Earendil's Star began to descend from the East, and from the earth Elwing's swan-winged form rose to meet the shining boat of mithril and elven-glass. As the two descended together, the first hint of golden light tinted the night sky. It was dawn over Tol Eressea, and four friends sat in comfortable silence on the beach, watching the glorious sight.
It had been some twenty years since the boat bearing Legolas and Gimli had landed on Valinor's shores, and ten since Bilbo had died at the incredible age of 262, his only regret being that none of the Shire-folk would hear of this feat. Sam of course had followed only one and twenty years after his beloved Frodo. Great had been the joy at this reuniting of the Fellowship, and it had not diminished with the passing of the years. Though both hobbits' curls were grey and Gimli's beard was white rather than red, their steps were still firm and--the hobbits' especially--their appetites keen.
The sun slowly mounted over the horizon, and the high, distant mountains of Ilmarin were bathed in the golden light. They shone violet and emerald in the reflecting sunlight, given an ethereal quality by the wreathing of mist about their shoulders.
Gimli sighed. "Almost it puts me in mind of the Glittering Caves, Legolas. Ah, if only the hobbits could have seen them! That was a sight indeed, and my folk only bettered it."
"It could not compare to the ancient beauty of Fangorn, or the green woods of Eryn Lasgalen," Legolas murmered from Frodo's side.
"Ah, but excercise your Elven memory, my friend," Gimli said, leaning forward to stare challengly past the hobbits at Legolas. "As I recall, Eomer King said he had never beheld such beauty as the Caves in their glory."
Legolas shook his head sadly. "Alas, Gimli, for when Eomer saw the Queen Arwen he said her beauty was beyond compare, surpassing anything on Middle-Earth."
Gimli growled. "It is as well for him that he dwells now in the Halls of Mandos, and not in reach of my axe! Is it not enough that he choose the Evening over the Morning? Faugh!"
"The sun rises, and Legolas and Gimli quarrel. Though the former may fail, the latter will never cease," Frodo said dryly, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Do you see that, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked suddenly, squinting out against the glare of the sun.
"See what, Sam? All I see is the Sea."
"That boat," Sam replied, beginning to walk towards the water's edge. "It looks like there's nobody in it. Funny, it looks familiar, somehow."
Legolas stood and caught up with the Hobbits in two quick strides, shielding his eyes with one long hand.
The object of his scrutiny was a small boat, grey, with a high prow. There were marks of great age upon it, and it floated low in the water as if heavy-laden, but no sign of a living being could be seen.
"It is one of the Lorien boats, or I am a dwarf," Legolas said in wonder.
"Well, you certainly are not a dwarf, for which I thank Aulë daily," Gimli muttered as he came to stand beside his friend, "so it must be true."
"What are you doing, my friends?" The cheery voice made Frodo jump, but Legolas was too absorbed in the sight before him to even great the new arrival.
"Olorin!"
The wizard strode forward, smiling. "Hello, Frodo. Samwise, Legolas, Gimli. It's a lovely dawn."
"Look at that boat out there, Mr. Gandalf, " Sam said, pointing it out to the tall Maia.
"What do you make of it, Mithrandir?" Legolas queried, turning towards him.
"It seems to be one of the boats of Lorien, but very weatherbeaten, as if it had been wandering aimlessly through the Sea for a hundred years," Olorin said, clearly puzzled.
As they had been speaking, the boat had floated close to shore. It was almost grounded before a sudden wave began to turn it away.
"Look to the boat!" Sam cried. "It's going back out to Sea!"
Legolas hastily waded out after it, just catching the prow before it went completely out of reach. He turned and pulled it in, his sodden clothes making it difficult to walk.
"Here is a strange thing," he called as soon as the boat was beached, a little ways down the beach. The others hurried to where the Elf now stood. Peering in, they made a disconcerting discovery. In the boat, which was nearly filled with clear water, lay the body of a man.
He was clad richly in red and gold, but there were marks of many wounds upon him and his hands were clasped about the hilt of his shattered sword. Under his feet were piled many Orc-scimitars, and there was a tall helm at his side. About his waist was clasped a golden belt, and his head rested on a folded grey cloak, though his long dark hair was fallen over his face.
For a moment they stood staring down at him, and then with a sharp intake of breath, Legolas reached down and swept the hair from his face.
"Boromir," the elf said slowly. "But how? And after so long..." his voice faded away, and gently he stroked Boromir's hair into its place. The five companions stood gazing quietly at the body, as if that way they could unravel the mystery that surrounded it.
Suddenly their silence was broken by a light and merry voice. "Why so silent on a morn such as this?"
Gimli turned quickly at the sound. "Lady Galadriel!"
"Mae govannen, Lock-bearer," the Lady greeted. "But what is this that has you all so solemn, my friends?"
They parted so that she could see the boat and its strange passenger. Galadriel walked to the prow and stood staring down, her grey eyes unreadable. "Whence came this boat?"
"It floated in on the tide," Olorin said heavily. "I can only suppose that it has wandered over the Sea these past hundred years. But how the boat did not capsize, and the body was so long preserved, I know not. Eru's grace, I would guess."
"Right were the words that Haldir spoke at our parting in Lorien, that the boats would not sink, however were they laden," Frodo put in.
"This is a strange turn of fate, that he should come here after so many years of wandering. And that you five, of us all, should be here and find him-" She was interrupted by the arrival of her husband and with him Elrond.
"Mae govannen, Galadriel, Ringbearers-" Elrond broke off abruptly upon seeing the boat and its contents. "What is that?" he asked sharply, brow furrowed.
" 'That' is Boromir, if I am not very much mistaken," Celeborn said calmly.
"How did he come here? How was he found?" Elrond asked, looking first at Olorin and then to Frodo.
"We four, Legolas, Gimli, Sam and myself, were watching the dawn together. Sam spotted the boat..."
When Frodo finished his tale, there was a profound silence from all. Finally Celeborn broke it.
"It is not now a matter of importance how he came here," the Elven-lord said quietly. His deep, rich voice was sorrowful, but there was still an undercurrent of the ever-present joy of Valinor in it. "We shall bury him alongside Bilbo and Shadowfax. Thus shall he know he is indeed forgiven for his last misstep, and honored for the valiant part he played in the Fellowship of the Ring."
They buried him in honor and grief, his helm and shattered sword beside him, his cloak beneath his head, and Varda herself sang a lament over his grave-mound. When Frodo, Sam, and Gimli in their turns died, they were buried alongside him, and thus the Company was together even to the uttermost end. Often indeed were Olorin and Legolas seen at their graves, heads bowed and occasionally the soft murmur of a lament drifted through the air.
The Orc-stuff was given back to the Sea, but the Elven-boat was kept in great honor, and it was a favourite habit of Legolas' to paddle it out to sea and stand in the prow, gazing out over the uncounted leagues of cresting waves, and some say that strange figures of mist would appear from the sea-spray and follow the boat.
THE END