It began with a faint murmur that Legolas heard one morning. As they continued to sail west the sound became louder and finally Legolas figured out what it was. It was the fall at the end of the ocean. Beyond the chasm would be the isles of the Blessed Realm at last.
Still a thought haunted him. He had built the ship himself, with very little knowledge about Elven navigation. He was worried that his ship might not be able to span the gap that sundered the Undying Lands from Middle Earth, right where the Edain's kingdom had been flung into the bowels of the Earth when its king dared to challenge the Valar and demanded immortality. Yet, Legolas kept his anxiety to himself and tried to remain calm and cheerful for the sake of his Dwarf friend. His grey ship went on a straight course towards the watery ravine.
Before long they saw before them, rising to heights immeasurable, a glimmering wall of mist. It spread out far and wide, to distances that even Legolas's Elven eyes could not perceive. It was the water thrown up where the two oceans flowed into the rift where the Numenorean kingdom had met its doom. Only Elven eyes could behold it. A human would never find it and they would merely sail along it and finally return to where they set out from. But Legolas saw it and a great joy filled his heart at its sight.
They stopped one last night before they crossed the misty rift. Under the stars and the waning moon they had dinner and talked of the old days. Then Gimli slept while Legolas took the first watch.
The night was lovely, and Legolas was full of excitement and gladness. So he started singing, softly at first and then ever louder. His voice filled the night, mingled and woven into the roaring of the mighty falls of the two oceans. The song went up to the starry sky and dove deep into the dark sea. And it woke something that lurked from time immemorial, a thing forgotten and forsaken, a thing that had dwelled in darkness so absolute, unstirring through the long, wearying ages.
It was the Moramarth. Sauron it was who had raised it from the darkness, with the devilry he created in the tower of the old Meneltamar, where altars for Iluvatar had been defiled with human blood so that Melkor shall rise once more. Sauron called it Moramarth, the Dark Doom, and he had let the foul creature feast on Numenorean ships and their passengers. Thus he created a rumour that the Elves and Valar had set up traps for humans wishing to visit the Undying Land. The lost ships, never to return to their harbours again, were the weapons that Sauron used to kindle hatred and fear in the hearts of humans, so that they might rise up against the First-born and the Valar. Ulmo the Valar that tends to the water had warned Cirdan the Shipwright of this monstrosity so great that the catastrophe that befell Numenor affected it not. And for ages Cirdan had made sure that no Elven ship tarried in the regions of the sea where Moramath dwelled. But Legolas the Wood-elf knew nothing of this sea monster, because he left after Cirdan and the rest of the Elf-lords had gone. And now, unawares, Legolas had awakened the monster from his long, troubled sleep. His song had pierced the water and its loveliness so hurt Moramarth, that he stirred, awoke, angered and terrible. He rose from the dark depths of the sea and sought the source of the strange loveliness.
Legolas saw first the foaming of the water, as though the sea was boiling, about five leagues to the north. Fear crept into his heart and he woke Gimli.
"We would better go now," he said to the Dwarf. "Something evil is lurking here."
Gimli was unfurling the sails when the boiling worsened. The sea turned an angry red, and blazed, as though under the frothing surface, fire raged. The wind blew harsh and hot. And then suddenly fire was kindled on the water. The very water burned, hissed and crackled like a furnace. The heat was unbearable. Hot mist swirled from the surface, smarting the eyes, and the air was so parched and hot that the sails began to catch fire.
Then Moramarth broke the surface. It was blacker than night, huge and horrible, in the shape of a kraken with eight long tentacles that he flung hither and thither like whips. A foul reek filled the air and engulfed the ship as the creature swam towards it. Legolas and Gimli choked in the hot, rank air, as they tried to steer the ship away from the monster.
