If Darkness Should Overwhelm

There in Valinor, Galadriel's mind was troubled, and her brows were knitted as she sat deep in thought, pondering upon such matters that seemed so unlikely to happen. Yet Galadriel in her wisdom knew that those tales that mortals scoffed, the Wise would remember, for she had dwelt for a great span of years in Middle-earth, for it was in the First Age before Valinor was concealed that she had entered the World. And she had seen and learnt much, enough to know that no tale of old, and no piece of ancient lore was too ludicrous to be untrue. As a chill wind blew, she glanced up at the night sky, toward where Eärendil the Mariner who wore a Silmaril upon his brow sailed the starless vast in his white ship Wingelot, a solitary star glimmering against the night.

"Guard Him well, Eärendil." She whispered. "Guard Him well."

Nindëwen, standing beside the King's throne, glanced anxiously at Eldarion, and nary a word in the Great Hall as rain pelted down from the heavens, the steady beat of water pounding against stone filling their ears. Cenire stood on his left, her dark hair falling across her face as she bowed her head, listening silently as a clap of thunder erupted in the sky.

"The storm may not have reached the seas yet," said Nindëwen.

Eldarion shifted in his seat. "Nay, sister," replied the man tensely. "For I saw a great many clouds, thick and black, heading west at a great speed but a week ago."

"Yet they may not have reached the seas," Nindëwen insisted. "and I am sure that Legolas is a competent enough navigator to get both himself and Gimli safely to the shores of Valinor."

But even as she said this, the lady's eyes met that of her sisters, worry and dread was writ in Cenire's grey eyes, and apprehension crept into Nindëwen's heart. Apprehension and fear.

"Legolas!" roared Gimli as a wave swept over the boat, rain and seawater pouring down upon them, and he staggered toward the mast and clutched it for support.

"Legolas!" he shouted once more to the elf, who stood at the helm so desperately to master the storm, as the boat cut through the raging waves. But the roar of the rain all but drowned out Gimli's voice, and the wind shrieked and carried Gimli's shouts away. The sky was black, and no light shone as the night wore on and fierce chill filled the air. Jagged lightning flashed against the darkness, illuminating it briefly, and thunder rolled across the sky. There was no sound louder than it, save for the frantic pounding of Gimli's heart that drowned out all else. Another wave washed over the dwarf as he clutched the tall pole, his numbed fingers loosing their grip. Gimli closed his eyes as he clung on to the mast, clung on to life, clung on to hope. He could feel his strength failing him, too cold and merciless were the waters, too cruel was the storm. But still he clung on.

And the wave buffeted against him but did not defeat him. Gimli opened his eyes and wiped the salty water from them, sputtering, and he ran, sometimes stumbling, as the waters filled the boat, 'til he reached the wooden steps and scrambled up to where Legolas was.

"As I have said, Master Legolas," Gimli said. "I do not like the sea!"

"Gimli!" yelled the Elf, greatly relieved, but his voice was barely a whisper against the howling winds. "Bail, Gimli, bail out the water!"

The dwarf nodded and grabbed a bucket, and frantically began emptying the water back into the sea, hurtling water back into the waters.

"'Tis futile, Legolas, we will never make it to Valinor!" he shouted.

"Do or do not, we must try, friend! We cannot turn back!" was Legolas's reply.

But his friend's voice sounded so distant, his body shrouded by rain and mist. Gimli peered ahead through half-opened eyes, and saw no path ahead, no ocean, only dark, darkness, and the bleak starless of night and shrouded clouds. The dwarf felt weary, so very weary and cold, fatigued and worn out, and he shivered as his eyes began to close.

Then suddenly the dwarf was wide-awake as the felt the ship tremble as the brutal waves buffeted its side. His head whipped to face Legolas, and the two paused in horror, as slowly, slowly, the ship began to tip to the side.

"Brace," Legolas's voice was faint, but all ready Gimli had crawled to the right side of the vessel, and the elf joined him as they made their last attempt to keep the ship afloat, futile as it was, pouring every last ounce of strength into this one effort, sea-water and rain and sweat and tears mingling together. But with a cruel viciousness, the waters came crashing against the boat and with a groan it toppled to its side, shuddering as it hit the waters.

"Gimli!" came Legolas's anguished cry as the dwarf lost his grip and slid down. "Gimli! Take my hand!"

But it was too late, the dwarf did not hear his companion's screams, and Gimli felt himself being hurtled, down, down an endless vortex, down the abyss, downwards into darkness and despair and a great sense of hopelessness was within him as he plunged downwards into the depths of the murky, churning waters of the Great Sea.

And Eldarion in his bed suddenly awoke from slumber, cold sweat upon his brow; his eyes wide open with terror.

"Ai, Elbereth Gilthoniel," he whispered in sorrow and dread, for the foresight of his both his father and mother's kindred had come upon him. "No…"