Author note: This chapter refers to “Living Jewels” (archived under my story “Tales from Tol Eressëa”) and chapter 7 of my story “A Rohan Tapestry”.

STARSHIP

Chapter 9: A Rose By Any Other Name

Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. ‘Appendix B’, The Return of the King

They rode through the sun-shower and back into clear sunshine, and Frodo’s joyous laugh made Sam’s heart sing as it had rarely done since his Rose had passed on. In the distance, from the direction of the Sea, a rainbow caught Sam’s attention, and he leaned back against Elrond, enjoying the sight. In years past, when he had tried to imagine the Elves’ land to the west, he had wondered if the weather was always much the same – a horror to a gardener who valued the seasons, and a good soaking of the earth now and then.

“Gandalf, look how it’s grown!” Frodo cried out in wonder, and Sam brought his attention back to the flower-studded meadow that now stretched out before them. The three horses slowed to a walk, and then stopped. The wizard was the first to dismount, after which he lifted Frodo down from Shadowfax. Frodo immediately ran to a tree which stood alone in the middle of the lush meadow, and reached up to touch several of the blossoms.

Elrond very gently lifted Sam down from his own mount and Celebrían did the same for Bilbo, and the two hobbits delighted in the cool, moist grass beneath their feet. Elrond handed Bilbo and Sam their walking sticks.

“Come Samwise,” Bilbo said. “Help an old hobbit, would you? I never did get used to riding horseback; my old bones are creaking up a storm today.”

“I’m only a bit less creaky, Mr. Bilbo!” Sam laughed. He gave Bilbo his arm, and they began to walk slowly towards where Frodo stood. “So that’s Mr. Frodo’s special tree, is it? What a lovely thing. I’ve never seen the like.” He gazed with pleasure at the white, blue, and soft pink blossoms that graced the young tree. Suddenly he stopped walking, and Bilbo turned to him impatiently.

“Something’s... buzzing...” Sam shook his head, but the low hum continued.

“It is the tree,” Celebrían said from behind them. “We wondered if you would hear it, Samwise.”

“Why?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Because I can’t, and neither can Frodo,” Bilbo said matter of factly. “We both feel something special in this meadow, but Elrond had to tell us that it was because the tree was... well, singing.”

“It’s not so much a song as...” Sam frowned, concentrating. “Maybe it is, at that. It sounds like something I’ve...” He looked around, taking in all the details of the land, the shapely boulders scattered about, even fragrance of the blossoms. “You’ll all think I’m daft, but I’ve been here before.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “It was at night, with lots of stars overhead. I was here with Mr. Frodo. But how could that be?”

“Could it have been a dream, perhaps?” Elrond asked quietly, and Sam slowly nodded.

“Maybe so, sir,” the hobbit agreed. “I heard this same sound, sure as I’m standing here.”

Frodo turned to smile at everyone.

“She’s happy to get visitors.” 

“She?” Bilbo chuckled.

“Why, how amazing.  The flowers are lit up!” Sam gently touched one.

“Yes,” Gandalf said softly. “The source of this tree is Light, and the wish of Someone that its song bring healing.”

Sam gazed at his master, and the light emanating from Frodo seemed to rival that of the tree.  Bilbo turned to him and nodded that he saw it, as well.

“That was quite a long ride,” Bilbo declared.  “I believe a short nap is in order.”

“Take some rest, Bilbo,” Gandalf said. He winked at Frodo. “I promise not to let these greedy Elves and hobbits eat all of the lunch.”

“I can always count on you, my old friend,” Bilbo said, and nodded gratefully as Celebrían spread several blankets beneath the tree’s fragrant canopy. He lay down and closed his eyes.

Frodo gazed down at Bilbo for a long moment. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was the subtle vibrations from this tree that they had discovered, which he could feel resonating through his body and mind, that had enabled Bilbo to live so long... and were easing his final days. As if discerning his thoughts, Bilbo opened his eyes and smiled at him, winked, then almost instantly fell fast asleep.

