"He must have known I'd want to leave you." "No, he must have known you would always want to come back." - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Gimli woke hungover.

He squinted at the soft light filtering through the room, but the morning sun hadn't yet reached his bed. He turned over to go back to sleep when the knocking started up again. It pounded through his skull, reverberating like a hammer on an anvil. Groaning, the dwarf stood up and glared at the door, but the pounding didn't abate.

"What is it?" He growled as he flung the door open, which hit the wall with the bang. Gimli winced at the noise.

On the other side of the door stood Legolas. The normally pristine elf had slightly disheveled clothes and Gimli thought he even spied a lone tangle in his hair. Legolas stroad into the room without waiting for Gimli to invite him, which was probably a smart move; Gimil had thought of slamming the door back in the elf's face.

"You interrupted a dream about that dwarrow from last night," Gimli grumbled. "What could not wait any longer?"

"It's Harry," Legolas said. His voice was even but the words rushed out just a little too fast.

Gimli sighed. Of course it was about Harry.

"What has he done now?"

"Nothing!" Legolas said. "Nothing wrong, at least. He did kiss me last night."

Gimli grunted, not terribly surprised by this statement. He had seen how out of place Harry felt and had kept an eye on his friend throughout the night, and knew when he disappeared with Legolas outside. Everyone knew what happened on balconies during warm sunny nights.

"I'm failing to see the problem here. You sound like you enjoyed it." Gimli said, as he eyed his bed longingly. He suspected sleep was still far off, though, and instead chose to sit down on a hard wooden chair.

"That's the problem," Legolas said, "It would never work between us in the long run, and what is long for most creatures is but a blink for me. And..." Here the elf hesitated. His fingers played with a small signet ring, the only jewelry Legolas had ever carried with him. It marked him as the prince of Mirkwood to those who knew. "I could not follow the fate of Arwen, if it came to it. I do not fear death, but there are other responsibilities to which I must see."

"Legolas," Gimli said, half-exasperated. "You barely know him. Take advice from this mere mortal - you don't need to have the next 1,000 years planned out yet."

"Since when have you become so wise?" Legolas said with a rueful smile. "Can I bring you a platter from the kitchens to make amends for my untimely visit?"

"No," Gimli said as he turned back towards his bed. "An undisturbed rest is all I require."


Harry woke with the dawn. He had barely slept, his thoughts jumping from Legolas to the Horcrux and back. His tumultuous thoughts hadn't straightened themselves out during the night, but his spirits lifted as he stood at the windowsill, watching the dawn battling furtively to rise in the eastern sky against dark clouds overhead.

The sky suited his mood. After months spent in Middle Earth, thinking he would be without anyone, he now had a community, friends, and possibly…a lover. He had hardly had the latter while the war was going on. Dare he imagine it could work here? All he knew was that something irrevocable had shifted between him and Legolas, but it was newly-born and fragile.

Below, the city was just beginning to wake up, the still houses and shops starting to show some movement. In the castle courtyard, delivery men dropped off the many packages constantly coming to the castle: fresh herbs and game to be used in the kitchen later that day; letters that had arrived at the gates by horse couriers during the night; an assortment of more personal packages and gifts sent by nobles throughout Gondor to herald their visit to the new king.

He spotted movement in the private courtyard, where the stables reserved for guests were housed. A familiar set of white robes, somehow untouched from the rigors of the road, was dismounting an equally white horse.

Gandalf had finally returned.

Harry was half-tempted to Apparate into the courtyard directly, but decided to give the wizard time to unpack. Gandalf would probably not appreciate Harry showing up at his rooms this hour; he supposed, grudgingly, that the wizard would just ignore him even if he did appear. Gandalf could be frustrating like that.

Instead, Harry left his rooms and detoured towards the main breakfast hall. Legolas was usually an early riser; perhaps he would run into the elf there. They had parted on good terms – perhaps more than good terms – last night, but Harry needed to see Legolas to make sure it remained that way.

His traitorous heart did not quiet when he saw the familiar blonde hair at the long oaken dining tables; it seemed to quicken even more. He sat down across from the elf, trying to feign normalcy but feeling even more gangly than Eclipse had with his talons on the finely-made chairs.

"Morning," Harry said, for lack of anything better to say.

Legolas smiled at him, and his face transformed. The classic agelessness gave way to laugh lines.

"Good morning to you as well, Harry."

They both stared at each other, restricted by the limitations of language in conveying what they actually wanted to say.

"Good morning, Gimli. How are you today," came a burly voice to Harry's right. The voice was weirdly pronounced, as if he was trying to imitate Harry's accent. Harry looked down at the dwarf, who had sat down next to him. Gimli affected a look of surprise.

"Oh, Harry! I didn't see you there. Good morning to you too. And to you as well, my dear Legolas. What a fascinating day it is."

