"It has not taken you long to take a fancy to our new friend, Legolas." Gimli said, as he sat against a tree, smoking his pipe. He grinned like he had discovered some secret that would embarrass Legolas. Legolas, however, didn't smile back. He looked at Gimli sternly, and shook his head.
"I don't know what you are talking about. I like her as I like you. She is no more than a friend, and a legend come to life before my very eyes."
"I saw you with her, my friend, and although I did not understand what you said, I know what I saw." Gimli insisted, satisfied that he was right and it would only take a little prodding to get Legolas to confess. Legolas sighed, moving closer to Gimli and sitting by him.
"Gimli, you still have much to learn about Elves, my friend. We can die of grief. I would prefer that not happen to her." Gimli's smile disappeared, and he sat in thoughtful silence, puffing on his pipe. Finally, he spoke again.
"What ails her?"
"I have told you the tale before. Once in Lorien, beside the river Nimrodel, I sang her song. The river has been named after her." Legolas said. Gimli tried to remember the story, but could not. He imagined it was probably before he had taken any interest in the affairs of the elves and that he had probably not paid much attention. He regretted that now.
"My friend, I'm sorry, I don't remember." He said, hoping that Legolas would not mind telling the story over. He felt especially curious about this elven-maid, who was so like the Lady Galadriel, and yet so very different. She held the same stature and grace of the Lady, and yet there was something about her that was mysterious and untamed. Something that made her stand out among all of the great elves he had known. Gimli was not used to seeing that in elves. Even Elrond, who had been a great warrior in the first war of the ring, was more constrained and formal than Nimrodel.
"Nimrodel was lost in these mountains. They searched for her, but were unable to find her. When they did not find her, her beloved Amroth could not bear to leave with the ship to the Grey-Havens. He jumped from it and swam to shore. He went looking for her. No one has seen or heard from Amroth since. Even the Lady of Lorien cannot sense him."
"And she knows this?" He pressed. Legolas looked back in the direction of where he had left Nimrodel. He remembered her tears, and the look she had given him that had nearly ripped his heart in two. He's gone, isn't he?
"I think she has always known, but is just now starting to believe what her heart has told her all these years. And yet, I'm glad she's waited this long, for now there is a chance she will make it to the Grey-Havens. Had she been alone, this knowledge would have killed her. I still worry about her." He finally said. He did worry about her, and that is the main reason he needed to get her to the havens soon. She could not go on by herself, and her only chance at peace would be there, surrounded by friends and companions. He wished he could go with her. But that was not something he needed to worry about just yet. Getting her there would be difficult.
"Well then, my friend, I apologize, and I too worry about her." Legolas smiled at Gimli, and looked up at the sky. He felt a darkness drawing near to them, muffling the whispers of the trees. They spoke of fear. What followed them was no friend. But most of all the absence of stars bothered him for some reason, and he couldn't quite place a name to it. And when he thought of Nimrodel, and her starry eyes gone dim, he realized what it was. The elven-maid was dying. The grief would kill her slowly, and only by the grace of Elendil would they get her to the havens in time. But death was pursuing them all, swifter than any of the winged Nazgul had ever been.