But Moramarth caught up with them. It grasped one mast and wrenched it away, and strong though the timber was, it melted and burned in the monster's tentacle. Gimli took up his axe and hewed the tip of a tentacle which was crawling towards the cabin. Legolas was raining the monster with arrows. Two pierced its eyes and a horrible cry filled the air as the creature writhed in pain. Angrily it whipped the side of the ship with a tentacle that left an oozing, burning mark on the wood. Flame-coloured fluid trickled from the tentacle that Gimli hacked, and it burned the deck. Legolas let go more arrows, and three shot between the flinging tentacles and buried themselves in the soft, unshielded part of the creature's mouth. Gimli ran hither and thither on the deck, cleaving tentacles. Drops of the flame-coloured liquid splashed onto his mail shirt, hissed and left the metal rings rusted black and crumbling.
Pained and angry the Moramarth flung his venomous underside at the stern, engulfing it utterly. Legolas shot arrows three by three and the creature was held back for a while, but the ship's stern was blazing. The Moramarth slid along the starboard, burning the underside with its slime, and struck a tentacle at Gimli, who was facing portside, nimbly evading a writhing tentacle. Legolas ran forward quickly, shooting arrows as he did. The tentacle hung back, but unexpectedly it lashed at Legolas. The Elf stepped aside in time, and the tentacle smacked empty air. Just then Gimli managed to hack another tentacle, so that now all eight tentacles were tipless, oozing burning fluid.
Then Moramarth rose from the water, lifting up five of its tentacles. Its reddish black mouth opened, its body taut, and suddenly from the darkness of the mouth shot forth dozens of yellowish slender darts. Legolas leapt and fell on top of Gimli, protecting the Dwarf with his own body. But he caught two of the darts on his shoulder and as he fell he cried out in pain. The other darts lodged themselves in the helm, burning the wheels. Some were stuck in the masts which straightaway burned and crumbled. Some cleaved the walls of the cabin, scorching them utterly. The Moramarth closed his enormous mouth on the stern. The wood burned as it slowly sucked the ship into its stomach.
Gimli wriggled free from under Legolas. But the burning masts were now littering the deck and he couldn't move far. He looked at Legolas's face in the glow of the fire. The Elf looked dazed, his eyes were glazed and empty, and his face very pale. His breath came in gasps and his skin was cold.
"Legolas," called Gimli, but the Elf didn't answer.
The creaking groan of the cabin told Gimli that he had to remove Legolas before the cabin crumbled completely on top of them. The Dwarf struggled to his feet and dragged Legolas to the bow of the ship. His eyes veered to the stern, and he saw that the Moramarth had worked its way up a quarter of the ship; the reek of burning wood, and the awful stench of the creature filled the air, and Gimli choked. He looked down at his friend's face, so pale and ashen, and in the beautiful Elven eyes were fear and pain and sorrow and desolation. Gimli gripped Legolas's shoulders and pulled him to his breast. The yellowish, venomous darts had burned the Elf's clothes at the shoulder, and the naked flesh looked livid, purplish red and swollen. Black streaks of poison spread away from the wound, some reaching the neck, others the arm, still others the chest.
In anguish Gimli watched his friend dying.
"Not now, Legolas," he said. "Not now. Not when we are so close to the Blessed Realm. You had promised me the sight of the land of the Valar. So lovely it is, you said, and you promised that we shall see it together. Leave me now, you Elf, and you break a promise to this here Dwarf. Do you wish to be an oath breaker?"
Even as he said it, Gimli knew that all was lost. The ship creaked as it went slowly down the Moramarth's gullet.
In utter desolation, Gimli held Legolas in his arms and closed his eyes.
At that moment the bow tilted forward and entered the wall of mist. The water hissed as it touched and soothed the raging ship. Gimli could feel the cool hands of the mist easing his hurt and dousing the fires. He opened his eyes and around him the mist was swirling, the roar of the mighty falls deafening him. At the other end of the ship the Moramarth snarled in anger as it was wrenched away from the ship and fell to the bottomless abyss, quenched and dissolved by the raging sea. But the ship sailed forward, spanning the black gap, and arrived at last in the peaceful and golden waters of the Blessed Realm.