IV The Glittering Caves
Now that he was alone and could switch horses whenever one of the two animals tired, Legolas travelled more swiftly across the wide plains of Rohan. The air carried the first signs of approaching winter, but the elf did not feel the chill of the ever shorter days or the frost of the starlit nights. His mind wandered in green and sunny lands far beyond the reach of human thought.
On the fourth day after he had set out from Lórien, Legolas could see the tall peaks of Thrihyrne and, nestled in its shadow, the gorge in the hills that was Helm's Deep and the mighty fortress which was called the Hornburg. Its high walls of ancient stone and the lofty tower had for many centuries withstood every assault, until Saruman's vast host of orcs and uruk-hai had broken through in the big battle at the end of the Third Age. The breach in the wall had been closed, and now the fortress was in excellent repair, albeit seemingly deserted. But Legolas knew that behind those impenetrable walls, dwarves had been busy for more than a century now, putting their love of rock and stone to good use
As Legolas rode up the long ramp that led to the gate in the Deeping Wall, leading Ithíldin behind him, he heard shouts and the sounds of thumping feet within. When he reached the gate, it opened slowly to reveal a small, stout figure standing there, his feet resolutely planted into the ground, his arms resting on an old, notched battle-axe.
"You are late, Master Elf," the dwarf growled. "It has been nigh on a month since I received your message." Legolas' expression darkened. "I had another errand ere I could follow my messenger," he said, and lightly leapt down from Híthlain's back. The two stood looking at each other for a moment. Then the dwarf broke into a wide grin.
"By Durin's beard, it is good to see you again, Legolas!"
Legolas smiled, and the shadow that had been weighing on his mind since he left Lórien was lifted, if only for a while. "It is indeed, Gimli. I am glad to see you looking hale and sound."
Indeed, the dwarf seemed of good health and strong as ever, even though his hair and beard were entirely grey streaked with white. Even in the reckoning of the long-lived dwarves, he had reached a high age, and it showed in the slowness of his movements as they walked through the outer court of the Hornburg.
Some other dwarves appeared to welcome the guest, but they kept at a safe distance from the horses which they eyed suspiciously. Legolas hid his amusement and said, "Let me take care of the horses first. We have travelled a long distance at great speed, and they deserve a good rest." "Very well," Gimli replied. "You know best what they need." And with that, he led the way to the stables.
Although the stables obviously had not been in use for a very long time, Legolas found a box made ready with straw. It was apparent that Gimli had expected his friend to come with only one horse, but the box was actually spacious enough to accommodate both animals, and there was fresh water and plenty of hay and oats in the trough.
When Legolas had taken the saddle off Ithildin and made sure that the horses had enough to feed and drink, he followed Gimli through many winding passageways into the caves of the Deep. They walked on sandy floors of many colours, through a maze of halls with veins of precious ore glinting in the polished walls. Columns of many shades of white and rose twisted in dreamlike forms upwards to the ceiling where they met their glistening counterparts. Here and there, small lakes reflected the extraordinary colours and shapes in their still mirrors. The two companions passed many dwarves quietly busying themselves, some carefully, gently chipping away at the rocks, others polishing the marble. Surrounding them was an air of calm and peace, a stillness broken only by the soft, tinkling sound of water running down from the rock and trickling into the pools.
At last, Gimli and Legolas came to a medium-sized hall with a still lake at the far end. A small stream was flowing away from the lake, bubbling along merrily as it passed a cluster of delicate stone columns which had been shaped to the likeness of trees. A joyful smile spread across the elf's face as he took in all the minute details, from the tiniest twig to the beautifully carved gold-shimmering leaves. He turned to Gimli.
"If ever I had any doubt that there could be love between dwarves and elves, this should prove me wrong. This work of beauty is so unlike the most impressive halls of Dwarrowdelf, and yet only dwarves could have wrought anything like it. You have surpassed yourself, my friend."
Gimli heaved a deep sigh. "You flatter me, Legolas. Still, despite its beauty, I always feel sadness in this place, for memory is not what the heart desires. - But come. There is something I must show you."
