A/N: Although this is in many ways a short sequel to my other writing, it can certainly be read independent of that. It is slash writing in nature (Aragorn/Legolas), yet you might for the most part read it as close friendship if you prefer (so please to do not complain if you do not prefer this, as you have been warned). Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought of it. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: All characters, places, etc. pertaining to Lord of the Rings belong solely to J.R.R. Tolkien.
----
It was the last night of spring. Legolas stood upon the deck of his ship, quiet and subdued. He watched, far above him, the stars which never failed to hold his gaze. The night was cool. There seemed to be no other sound in the world than the smooth lap of waves against the hull and the flutter of the sail against the breeze. He breathed deeply the sea scented air, yet within him flourished the memory of rich earth, and the age and intimacy of the forest; the smell of the wood beneath his palms, that carried him now from his home.
His eyes were set to the horizon, and the great expanse before him, which stretched out beyond his sight in an endless field of dark blue. At the limits of his vision he thought there shown a crystalline gleam – that of a distant shore.
"Well, my dear friend," said a voice. "What do your keen eyes see? And what have you heard from the stars, as I know that you look to them."
"So you have found me," said Legolas, turning with pleasure to face the other. His companion nodded. It was Gimli the Dwarf.
"You are not hard to find."
The Elf nodded.
"That is true."
They stood side by side facing out across the sea. The moon was clear in her abode, and shimmered in the watery mirror below.
"So," said Gimli, "how fares Legolas of Greenwood, stargazer and crafter of ships?"
Legolas smiled fondly at the question.
"How do I fare, Master Dwarf?" he said, with some amusement. "You are falling short in your jests, friend. The answer to your question is 'seafarer', no?"
"Ah, one cannot at all times be at the spar, unless it be maritime," Gimli grumbled, and Legolas chuckled at this. From a pocket, Gimli withdrew his pipe which he lit with care, shielding it at first from the swift sea air. "But I wonder, truly, what is on your mind?"
"All is well, my friend."
Gimli eyed the Elf doubtfully, knowing that he had received no answer. The two fell into comfortable silence. The breeze picked up, and it sent a shiver down Gimli's spine. He crossed his arms across his chest to stay off the cold.
"You should not catch a chill, Gimli. You should rest."
The Dwarf scoffed.
"It will take more than a nighttime breeze to chill me," said Gimli. "Elves are not the only creatures who like to ponder the stars. Save that we dwarves know that this is best done in pairs."
Legolas sighed, and Gimli observed this with concern; it was a habit which his companion had adopted with increasing frequency. And always it was a sigh of hidden sorrow, and perhaps burden, which seemed unnatural in an Elf of Greenwood the Great whose folk were merry and lighthearted, unbound by the stoicism of their kin. It was thus that the old Dwarf confirmed his suspicions.
Despite his company, Legolas was lonely.
And Gimli was certain that he knew why.
"Gimli, why are you awake? Truly, you should be resting."
The Dwarf snorted.
"The air is fresher up here," he said as he rubbed his knees. "Though a seat would be an ease on these old bones."
Legolas thought for a moment, then hurried below deck. There was a sound of scuffling, and then up from the stairs he came, lugging with him a large chair. It was carved of hard wood, with two arms that curved into the sleeping snouts of dragons. On its back there were mountains, and its feet were the paws of bears. This was Gimli's chair.
"I am afraid, Gimli, that I am not up for our usual nocturnal discourses. I am not much for conversation tonight," said Legolas as he set down the chair, and as Gimli slowly lowered himself into it. A thin waft of smoke from Gimli's pipe ghosted into the air as he puffed, nodding slightly at the statement.
"That is no matter, Legolas. For tonight it is my turn to tell a tale, I believe. And I have one that I have long saved. You need only listen."
Legolas sighed again and settled himself on the ship's rail. There would be no dissuading Gimli.
"The story goes like this: there was once a man. . ."
----
It was the year 1491 of the Fourth Age, by the Shire reckoning, on the morning of the twentieth of February. The King Elessar awoke early that day and found, much to his surprise, that for the first time in his memory he had nothing to do. This he thought to be exceedingly peculiar, for a King is never lacking duties. He dressed and sought out his advisers, certain that there was some mistake.
