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A special thanks to Daw for her beta skills and patience.

The Lord Of The Rings: The Return Of The King

Chapter IX: The Last Debate

"Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle Earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea."

                           Forgetting War

The wind whips off the water, flinging my hair back, tumbling strands until they reach back again to quickly caress my flushed face. But I feel little of this for I am far more moved by the cries of gulls. For a moment, I wonder if their keening is in lament for the sorrows all the land has suffered and would yet suffer. But when the surprise of hearing their voices passes, I know it is not to some distant friend or unknown traveler they speak. Though they say not my name, I feel their call to my core. I whirl about upon the deck of the great black ship that carries the Heir of Isildur and our company and face the sweet agony of wailing wind and mournful gulls. What I thought, at first, was a dirge is suddenly new to my ears and I raise my arms as if to embrace this awakening feeling. I fling open my arms and let my eyes close, the bow of the Galadrim still clutched in my right hand as if this familiar weapon will somehow anchor me to this place. My face to the wind, I breathe in the scent of salt, brine, and marsh mud. Suddenly, my senses are pierced and all of my inheritance, all that I am, is awakened. No longer do I wonder at how I have come to be here or what different roads I should have taken. The quest remains and I know in my heart that it must be finished, but standing here, knowing this turn of my destiny, I suddenly realize that many threads are necessary for just one tapestry to be woven. I am but one slender line in this whole. I am not here by chance.

Did the Lady not warn me to beware of the cry of the gulls? This is not of what I thought she spoke. I had spent the latter part of our journey since we departed from Mithrandir thinking I should prepare to meet my kin in the Halls of my people who have departed these shores by death. I knew when I came abroad with the Fellowship that any of us could meet such a destiny at any time, but her words to me had confirmed that I would no longer walk beneath the branches and leaves of my home in peace. My peace would not be found on these shores. I did not know she spoke of this peculiar call that would take me from my home. I have nothing in my life to weigh this awakening against. I could not imagine it or fathom how this longing would fill my whole being. It is far more potent than any desire I have ever known. It is as if every pore in my body is awake with a buzzing, a new life hungering for something that is just outside my reach. I tremble inside with this knowledge, this longing for the sea and a place I thought not to see for a very long time and then at a time of my own choosing.

I am elated by this feeling. I move slowly against the wind, letting it run between my fingers and arms as if I can take flight when it finds just the proper lift of my body. My heart is beating wildly, the sounds of its frantic dance dulled only by the roar of the wind. Warmth rolls over me, caressing my body as a lover who is so intimately familiar with each curve and response that it feels no dread of trespassing or in the bringing of my body alive. I am wholly at this lover’s mercy. I am filled with desire.

It is as though I have never fully understood my place in this weaving of life until now. I see the blending of every color and curve, the whole picture taking shape from me outwards. Every thread of this tapestry is essential to the integrity of the whole. When one thread is lost or broken, a small hole is left and the creation is slowly unraveled to ruin. I thought I had understood this. My people, from time unremembered, have known the spirit of the Creator to abide in each rock, tree and creature. I have been taught to honor and respect this connection, taking only with permission what was needed. Yet, I see now that I did not fully grasp the tight interweaving that binds all that there is together. It is so much larger than I could ever measure. Every elf, human and dwarf is but a slender thread, begotten from thought and transformed into note, then from note to song and from song into a being woven into the patterns of life. All that there is shares the same beginning with the smallest grain of sand and the tallest mountain peak. It is a song that took physical shape and laid out the fabric of all that exist. I am thrilled by this discovery. It is as if a veil has been lifted from my eyes and I can see that the boundaries of my understanding have been small and narrow. Now that I have been granted this broadened view, I realize how childish I must seem to those who stand in the grace of knowledge. My entire being thirsts for this quenching of ignorance. I want to know more. I ache to see the whole cloth and all the wonders that have been set upon it by the will of the Creator and the Song of the Anuir. I crave the light with a desire that is etched on my bones and carried now inside my heart like a raging fire. Never again will I find peace under beech or elm. For this I sorrow. I have truly loved this land and the woodlands of my home. The trees have forever been a solace and a source of strength for me and my kind. The forest is a part of my tapestry, woven into my making as surely as any trait I bear. It will pain me to never again find such peace under their boughs.

While my ears can hear naught but the calls of the flying birds and the whistling of the siren wind, my mind is shaken by a familiar connection. I suddenly see the deep forest of my home, ablaze with rich greenery and I smell the pungent aroma of moist earth. I see the Great Horned Owl fly past me and settle on a limb of an ancient beech tree that sits just outside my father’s palace gates. He fixes his wide unblinking gaze on me and moves not even a feather. I can feel him chiding me for being away for so long, for few take time to speak to him as I did when on night patrol. "I will be back," I tell him, but he does not seem to put much stock in my words. He continues to look unconvinced as he gazes past me to the wailing gulls. I feel for a moment that I should warn the unsuspecting gulls. This old one has lived long in the forest of my home and is one to be reckoned with. But, the old owl closes his eyes and as he shuts me out, I feel myself fade from him. "I will be back," I say once again.

