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Healing the Blessed Isle  by shirebound

HEALING THE BLESSED ISLE

Chapter 2:  Getting to the Point... Eventually   

'O Kheled-zâram fair and wonderful!' said Gimli. `There lies the Crown of Durin till he wakes. Farewell!' He bowed, and turned away, and hastened back up the green-sward to the road again. 

‘Lothlórien’, The Fellowship of the Ring

 

Gimli opened his eyes in his now-familiar room, noting with satisfaction that the window slats were still tightly closed.  The hobbits’ enjoyment of opening all the shutters every morning “to let in this fine day”, as Sam said, was pleasing for them, but he preferred waking up as any Dwarf would, in cool darkness.  His eyes adjusted more quickly to dimness than to bright sunshine, and although he had learned to tolerate each morning’s insistently cheerful birdsong well enough, a person needed to wake up some before appreciating it. 

His pack and walking stick lay in the corner where he had dropped them the previous night.  He had come home so late both hobbits had been asleep, and although they had left a plateful of scones out on the table, he had been too preoccupied and discouraged to sample them before falling into bed.  Had he been gone three days, or four this time?  Time seemed to pass in a distressingly elusive way on this island, not unlike he remembered from the land of Lórien.  As always, thinking about the Golden Wood, and the Lady, brought a smile to his face, and for a moment he felt the sober gloom which he had been experiencing of late lighten a bit.  He heard a merry tune being whistled from elsewhere in the house, and smelled something that made his stomach rumble with longing.  When had he last sat down to a proper meal?  Today, at least, he would do so; he knew how delighted the hobbits were to see him (or anyone, really) eat heartily, and often, bless them.

He stretched and sat up, looking around.  The small number of possessions he had brought with him from Middle-earth, most of them gifts and remembrances from the royal families of Erebor, Gondor, and Rohan, filled only a few of the shelves the hobbits had provided for him.  He had also brought two chests containing a selection of small tools, garments and personal items, and a leather folder that held the thick sheaf of notes and messages of farewell and gratitude from the people of Aglarond and his remaining kin in the North.

He washed, changed into a fresh tunic, and gave his beard a thorough combing.  The hobbits had been so welcoming, they didn’t deserve to find a dusty vagabond stumbling into their clean kitchen.  Their kitchen, he found himself musing.  Will I ever feel at home, as they seem to?  I wonder what they thought their life would be like hereI thought only about the privilege of seeing the Lady once again, and avoiding the pain of watching Legolas sail off and leave me behind after Aragorn was gone.  I gave little thought to what would come after, assuming we ever reached these shores at all.

After untangling a final stubborn braid, he fastened at his waist the small pouch he had carried with him throughout the Quest and every day since.  It held an engraved runestone given to him in Rivendell by his father; a handful of dust from the tomb of his cousin Balin; and a stone from Kheled-zâram, where Durin himself had once stood.  He had felt very close to his longfathers that day, reinvigorated for the trials that lay ahead.

I am alone here, in a way the hobbits are not.  They seem to have all they need, while I search in vain for... what?  I barely know what I am searching for; I only know that I have not found it.

At last he flung open the shutters, knowing that it would please Sam, and followed his nose to the kitchen.

*~*~*~*~*

“He’s coming,” Sam whispered.  “Isn’t this exciting?”

“Dear Sam,” Frodo chuckled.  He had retrieved a pitcher of fresh-pressed apple juice from the cold room, and began filling three mugs.  “I just hope it works.”  He looked up and smiled brightly.  “Good morning, Gimli.  Did you sleep well?”

“I did, Frodo, thank you,” Gimli said, coming into the kitchen.

“How many eggs this morning?” Sam asked.

“Only three today,” Gimli responded, grateful that neither hobbit ever asked where he went, or why he felt the need to wander alone, as he scarcely knew himself.  “I do apologize again for not being able to contribute much in the way of cooking or baking.”

“But there’s no need to apologize,” Frodo said.  “You’ve done so much!  All the stone paths you’ve laid, that lovely wall, the sturdy coop for the chickens, the pond you’ve begun... why, seeing that you eat well is the least we can do!”

Gimli smiled.  “I am pleased to hear that, as my skills in the kitchen are barely...” About to sit down, he froze, staring at something sparkling on the windowsill directly opposite his usual seat.  He quickly skirted the round table and reached the sill, where he picked up a chunk of crystal.  “Where did you get this?” he asked urgently.  “This was not here a few days ago.”

