VII To the Sea, to the Sea
It was decided that Gimli would stay in Minas Tirith while Legolas went on to South Ithilien to oversee the preparations for their departure. The dwarf had tried to persuade his friend to take a few days' respite in the City, to wait until his shoulder was fully healed. But Legolas was restless. His eyes kept wandering south, and his attention was clearly distracted. Finally Gimli gave up his vain attempts.
"Confound that impatient elf," he grumbled to himself, and then, loudly, "Go on, then. I will travel alone to Pelargir to meet you there."
"No, not alone, Master Gimli," a gentle voice beside him said. Gimli turned to see that King Eldarion had entered the dwarf's room, in which this discussion had taken place. "I shall accompany you, if I may." For a moment, Gimli seemed at a loss of words. Then he rallied. "It would be an honour, and a great pleasure for me, my lord," he said, bowing his head. The king smiled at the dwarf's courtesy.
"Nay, good friend. The pleasure is mine." Then Eldarion looked over to the window where Legolas was standing, and his eyes met those of the elf in a long, troubled gaze. "I want to say farewell when the last of my mother's kindred leave these shores."
Legolas returned the man's gaze, and a deep sadness stole into the look of anticipation which had made his face look so young again. He did not say anything. Nothing he could have said would have changed anything for the king, or for him. Finally, Eldarion nodded.
"Híthlain is well rested and eager to bear you again, Legolas. Send him back when you and your people are ready." And with those words, he turned and left the room.
It was still dark when Legolas left Minas Tirith the next morning. The stillness of winter enveloped the sleeping city, but the elf took no heed of the cold or the dark. In his heart and mind, he could feel the Sun, for he knew that at last his longing for the Sea would be fulfilled.
Once he had left the mighty gates behind, the elf bowed down to whisper something into Híthlain's twitching ear, and the grey horse leaped forward, glad to exert himself in a good long run. Although Híthlain was only a mortal horse, born and bred by the Rohirrim and given to Gondor as a token of friendship like so many before, a great bond and friendship had formed between the steed and his fair rider, spurring the animal on.
So it was in the late afternoon of the second day after leaving Minas Tirith that Legolas reached the beechwood forest on the high hill in South Ithilien which he had left less than two months ago. Híthlain was tired and covered in sweat, but he held his head up proudly as they came to a halt outside the elves' dwelling. Fingalas and several other elves stood waiting, raising their fist to the chest in greeting.
"Suilad, gwanur," Fingalas said with a warm smile. "We have been longing for your return."
Legolas leapt lightly down from Híthlain's back and caressed the horses shivering neck. "Some unexpected things happened on the way," he replied in a light tone, but Fingalas' quick eyes had already detected the slight stiffness in his brother's arm. Legolas shook his head almost imperceptibly at his questioning look and turned to one of the other elves. "Take good care of this horse, Rúmil. He has served me faithfully." With a bow to his lord and a gentle word to the grey horse, the elf turned. Híthlain nudged Legolas' arm and snorted softly, then followed Rúmil.
Legolas and Fingalas entered the halls which were no longer green as the foliage had turned into a canopy of autumn colours, browns and reds, yellow and glowing orange, vibrant yet soothing. In the realm of the Silvan Elves in South Ithilien, winter was slower to come than in the lands of men through which Legolas had just travelled. Everywhere, elves were busying themselves with various tasks. There was an air of muted excitement, tinged with melancholy.
The brothers didn't speak until they reached a secluded area, where a window in the leaves permitted a view of the valley below and in the distance, visible only to the far-sighted elves, of the city of Pelargir and its sea-port. There, Legolas told Fingalas about his journeys since they had parted company after King Elessar's funeral. A shadow passed over Fingalas' fair face, so like to that of his brother, when he heard about the skirmish in Thélming's village.
"Ai," he sighed. "Although in my heart there is still love for this Middle-earth, I am looking forward to the day Círdan sends word that our ship is ready." Legolas nodded absent-mindedly, then roused himself from his thoughts. "How long?" he asked. "A week at most, I think," Fingalas replied. Then, after another silence, he looked at his brother with keen eyes.
"You have not told me everything yet, gwanur," he said. Legolas smiled at the other elf's perceptiveness. "No, indeed." He paused for a moment, unsure of how to break the news. "We will have a passenger, Fingalas. Gimli will come with us."