"No, my Lord. I do not know how it has happened, but you have gotten ahead on your paperwork. There are no court meetings being held today, and the Lord Eldarion has ridden out to Ithilien for the week. The Lady Arwen has gone with your daughters on retreat. It seems altogether that you have the day free."
Aragorn rubbed his chin.
"It does seem that way." He scratched his head. "But surely. . ."
"Nay, your Majesty, there is absolutely nothing scheduled. Enjoy the respite!" said the adviser merrily, rolling up his parchment and tucking it beneath his arm. He left with a bow, and the King remained in his chair, feeling rather abandoned. A servant entered shortly with a tray of breakfast.
"What does one do," pondered the King, "when there is nothing one must do?"
The servant set the tray on the table, and if he was surprised to be addressed, much more at the question.
"Well, my Lord, you might take a stroll, or read a book. . ."
Aragorn rested his chin in his palm. Idleness did not suit him. It had been many years since he had a day to himself, to roam and to wander.
He thought of tumbling hills, with tall and growing forests, and the paths that traced such lands. He knew that the one who could best relieve his boredom strode there, and he could not be with him. He sighed heavily.
"Perhaps. . ." said the King. The servant closed the door behind him. He ate his breakfast dolefully, and afterward headed to the library.
By mid morning, he had tired of his book, taken a long stroll about the citadel, found many corridors hitherto unknown to him, briefly become lost, and at last entered into a heated conversation with a gardener who insisted upon weeding the courtyards of the noble Kingsfoil. At first, his wandering was observed with good humor. It caused no harm, and many welcomed the chance to converse with their King. But soon it had gone on quite long enough.
The unexpected arrival of Gimli the Dwarf was therefore welcomed with intense relief.
"Thank goodness," exclaimed the gatekeeper, to whom Aragorn had twice inquired as to the comings and goings of the City. "His Majesty is quite insufferable, when he has naught to do. Indeed, he is rather mopey!"
When Gimli found the King Elessar, he was in fact attempting to correct the form of an experienced bowman. The man was suffering the instruction as best he could, but it was clear that his patient disposition could not last.
"You see," he heard Aragorn say, "it is best to do it this way, otherwise. . ."
"My Lord and friend, let us leave the soldier be."
The King turned in surprise. Meanwhile the soldier recovered his bow, and made a hasty escape.
"Master Gimli. What are you doing here? I thought that you had business in Dale."
"I have been called back, to relieve your servants of you," laughed Gimli. Aragorn smiled in good-nature.
"It has been long since I had a day free. I do not know what to do with myself, it seems."
The two embraced briefly. In truth, Aragorn had never been more grateful to see the Dwarf's bearded face.
"Fear not, for though I jest, I came in fact of my own accord to visit with you. It would appear that I could not have chosen a better time for my arrival. I do not come from Dale, but I bring much news from the Glittering Caves, and some from a dear friend. And I also bring a surprise."
The two found a seat on a stone bench. It was perched on a balcony which overlooked the empty square below. There were few about at this hour. The weather was cool, but the sky remained bright. From his pocket, Gimli removed his pipe, and a small pouch. It was filled with pipeweed – not any pipeweed, but the revered Longbottom leaf.
"Now where did you get this?"
"From the Shire, where else? Of course, I did not go there myself, but my people still go that way now and again, especially from under the mountain. I thought that you might enjoy it."
"You thought rightly, Master Dwarf."
Together they lighted their pipes, and sat and puffed smoke rings in the morning sun.
But as they did so, it was inevitable that they were reminded of their dear friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, who had only a few years ago passed away. Their last years had been spent in Gondor, and the smoke of pipeweed had frequented their happy abode. It was not so any more.
Though their deaths had been peaceful, the loss of the Halflings had been a matter of deep sorrow for those that remained.
"We are growing old," said Aragorn nostalgically. It did not seem to him to be so long past that they had all laughed together. Yet when he looked upon Gimli's face, it was worn, with many lines. Through his beard there ran streaks of silver and gray. When he looked down at his own hands, they too were becoming changed with age. Even he, blessed with long life, was not immune to the aches of his years. "We are the last, the Three Walkers."
