In a review of Parallel Quest, Anarane suggested that I write a story featuring the reunion of Legolas and Thranduil in Valinor. I was going to put her suggestion on my 'to do' list, but a few sentences sprang into mind, and the story immediately began to write itself. This chapter sets the stage for the later reunion, and the entire narrative will run to either two or three chapters. Since it will be a relatively short tale, there is no beta reader. So if anyone catches a mistake, please let me know!

Chapter I: The In-Gathering

"A Dwarf!"

"A friend," Legolas corrected.

"Don't play word games with me," retorted Thranduil. "A Dwarf!"

"Of course he's a Dwarf, Ada," said Legolas. "But I made my decision not because he is a Dwarf but because he is a friend."

"He is still a Dwarf!" shouted Thranduil.

"That is of no relevance," replied Legolas.

"No relevance? No relevance! It is at the heart of the matter! You refuse to sail for Valinor because of a, a, a—a short, squat, bearded creature who stinks of pipe weed. Hardly of no relevance!"

"Ada, you can object neither to his height nor his girth nor his hairiness, for they are qualities both natural and inoffensive. I will grant you that his smoking can be noisome, but no more so than when Gandalf and Aragorn engaged in the practice."

"But, Legolas," said Thranduil piteously, "if you remain with him, I may never see you again."

Legolas hesitated. Thranduil had gotten to the heart of the matter. It wasn't that Thranduil found Gimli unworthy. Indeed, Legolas knew that the King had grown quite fond of the agéd Dwarf. He had watched often enough whilst Thranduil laughed as Gimli drolly retold his adventures. The King found Gimli's tales amusing even when the Dwarf made Legolas the butt of them. This very day Legolas had seen Thranduil shaking with amusement as Gimli entertained them after supper.

"Now, you think that this son of yours is a great rider, don't you," Gimli had begun, "but I must tell you, to the contrary, that he has come off his horse on more than one occasion!"

"You have pulled me off on more than one occasion!" Legolas interjected.

"Hush, Legolas," said Thranduil. "Let Gimli tell his tale."

"Yes, Thranduil," Gimli continued cheerfully, "it pains me to have to tell you this, but your son has a rare gift for coming out of his saddle at the most inopportune moments."

"I don't use a saddle," Legolas pointed out, triumphant at having caught him out.

"Which is no doubt why you fall off your horse so often," rejoined Gimli blithely.

Thranduil guffawed as if he himself were a Dwarf, and Legolas gave up and let Gimli carry on. It was an old tale, but Legolas had to admit that it got better and better as the years passed. 'The only thing Gimli omits', Legolas sighed to himself, 'is the fact that I broke a rib when he landed atop me. But, of course', the Elf reminded himself, 'I never told him that, so how could he know to include it in his story'.

This was true. Fearing to distress his friend, Legolas had never spoken to Gimli of the cracking noise that his elven ears had heard coming from within his chest. Rocks jutted up from the rolling plains of Rohan, and when the Dwarf, nervous at being upon a horse, had thrown Legolas off balance, the Elf had landed hard upon one. To make matters worse, Gimli, laden with axes and armor, had then fallen on top of Legolas. The Elf had suspected that being skewered by an Orc sword might have been less painful.

In spite of the throbbing in his chest, Legolas had never said a word of reproach to the Dwarf. The Elf bore his suffering silently until late that night. Then, when he was certain that Gimli was asleep, the Elf carefully slipped out of his tunic and asked Aragorn to tightly bind strips of cloth around his chest. Aragorn raised his eyebrows after the fashion of Elrond when he saw the enormous bruise upon the Elf's chest.

"Does Gimli grip you so tightly, then?"

"No, that accounts for the bruises around my waist," Legolas jested weakly. "This one upon my chest I acquired when I was caught between Gimli and a rock."

"No doubt when Gimli pulled you off your horse today."

"Exactly."

"That was hours ago. Why did you wait so long to ask me to bind your chest?"

"I didn't want to distress Gimli," Legolas replied simply.

