Legolas spoke little during the next day's journey, as was his custom. He did not allow himself the levity of his companions. He remained a distance ahead of them, constantly aware of the surroundings and any danger that may lay ahead. They were not far from Minas Tirith now, and their slow pace annoyed the Elf, yet he knew it was necessary. They had one horse, and Gimli was not swift of foot. At this pace, they would not reach the white city until the morrow!
Far behind Legolas, Gimli's song quieted and they walked in silence for some time. Gimli stared ahead at the elf, who stood listening to the sounds around them as if they were in danger. They were in Gondor, a land of safe travel since the beginning of the reign of King Elessar! Of all places, he thought it was Aragorn's land where the elf would let down his guard, but it was not to be.
At last, Legolas joined them again and announced they were but a few hours form the city.
"Legolas," addressed the dwarf, "let us make camp and continue tomorrow. We will have a fiercer welcome by day than risk the gates being closed before we reach them."
"All right, Gimli. We shall camp here and tomorrow we shall enter the city and the arms of our friends."
They made camp, and as the moon rose in the sky, they ate of dried fruits and berries and rabbit, which Legolas caught for them and roasted on a spit. When they were at last well fed, Gimli and Shimalya settled down to sleep, but when Legolas stood, Gimli spoke:
"Lie down, Elf. Ye've hardly slept since we began this journey. No harm will come to us while we are sleeping."
"Gimli-"
"There is nothing out there and you know it! Now lie down. Ye make my tired just looking at ye.
Legolas sat before the fire, staring into the dancing flames. Before long, Gimli's snores reached his ears, forcing a smile to Legolas' lips. Legolas stood.
"He is right." Legolas turned and saw Shimalya looking up at him. "You have slept little since I joined your company."
"I do not need it."
"Your friend is worried."
"Without cause."
"But worried, nonetheless. Heed your friend's words. Rest your eyes a little."
"I will rest when I return," he told her, and began to stride away.
"Who is Elbereth?"
"Elbereth?" He turned. "Why do you ask?"
"You sing of her often. Elbereth Gilothoniel."
"She is the maker of the stars." He smiled and turned his eyes to the dark sky, spotted by the bright stars. "It is she who lights our way home through darkness and despair."
"A god?"
"A Valier," he told her, stepping closer. "A Holy One who watches over us for Ilu'vatar. It is they who await us on Aman."
"Have you ever seen it? Aman?"
"No."
"Then how do you know it is there?"
"Have you ever seen Minas Tirith?"
"No."
"Then how do you know it is there?"
"I know people who have been there."
"It is the same with me. the Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien has seen it. She was born there." He paused, thoughtful for a moment. His blue eyes shone in the flames of the fire. "Aman is a voice on the wind, calling us home. How can a beckon so strong be of nothing?" He smiled softly and strode out into the darkness.
Shimalya was the first to wake the next morning. Having ridden the entire previous day, she was not as tired as the elf and the dwarf. She rose, pulling her blanket around her against the morning chill. She gasped at spying the elf. His eyes were wide open, yet he was still, as if in sleep.
She grasped the dwarf's arm. "Gimli! Wake up!"
"What is it?" he asked groggily.
"There has been some evil! The elf is dead!"
The dwarf leapt to this feet, axe clutched in his hand, and ran to Legolas' side. Seeing his friend and what the woman thought was death, he pitched into a fit of laughter. Legolas jumped at the loud sound so near to him and stared at the dwarf as if he were insane.
"She thought- you were dead!" he gasped, holding his sides, then exploded into another fit of laughter that rang through the empty countryside. Legolas looked from Gimli to Shimalya, then laughed himself. The young woman merely looked at the two of them.
"His eyes were open-" she began.
"As are the eyes of all elves when they sleep," Legolas told her.
"Or when they are dead," Gimli laughed. "Oh cheer up, Lady. It's a ghastly thing to get used to, but a great laugh when it is discovered unknowingly."
Thus, in high spirits, they continued to Minas Tirith and by noon, they could see the tall Citadel peeking out at them. In an hour's time, a single horse rode out to them.
"It is Aragorn!" Legolas announced happily, though neither Shimalya nor Gimli could see him clearly yet.
Aragorn rode swiftly to them and, leaping from his horse, embraced his Companions in turn.
"Vedui, Legolas. Greetings, Gimli. It is good to have you back. And I see you've brought a guest. An injured guest, at that."
"Aragorn, this is Shimalya of Torrech," Legolas said, helping her down from the horse.
"You are welcome to our city, Mistress Shimalya," Aragorn said, kissing her hand. "Now, let us go to the gate. Arwen will be happy to see both of you again."
"I wish to see King Elessar," Shimalya said, walking between Legolas and Gimli.
"Tomorrow, Mistress," Aragorn told her with a winsome smile. "Speak to him tomorrow. Today is for rest, and tonight is for feasting and celebration!"
