The next morning Legolas carried Gimli all the way to the peak of the mountain where a marble vault had been erected hundreds of years before. Gimli was clad in his dwarf warrior garment. Several elves of Legolas's house walked behind him, carrying Gimli's belongings: his axe, his shield and his crystal sphere with Lady Galadriel's hair in it.
They entered the vault in silence. There were four crystalline beds in the chamber. The one in the far side of the room held the body of Bilbo. The one next to it was occupied by Frodo. Next to him, on another bed, lay Samwise, faithful to the very end. Their bodies were preserved and unchanged since the day they died hundreds of years ago. And onto the remaining empty bed, Legolas gently laid Gimli's lifeless body. He took the crystal sphere and placed it in Gimli's hand. Then he put the axe beside Gimli and the shield on his feet.
Legolas stood wordlessly for a while, looking down at Gimli's untroubled and clear face.
"Here you lay, my friend," Legolas whispered. "And yet it isn't you I carried to and laid in this sorrowful house. Gimli son of Gloin is alive still within me. Yet I do not know where to seek the comfort of your jest and mirth anymore. I do not know where to turn when I am in need of cheering words and gentle teasing that only you can offer me. You are lost to me, Gimli, my dear friend. And yet it is I who is doomed to pine for you forever."
He turned around and left the vault, followed by his kinsmen. They walked back to the city beyond. But when they nearly reached the foot of the mountain, Legolas stopped and looked at the marble vault, shining defiantly in the morning sun.
"Immortality is a curse," he whispered. "And death can indeed be a precious gift, for it alone can end the anguish and pain of losing your beloved."
Tears glittering in his eyes, he said, quite clearly, "In peace, Gimli Gloin's son. Farewell, my friend, my brother. Namarie."
And it is said that for many years afterwards Legolas rarely smiled nor sang, because each joy and melody was in someway entangled in the memory of Gimli. But the wind whispered laments for the brave dwarf. And the mallorn trees shed so many of its leaves, even in the fresh days of springs and summers, as though mourning the passing Gimli, the Elf-friend, and the burden of unhealed sorrow that Legolas had to bear for eternity.
The End