"Aye," said Gimli, with sad and heavy eyes, watching the smoke from his pipe lift and drift away. "Yet we are lacking our third."
Aragorn nodded somberly.
"He is with his kin, in Ithilien, as he has been since late December." A look of melancholy crossed the onetime ranger's features. "I would go with him, but I must remain here. He does not like to stay cooped, and I cannot begrudge him this. Still, it will lighten my heart to have him return. My son will bring word from him, I suppose."
Gimli sniffed.
"You need not wait for word of him from your son. I have seen him."
"You have seen him?" asked Aragorn, with concern. "When? And how does he fare? He has written scarcely."
The Dwarf tapped his pipe on his lip, and ran his fingers over his thick beard.
"To be frank, Aragorn, he is not well."
The King turned to Gimli with grief.
"What has befallen him? Surely not illness."
"It is an illness of the heart, I think. . ." Gimli paused as he could sense the King's distress. "But I will tell you from the start. I traveled to Ithilien to see him, for it had been a year to that day since we had spoken. I have been busy in Aglarond, and could not spare to come. Besides, it is not so easy as it was when I was younger to make the trip. Yet I did not tell him of my plans, and so he did not anticipate my coming. Anyways, I will not lie to you. When I found him, he was quite miserable. Of course, he would not tell me this. But it was clear to see, at least to one who knows him well. He has been distraught. And it is a half truth if he told you that it is only to visit his kin that he has flown from here. "
"This is grim news, indeed!" Aragorn exclaimed. What could have caused his ailment? Why had he not spoken of it?
"That is the true purpose of my visit here, to tell you this."
"But wherefore? This is unlike him. Legolas is not one to despair. What is it that could cause it in him?"
"I have my suspicions." At this Gimli became pensive, taking many moments as he recalled the state of his companion. "It is as you say: we are the last. But mind you this, he shall be the very last. This weighs heavy on him, now that the hobbits have passed; their deaths took a mighty toll on him. He thinks always about these things, you know. In particular, there is a day fast approaching which is e'er on his mind."
"What day is that?"
"Why, it is your birthday."
Aragorn furrowed his brow. He understood gradually what was troubling the Elf so.
"He fears my death."
Gimli nodded.
"You will be turning one hundred and sixty. He did not think so much about this before the Halflings passed. But their deaths came abruptly to him. That is why he has gone to Ithilien, in search of reassurance. Among his people, there is neither aging nor death."
"I had not realized his feelings . . ." The King lowered his head. The signs were becoming clearer, that even a year ago there prevailed this looming despair in the Elf, which Aragorn had failed to recognize. "Something must be done."
"Forsooth, it must. But first I have an idea. And I came to assist you in it."
Out from the same pocket wherefrom the Dwarf had removed his pipe and pipeweed, he now revealed an inconspicuous parcel. It was wrapped in brown parchment and twine, but he handled it with the utmost care. He unbound it, and in Aragorn's outstretched palm placed a tiny sparkling gem.
Thus, the Dwarf explained to Aragorn his plan. It was by this hour well past midday, the sun having climbed high into the sky as the pair conversed.
Thereafter, the two holed away from the eyes of the Citadel. The King's advisers wondered where they had gone, and they did not reappear until late that night. The following days proceeded much the same -- Aragorn would arise early and withdraw, returning only at the behest of the courts, and out of duty. Then, after his responsibilities were fulfilled, he again would vanish. Gimli son of Gloin was as scarcely seen, and some believed that he had returned to his home. Keen observers noted, however, that they were often to be seen, coming and going from the direction of the blacksmith, and that the King's clothes carried the scent of fire. Always Gimli, if he were spotted, carted with him a satchel filled with mysterious Dwarven tools. Yet if questioned, neither would reveal his purpose.
A week after they had started, they were finished. In the bottom drawer of the King's bed stand, kept safe and secret, there sat the parcel wrapped in brown parchment and tied anew with twine – save for it was different from before, changed in shape and content.
