him suffer so is unbearable to me for I know full well the toll grief takes on an elvish spirit, especially one as loving as his.  Yet despite my fears, Legolas must follow his heart if he is to find happiness, and in that I will not interfere,” he said as he stared out across the river, hiding his unshed tears of grief from Aragorn.

“I am no elf, but I understand what you are saying, and I thank you for your honesty. That you continue to disapprove is a disappointment, but know that I honor and cherish the friendship Legolas and I share, and will continue to do so until my last breath,” vowed Aragorn.  

“Look, over there, I see the boat!” Thranduil suddenly shouted, forestalling further conversation as he placed an arm around Aragorn’s shoulders and turned him to face the western shore.

“I am afraid your elvish eyes are far keener than mine. I think I see a small grey speck on the riverbank, but I am not certain,” replied Aragorn, squinting to see just that much.

“I am. Come, let us wake Gimli and make ready to go ashore,” said Thranduil eagerly.

                                                        ********

Legolas was dreaming. He was walking along the sandy shore, singing a song whose words dared the siren call of the sea to try and take him. Fearlessly he allowed the gentle tug of the waves to pull him forward, trusting that Aragorn and Gimli, who stood on either side of him, would pull him back.  The sea, defeated by the bonds of friendship suddenly released its hold, and the three fell back on the sand in a laughing tangle of arms and legs.

“Legolas, wake up!” a beloved voice whispered in his ear.  His eyes slowly regained focus; for he dearly wished to see his Adar whose hand he felt gently shaking him awake.

“Adar! Aragorn! Gimli! I am so pleased to see you all,” he exclaimed happily, sitting up so that he could also see his friends. For a brief moment he thought he might be dreaming, but that fear vanished in the wake of Gimli’s tirade.

 “How dare you lay there, sleeping like a babe while for days we searched the banks of the Anduin for the foolish elf who has disappeared while looking for a TREE!” shouted Gimli in the gruff tone of voice he used to hide his deepest feelings. Legolas easily recognized it as such, and knew that a humble apology would calm his friend’s ire, but he was not prepared to let him off too lightly.

“I do apologize most sincerely for causing you to worry, dear Gimli. It was certainly most inconsiderate of me to break my ankle and allow myself to be knocked unconscious while my boat was swept away by the Anduin,” said Legolas with just enough sarcasm to silence any further protest from his friend. “It must have been a difficult time for you all,” he added more apologetically for the benefit of Thranduil and Aragorn.

“It was a most distressing time,” agreed Thranduil as Legolas limped over to accept the comfort of his father’s strong, yet tender embrace, before moving on to clasp Aragorn’s arm in the greeting of warriors, as was their habit. Thranduil frowned slightly as Aragorn then gently traced his fingers across Legolas’s brow, and down the side of his face, stopping beneath his chin and lifting it so that he could look into the elf’s eyes. The elder elf quickly realized that although the touch appeared to be quite intimate to an onlooker, Aragorn was merely assessing the state of Legolas’s head injury.

“Your bruising is well healed, and you have no concussion,” he said letting his fingers linger for a moment longer than necessary before he finally let his hand fall to his side. Legolas made no objection to the gesture of affection, and allowed his eyes to show it was returned.

“But I notice you still have a slight limp. Sit down and let me examine your ankle, mellon nin,” ordered the healer in Aragorn. Legolas complied, and allowed him to proceed, knowing it would be a waste of time to refuse. “You say this happened over a week ago?”

“As far as I can recall, although Gwael set it only a few days ago,” replied Legolas, wincing as strong fingers explored the injury.

“Who?” asked Thranduil as he recognized the name from a time in his past.

“I will explain later, after Aragorn has finished,” replied Legolas, wondering just how much of the tale he should tell the others. All of it, except for the mention of Thranduil, he decided, out of respect for his Adar’s privacy.

“Well, in that case it should have healed properly by now, but I see fresh bruising,” said Aragorn with concern as he expertly replaced the bandage.

“Ai, I can feel that the bone has mended, but I did over exert myself a little yesterday,” explained Legolas, earning himself another snort of disgust from Gimli.

“And how did you manage to do something as foolish as that?” the dwarf asked in his usual irascible manner.

“In fact it was the result of a foolhardy act,” agreed Legolas, who then proceed to explained how it came to be that he injured his ankle while searching for Gwael. The mention of the mysterious old man sparked several more questions from his rescuers, and Legolas took some time to tell them about his encounter with the sea. He spoke of how Gwael had helped him overcome the sea longing, if only until there were no longer ties of friendship binding him to Middle Earth. Aragorn and Gimli were deeply moved by his commitment to them and both tried to hug him at once, causing all three to fall back in a tangled heap, just as they had in his dream, Legolas realized.

“You did not happen to see the white haired old man on your journey here?” he asked when they had recovered their dignity. A soft sigh of resignation escaped his lips as they each shook their heads in response.