“No, it’s wasn’t,” Frodo said, trying to hide his jubilation.

“Isn’t that a pretty one, Gimli?” Sam asked innocently.  “Ever since you taught us about fool’s gold on our journey, and showed us some small pieces, I’ve been trying to find a nice big one like that.”

“Fool’s gold?” Gimli whispered.  The large crystal was almost perfectly transparent, and beautifully faceted. A specimen like this was exceedingly rare, as delicately enlaced within it, and curled around the surface, was a thick swirl of yellow.  He gently scratched at it, and, to the hobbits’ surprise, even tasted it.

“My dear hobbits,” he informed them, “this is gold.  Pure gold.”

“Is it?”  Frodo asked casually.  “How can you tell the difference?"

“How can I tell?” Gimli sputtered.  “A Dwarf who cannot identify every precious gem and mineral blindfolded, with both hands bound, while hanging upside down from a tree, could never hold his head up amongst his kin!”  His face reddened alarmingly.

“Sit down,” Sam urged.  “Have some juice.  Here, see?  Your eggs are ready.  Are you sure you only want three?”

Gimli set the crystal back onto the windowsill and allowed himself to be led back to his chair.  Without quite knowing how, a mug appeared in one hand and a fork in the other.

“I would very much like to know where that came from,” he said eagerly.  “Was it a gift?”

“Eat first,” Sam insisted, and Gimli took a bite of eggs.  They were excellent, and he piled a larger portion on his fork.

“We found it yesterday,” Sam began.

“To be precise, you found it, Sam,” Frodo corrected.

“But you found the tunnel.  I just--”

“Where?” Gimli asked.

Frodo put slices of toasted bread on a plate. “Gandalf and Legolas came to take us for a ride.  Legolas has such a fine horse, hasn’t he, Sam?  She must be related to Shadowfax.”

“A ride...” Gimli urged.  Frodo passed him the bread, and sat silently until Gimli took a bite.

“Well then, we rode much farther north than we’d ever been able to explore on foot, out where the cliffs are highest,” Frodo continued.  He didn’t mention that Gandalf had chosen the direction, and guided them to a specific spot.  “It’s a strange place; the land is all cracked and broken there, and carpeted with plants we didn’t recognize.  Except for the athelas, of course. We saw quite a lot of it.”

“It’s a strange place, and no mistake,” Sam agreed.  “There’s something... unfinished about the whole area.  There’s a house up there too, but no one seemed to be home.”

“The crystal?” Gimli prodded.

“Right.  We’re lucky to have found it at all, now that I think it through.  Gandalf was being so distracting, walking about and muttering things like, ‘Yes, indeed’, and ‘I thought as much’, and ‘It will take time yet, but I doubt it not’.  You know how he gets sometimes.”

“Sam...”

“Yes?  Oh, well, just before we started back home, Frodo walked over to see a shrub Legolas was examining near the house, and darn near fell right into it.”

“The shrub?”

“The tunnel.  Oh, we forgot about the berries!”  Sam went to the sideboard and brought back a bowl brimming with raspberries.  “Do you want some, Gimli?”  The Dwarf shook his head, his fingers beginning to twitch impatiently on the table.  “Anyway, then I spotted the pretty rock just inside this tunnel, sitting in the dirt.  Gandalf said we could take it since it had already loosened – whatever that means – and we did.”

“`Pretty rock’,” Gimli murmured incredulously.  Even young Dwarves knew that crystals focused energy, and one of such a size and quality as this could only be part of a large and cohesive network.  It took immense forces to bring such a quantity of gold to the surface, and for the first time, he began to wonder about the history of this island, of which he knew nothing.    

“That’s right,” Frodo said.  “Say, we’re going back there tomorrow; Legolas said he wants to show Elrond the plants, and we asked to go with them.”  He smiled at the Dwarf.  “Would you like to come with us?”

Gimli took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.  “Yes, Frodo.  Very much.”  He felt much less gloomy all of a sudden, but whether it was from eagerness to examine an unexpected geological feature, or the beloved (albeit often maddening) banter of hobbits, he couldn't say.

“Sam...” With a chuckle, he held out his plate.  “I would love some of those berries.  And more eggs, if you please.  Are there any scones left?”

** TBC **

    





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