NOTE:  This epilogue is dedicated to my dear friend, Steve.

EPILOGUE: A BOND FOR ALL TIME   

But when King Elessar gave up his life Legolas followed at last the desire of his heart and sailed over Sea.

  (from the Appendices of Tolkien’s Return of the King)

In the year 1541 of the Shire Reckoning, 120 years after the first two members of the Fellowship of the Ring departed from Middle-earth and the Fourth Age of this world began, a grey ship sailed slowly and sadly down the Anduin River.

Except for the age of the vessel, it was exactly like another that had been made many years ago by loving elven hands, when King Eldarion of Gondor was but a child. The older ship had been born out of a deep love and the greatest friendship he had ever known, and it still held its proud place as the personal vessel of the newly crowned ruler, who would sail it along the Anduin to the Bay of Belfalas and a little beyond.

But this new grey ship would go much, much further, and it would sail only once, for it had been built to bear an elf prince and a dwarf – last of the Nine Walkers, last of the Fellowship of the Ring – on a final journey from Arda to the Undying Lands.

On board with the elf and dwarf was the elf king Thranduil, along with many of the Firstborn who would no longer grace the woods of the Greenwood, Ithilien and the lands of Men, now that their king and prince were finally sailing, now that the great and beloved King Elessar, Hope of his people, had passed from Middle-earth, ending an era of gentle nobility, humble greatness and quiet wisdom such as the world would witness never again.

Legolas looked fondly at his dwarf companion, still incredulous that someone who had once hated and been hated by elvenkind had, in the end, been willing to leave his beloved Glittering Caves and his dwarven kin to join an elf on his final journey. The elf prince was grateful for his presence, for someone who would understand the tumult of emotions within him, each trying to gain mastery over the others.

A multitude of seagulls sang the joyful fulfillment of a desire to sail across Sea, long suppressed in the elven heart of the prince; yet, weighing heavy upon that same heart was the memory of a friendship and a love so great that the joy would forever be tinged with bittersweet melancholy. It had been for the Lord of the White Tree that the elf had resolutely resisted the call of the Sea for 122 years, for the sake of one mortal with but one short lifetime in Arda, to gift him with the loyal companionship he needed and desired.

As the ship left the mouth of the Anduin and the shores of Middle-earth, the elf prince stood silent and alone on the deck, his slender body straight as a young tree, his long hair a river of golden silk flowing in the tides of the wind. He turned his face from the land of his birth and looked determinedly forward.

But in his mind’s eye lingered still a vision of two friends who, in times of peace, had shared laughter and mirth; in times of war, had stood side by side; and in the failing of the sun, had walked in bitter rain – always together in spirit, always bound by love.

With his eyes closed, the elf could see once more the final farewell that had taken place in a quiet chamber in the Citadel of the King in the White City:

A weak ray of sunshine entered quietly through a window and reverently touched two heads.

One lay on a pillow, its neatly combed grey-white hair crowning a noble face lined with the creases of ten thousand past cares and content with just as many joys, a face that was still stately and proud; and in the grey eyes were written words of wisdom that proclaimed: I have lived a full life; as I have lived, so shall I pass. The other was bent close to the first: it was as a golden halo framing a face that was ever youthful, and it told of tales that generations of Men can only write and read about in books, but which it had seen and lived through, and not found words to describe; in the blue eyes shone a depth of nobility and wisdom, but also love and sorrow immeasurable.

No thanks were uttered by the two pairs of lips kissed by the rays of the sun, nor were there any pleas for forgiveness, nor expressions of regret. What do two say, who have seen and supported each other through moments so intense, and shared feelings so powerful that they fail to be captured in mere words?

The two figures grasped each other’s hands tightly, letting silence express their most intimate thoughts, touching each other’s minds and hearts. They shared one last tender, close embrace and gifted each other with heartfelt smiles hiding unspeakable pain.

Then they made one final exchange of pledges:

“Let this not be the end, dearest friend.” 

“It shall not be.”

“In dream, I will say your name, and in dream shall we meet still.”

“I will hear your call, even in the dark.”

“When the seas and mountains fall, and we come to end of days, and all the ages of this world have passed, my friend, I will find you again.”

“I will be waiting.”

It was a parting so grievous yet so filled with love that it seemed to radiate its warmth to the cold stone walls of the room in which Elessar, Elfstone of his people, lay. His friend, Legolas of the Greenwood Realm, placed one last tearful kiss on the kingly forehead crowned with grey-white hair, and locked his blue eyes one final time with the misty grey ones of the man he would accompany in death if he could.

But he could not.

Estel would be leaving without him.