The dwarf motioned the elf to accompany him, and they walked over to the forest of stone. In the crown of the tallest of the marble trees, on a little platform, there was a cube of faultlessly clear crystal, and set within this were three strands of golden hair. Next to the crystal, there was a small parcel, about as big as a man's palm, wrapped in a mallorn leaf and tied with a single strand of the same golden hair.
Gimli reached out and took down the parcel. Then, with the utmost care, he untied it. Inside, there was a tiny sheaf of very thin parchment, covered in a beautiful, delicate handwriting. Gimli gently unfolded it and held it out to Legolas.
"You see that you are not the only one who received a message from the Lady Galadriel. But, alas, these are elvish letters, and I cannot decipher their meaning," the dwarf said.
Legolas took the parchment and started to read. His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at his stout friend, then continued to study the letter. Finally he handed it back to Gimli.
"Well? What does the Lady write?" the dwarf asked anxiously.
Legolas smiled in reply, and there was awe in his voice as he spoke. "This is most wondrous. It seems that the Lady Galadriel has obtained permission from the Valar for you to journey across the Sea with me and to dwell in the Undying Lands, if you so desire."
The dwarf stood very still, bereft of words. He stared at the delicate parchment in his trembling hand for a long, long moment. Then he looked up at the elf, and there were tears shimmering in his eyes.
"I never dared dream to look again upon that which I deemed fairest in this world, or any other," he whispered. "Yes, my friend. Yes, I will come with you." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "With you by my side, I shall not fear crossing the vast waters. Nay, I would even cross it alone in a nutshell now that I know I will see the Lady Galadriel again."
The elf smiled fondly. "You move me, Master Dwarf."
Gimli harrumphed in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. A glint of mischief stole into his eyes. "So? It seems we have come a long way since you called for a plague on the stiff necks of dwarves!" he said. Legolas chuckled. "Indeed we have, my friend."
Very carefully, Gimli folded the letter again and wrapped the mallorn leaf around it, tying it up with the strand of golden hair. Then he slipped the parcel into his tunic. "This letter I will take with me and always keep close to my heart. But the crystal with the Lady's hair shall remain here, as a lasting testimony to the friendship between elves and dwarves in Middle-earth."
Although Gimli was eager to leave, two more weeks passed until everything was settled and he had handed over the rule of Aglarond to his cousin Fraín. In the evenings, elf and dwarf could be seen sitting by the fires that lit the Glittering Caves, talking until deep in the night. There was much to tell, and much of it was full of sorrow; Gimli wept openly at Legolas' tale of Queen Arwen's passing. Yet there were also joyous moments as they recalled earlier travels and adventures, and whenever their talk turned to Lothlórien, the dwarf's eyes shone with fond memory and eager anticipation.
Finally, they were ready to depart.
A little reluctantly, Gimli had agreed to ride Arwen's horse. His suspicion of horses had never quite abated, despite all the years of dealing with the horsemen of Rohan. But he admitted that it would be an easier way to travel than clinging to Legolas' back, as he had done so many years before.
"I guess at my age one should look for a little more comfort in travel," he grumbled as he mounted the black horse, using a big boulder to help him get up. Legolas bit back a smile. "Don't worry, Master Dwarf. You will find Ihtildin a very reliable steed."
As the two unlikely companions passed through the gate of the Deeping Wall, a loud, booming sound rang out. It carried far across the Westfold, and people in the surrounding country who heard it paused in whatever they were doing, wondering at this sound from the past. The oldest among them whispered, "It's Helm's horn. Helm's horn is being blown. Something extraordinary has happened."
At Helm's Deep, Legolas cast his glance back to the Hornburg. On the walls and behind the parapets of the fortress, many dwarves had gathered in a silent farewell to their lord. The elf looked at his friend.
"Are you still willing to forsake all this, and come with me?" he asked softly.
"It is not without regret and fear that I leave my people," Gimli replied in a gruff voice. "But my heart speaks clearly at the thought of seeing the Lady of the Golden Woods again."
Legolas looked at the grey-bearded dwarf gravely and nodded. "Then let us not tarry." And with a gentle word to Híthlain, he led the way down the ramp. Gimli glanced back at the Hornburg once more. Then, resolutely, he turned and urged his horse on to follow the elf.