Indeed, Arwen welcomed them at the gate, speaking to Legolas briefly in their native tongue and kissing Gimli on the forehead. Then, she, too, welcomed Shimalya to the city. She eyed Shimalya's arm and called forth on of her ladies to take the young woman to bathe and dress, and to see a healer.
Aragorn took the his Companions to the Citadel, and there, they relayed the adventured that had covered the previous year. Then, they were led to the banquet hall for dinner, where Legolas scanned the room for Shimalya, whom he hadn't seen since she had been led away several hours earlier.
"Our guest resembles a woman when she's clean," Aragorn remarked from beside him.
Legolas looked at him, then followed his nod to the direction of the young woman. Even with his keen elfen eyes, Legolas could not have picked her from the crowd. Gimli picked up the line of sight and choked into his beer.
The change in Shimalya was breathtaking. The dirt had been cleansed from her skin, and her long braid was loosed and thoroughly washed, and now shined on her shoulders and down her back, and held from her face by several small intricate braids. She was dressed in a gown of deep moss, presumably loaned by Arwen from the richness of color. She looked around the room, as if memorizing the faces of every person present.
"Are you all right there, Legolas?" Aragorn asked, clasping his friend's shoulder.
"She's a fine creature," Gimli said, nudging the elf. "Not that you haven't already noticed."
Legolas threw him a look of annoyance and stepped forward to escort the young woman to their table.
She smiled at him as she took his outstretched hand.
"Lle naa vanimar," he said softly as he lead her toward the table.
"I don't know what that means," she told him, still smiling.
"It means your seat is at our table."
"You sit at the high table?" she asked as they made their way to their seats.
He nodded as they sat.
"Is this not the King's table?" Her voice trembled as she voiced her curiosity.
Again, the elf nodded.
She turned and began scanning the room, as if searching for someone. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Aragorn and Arwen moving toward their table. There were only two seats left open, those for the king and queen.
Legolas felt the warmth of her hand grabbing his.
"Legolas, your friend, Aragorn, he is-?"
"King Elessar," Gimli answered from her other side. "You didn't know? Well, this day holds many surprises, then." He chuckled, then, glancing her hand on the elf's, smiled. Legolas saw this, and withdrew his own hand, frowning at the dwarf. Shimalya did not seem to notice.
The Banquet Hall was riotous with talk and laughter as they ate. Shimalya said little throughout, smiling and laughing softly as stories were told around her, but she did not seem to be listening to them, merely emitting the correct emotion at the appropriate times. Legolas wondered at this as the tables were cleared and musicians brought in for dancing.
A hushed silence filled the room as Aragorn led Arwen to the floor to begin the revelry, and soon, many more people crowded the floor for dancing. Shimalya was roused from her seat to take her place on the floor, first with Aragorn, then with a number of young men who took their turns with the single young woman who danced with the king. Legolas spent much of the time at the table with Gimli, but took a few turns with young ladies who wished to dance with the elf, but never did his eyes stray from Shimalya.
At last, she broke away and retreated to the balcony, eager for fresh air. It was there that Legolas found her. She jumped at noticing his there, just a few feet away, having not heard his light step.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.
"I am," she answered, but sadness touched her brow. "The dancing in Torrech is similar to this, but the steps are different. I believe I stepped on many toes, including the King's."
"Is this what causes your sadness?"
"Sadness?" She smiled. "I am not sad."
"Yet you frowned just a moment ago." He leaned against the wall beside her where she looked out over the lights of the city.
"I was thinking of home."
"But you have not been away very long."
"No, but even at that-." Her voice trailed off. Sadness crossed her brow again.
"Where I am from," he said, attempting to draw her back to the gaiety of the evening, "The dancing is much different."
"How so?"
"It is part of the music, not a reflection of it."
She looked at him strangely, not understanding. The elf stepped away from the wall, and singing softly, showed her the slow, intricate steps of the music. When he finished, he took her hand and guided her through the steps, still singing softly, laughing when she misstepped or moved the wrong direction. And she too laughed as they both turned, and where he would have grasped her hand, found only air, as her arm was still in a sling. He held her hand out as if he held her's and continued the steps.
"Hannon le," she told him when the finished.
"I thought you did not speak my tongue!" he exclaimed.
"I do not. I learned that from Ar- Queen Arwen. It means 'thank you,' does it not?"
"It does," he answered with a laugh. He allowed her to fill his eyes for a moment, then said, "Vanimle sila tiri."
"Vanimla sela tili?" she asked, repeating, as he laughed softly.
"Vanimle sila tiri."
"Vanimle sila tiri. And what does that mean?"
"Your beauty shines tonight."
"That's beautiful."
He lifted her chin with his finger and looked into her eyes.
"Vanimle sila tiri," he repeated more softly, and kissed her gently.