“Now I know why you asked me to save a bit after seeing to the garden, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, taking a small box from his pocket. “This is a perfect place, isn’t it?”

“It surely is,” Frodo agreed.

“What are they talking about?” Elrond asked with amusement, and Gandalf began to chuckle.

“Never think you understand hobbits completely,” Gandalf said knowingly. “They will always surprise you.”

Sam looked up at Celebrían and smiled, then opened the box.

“Good Shire earth,” he explained. “I got the idea from your mother, Lady. Mr. Frodo asked me to save a bit for this tree here.” He knelt, took a small trowel from the pouch, and carefully dug a small hole at the base of the tree. “There now, Losillë,” he murmured as he patted the grains of soil he had brought into the hole. “I hope you like that.”

“Sam, what did you say?” Gandalf asked.

“Me?” Sam asked. He looked up at the wizard. “I just told the tree I hoped she liked this bit o’ Shire I brought her.”

“The name you spoke,” Elrond said, frowning. “It is Quenya. Where did you hear it?”

“Name? I didn’t say anything.”

“You did, Sam, I heard you,” Frodo insisted. “You said Losillë. Don’t you know what that means?”

“No, sir.” Sam looked around at everyone in confusion.

“It means ‘Rose’,” Celebrían said. She exchanged glances with Gandalf and Elrond. “I believe our lovely tree has a name at last.”

“Well how about that?” Sam said, a pleased smile lighting his face. “My Rose would love that, and no mistake.” He yawned suddenly, and blushed in embarrassment. “The tree song is putting me to sleep, Mr. Frodo,” he said apologetically.

“Stretch out next to Bilbo,” Frodo urged him. “There’s no hurry to get back, is there, Elrond?”

“No hurry at all,” the Elf lord said with a smile. “I believe I will take my Lady on a stroll about the meadow.” Arm in arm, Elrond and Celebrían walked off.

“Are you feeling all right otherwise?” Frodo asked anxiously as Sam lay down.

“Better than I have for many a year,” Sam assured him. “Maybe even ready for one of those boat rides you keep telling me about.” Frodo gasped in mock amazement. “A gentle one, mind,” Sam said quickly. “If I’m to be surrounded by water, I should at least get my feet wet once or twice.”

Frodo grinned hugely. “You arrived with a mariner, and perhaps you’ll become one before too long.”

“I doubt it, sir!” Sam chuckled. He closed his eyes, and soon slipped into a dream of light and music.

While Sam and Bilbo slept, Frodo leaned back against a warm boulder and at last opened his letters from Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, and his cousins. He relished every word, reading aloud long passages to Gandalf, and sharing the drawings from Sam’s grandchildren.

Sam and Bilbo awoke just as Elrond and his wife returned from their walk and Frodo was beginning to eye the picnic baskets with longing.  A luncheon of baked fish, crusty bread, fruit, cheese, and pastries from Avallonë’s finest baker was spread out, along with wine of a delightful vintage, and the six of them talked long into the afternoon about the wonders they had seen and the great Tale in which they had found themselves. And as the meadow rang with talk and laughter, no one could blame them for imagining that the tree seemed to be listening with delight.

*~*~*~*~*

The King’s messenger arrived at the thriving village of Aglarond on an evening sparkling with stars. He had taken passage on one of the many small sailing craft that plied the River Isen from the Sea to the Kingdom of Rohan, while the royal vessel carrying Aragorn, Arwen, and her brothers continued south towards the Cape of Andrast and eastwards through the Bay of Belfalas, to finally wend up the River Anduin to Minas Tirith. Legolas, in the village on an extended visit to this relatively new enclave of Dwarves and Men, met with the messenger on behalf of the Lord of Aglarond and heard all that he had to tell. He then extended to him Gimli’s respects, along with an offer to visit the legendary caverns before continuing on to Minas Tirith.