Now that he was alone and could switch horses whenever one of the two animals tired, Legolas travelled more swiftly across the wide plains of Rohan. The air carried the first signs of approaching winter, but the elf did not feel the chill of the ever shorter days or the frost of the starlit nights. His mind wandered in green and sunny lands far beyond the reach of human thought.
On the fourth day after he had set out from Lórien, Legolas could see the tall peaks of Thrihyrne and, nestled in its shadow, the gorge in the hills that was Helm's Deep and the mighty fortress which was called the Hornburg. Its high walls of ancient stone and the lofty tower had for many centuries withstood every assault, until Saruman's vast host of orcs and uruk-hai had broken through in the big battle at the end of the Third Age. The breach in the wall had been closed, and now the fortress was in excellent repair, albeit seemingly deserted. But Legolas knew that behind those impenetrable walls, dwarves had been busy for more than a century now, putting their love of rock and stone to good use
As Legolas rode up the long ramp that led to the gate in the Deeping Wall, leading Ithíldin behind him, he heard shouts and the sounds of thumping feet within. When he reached the gate, it opened slowly to reveal a small, stout figure standing there, his feet resolutely planted into the ground, his arms resting on an old, notched battle-axe.
"You are late, Master Elf," the dwarf growled. "It has been nigh on a month since I received your message." Legolas' expression darkened. "I had another errand ere I could follow my messenger," he said, and lightly leapt down from Híthlain's back. The two stood looking at each other for a moment. Then the dwarf broke into a wide grin.
"By Durin's beard, it is good to see you again, Legolas!"
Legolas smiled, and the shadow that had been weighing on his mind since he left Lórien was lifted, if only for a while. "It is indeed, Gimli. I am glad to see you looking hale and sound."
Indeed, the dwarf seemed of good health and strong as ever, even though his hair and beard were entirely grey streaked with white. Even in the reckoning of the long-lived dwarves, he had reached a high age, and it showed in the slowness of his movements as they walked through the outer court of the Hornburg.
Some other dwarves appeared to welcome the guest, but they kept at a safe distance from the horses which they eyed suspiciously. Legolas hid his amusement and said, "Let me take care of the horses first. We have travelled a long distance at great speed, and they deserve a good rest." "Very well," Gimli replied. "You know best what they need." And with that, he led the way to the stables.
Although the stables obviously had not been in use for a very long time, Legolas found a box made ready with straw. It was apparent that Gimli had expected his friend to come with only one horse, but the box was actually spacious enough to accommodate both animals, and there was fresh water and plenty of hay and oats in the trough.
When Legolas had taken the saddle off Ithildin and made sure that the horses had enough to feed and drink, he followed Gimli through many winding passageways into the caves of the Deep. They walked on sandy floors of many colours, through a maze of halls with veins of precious ore glinting in the polished walls. Columns of many shades of white and rose twisted in dreamlike forms upwards to the ceiling where they met their glistening counterparts. Here and there, small lakes reflected the extraordinary colours and shapes in their still mirrors. The two companions passed many dwarves quietly busying themselves, some carefully, gently chipping away at the rocks, others polishing the marble. Surrounding them was an air of calm and peace, a stillness broken only by the soft, tinkling sound of water running down from the rock and trickling into the pools.
At last, Gimli and Legolas came to a medium-sized hall with a still lake at the far end. A small stream was flowing away from the lake, bubbling along merrily as it passed a cluster of delicate stone columns which had been shaped to the likeness of trees. A joyful smile spread across the elf's face as he took in all the minute details, from the tiniest twig to the beautifully carved gold-shimmering leaves. He turned to Gimli.
"If ever I had any doubt that there could be love between dwarves and elves, this should prove me wrong. This work of beauty is so unlike the most impressive halls of Dwarrowdelf, and yet only dwarves could have wrought anything like it. You have surpassed yourself, my friend."
Gimli heaved a deep sigh. "You flatter me, Legolas. Still, despite its beauty, I always feel sadness in this place, for memory is not what the heart desires. - But come. There is something I must show you."