Fingalas took in a sharp breath. "A dwarf?" he asked incredulously. "How in the Valar's name ." Legolas regarded his brother evenly. "The Lady Galadriel has asked him to come," he said simply. Fingalas averted his gaze and studied the floor for a long moment. Then he looked up again, and to Legolas' surprise he laughed with genuine mirth.
"I do not pretend to comprehend this, brother. Although I have come to know Gimli, and through knowing him have altered my perception of dwarves, I never understood the deep friendship between the two of you. But if the Lady of the Golden Woods holds him thus high in her esteem, there must be something very special about this short creature . If you insist, then, I will do my best to persuade our fellow elves that there is no harm in travelling with a dwarf, and make sure that they treat Master Gimli with all due respect!"
Legolas looked at his brother in amazement, and then broke into a glad smile as a weight was lifted from his chest. "Hennaid, gwanur," he said warmly.
The following week passed quickly. During Legolas' absence, the elves had been preparing diligently for their departure under Fingalas' guidance. Amidst the eager bustle, there were some sad faces as well, for though all who had chosen to remain behind for a while had known that that decision was but a postponement, they had grown fond of this land and the trees they had nursed back to health and vigour. Legolas in particular felt bound to Middle-earth more than any of his fellow elves, for he had formed deep and long-lasting friendships with members of other races - men, dwarves, and hobbits.
Hobbits. Legolas smiled fondly at the memory. Hobbits and their love for food, drink, stories and laughter. And pipes. He shuddered slightly as he recalled those evil-smelling things the little people used to stick in their mouth and set afire, inhaling the smoke. But then, so did Aragorn. And Gandalf. For a fleeting moment, Legolas wondered whether Gandalf smoked his pipe even in the Undying Lands. For some reason he could not explain, the image seemed incongruous.
A rustle of leaves behind him made him turn. Rúmil had entered the chamber. "Everything is ready, híril nîn," the younger elf said respectfully. Legolas nodded and followed him out into the cold morning. It was a small group awaiting him. Counting himself and Fingalas, there were no more than fifty elves, waiting for him to take the lead. His eyes swept across them, and then across the countryside around them, beautiful in the pale glow of a cold sun. Legolas heaved a deep sigh. Then he squared his shoulders, and some of his old cheerfulness crept back into his voice.
"Winter is nearly here. Let us go and find the Sun." And with that, he started to walk down the hill, leading his people on the one-day march to Pelargir and beyond that, to new shores.
King Eldarion had been true to his word. Upon Híthlain's riderless return, he had asked Beriar to make ready his own horse, Aran, and a pony for the dwarf, and to assemble a small group of guards to accompany them. They had set out the very next day and reached Pelargir four days later, for they had travelled at a leisurely pace.
When they arrived at the harbour, it was grey and misty; the air seemed to claw at them with clammy fingers. It was still early in the morning, and the sun was unlikely to break through the clouds that day.
Gimli peered through the fog. "Where in Durin's name is that confounded elf and his ship?" he grumbled.
The king smiled at this display of impatience; he suspected that there was quite a bit of anxiety hiding behind it, although the dwarf would never have admitted this. "Look closely, Master Gimli," he replied. "Can't you see the glow?"
The dwarf strained his old eyes. At that moment, a gust of wind blew the fog apart, and the riders gasped in amazement and delight. Right in front of them, no more than thirty feet away, loomed the prow of a beautiful ship. It was made of a grey wood that seemed to shimmer, and the railings were covered in Elvish runes. Tall rose the mast, its top disappearing in the mist. A beautifully wrought green leaf adorned the huge white sail that was billowing in the light breeze.
A merry voice floated down to the little group staring in wonder at this most impressive vessel. "Well, at last, Master Dwarf," it chuckled. "I was about to set sail without you." Gimli strained to see the owner of the voice, although he knew very well who it was.
"Come and show yourself, you elusive elf!" he shouted, drawing a laughter from men and elves alike. In reply, a rope thudded to the ground near them, and a lithe figure climbed nimbly down from the ship, landing noiselessly on the ground.
"At your service, Lord Gimli," Legolas said with a grin and a mocking bow. The dwarf grunted and with his friend's help heaved his heavy frame down from his pony. The king and his men also dismounted. Fingalas appeared at his brother's side.
"Welcome, Lord Gimli. It will be an honour to have you travel with us," he said earnestly. Gimli cast a suspicious look at Legolas, but both elves kept a perfectly straight face.
