HEALING THE BLESSED ISLE

Chapter 3:  An Elf Out of Legend

As the sweet influence of the herb stole about the chamber it seemed to those who stood by that a keen wind blew through the window, and it bore no scent, but was an air wholly fresh and clean and young, as if it had not before been breathed by any living thing and came new-made from snowy mountains high beneath a dome of stars, or from shores of silver far away washed by seas of foam.

‘The Houses of Healing’, The Return of the King

If Gimli closed his eyes and concentrated solely on the horse beneath him, he could almost imagine himself back in Middle-earth, riding through Rohan or any of the other far-off lands he had seen from the back of Arod, the steed for which he had grown to feel great fondness.

“Just like old times, eh, Gimli?” Legolas’s voice broke through the Dwarf’s thoughts.  “Astar is not certain what to think of you.”

“She has voiced that to you, has she?”  Gimli, riding comfortably behind his friend, gently patted the flank of the horse.  “She surely must barely know I am here, sitting lightly as I am with neither mail nor helm, and my axe left behind across the great sea.”

“More lightly, but hardly weightless!” The Elf chuckled.  “A Dwarf you remain, my friend, until the end of your days, may they be long.”

“Aye,” Gimli murmured.  “A Dwarf I remain.”

They rode higher, and higher still, north along the cliffs, the glittering sea extending to the horizon in more shades of blue and green, purple and silver, than Gimli had imagined existed.  From this height, the many fishing and pleasure craft, encircled by sharp-eyed birds, seemed to the Dwarf’s eyes to be tiny indeed. 

Beside them rode Elrond, his horse easily carrying the elf-lord along with both hobbits. At intervals came Frodo and Sam’s voices singing loudly, interspersed with Elrond humming softly.

“This is the place!” Frodo cried out suddenly, and Elrond brought his mount to a halt.  He hopped lightly down before lifting Frodo and then Sam to the ground.  He then retrieved the hobbits’ walking sticks.

“Thank you for the ride, Baran,” Frodo said to the horse.  The proud steed lowered his head, and Frodo stroked the soft nose.

Legolas stopped as well, hoping Gandalf had been right to think that something in this place would ease Gimli’s heart, and lighten his spirit.  He unlaced the Dwarf’s walking stick from where it had been tied before helping his friend to dismount.

“Watch your step,” he admonished.

While Legolas led the horses to a pool of clear water, Gimli, relieved as always to be back on his own feet, looked around.  Whereas the cliffs near their home were rounded and weathered, sloping gently to white beaches or low valleys, here they were sharper, plummeting from a great height nearly straight down into the sea.  The land here was uneven, riddled with gaps and long, shallow fissures, but because low shrubs and plants grew in profusion, covering nearly every inch of ground in a verdant carpet, the cracks were difficult to see and needed to be circled carefully.

Several hundred yards away sat the house the hobbits had mentioned, of a sort the Elves here favored – adorned with small bells that chimed with the breeze, rounded archways, flowering shrubs of varying heights trimmed into pleasing shapes, and a garden overflowing with vegetables.  There were also a great number of cunning metal sculptures that swirled elegantly in the wind, and intricate wooden carvings.  Even from a distance, Gimli recognized that they had been wrought with exceptional skill.

Gimli wanted to ask the hobbits about the tunnel immediately, but paused, smiling at the sight of Frodo and Sam waving their arms above their heads.  They had retrieved bread or dried fish from one of the packs, and gulls were swooping low, expertly capturing the small pieces they threw aloft.  Both were laughing, their eyes alight with joy.

Legolas looked up, and called out in Elvish to the birds filling the air about them.

The cry of gulls plagues me no longer, he thought gratefully.  “I will find out if anyone is at home today.”  He walked swiftly to the dwelling and called out, but no one answered or came forth.

“I feel wonderful here,” Frodo announced.  “The air smells like...” He paused for a moment.  “Why, it reminds me of Tom and Goldberry’s garden!  Don’t you think so, Sam?”

“More like my Rosie’s kitchen,” Sam said, “with fresh-baked bread and gingerbread hobbits, and taters roasting in the oven.”

“Interesting,” Gimli said.  “I would have said that the air smells of good, rich ale.  Very satisfying.”

“It is all the athelas,” Elrond told them, motioning to the familiar plant.  “It is called asëa aranion here.”

“But how can a single herb smell different to everyone?” Sam asked.

“Intriguing, isn’t it?  Ever since we arrived in the West I have been studying the plants which were brought to Middle-earth.  You may be surprised to learn that athelas, growing here in its original, most potent form, has very little scent of its own.  It speaks to the heart, and awakens memories that bring calm and refreshment.” 

“What about you, sir?” Sam asked.

Elrond smiled gently.  “Honeysuckle and peach, the fragrance my lady uses in her hair.  Ever will that be a scent that brings my heart joy.”  He turned to Legolas, who was just returning.  “No one is there?”

Legolas shook his head.