The last day of February arrived quickly. The King was restless this day. In court, he was anxious, ever stealing glances at the doors, and watching with impatience as the shadows lengthened across the room. At evening, he stood upon the highest wall, watching out across the sweeping fields for the dark shape of a rider. None came. The sky flushed.
Then, small at first but moving with great speed, there appeared the racing form of a horse. Evening fell, and with it came the prince Eldarion. He wore a long cloak upon his back and a shining helm upon his head. He dismounted with ease. The King was at the gates to greet him.
"Father," said the prince, his voice rich and strong. He removed his helm. Aragorn placed his hands upon the broad shoulders of his son. "I am sorry. I have no word."
Night overtook the blue of gloaming. Stars appeared one by one against the black. There was no moon. Aragorn withdrew late, waiting at the gates well after Eldarion and even Gimli had retired, for some news out of Ithilien. At last, when his eyes could see no more across the dark horizon, with a heavy sigh he gave up his vigil and withdrew to his chambers. A consuming gloom clung to him as drifted to sleep.
However, nigh upon the midnight hour, a lone rider entered the citadel, clad in starlight and shadow. The flickering torches concealed his person.
When the King Elessar awoke on the morning of his one hundred and sixtieth birthday, it was to a pleasant warmth.
He stretched, to realize an unexplained weight upon his chest.
The dawn was just breaking through the windows of his bedchambers. By its modest glow, Aragorn laid his eyes upon the reposed figure of his most treasured companion. It was Legolas the Elf, holding close to him beneath the shelter of his coverlet and wearing a face of calm.
Aragorn blinked, understanding sluggishly that his own arms also wrapped tightly across the back of the other. For a while, as the dawn spread more courageously through the window pane, he could do nothing but gaze in sublime contentment and surprise at the soft head rested just beneath his chin. Then, slowly the Elf began to stir.
"Legolas! You have come back!"
With bright orbs, colored by a kind and bashful sympathy, Legolas looked up at the King and smiled. Aragorn ran his hand across the smooth cheekbones of Legolas' face, shifting to rest gently atop him.
They lay together, as the birds outside chattered animatedly. It was Aragorn who spoke first, the faint, almost imperceptible crescents beneath the Elf's eyes urging him to do so.
"You worried me," he said, not in anger or hurt, but only in compassion. "I waited for your herald, but none came. Yet even as I had hoped for word from you, have returned in its stead. You were to be with your kin through the spring. Tell me, dear one, what caused you to stay away. And what brought you back?"
At first it seemed Legolas would not respond. The cheerful hue which had so briefly returned to his features faded gradually to graveness, though he did not will it. His mind was closed. He turned his head to the side.
"I. . ." the voice faltered to soundlessness. He furrowed his fine brows. Aragorn could see that he was uneasy.
"You need not answer," said Aragorn, kissing his forehead. "It is enough that you are here. Gimli has revealed to me much which I should have myself gathered." At this Legolas looked away, even as the King's gray eyes expressed their understanding. "But you have no need of shame," he added, seeing his companion's reaction. He turned the Elf's head to face him again, and his admiration forbade the other look away anew.
"Legolas, it is true, that as I am mortal, I am impermanent." At this, Aragorn brought his lips close to the other's ear, lowering his voice to such a level that only Elven keenness could perceive. "But I promise you, as I love you, I am unending."
He could feel the Elf breath deeply beneath him, these words of comfort defying the lassitude of his despair.
"As a wise Elf once told me, let us fill these years with such joy that they will last an eternity," he said, between soft kisses. "And now, let me show you the amplitude of my love, such that you will never be without it."
So it was that the King Elessar spent the first day of his one hundred and sixtieth year together with the Elf, and he found that there could not have existed any greater gift than the return of the one which he treasured most. Under his healing hands, Legolas regained gradually the confidence he had left behind when he departed Minas Tirith two months past. The sadness which had so darkened his features faded, and thereafter the first of March hindered him no longer, for it was spent in such elation that no despair could linger in his heart. Thus was the power and love of the King.
---
"And that," said Gimli "is my tale."
Legolas remained seated on the rail, and on his face there shown a smile of such brilliance that Gimli was certain it lit up the night in its splendor. It was of fond recollection. The moon beamed graciously, and the inky skyline seemed not so distant. Legolas turned to the Dwarf with this smile still on his lips, and with a brightness in his eyes which shamed the starlight.