Aragorn smiled fondly at the Elf. 'How pleased Gandalf would be', he thought to himself, 'if he knew that Elf and Dwarf had become friends. He had wished it to be so. He would be surprised, though, if he knew how strong an attachment has grown between the two. I think it would have exceeded his expectations'.

Legolas looked at Aragorn and knew what he was thinking. He smiled sheepishly.

"He's just a short version of Gandalf, Aragorn. Hairy and grumpy and smelling of pipe weed. It is impossible not to grow attached to the rascal."

"As you have proved today," teased Aragorn. "Wherever you go, Gimli is sure to follow—even when you fall off a horse!"

"If I were not in so much pain," Legolas retorted, "I would rub your face in the dirt."

Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. "Wouldn't make any appreciable difference in my appearance, would it?"

"No," said Legolas, laughing in spite of the pain. "No, it wouldn't!"

"Legolas," said Thranduil, interrupting his son's memories. "Legolas, I am glad to see that you are good-humored enough to laugh at a tale told at your expense." Legolas realized that he had laughed aloud. He grinned at his father. "On occasion, yes. And there have been occasions, I assure you!" He arose and went to the sideboard. "Gimli, would you care for a glass of wine? Perhaps," he teased, "you would like to match me cup for cup, as we once did at Edoras."

Gimli grimaced at the memory of the drinking game that he had lost to Legolas. "Thank you, but no. I shall just step outside and indulge myself in a pipe before turning in."

"Until tomorrow, then," said Legolas.

"Aye, until tomorrow."

After Gimli departed the room, Thranduil cleared his throat. "Have you told him yet, Legolas?"

"Told him?"

"That you are leaving," Thranduil said impatiently. "Surely you must mean to tell him soon so that he has time to decide where he had best dwell after you have gone. And be sure," the King added hastily at the expression on his son's face, "that I will leave behind more than enough treasure to keep him in comfort until the end of his days."

"I have not told him that I am leaving—and I don't mean to."

"Legolas," chided his father. "I am surprised that you would be so unkind to someone to whom you have sworn friendship. You must tell him."

"No, Ada, I must not. I don't mean to."

"I don't understand," said Thranduil, beginning to feel a little vexed.

"Then I will speak plainly: I have not told him that I am leaving because I mean not to."

"You mean not to?" said Thranduil. To him, Legolas's words did not seem plain at all.

"I mean not to leave," Legolas clarified.

Thranduil sat stock still for several moments. When he at last spoke, his voice was stretched as tight as a bow string, and he spoke carefully, lest he release a shaft that he would be unable to recall.

"Legolas, if I understand you aright, you say that you will not depart for the Grey Havens."

"That is so."

"May I know the reason as to why you would make such an extraordinary decision?

"Yes, Ada. If I leave for the Grey Havens, Gimli will be left alone.

"Gimli?"

"Gimli."

"You are remaining behind on account of Gimli?"

"Yes, Ada."

And then Thranduil let fly. "Dwarf…short…squat…hairy…" The words shot from his mouth as he struggled with his sorrow and grief. Legolas heard him out patiently, refusing to take offense, for he knew that the epithets arose out of Thranduil's fear for his son rather than out of any dislike of Gimli. If Thranduil spoke intemperately, it was a measure of the depth of his love for Legolas. And then, his arrows spent, Thranduil listened to the wisdom of his son.

"Ada, if I remain behind, you will still have Gilglîr and Taurmeldir and Tathar and all our other kith and kin. But if I depart, Gimli will have no one. His folk are lost to him. The most of them died when Moria flooded, and the rest perished in the earthquake that collapsed the Lonely Mount. All the members of the Fellowship are likewise lost to him—all save me! Merry and Pippin died long ago, and Aragorn has passed on to his fathers. As for Sam, no one knows where he is. He rode toward the West one day and was never seen again. Some say that he came to the Havens and was granted leave to sail to Valinor. For, he, too, was a Ringbearer, if only for a little while. But whether he sailed or no, he is lost to Gimli."

"My son, I am sorry for Gimli, but he is a mortal. It is his fate to die, as it was the fate of his kin and his friends."

"But to die alone! Surely he cannot be left to die alone."

