Author note: Thank you for reading this story, which I had always planned to be a gentle and peaceful one. Anyone inspired to explore the further adventures of Hé-An and his people, or visits to the north by hobbits, dwarves, men, or elves, is welcome to write their own tales. I would be delighted.

THE RINGS OF EVENDIM

Chapter 12: For Ears to Hear That Can

[Gimli] rose clumsily and bowed in dwarf-fashion, saying: `Yet more fair is the living land of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!' ‘The Mirror of Galadriel’, The Fellowship of the Ring

The Snowmen had been greatly moved and humbled by the spectacle upon the hallow. During the last days of their visit to Annúminas , Hé-An and his companions spent many hours discussing all they had seen and experienced in the City, especially what the presence of a king – and such a seemingly powerful one – might mean for them. By the time the day at last arrived to depart, Hé-An stood before King Elessar with confidence, Huma and Hukara at his side.

“We thank you for welcoming us to your city,” Hé-An began his speech. “These weeks have been most instructive for us, as well as unexpectedly profitable.” His appreciative glance took in the precious horses, cattle, and other livestock, and the sledges that his men were loading with the great quantities of supplies and trade items they had procured.

The King smiled. “Our meeting has likewise brought nothing but good for this city,” he responded.

“King Elessar Telcontar,” Hé-An said formally, “My people will hear of you, and rejoice that our journey resulted in such bountiful goods, and strong friendships.” He extended his right hand. “You have not declared yourself king over our lands, nor shown any duplicitous speech or actions. Your people thrive, and your many friends obviously love and respect you. Any people would be proud to call you King.”

Elessar gravely clasped the man’s hand with his own.

“There are many sovereign lands in Middle-earth, my friend,” he said. “The Shire, of which you heard so much, is but one of them. I do not believe your people require a king; their Chieftain is wise and just.”

“I thank you,” Hé-An said, greatly pleased. He took a deep breath, hoping that the momentous decision he had made was the right one. “Because you have shown yourself to be a true friend, I wish to give you something in trust. I ask that you – or your heir – return it to us in person someday, so that my people may see that this trust was not misplaced.” To Elessar’s amazement, Hé-An removed his revered necklace of amber and gold and settled the ancient heirloom about the King’s neck.

“I am greatly honored, Hé-An,” Elessar said quietly. “We have much in common, not least of which is finding ourselves leaders of a people during changing times. Our hearts and thoughts are in concert; I, too, wish to send you home bearing something precious to me. When I – or my heir – come north to visit you someday, I ask that you then return it, as your ancestors returned it to mine.” Hé-An stared in utter astonishment as the King removed the Ring of Barahir from his finger and placed it in the chieftain’s hand. The people standing nearby, waiting to say their farewells to the men of the north, gasped in disbelief.

“The Token of old!” Hé-An murmured in awe. He glanced at his men, whose eyes were shining with joy.  Then he bowed to the King. “The People of Heskil-anna are likewise honored.”

“Let them see proof that the ancient tales are true, and that the descendant of Arvedui greeted you in friendship and respect,” Elessar said softly.

“Thank you,” Hé-An said, placing the ancient ring upon his own finger. He looked up, smiling. “I find that my neck feels quite bare without my necklace.”

“And my finger misses its ring,” Elessar said, laughing. “It has been long in my keeping. My friend, convey the respect of myself and my queen to the People of Heskil-anna. May your journey home be safe, and blessed.”

“My friend,” Hé-An echoed, ”I hope you will convey the respect of the People of Heskil-anna to the good folk of Gondor, and all of your vast realm. May Yáve-anna bless your lands, as she has blessed ours.”

“I will do so.” After clasping hands with each of Hé-An’s companions, Elessar knelt to say farewell to the intelligent hounds who had helped forge the strong bond between his people and the Snowmen. When he spoke softly to them in Elvish, they responded with wagging tails and tongues washing his face with great thoroughness. Those nearby laughed and cheered to see the King given such a delightful farewell.

With the glad calls of the city dwellers all about him, Hé-An proudly mounted his horse, which he had named Anna [gift], and led the rich caravan northward. Hukara and Huma bounded eagerly across the meadow, and the voices of the Snowmen were raised in song -- of home, and those who awaited their return.