"I know that tale," he said. "At least, I know its ending. But there are some parts which I have not heard, and which you have not explained."
Gimli tapped his pipe against his teeth, with a gleam of his own in his deep eyes.
"What is it that you and Aragorn made?" asked Legolas. "What became of the gem?"
Gimli clucked his tongue.
"Too much like the King of Greenwood you are," he chuckled. Legolas snorted. "I jest! I know you care little – too little, I think! – for the precious stones of the earth. But I hope that you will not think so lightly of this."
And at that, Gimli removed from his chest pocket the small, brown parcel, tied with twine in the same knot from so many years past. Legolas' eyes widened.
"It was decided, between our dear friend and I that this should be given to you. It was upon Aragorn's suggestion that it be given to you now." Gimli stood, his joints creaking and protesting as he did so. Yet old as he was, he came to stand before Legolas, offering the gift before him. "Now open it, for I have waited long for you to look upon it."
The Elf looked down at him from his perch upon the rail, the sea breeze sifting through his hair and sleeves. He took the gift slowly. Gimli looked out at the lapping waves as Legolas undid the twine, and quietly pulled back the parchment. Yet at the last moment, when the gift was nigh unto revealed, Gimli could not help but shift his eyes to his friend, to know his reaction.
The parchment fell away, and in Legolas' hands there glimmered a soft light which caused him to gasp in wonder. On a chain of silvery mithril there hung the gem, no larger than a pebble, but which sparkled with the majesty of the heavens. It was mounted in the form a simple pendant.
"Here is the star of Aglarond," said Gimli. "Of all the gems and stones which I have in my lifetime beheld, it is the fairest. Though it is but little, it is more lovely than the Arkenstone, to me. I could think of no better wearer than yourself."
Gimli took it and placed it around Legolas' neck.
"Gimli, I cannot take this. . ."
"This is what we made, and it was made for you, so that when you look upon it, you may remember without sorrow. It is yours." Legolas held it in his slender hands, even as the chain lay around his neck. "It was Aragorn who proposed to me its hitching post. Do you see? It is lined with the leaves of the trees of the Greenwood – beeches, and oaks, and the needles of firs, and many more which you know, and Aragorn named. Then here is a leaf of the White tree."
The Dwarf explained that it had been fashioned to shine like starlight through the thick boughs of trees. The crafted foliage formed that same leafy ring, and the glow of the Star of Aglarond illuminated their edges in the halo as seen from the forest floor of Eryn Lasgalen. Even with his keen eyes, the tiny mithril leaves appeared living, tooled with the patience of Gimli's gentle skill, and forsooth if he held it to the sky it was as if he stood in the land of his home. Yet here and there gleamed a leaf of the White tree, which reminded him of its Lord.
"Let me see how it sits on you, my friend." Gimli stepped back from Legolas. The pendant hung from its chain and rested on the Elf's chest. The Dwarf smiled fondly at the site of it. The gem glimmered in its circlet so that the dark cloth of its wearer's garb might have been the sky, and above it the two bright eyes of Legolas shimmered with kindliness; behind his head, in the black, the white fires of more distant stars shown, but they had been humbled.
"Ah," said Gimli, falling back into his seat and admiring the image before him. When the Elf upheld his chin, it was as if his whole form blushed with handsomeness. "Verily, it is more wondrous than I had envisaged, when first I saw it twinkling in the dark." He set down his pipe. "But what is this?" said Gimli, leaping to his feet again. For he had noticed on the fair cheeks of his friend the stains of tears. Legolas brushed them away in surprise. "Oh my dear friend, what is the matter?"
Legolas smiled.
"I miss him, Gimli," said the Elf, the mirth of his gaze subdued, but not lessened. He stood from his seat on the rail and placed a hand on either stalwart shoulder. Gimli had never seen such an expression on Elf or man. In its clarity, it struck him with the same cleansing as of a cool spring rain. "And I miss all those that have come and gone. But these are tears of happiness, to have had such faithful companions." He knelt and embraced his friend. Gimli's broad arms, which even in his old age were strong, came to rest around the Elf's back. When they parted, Legolas clutched the pendant near to his breast. "I regret only that I have no gift for you."