"The last mortal to die must perforce die alone," Thranduil said flatly, trying to assume a mask of coldness.

"If I am still with him, then he need not die alone. And I will be with him, Ada."

"Legolas—."

"Ada, you would have endured my loss in battle. Whenever I went out on patrol, you knew that you might never see me again. Yet you, a father, stood ready to sacrifice your son because the cause was just. Ada, today my cause is just.

Thranduil looked at his son and saw in him saw the stubbornness of the lad's mother—the stubbornness that had led her to sacrifice her life so that Legolas might live. 'I suppose', he thought, 'that I could send guards to pounce upon him whilst he sleeps and drag him bound to the Havens. But then he would no longer be my son if I betrayed him in that fashion. He would dwell in Valinor, yes, but we would be estranged for all eternity. It seems, then, that no matter what I choose, I must part with him'. Sad but resigned, Thranduil spoke aloud.

"You are of age, Legolas. I will not stop you. I cannot even appeal to your sense of duty, for, as we are to abandon Eryn Lasgalen for Valinor, I cannot say that you have a duty to be King over your people."

"I want more than your permission, Ada. I want your blessing."

"My blessing? Why do you need my blessing? I have said you are of age."

"I did not say I needed your blessing. I want your blessing." Here Legolas looked down a moment. When he looked up Thranduil saw that his eyes shimmered with tears that he tried to blink back.

"It will be something of yours that I can cherish always," Legolas said simply.

Thranduil placed his hands on his son's shoulders and tried to speak. After a moment, he abandoned the effort and pulled his son into his arms. Long they stood together in that fashion.

"You have my blessing," he said at last, his voice hoarse and trembling. "You have always had my blessing."

A fortnight later, Gimli awoke to silence. He sat up and rubbed his ears in bewilderment. "So I am not to be serenaded by elflings this morning," he muttered. "Odd. Bedeviling me in the morning seems to give them such amusement. But perhaps I have slept late, and the little ones have given up and gone on their way."

It suddenly occurred to Gimli that, if he had slept late, he might have missed breakfast. Alarmed at such a dreadful prospect, the Dwarf grew suddenly energetic, leaping from the bed, tossing on his garments, and bustling into the hallway. Strangely, he saw no one about as he hurried to the Dining Hall, and when he entered the chamber, he saw only one person: Legolas. The Elf sat at the head table, an untouched plate before him, and Gimli's dish beside him. Gimli plunked himself down in his chair and reached for his spoon.

"Thank you for waiting for me, lad. I hope Thranduil wasn't offended that I failed to appear for breakfast. I hope you told him that it is a rare day that I am not punctual for a meal."

Legolas smiled. "Fear not, Gimli. Thranduil was not offended."

Gimli dug into his porridge. "Ah," he sighed appreciatively, "for all I'm late, the porridge is still warm. Hot, actually. Did you rewarm it for me? Thank you for your kindness, lad."

Legolas shook his head. "I did not need to rewarm it, Gimli. I only now took it off the hob. You are not late."

Gimli looked about, puzzled. "If I am not late, where be all the folk?"

"Gone."

"Gone? Oh, have they departed for the forest to celebrate one of those uncanny elvish rites of theirs?"

"No, Gimli."

"Are the lot of them berry-picking—even the King?"

"No."

"Well, durn it all, lad, where be they?"

"Gone."

"I know that. Gone where?"

"West," Legolas said reluctantly.

"West?" Gimli stared at Legolas, trying to think what would draw the Elves to the West. To his sorrow, he knew that no Elves still dwelled in Lothlórien—alas! he would never forget his pain when he bade Galadriel a final farewell! So, too, the Rivendell Elves had abandoned Imladris—even Elrohir and Elladan, who had lingered after Elrond's departure but at the death of their sister Arwen had at last gone to join their father and Celebrian, the mother from whom they had for so long been parted. There was of course the Shire, but the Dwarf knew that Thranduil had no interest in that place. Suddenly Gimli gasped.

"You, you don't mean the Grey Havens!"

Legolas nodded.