*~*~*~*~*

Gimli’s return to the Glittering Caves was hailed with joy – not merely for the wealth of goods with which he had returned, but also because he had been greatly missed. The Lord of Aglarond was feasted many times, his tales of the north met with great interest and many questions. He visited with Éomer King, and also sent messages to Minas Tirith and Ithilien regarding the King and Queen, and with assurances that all was well with the Ring-bearer and his companions.

It was nearly a week before Gimli was able to finally take time for himself, and he toured the caverns, noting with satisfaction the new chambers being excavated and the pillars, sculptures, and lamps being crafted with exquisite care. Long he walked, far past the inhabited areas, until at last he found himself in a rough, unexplored chamber.  It was utterly dark except for the torch he carried, the silence broken only by the tinkling of water dripping into unseen pools. There he halted, and set his torch into a niche in the wall.

In all his time in Annúminas, then Bag End, even during the long journey home, he had not once placed the Lady’s ring upon his finger. He had planned to stand under the stars when he did so, but the longing had grown in him to surround himself with cool and welcoming stone, alone with only his thoughts and memories as companions.

At last, in silent reverence, he drew forth Nenya from the pouch at his waist.  With the dazzling image of Galadriel clear in his mind, he put it on. He didn’t know what he had been expecting; indeed, for the most part he had expected nothing at all to happen, but as he stood there, something unusual caught his attention and he tilted his head curiously. With a hesitant step, he walked over to the nearest wall, and gently pressed against it with his hand.

I am the beloved of Mahal, the foundation of the earth, the permanence of all things. I am stone.

Gimli “heard” the low, pounding murmur as if a voice both sharp as flint and shimmering as crystal reverberated through his being.

I sense the heartbeats of His children. I recognize the touch of one who is attuned to the Master.

With a gasp, Gimli remembered his conversation with Pippin many weeks before:

"It is regrettable that the art of awakening the living essence of stone has not survived amongst the artisans of my people."

"Maybe the Lady's ring will help you find it again.”

Pippin was the new guardian of Gandalf’s ring.  Had he known somehow, on some level?

Release my full potential, son of Durin. And yours.

Gimli began to tremble with excitement as the space before him suddenly flooded with light. He saw what it could become. Tree-like pillars, entwined. Shimmering crystalline seams thinned, sculpted, lit from behind to cast a radiance of soft light. Underground rivers diverted, marble pools dug, sweet water tumbling and singing. Flowering gardens of stone cultivated with skill and deep love set below brilliant, glittering star-like gems that rivaled even the clear, pulsing radiance of the gem on the ring he wore...

As he gazed about him in awe, Gimli recalled something Arwen had said to him in Annúminas when she bade him farewell.

“I do not often now glimpse what may be, but it comes to me that you may live longer than any of your race since the elder days, Gimli son of Glóin. Use well the days.”

He had not made much of her words, and even she had merely smiled at this brief moment of cryptic foresight. A longer life than any of his race... perhaps because of the remaining energy in the Lady’s ring? But even were such a thing true, his practical nature asserted, stone would outlast him. It would outlast them all until the foundations of the world were broken and remade.

But in the time I have, I will create such beauty here as is in my power to bring forth, he vowed to himself.  Aglarond will be the wonder of Middle-earth, and I will strive to be worthy of it.

When he finally took the ring from his finger, the strange light flickered and then was gone. But standing in the cool darkness, his mind remained lit with a clear vision of what could be created here beneath the earth.  And perhaps one day he could even... Gimli shook his head, and his laughter echoed off the rough walls. Such folly! Certainly there was no way to ever again stand before the Lady, to thank her for this gift. What strange fortune could ever bear a Dwarf into the West, or afford him welcome there?

After tucking Nenya back into the pouch, he retrieved his torch. He would return to this place soon, and begin the great work that would be his legacy... with the Lady’s vision and Mahal’s blessing to guide him.

“So, Frodo, it appears that now I, too, am a Ring-Bearer,” he murmured. “I hope to show you what our efforts will bring forth here.”  He closed his eyes, imagining that Frodo could hear him.  After such wonders as he had experienced, perhaps even that was now possible.

“May this place blossom as sweetly as your Shire, my friend, and we both live long enough to see it.  And may your every day be blessed.”

** END **