"No gift for me!" sputtered the Dwarf in disbelief. "No gift? And what gift do you think you might have given me that could rival that what you have already given, that could rival passage into the Undying Lands?"
"If it can by land or sea be found, I would give it you." Legolas studied his old and sturdy friend. A smile came anew to his lips. "But I can think of only this."
And so he bestowed a kiss upon the Dwarf's grayed brow. Gimli grinned.
"Aye, dear friend, perhaps that," said Gimli, with reddened cheeks. He shook his head and sniffed. "Only a kiss from the Lady Galadriel herself could be more gracious."
Gimli settled again into his tall chair and Legolas on its arm. The moon had reached her peak, and begun her descent in the sky. It was late.
"Now at last, Legolas, I think that you are right and it is time for me to retire." He tucked away his pipe, and with much effort stood. "But ere I take my rest, I have but one question for you."
"What is that?"
"It regards the tale I have this night told." Gimli crossed his arms over his chest to keep warm. "I remember how it was when I found you so long ago in Ithilien, and I could not persuade you to return with me to the White city. Yet you returned early of your own accord. What caused your change of heart?"
The Elf breathed deeply, having long anticipated the question.
"My intention was e'er to return, but by my will alone. Even upon your urging, I could not have been swayed. Only in this way could I know my own make. But I was afraid, and in weakness tarried," said Legolas, his features both solemn and pleasant. He sat pensive before he spoke again. "Still, you might ask who and not what, and that would be more fitting. For it was in the counsel of the child, Eldarion, that I found courage."
Gimli smiled.
"And what was his counsel?"
Legolas rested his chin in his palm.
"He said many things, but among them this: 'Although your years far exceed my own, and you have seen much which I may know only in the telling, I have all the same heard it said that, though outcome be unsure, "great deeds are not lessened in worth." And it is the greatest deed of all to love another, and regret the greatest sorrow, and despair the greatest loss. So despair not! For truest love outlasts even the hour of death if it exists once in a true heart. A wiser man might say to you, love not, and lose not. But call me a fool, yet I say that this is cowardly, and I will hazard the brand.' To which I replied that I must be twice his fool, and thrice the coward of a wiser man, for even then I had not the will to ride out."
"But you came shortly thereafter."
Legolas nodded.
"Yes," he said. "For I saw in the son of the Lord of the White Tree the same valor of his father, the same goodness, and by that I knew that his words were truth; in him, our companion persists. I had not told him my fears, but he perceived them nonetheless. Thus as I watched him ride out, I saw my Lord ride out, and though fearful, despair held no sway over me. Eldarion's admonition surged in my chest, and I could hide no longer."
With these words, the Star of Aglarond seemed to glitter more daringly in contest with the radiance of its wearer.
"Besides," added the Elf as he placed his cloak over Gimli's shoulders, "although I still do not wholly understand the customs surrounding birthdays, I have lived enough amongst men to know that they very much enjoy gifts on this day – indeed, they expect them – though they may deny it. So I could not overlook the matter of a birthday present."
Gimli chuckled at this. His eyes, though weary for sleep, retained in them a mischievous glint.
"And what present was that?" he asked, his smirk poorly concealed. Legolas looked sharply to him, his cheeks colored a modest pink. Gimli raised his brows in delight, for he could not resist the opportunity to fluster his companion. "If the look on your face is any indication, I can only guess its nature."
"Not another word from you, Master Dwarf!" said Legolas, shooing his companion below deck. "To bed with you."
"To bed with me?" snickered the Dwarf as he descended the stairs. "I would say that it was to bed with you."
"And that would be the last thing you would say."
So it was that Gimli scampered below deck to take his rest, smug in his repartee. He called goodnight to his companion, and drifted into slumber to the soft sound of singing, and the gentle rock of the sea.
Above, Legolas beckoned in the glowing blue of dawn, and set his sights to the horizon. The breaking sun sat at his back, and a star on his chest. The sea stretched forever in all directions, and he was lonely no more.