Leaving the weary but delighted messenger at the finest inn, Legolas rode to the intricate network of caves where Gimli, along with his cousins, was at work deep within a newly-discovered chamber. Legolas left his mount at the entrance to the caverns, and strode into their brightly-lit depths -- his hesitancy in being underground a thing of the past. Rooms that had been for a thousand years dark, roughly hewn, and forbidding now glittered with light from lamps cunningly set into walls and hanging from engraved ceilings.

Legolas had not visited Aglarond in many years, and he walked admiringly through the smooth, polished corridors and rooms in which Gimli and his folk toiled with great satisfaction. When he entered the last chamber, Gimli hurried to meet him in a cloud of crystalline dust. The Dwarf’s grin showed his pleasure at his friend’s arrival.

“What message does Aragorn send?” he asked, dusting himself off and leading Legolas into a quiet, lamp-lit chamber.

“Quite an unusual one,” Legolas smiled, plucking two envelopes from a pouch at his waist. “Something sad and yet wonderful has occurred, and these come to us from far away.” He grew solemn. “Samwise has left Middle-earth, borne into the West by Eärendil himself. Aragorn sailed swiftly north when he learned what was to occur, and arrived in time to bid him farewell.”

Gimli stared up at the Elf, astounded at the news. “Sam was granted a rare honor indeed, but well deserved.” He eyed the envelopes. “Are those from Sam, then?”

“They are from the Lady Galadriel,” Legolas said quietly, and chuckled at the look of joyous surprise that lit his friend’s face. He handed Gimli one of the envelopes, and the Dwarf took it with reverence.

After he had recovered somewhat, Gimli removed his toolbelt and leather apron, and laid them carefully upon an outcropping of crystal.

“The hour grows late,” he said. “Let us retire to Roheryn’s Roost for a bite and a mug. I would like to hear this tale in full.”

Some hours later, after a satisfying meal and many toasts to Sam and Frodo, Gimli finally left Legolas to read his letter in private. At the request of the tavern's guests, Legolas sang several songs before bidding everyone good night.  He sought a high, grassy hill, and once he was comfortable, he opened his own letter. The stars provided more than enough light, and he smiled when he saw that the Lady had written in Sindarin. When he got to the final passage, he narrowed his eyes in concentration. Here was news indeed.

When Elessar passes from Middle-earth to that place we Elves know not, the last living mortal with prolonged exposure to the Enemy’s Ring will be Gimli, Son of Glóin. I foresaw a long and prosperous life for him, and so it will come to be, barring illness or injury beyond my seeing. Here there are Mirrors more subtle than any I was able to craft in Lórien, and in my years of study I have been granted insight into something which I now share with you. If you choose to sail before Gimli’s passing, know that you will be permitted to bring him. He is granted this honor for his service, for healing of any harm the Ring may have brought him -- seen or unseen -- and as an Elf-friend whom we know appreciates the stars of the earth as we reverence the stars of the sky. The choice belongs to both of you, and I hope these words do not bring to your heart any burden. Many will welcome your arrival here, son of Thranduil, and our trees will be blessed to ring with your laughter. I say to you that your labors in Middle-earth will bear fruit to enrich all who enjoy them for as long as Arda’s Song unfolds. Fare well until next we meet.

Legolas looked up, his eyes brimming with tears of joy, and Eärendil’s fire bathed his face with a cool, ageless caress.

In his simple quarters, Gimli sat by the hearth, the Lady’s letter clasped in his hand. He read it over again from the beginnng. To see her once more... could it be possible? He would speak with Legolas upon the morrow.

As he gazed into the fire, his head nodded and he fell into sleep, slipping into a dream unlike any he had experienced before. He found himself in a meadow graced by only one tree, but its beauty filled his senses as did the solid, comforting boulders that nestled near him. The air seemed more pure than he was used to, and a great energy coursed through him. In one age-wrinkled hand he held a silver hammer, its handle inscribed in one of the Elvish tongues.

Testing the hammer with a gentle tap upon one of the boulders, he laughed out loud at the resonating notes that filled the air. And it seemed to him that his laughter was joined by that of hobbits, their high, bright voices as refreshing as the music of the rock.

And in his sleep, Gimli smiled.

** TBC **