Devastated by the realization that he and Estel would now have to make separate journeys, he tore himself away from the dying King and left him alone with his wife and children. The elf had no words for Arwen, nor for the sons of Elrond; their embrace said all. Their shared sorrow and understanding, and their sense of loss, was complete.

Legolas stood alone on the balcony of his room at the Citadel – a room he would never occupy again – and looked out over the gardens he had helped create and would visit no more. Through the quiet tears that began to leak from his eyes, he spoke to his friend in his heart:

Estel, you once told me that when you thought I was stealing away, I left you in a place darker than night. Now – you are departing from me in the bright light of day, and with my full knowledge… yet I have gone to that very place where you were. It is darker than night here, Estel, and the darkness engulfs me…I cannot see my way… 

The elf prince broke down then. His hands gripped the railing of the balcony till his knuckles were white, and he bowed his head and wept long and bitterly as he had never wept before, his tears flowing as freely as the waters of the Anduin in the distance. And all who happened to cast their eyes upon the elf prince that day saw not the wondrous fair being who had stood proudly beside their King, but only a broken figure, his radiance dimmed in the shadow of a grief that enshrouded him like death itself. 

None – not even his father or his treasured dwarf companion – could pull him out from the chasm of black nothingness into which he was falling.

And Legolas himself knew: in the desolation that followed the departure of the friend he loved more than life, the only place where he would survive this loss was Valinor.

Only in Valinor… 

Legolas opened his eyes again to behold a sky colored red with the blood of tears, and the wind on the open sea did little to soothe the intense ache in his heart. It was only later, as he sailed on under dark heavens encrusted with the jeweled lights of Varda, that he found a small measure of solace in a high beauty that no Shadow could ever touch. In his eyes was the radiance of the stars, but in his mind was the memory of that precious final pledge with a man who had been named Estel. No one could take that from them.Truly, he could now hold on to Hope.

When the ship left the bent confines of the world at last, and a curtain of silvery glass parted to reveal a far green country under a swift sunrise, the light of Valinor shone its brilliance across the distance to greet the grey ship and bless the elf prince’s countenance with indescribable beauty and peace. The joyful cries of his father, his dwarf friend, and his elvish companions filled his ears, warming him, reminding him he would soon see loved ones welcoming them on sparkling white shores: his brothers, his kin, Gandalf, perhaps Frodo and Sam… and perhaps he would even see his mother in the Halls of Mandos. They would assure that he would never be alone.

Yet the thoughts of Legolas Greenleaf remained steadfast on one person, one whose physical form could not walk the shores with them but would still be with him each day in the Blessed Realm. For – no matter how long he lived – Hope would reside ever in his heart till they met again.

Estel, my friend, even in Valinor shall I remember you, for no greater quality of heart and soul did I ever have the privilege to know. Many paths of life have I walked, many will I yet come to know, but ever will I be bathed in the light which you shone, and will continue to shine, on the long and blessed path of my immortal existence.

Standing just behind the tip of the sleek grey ship, he ran a long, slender hand lovingly along either side of the pointed end, knowing exactly what was emblazoned in the wood on each side of the prow: one, the emblem of the Mirkwood monarchy and personal insignia of the elf prince Legolas Greenleaf; and the other, the proud mark of King Elessar of Gondor, once a Ranger, always a most beloved friend.

He smiled quietly amidst his tears, and whispered to the Lord of the White Tree: 

“We have arrived, Aragorn. We are home.”

FIN

I poured many, many, many hours into the writing of this tale. If you enjoyed it, please do leave a note if only to say hello. :-) It will soon be 2022, but after almost two decades, I still respond to all reviews posted and will continue to do so as long as I can.

Note:

And so we come to the end of this tale which, in the words of Tinnuial, was “inspired by a great friendship only hinted at in Tolkien’s writing”.

The dialogue in this chapter borrows lines from the beautiful song “In Dream” from the soundtrack of the Fellowship of the Ring. My thanks to the composer and songwriters.

Some of Legolas’ thoughts were inspired by Tinnuial’s own short but lovely tale of the two friends: This is My Path. I urge you all to read it, if you have not yet done so.

I wish to thank other writers whose stories also inspired me, especially Shaan Lien and Nightwing. 

Well – it’s been quite a journey for me, and I feel I have written enough for a book!  :–)

Before I close this book, I wish to extend my heartfelt appreciation to all who have shared my journey with me, especially to those who have been regular reviewers, for you were as friends who gave me encouragement and the privilege of your companionship along the way – you kept me going. 

Hannon le, and may we all find the kind of deep friendship and untainted love that this tale honors.

Some have asked if I write another story. I already have ideas for a couple of new ones, but I honestly don’t know when I can write and post them. But if and when I do, an Author alert will inform you of my next journey.  I hope you will walk with me again then.

Till then, Namárië.