"Legolas! If your kin have gone to the Grey Havens, why are you still here?"

"Not all my kin have departed for the Havens," Legolas said pointedly.

Gimli was speechless for a moment, but then he began to splutter. "Legolas! Betake those pointy ears of yours to the stables. You are a good rider, lad. If you hurry you can catch up with them!"

"I thought you said that I was a poor rider," said Legolas lightly.

"Legolas! Do not jest! Go and rejoin your people."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, Gimli, I do not wish it."

Gimli had dwelt long enough with the Elves to understand what was at stake. "You can not do this, Legolas. You cannot!"

"I see no reason why I cannot," Legolas said calmly. "Galadriel was right. She said that you were a jewel among Dwarves. Do not be surprised, then, Gimli, if I am loathe to be parted from such a treasure."

Now it was Gimli's eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. "Legolas," he said softly. "Be you sure? I am naught but one of the Naugrim, the last of a vanished people. When I am gone, who will you have?"

"It is what I will have that will matter then, Gimli. I will have my memories, and memories are eternal. I shall never be alone."

Gimli shook his head sadly. "'Tis a great sacrifice, you make, Legolas. You are quite sure?"

"Quite sure, Gimli. I will not say that I make no sacrifice, but had I left you, that would have been a sacrifice as well. So do not upbraid yourself, my friend! 'Tis my choice, and I hold it a good one."

"I hope you do not come to regret your choice," Gimli said doubtfully, "for then you might come to hate me."

Legolas shook his head. "I think," he smiled, "that if you haven't succeeded in driving me away by now, that there is little hope of your doing so in the future. You certainly tried your utmost when we were first thrown together as part of the Fellowship!"

"I tried my utmost? I tried my utmost! I hope you remember, princeling, that you were not overmuch concerned with making yourself agreeable!"

Legolas laughed. "I do not deny it. We have surely come to our friendship in a most roundabout manner!"

"Oh, yes," agreed Gimli, likewise laughing. "Very roundabout! From Rivendell through Eregion, up the slopes of Caradhras and down again, through the mines of Moria and on to Lothlórien, down the Anduin, then back north again through Rohan, to the very eaves of Fangorn Forest, thence to Edoras, and then Helm's Deep, and back to Fangorn, to Isengard this time, and then back to Edoras—"

"Peace, Gimli," said Legolas, smiling. "Your recitation of the journey will take nearly as long as the journey itself."

"Do you know," said Gimli, suddenly thoughtful, "I should like to visit some of those places again. I know they will have changed, but, well, not all of the magic can have fled. Surely, in Lothlórien, now, there must be some memories of the folk that once dwelt there."

"Yes," agreed Legolas. "It will be long ere the trees altogether forget the Galadhrim who once graced the Golden Valley. There we shall go, and we shall rest once more in Caras Galadhon, upon a time the heart of elvendom in Middle-earth.

"And where now is the heart of elvendom?" asked Gimli suddenly.

"Here," replied Legolas, placing his hand upon his chest.

"Well," said Gimli, smiling a little, "I shall have to avoid breaking any more of your ribs, then, shan't I?"

Legolas stared at him. "You knew?"

"Aye, lad. I did. Heard you gasp when I landed upon you. Saw how stiffly you held yourself for several days after. Knew you wouldn't like it mentioned, though, so I held my peace."

Bemused, Legolas shook his head. "Frodo once told me of some words uttered by Gandalf. 'Hobbits', the old wizard said, 'really are amazing creatures! You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years, they can still surprise you'. I may say the same thing about you, Gimli. I have known you long, but you are forever catching me off guard. It is one reason why I will not part with you, my friend. I am sure that you will continue to delight and amaze me!"

Gimli blushed. "Well, you are predictable, anyway. You've never yet passed up an opportunity to make one of your fine speeches. But enough of this banter. Hadn't we better be a bit more practical? If we are to retrace our journey, don't we need to make some preparations? Packing food and spare gear—that sort of thing?"

Legolas laughed his agreement. "Very well, Gimli. Let us gather the supplies for our journey." 'And then', the Elf added to himself, 'I shall gather up memories'.