King Eldarion watched this little exchange with an amused look. Then he turned to Legolas, and his face grew grave. "I wish you a speedy and safe journey," he said. "May the light of the Valar protect you, as you protected my mother on her last journey."
Legolas raised his hand across his chest, bowing his head. Then he looked up again and opened his palm outward in a wide sweep. "My lord .." The elf hesitated, and the merriment vanished from his eyes for a moment, to reveal doubt and sorrow. Then he recovered. "I thank you. I will cherish the memory of the good that you and your father have brought to all the races of this Earth."
Eldarion regarded him wistfully. "With you and your people, the last of the Firstborn will pass from Middle-earth." The king paused, as if to consider, but he could not seem to find the words to express what this meant to him. Finally he returned Legolas' gesture.
"Fare well." He turned to the dwarf, who had stood by, feeling somewhat awkward. "Fare well, Gimli. I will ensure that the friendship between men and dwarves will endure." He smiled sadly. "I almost envy you, Master Dwarf, for you will see my great-grandmother whom I never beheld. And yet, for this journey you will need courage beyond the measure of any other mortal."
Gimli shifted from one foot to the other, then glanced at the tall elf standing by his side. "Oh, I will be all right, my lord. I have a great friendship to steer me through this adventure," he said gruffly. Legolas looked down at the dwarf, moved. Then he brightened.
"Enough flattery, friend Gimli," he laughed. "Let us not tarry any longer. I am eager to feel the breeze of the open sea on my face!"
King Eldarion nodded and signalled his men to mount their horses as Legolas and his brother led Gimli up the ramp onto the ship. Although there was no change in the wind, the huge sails billowed, and the grey ship started to glide gracefully away from the pier. As the men watched the figures on board the ship become smaller and smaller, they heard snippets of a song floating across the water. But only the king understood the words the beautiful voice was singing.
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters gladly sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
[Note: The last song is taken almost in its entirety from "The Return of the King". I apologize to the Tolkien Estate for the minute change, and for one or two passages which bear a strange likeness to descriptions of places in the books. I also apologize to Legolas for probably poisoning him in chapter V with my choice of healing herbs.]
It was decided that Gimli would stay in Minas Tirith while Legolas went on to South Ithilien to oversee the preparations for their departure. The dwarf had tried to persuade his friend to take a few days' respite in the City, to wait until his shoulder was fully healed. But Legolas was restless. His eyes kept wandering south, and his attention was clearly distracted. Finally Gimli gave up his vain attempts.
"Confound that impatient elf," he grumbled to himself, and then, loudly, "Go on, then. I will travel alone to Pelargir to meet you there."
"No, not alone, Master Gimli," a gentle voice beside him said. Gimli turned to see that King Eldarion had entered the dwarf's room, in which this discussion had taken place. "I shall accompany you, if I may." For a moment, Gimli seemed at a loss of words. Then he rallied. "It would be an honour, and a great pleasure for me, my lord," he said, bowing his head. The king smiled at the dwarf's courtesy.
"Nay, good friend. The pleasure is mine." Then Eldarion looked over to the window where Legolas was standing, and his eyes met those of the elf in a long, troubled gaze. "I want to say farewell when the last of my mother's kindred leave these shores."
Legolas returned the man's gaze, and a deep sadness stole into the look of anticipation which had made his face look so young again. He did not say anything. Nothing he could have said would have changed anything for the king, or for him. Finally, Eldarion nodded.
"Híthlain is well rested and eager to bear you again, Legolas. Send him back when you and your people are ready." And with those words, he turned and left the room.
It was still dark when Legolas left Minas Tirith the next morning. The stillness of winter enveloped the sleeping city, but the elf took no heed of the cold or the dark. In his heart and mind, he could feel the Sun, for he knew that at last his longing for the Sea would be fulfilled.
Once he had left the mighty gates behind, the elf bowed down to whisper something into Híthlain's twitching ear, and the grey horse leaped forward, glad to exert himself in a good long run. Although Híthlain was only a mortal horse, born and bred by the Rohirrim and given to Gondor as a token of friendship like so many before, a great bond and friendship had formed between the steed and his fair rider, spurring the animal on.