The dwarf motioned the elf to accompany him, and they walked over to the forest of stone. In the crown of the tallest of the marble trees, on a little platform, there was a cube of faultlessly clear crystal, and set within this were three strands of golden hair. Next to the crystal, there was a small parcel, about as big as a man's palm, wrapped in a mallorn leaf and tied with a single strand of the same golden hair.
Gimli reached out and took down the parcel. Then, with the utmost care, he untied it. Inside, there was a tiny sheaf of very thin parchment, covered in a beautiful, delicate handwriting. Gimli gently unfolded it and held it out to Legolas.
"You see that you are not the only one who received a message from the Lady Galadriel. But, alas, these are elvish letters, and I cannot decipher their meaning," the dwarf said.
Legolas took the parchment and started to read. His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked at his stout friend, then continued to study the letter. Finally he handed it back to Gimli.
"Well? What does the Lady write?" the dwarf asked anxiously.
Legolas smiled in reply, and there was awe in his voice as he spoke. "This is most wondrous. It seems that the Lady Galadriel has obtained permission from the Valar for you to journey across the Sea with me and to dwell in the Undying Lands, if you so desire."
The dwarf stood very still, bereft of words. He stared at the delicate parchment in his trembling hand for a long, long moment. Then he looked up at the elf, and there were tears shimmering in his eyes.
"I never dared dream to look again upon that which I deemed fairest in this world, or any other," he whispered. "Yes, my friend. Yes, I will come with you." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "With you by my side, I shall not fear crossing the vast waters. Nay, I would even cross it alone in a nutshell now that I know I will see the Lady Galadriel again."
The elf smiled fondly. "You move me, Master Dwarf."
Gimli harrumphed in an attempt to cover his embarrassment. A glint of mischief stole into his eyes. "So? It seems we have come a long way since you called for a plague on the stiff necks of dwarves!" he said. Legolas chuckled. "Indeed we have, my friend."
Very carefully, Gimli folded the letter again and wrapped the mallorn leaf around it, tying it up with the strand of golden hair. Then he slipped the parcel into his tunic. "This letter I will take with me and always keep close to my heart. But the crystal with the Lady's hair shall remain here, as a lasting testimony to the friendship between elves and dwarves in Middle-earth."
Although Gimli was eager to leave, two more weeks passed until everything was settled and he had handed over the rule of Aglarond to his cousin Fraín. In the evenings, elf and dwarf could be seen sitting by the fires that lit the Glittering Caves, talking until deep in the night. There was much to tell, and much of it was full of sorrow; Gimli wept openly at Legolas' tale of Queen Arwen's passing. Yet there were also joyous moments as they recalled earlier travels and adventures, and whenever their talk turned to Lothlórien, the dwarf's eyes shone with fond memory and eager anticipation.
Finally, they were ready to depart.
A little reluctantly, Gimli had agreed to ride Arwen's horse. His suspicion of horses had never quite abated, despite all the years of dealing with the horsemen of Rohan. But he admitted that it would be an easier way to travel than clinging to Legolas' back, as he had done so many years before.
"I guess at my age one should look for a little more comfort in travel," he grumbled as he mounted the black horse, using a big boulder to help him get up. Legolas bit back a smile. "Don't worry, Master Dwarf. You will find Ihtildin a very reliable steed."
As the two unlikely companions passed through the gate of the Deeping Wall, a loud, booming sound rang out. It carried far across the Westfold, and people in the surrounding country who heard it paused in whatever they were doing, wondering at this sound from the past. The oldest among them whispered, "It's Helm's horn. Helm's horn is being blown. Something extraordinary has happened."
At Helm's Deep, Legolas cast his glance back to the Hornburg. On the walls and behind the parapets of the fortress, many dwarves had gathered in a silent farewell to their lord. The elf looked at his friend.
"Are you still willing to forsake all this, and come with me?" he asked softly.
"It is not without regret and fear that I leave my people," Gimli replied in a gruff voice. "But my heart speaks clearly at the thought of seeing the Lady of the Golden Woods again."
Legolas looked at the grey-bearded dwarf gravely and nodded. "Then let us not tarry." And with a gentle word to Híthlain, he led the way down the ramp. Gimli glanced back at the Hornburg once more. Then, resolutely, he turned and urged his horse on to follow the elf.