Legolas gave Harry a long-suffering look.

"Did you hear Gandalf has returned?" Gimli continued, reaching into the middle of the table to grab a roll. He started buttering it, adding, "I told you he would turn up before anything else happened."

"I'm hoping to talk to him after breakfast," Harry said. "Hopefully he has some insights into the poison." King Aragorn had saved the broken wine glass that Arwen drank, in case the wizard could glean any information where his staff had not. So far, they had not found any leads; no one could remember precisely who had poured the glass – or if they did, they weren't saying.

As Harry thought about that night, another crash cut him from his reverie.

He looked up, to see an opaque bottle splintered at Eowyn's feet. The servant who had bumped into her was apologizing profusely, as a light mist coalesced onto the stone floors and a low rhythmic sound swelled, sounding a lot like –

"The ocean?" Harry murmured. What an odd bit of magic.

However, Eowyn's face looked ashen and as Harry looked at the high table where she had sat, he noticed that King Aragorn was gripping tightly onto Queen Arwen's arm. The Queen looked pale, but as Harry watched her gaze hardened and she began to look furious. He turned to ask Gimli to ask what was going on, and grew more alarmed.

The dwarf also wore a small frown, and his shoulders slumped in a resigned fashion. Worried, Harry turned to the one he cared about above all else, the one who surely could tell him more of this strange Middle Earth custom.

Legolas stood as if entranced, his eyes bright by some unknown light and his lips parted with words forgotten on his tongue.

"Legolas? What is it?"

The elf didn't answer, seemingly captivated by the waves crashing. A gull cried out in the distance, from the non-existent water, and Legolas gave an imperceptible shudder.

"Gimli, what's wrong?" Harry asked, his concerns rapidly mounting. "Why is Legolas…?" Legolas never ignored him, but he couldn't bring himself to say that out loud.

The dwarf sighed.

"It's the sound of the sea," he said, as if that explained anything. "It happens to all elves eventually." He also looked up at the high table, at the Queen.

"She seems alright – I suppose she's not exactly Elven any longer."

The Queen? Harry's mind raced.

Such a specialized attack meant that she was the target all along – not the new king of Gondor. Why would anyone want to attack Queen Arwen? She was highly regarded in the court; elves apparently had that effect on most races besides the dwarfs. Unless the Horcrux wanted to attack the king's love? But why would Tom have focused on the royal couple at all? Harry had thought he would need to be more worried about himself, if he was honest. Tom could never resist an attempt on his life.

By this time, the sound had evaporated completely with the mist. Harry looked at Legolas, but the elf still retained his unfocused, glassy look.

Upon the dais, King Aragorn's face looked thunderous, while Lady Eowyn's was faint. The queen's expression was glacial, but it thawed slightly when she took in Legolas's state. She put a restraining arm on her husband, then stood up and walked over towards them.

"What's wrong with Legolas?" Harry asked, as soon as she was within earshot. "What does the sea have to do with anything?"

She sighed and took Legolas's hands. "Come back to me, mellon ," she said. Legolas slowly focused on her with effort.

"Lady Arwen," he said. "You are well?"

"I am unaffected," she agreed. "The call… has it taken hold in your heart?"

"It has," Legolas said. He stared off to the right, seeing something Harry couldn't. "How the gulls call!"

Arwen smiled sadly at him. "I understand. See me before you go, if you can. It is not how I wish we would part; but…" she sighed and glanced back up at the high table. "Things, terrible things, will always happen, even when the wounds of war are no more than song and tall trees grow where men once died. Still, we must find who sent that bottle. The servant was no more than a carrier; and even if Lady Eowyn had not surprised him, the bottle would have been opened eventually."

"Will someone please tell me the meaning of the gulls? Legolas, are you alright?"

Legolas slowly turned to look at him. He moved slowly and seemed to focus on Harry with great effort. No hint of a smile lingered on his mouth now. He looked preoccupied, and his answer was distracted.

"I can almost see it – the Eressea, the Elvenhome. I must hear the gulls cry once more and see the white foam fly from the ships across the vast sea. Only then will I meet with my people."

"But I thought his people were in Mirkwood?" Harry asked. Why must everyone speak in riddles today?

"Aye, that's where his people live now," Gimli said, finally speaking straight. But across the sea – that's where all the elves go when they are done living on Middle Earth. Only elves. I'm sorry, Harry. He resisted the call once, but the Lady Galadriel warned that he would leave once he heard the sound of the gull again."

So the Eressea was someplace elves went to – what, die? Harry's thoughts spun.

"How – how long does he have?" Gimli asked Arwen, in a soft tone. He kept sending concerned glances between Harry and Legolas. Harry didn't want his pity. He wanted to find this culprit, wanted to make Legolas stay here, with him -

He turned and Apparated with a crack, heading straight for Gandalf's rooms. The wizard had better have found answers on his trip.