So it was in the late afternoon of the second day after leaving Minas Tirith that Legolas reached the beechwood forest on the high hill in South Ithilien which he had left less than two months ago. Híthlain was tired and covered in sweat, but he held his head up proudly as they came to a halt outside the elves' dwelling. Fingalas and several other elves stood waiting, raising their fist to the chest in greeting.
"Suilad, gwanur," Fingalas said with a warm smile. "We have been longing for your return."
Legolas leapt lightly down from Híthlain's back and caressed the horses shivering neck. "Some unexpected things happened on the way," he replied in a light tone, but Fingalas' quick eyes had already detected the slight stiffness in his brother's arm. Legolas shook his head almost imperceptibly at his questioning look and turned to one of the other elves. "Take good care of this horse, Rúmil. He has served me faithfully." With a bow to his lord and a gentle word to the grey horse, the elf turned. Híthlain nudged Legolas' arm and snorted softly, then followed Rúmil.
Legolas and Fingalas entered the halls which were no longer green as the foliage had turned into a canopy of autumn colours, browns and reds, yellow and glowing orange, vibrant yet soothing. In the realm of the Silvan Elves in South Ithilien, winter was slower to come than in the lands of men through which Legolas had just travelled. Everywhere, elves were busying themselves with various tasks. There was an air of muted excitement, tinged with melancholy.
The brothers didn't speak until they reached a secluded area, where a window in the leaves permitted a view of the valley below and in the distance, visible only to the far-sighted elves, of the city of Pelargir and its sea-port. There, Legolas told Fingalas about his journeys since they had parted company after King Elessar's funeral. A shadow passed over Fingalas' fair face, so like to that of his brother, when he heard about the skirmish in Thélming's village.
"Ai," he sighed. "Although in my heart there is still love for this Middle-earth, I am looking forward to the day Círdan sends word that our ship is ready." Legolas nodded absent-mindedly, then roused himself from his thoughts. "How long?" he asked. "A week at most, I think," Fingalas replied. Then, after another silence, he looked at his brother with keen eyes.
"You have not told me everything yet, gwanur," he said. Legolas smiled at the other elf's perceptiveness. "No, indeed." He paused for a moment, unsure of how to break the news. "We will have a passenger, Fingalas. Gimli will come with us."
Fingalas took in a sharp breath. "A dwarf?" he asked incredulously. "How in the Valar's name ." Legolas regarded his brother evenly. "The Lady Galadriel has asked him to come," he said simply. Fingalas averted his gaze and studied the floor for a long moment. Then he looked up again, and to Legolas' surprise he laughed with genuine mirth.
"I do not pretend to comprehend this, brother. Although I have come to know Gimli, and through knowing him have altered my perception of dwarves, I never understood the deep friendship between the two of you. But if the Lady of the Golden Woods holds him thus high in her esteem, there must be something very special about this short creature . If you insist, then, I will do my best to persuade our fellow elves that there is no harm in travelling with a dwarf, and make sure that they treat Master Gimli with all due respect!"
Legolas looked at his brother in amazement, and then broke into a glad smile as a weight was lifted from his chest. "Hennaid, gwanur," he said warmly.
The following week passed quickly. During Legolas' absence, the elves had been preparing diligently for their departure under Fingalas' guidance. Amidst the eager bustle, there were some sad faces as well, for though all who had chosen to remain behind for a while had known that that decision was but a postponement, they had grown fond of this land and the trees they had nursed back to health and vigour. Legolas in particular felt bound to Middle-earth more than any of his fellow elves, for he had formed deep and long-lasting friendships with members of other races - men, dwarves, and hobbits.
Hobbits. Legolas smiled fondly at the memory. Hobbits and their love for food, drink, stories and laughter. And pipes. He shuddered slightly as he recalled those evil-smelling things the little people used to stick in their mouth and set afire, inhaling the smoke. But then, so did Aragorn. And Gandalf. For a fleeting moment, Legolas wondered whether Gandalf smoked his pipe even in the Undying Lands. For some reason he could not explain, the image seemed incongruous.
A rustle of leaves behind him made him turn. Rúmil had entered the chamber. "Everything is ready, híril nîn," the younger elf said respectfully. Legolas nodded and followed him out into the cold morning. It was a small group awaiting him. Counting himself and Fingalas, there were no more than fifty elves, waiting for him to take the lead. His eyes swept across them, and then across the countryside around them, beautiful in the pale glow of a cold sun. Legolas heaved a deep sigh. Then he squared his shoulders, and some of his old cheerfulness crept back into his voice.