“Perhaps Aragorn and Gimli can be prevailed upon to make a final search before we return to the ship?” suggested Thranduil. Sensing that the King wished to speak with his son in private, Aragorn and Gimli readily agreed to do as he asked.

“They will not find him, although I could wish otherwise,” Thranduil said when the two had disappeared from view.  “I have a great deal to thank him for.”

Legolas knew Thranduil was referring not so much to the aid the old man had given to his son’s physical injuries, but to the guidance he had given that helped Legolas deal with his inner conflict.

“Who is he, Adar? He said he had met you once long ago… at Mithlond….?”

“Ai, that is indeed where we met. I was standing on the shore, bidding your naneth farewell when this white haired stranger, with compelling black eyes that seemed to be able to look into the very depths of my soul, walked up and stood beside me. I did not wish for company, for the tears in my eyes reflected the ache in my heart, and I did not want anyone to witness my sorrow,” Thranduil explained.

“Not even me,” said Legolas, understanding at last why he had not been allowed to travel to the Havens to say goodbye.

“Not even you, for your naneth and I agreed there was no need for our endearingly sensitive son to add my sorrow to his, as we both knew you would have done. Anyway, the old man must have sensed my thoughts for although he did not leave me to my misery; neither did he speak until the ship that Círdan had built sailed into the mists that lead to the Straight Road. Then all he said was that I need not fear for her safety, for the gulls that followed the ship would watch over my beloved. He also said that I should rejoice that your naneth had been called home, and that the beauty of Valinor would sustain her until we met again.”

“A strange thing for a man to say, no matter how wise he seems to be, or how much he seems to know about our ways. Is he a man, or an Istar like Gandalf?” asked Legolas.

“I asked Círdan much the same question, but he answered evasively. He told me the stranger’s name was Gwael and that he could be found in Mithlond every time a ship sailed for Valinor, as he had already done for many lives of men. He is definitely not merely an old man, but as for being an Istar… well, even to this day I m not certain,” admitted Thranduil.

“I am sorry, but we found no trace of your mysterious friend Legolas, neither long the stream, nor at the beach,” reported Aragorn as he and Gimli returned to the clearing.

“Are you certain you were not merely imagining him, Legolas? A hard knock on the head can addle your mind, you know,” said Gimli, offering a possible explanation for Gwael.

“Is that the voice of experience speaking?” asked Legolas facetiously. Gimli merely rolled d his eyes in exasperation, for in truth he was pleased to see his friend’s good humour restored, as was Aragorn who laughed out loud at the elf’s remark. Legolas smiled happily and answered Gimli’s question.

“He was real enough. See, he left his blanket and his medicine pouch behind,” said Legolas as he pointed to the objects in question.

“Well he is long gone, so I suggest we return to the ship, for there are many others who are concerned about you. I will send messengers to Ithilien and Minas Tirith as soon as we reach Pelargir, but I suspect this ship will arrive there before they do,” said Aragorn, having decided to sail all the way back to Osgiliath.

“Tathar was not too angry with me, I hope?” asked Legolas as they stopped to inspect the damage to his boat before they rowed out to board the ship. Legolas intended to return as soon as possible and repair it, but wisely decided not to mention it to his friends just yet.

“I think you had best ask him that yourself, although I do believe he entrusted to Aragorn the task of keeping Gimli and I on civil terms,” replied Thranduil. Aragorn said nothing but the slight redness in his cheeks spoke eloquently of his embarrassment, for it was now plain that Thranduil had overheard Tathar’s parting words.

The ship was soon underway, the wind having shifted so that it now blew in from over the sea. Legolas stood alone at the stern, watching with some sorrow as the shining sea gradually grew smaller and smaller until it was just a bright speck on the horizon that vanished completely in the wink of an eye.

“Do you think Gwael will come to bid me farewell should I leave for Valinor?” he asked Thranduil who had come to stand beside his son and place a comforting arm about his shoulders.

“Ai, I think he will, but perhaps you will see him again sooner than you think. Look!” he exclaimed, pointing to the flock of gulls that were circling the ship. The largest gull, who was obviously the leader, swooped down and settled on the rail, staring at Legolas and Thranduil with the strangely familiar, compelling black eyes they had both seen before.

“Ai, Adar you are right. Do you not see the Lórien leaf I gifted him hanging around his neck?” asked Legolas as he slowly approached the sea bird and bowed respectfully. It was indeed the leaf clasp that hung around the bird’s neck on a string of plaited seaweed. Thranduil had seen it too, and also respectfully approached the gull.

“I wish to thank the one who, by the grace of Ilúvatar can take the form of man or bird, for saving my son, and watching over him while he recovered,” Thranduil said humbly.

The gull bowed his head to them both in acknowledgement of the truth, and in the next instant, as if answering some unheard call, the king of the gulls suddenly lifted his wings and rejoined his flock, circling overhead once more as Legolas raised his hand and whispered softly,

“Namarie, Gwael.”