I lower my arms and let the wind continue to rush past my face. Holding even tighter now to my bow, I feel the burn of this new longing taking over a place in my being I never knew existed. It is an agony I can not bear and a sweet allure that I do not want to resist. I am drawn to search out the shores of the ocean and turn toward the west. Even though I am yet many miles from the rolling waves and white sandy beaches, I find my body acts as something of a guide, instinctively knowing which way it lies. I can feel the waves rocking and crashing against my will and I know it will only be a matter of time until I can no longer stay this desire to seek the light of Valinor.

My mind is pulled again by this familiar connection. I see little but a dark outline. A twinkle of light, possibly from the stars, brightens the shadow enough that I see a hint of golden hair, a head crowned in new green leaves. "Legolas," he calls as if he knows not where I am. That in itself is unusual for my father has always been able to sense me no matter where I am. Suddenly, I am seized with panic. My father. Is he well? I know my home is under attack from the shadow swarming from our southern borders and our warriors are stretched to their limit in our defense. My father is a warrior and I know he is skilled with sword and bow and I also know he will defend his realm, even if this defense calls for him to stand between shadow and greenery, using his own body as a shield for that which he loves. Has some ill fate befallen him? I search for the slender silver thread that ties me to my sire and find that it is well within my reach. It is weakened by our distance, but still taut and viable. I feel my father’s presence still here on Arda, still well and strong. It is then that I realize it was not a change in him that stirred our connection, but one in me: He knows. He felt the pull upon me as I was swept into the song of the gull, the intense desire that lures me from these shores to the place all my kind will eventually go. "I will not leave you, Adar," I whisper despite the overwhelming urges that call to me. His losses have been too great and I would not add to them. He is a good father and a good king. His love for his people and for his sons has always taken precedence in his life. Though he appears stern and unyielding to those who do not know him, those of us he loves know he values us more than his own life. I would not cause him more grief. He worries for me as I tread this path with an odd assortment of free folk, far from his protection. This does not sit well with him, I know. He has faith in my abilities as a warrior, but I am still his child, his youngest, and will never be free from his desire to keep me from harm. And for this I love him even more. He is strong enough to love openly and strong enough to let me go where my destiny dictates. It can not be easy for him.

The desire to follow this awakening does not fade, but I see now that I can master desire with will. I let go the euphoria and bid it remain on this ship to be carried away on the swift wind. I have more to do on this shore and I will not stand aside from my pledge. I have much here, too much to desert and flee to a safe haven where I will no longer have a part to play in seeing this evil defeated and this land restored. I see the faces of my friends and for a great love for them, will stand at their sides until the last foe is vanquished and their time here is ended. I see my father and brothers and can not bear the thought of them suffering my departure, nor me suffering the separation from their company. My love for them is too great as is theirs for me.

"Go quietly," I admonish this longing, "for I will not go yet."

"And where is it that you think to go, Master Elf?" I hear Gimli say in his low grumbling cadence. He is watching me carefully, his chin propped on the long blade of his axe. How many times have I seen him ponder events in this manner? I smile wanly, feeling small and weak in the face of such a force as this stalwart and fierce friend. He would have immediately recognized the danger of stumbling into weaknesses and prepared to meet it head on. I was not prepared and nearly gave myself to flight. But I have claimed this longing and I will not give in again.

"I think only to follow where our path leads us, friend Gimli," I say.

"I was not certain," he replies, watching a gull dip into the current and sail away. He turns back to me, fixing his eyes upon mine as if he sees more than I wish to show him. "You looked as if you might sprout wings and take the wind as your friend."

I place my hand upon his sturdy shoulder and laugh, "Not unless you can find a way to lift your square body into the air and follow me for I shall not leave you to your own devices." I shake my head as he gives me one of his searing looks of disdain. "You would be lost without me."

"Bah!" he shouts. "Lost? A dwarf does not get lost." Shaking his fist at me in a friendly warning, he snorts. "It is you, Master Elf, who knows not which direction the wind flies. Without me, you would still be in the Mines of Moria wandering in search of an exit."

I cannot help but laugh. "Then let us wander together," I tell him. "Once this evil has been defeated, we will travel back to Fangorn and hear what the trees and Ents have to tell us."

"And the Glittering Caves," he reminds me. "We will explore every chamber and nook."

At my look of dismay, he chuckles to himself, "Do not worry Master Elf, I will not let you get lost."

"Nay, Gimli, I do not worry. I know you will not let me wander aimlessly in the dark forever." I squeeze his stout shoulder affectionately. I feel the hard broad muscle covered in leather and rough wool and take comfort in his presence. His gloved hand clasps my forearm tightly in a reassurance of our camaraderie. There is much strength in this dwarf I call friend. His heart is as strong as his body and his loyalty unwavering. He will not let me falter.

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