"Winter is nearly here. Let us go and find the Sun." And with that, he started to walk down the hill, leading his people on the one-day march to Pelargir and beyond that, to new shores.
King Eldarion had been true to his word. Upon Híthlain's riderless return, he had asked Beriar to make ready his own horse, Aran, and a pony for the dwarf, and to assemble a small group of guards to accompany them. They had set out the very next day and reached Pelargir four days later, for they had travelled at a leisurely pace.
When they arrived at the harbour, it was grey and misty; the air seemed to claw at them with clammy fingers. It was still early in the morning, and the sun was unlikely to break through the clouds that day.
Gimli peered through the fog. "Where in Durin's name is that confounded elf and his ship?" he grumbled.
The king smiled at this display of impatience; he suspected that there was quite a bit of anxiety hiding behind it, although the dwarf would never have admitted this. "Look closely, Master Gimli," he replied. "Can't you see the glow?"
The dwarf strained his old eyes. At that moment, a gust of wind blew the fog apart, and the riders gasped in amazement and delight. Right in front of them, no more than thirty feet away, loomed the prow of a beautiful ship. It was made of a grey wood that seemed to shimmer, and the railings were covered in Elvish runes. Tall rose the mast, its top disappearing in the mist. A beautifully wrought green leaf adorned the huge white sail that was billowing in the light breeze.
A merry voice floated down to the little group staring in wonder at this most impressive vessel. "Well, at last, Master Dwarf," it chuckled. "I was about to set sail without you." Gimli strained to see the owner of the voice, although he knew very well who it was.
"Come and show yourself, you elusive elf!" he shouted, drawing a laughter from men and elves alike. In reply, a rope thudded to the ground near them, and a lithe figure climbed nimbly down from the ship, landing noiselessly on the ground.
"At your service, Lord Gimli," Legolas said with a grin and a mocking bow. The dwarf grunted and with his friend's help heaved his heavy frame down from his pony. The king and his men also dismounted. Fingalas appeared at his brother's side.
"Welcome, Lord Gimli. It will be an honour to have you travel with us," he said earnestly. Gimli cast a suspicious look at Legolas, but both elves kept a perfectly straight face.
King Eldarion watched this little exchange with an amused look. Then he turned to Legolas, and his face grew grave. "I wish you a speedy and safe journey," he said. "May the light of the Valar protect you, as you protected my mother on her last journey."
Legolas raised his hand across his chest, bowing his head. Then he looked up again and opened his palm outward in a wide sweep. "My lord .." The elf hesitated, and the merriment vanished from his eyes for a moment, to reveal doubt and sorrow. Then he recovered. "I thank you. I will cherish the memory of the good that you and your father have brought to all the races of this Earth."
Eldarion regarded him wistfully. "With you and your people, the last of the Firstborn will pass from Middle-earth." The king paused, as if to consider, but he could not seem to find the words to express what this meant to him. Finally he returned Legolas' gesture.
"Fare well." He turned to the dwarf, who had stood by, feeling somewhat awkward. "Fare well, Gimli. I will ensure that the friendship between men and dwarves will endure." He smiled sadly. "I almost envy you, Master Dwarf, for you will see my great-grandmother whom I never beheld. And yet, for this journey you will need courage beyond the measure of any other mortal."
Gimli shifted from one foot to the other, then glanced at the tall elf standing by his side. "Oh, I will be all right, my lord. I have a great friendship to steer me through this adventure," he said gruffly. Legolas looked down at the dwarf, moved. Then he brightened.
"Enough flattery, friend Gimli," he laughed. "Let us not tarry any longer. I am eager to feel the breeze of the open sea on my face!"
King Eldarion nodded and signalled his men to mount their horses as Legolas and his brother led Gimli up the ramp onto the ship. Although there was no change in the wind, the huge sails billowed, and the grey ship started to glide gracefully away from the pier. As the men watched the figures on board the ship become smaller and smaller, they heard snippets of a song floating across the water. But only the king understood the words the beautiful voice was singing.
To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters gladly sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!
[Note: The last song is taken almost in its entirety from "The Return of the King". I apologize to the Tolkien Estate for the minute change, and for one or two passages which bear a strange likeness to descriptions of places in the books. I also apologize to Legolas for probably poisoning him in chapter V with my choice of healing herbs.]