Elrond motioned to the profusion of plants surrounding them.  “If this is what you brought me to see, I appreciate the opportunity.  There is much here I look forward to studying more closely.”

The elf nodded.  “I thought as much.”

“We should unpack the food for our picnic,” Sam said. 

“Are you hungry, Gimli?” Frodo asked. 

“Not just yet.  Frodo, Sam...” Gimli was trying to hide his impatience.  “Where did you find the crystal?”

Sam, who had been sniffing an athelas plant as high as his knees, pointed towards the house, beyond which a dense curtain of vegetation grew in profusion over a steep hill. 

“You can’t see the tunnel until you’re right next to it.  That’s why Frodo nearly...” Suddenly his eyes grew wide.  “Oh!  We have company.”

Emerging from behind the curtain of brambles and vines was an elf, but not one like any the group had seen before.  As he walked towards them, his footfalls sure and confident on the rough ground, he held up a hand in silent greeting.  He was red-haired, with a hint of a beard.  His upper arms were strongly muscled, and were encircled by engraved copper bands.  His tunic appeared not unlike Gimli’s own, heavy and serviceable, and clear, blue eyes surveyed each person keenly.

Elrond suddenly gasped, and took a hesitant step forward.

“Aulëndur,” he whispered.  “Is it you?”

“You recognize me, son of Eärendil?” the elf asked softly, “I knew not that name was still spoken across the Sea.  But I forgot, you are a scholar of the ancient tales.”

Elrond pressed a hand to his heart.  “I am honored,” he murmured.

“I am most pleased to meet you at last.”  The elf turned to Legolas and the hobbits.  “Son of the woodlands, children of the green hills and elf friends, I bid you welcome.  You may call me Mahtan; as such I am known.  I am a smith, and artist of modest skill.”

“At your service,” Frodo and Sam said together, and Legolas bowed deeply.

Gimli suddenly found himself caught by the elf’s steady gaze. 

“At your service,” he said.  “I am Gimli son of Gloín.”

“I welcome you,” Mahtan said. “The Master made it known to me to expect you.”

“The Master?”

“When you embarked upon the waters, son of Gloín, Lord Ulmo was aware of you, and gentled your way upon the Straight Road.  Word traveled from him to his brother, and in His name, I greet you.”  The elf’s eyes glowed with a sudden fire.  “I am the servant of Aulë.”

“Aulë?”  Gimli felt his heart beating rapidly, and his mouth grew dry.  “Then the Master you refer to is... Mahal.  He knows I am here?”

“He knows,” Mahtan said gently.  He turned to the rest of the group.  “My home is at your disposal.  Please take what bounty you desire from the gardens; you will also find foods within that I hope are pleasing.”

“You're very kind,” Frodo said.

Mahtan motioned toward where Sam had said the tunnel stood concealed, and extended his hand to Gimli. 

“While your companions refresh themselves, will you accompany me?  What I would show you is not far.  I sense you will appreciate what lies below us, and the Great Work of healing underway.”

As if in a dream, Gimli nodded, took up his stick, and accompanied the elf toward the hillside.  When they were out of earshot, Frodo, Sam, and Legolas looked expectantly at Elrond, who still had an awed look about him.

“Who was that?” Frodo blurted out.

“Do you think he’s the one Gandalf hoped Gimli would meet here?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Yes, without a doubt.”  Elrond glanced over at Legolas.  “Are you well, my friend?”

Legolas stared at him in wonder.  “Is it truly he?  The teacher of Fëanor?” 

Hearing the name, Frodo looked startled.

“At first, I could scarcely believe.... but yes, he can be no other,” Elrond said.  “He spoke of healing...” He looked down at the thick beds of athelas, and nodded.  “Above and below... yes, I begin to understand.”

“What’s happening here?  Will you tell us all about him?” Frodo asked eagerly.

“I will tell you what I can,” Elrond said, then he grinned.  “I suspect that by the time Gimli returns, he will know more than even I.”   

Sam was struck by a sudden thought.     

“But you never told us, Legolas.  What does the athelas here smell like to you?”

The hobbit’s question was so unexpected, Legolas burst into laughter.

"Remember you the Nimrodel, its sweet song and clean water, the blossoms and quiet trees, and cool grasses?" Legolas asked, and Sam nodded. "It was in that fair glade where we rested from the horrors of Moria, awash in sorrow over Gandalf's fall and the terror of the Balrog's dark malice, that I was able to forget my grief, for a time." He smiled down at both hobbits. "I saw your faces there, how your hearts were eased, your minds calmed." He took a deep breath of the invigorating air, redolent with salt and flowers and a tingling gladness.         

Legolas shook his head.  “I do not know if that answers your question, Sam.  I have no other words to speak it.”

Sam just smiled, and reached up to take his left hand just as Frodo clasped his right.  Stepping carefully, the hearts of all four calm and joyful, they started to make their way to the house to talk and take refreshment, and await Gimli’s return. 

** TBC **