Thanks to the following reviewers: Krissy Wonder, Fluffy's Fangirls, Estelle Tiniwiel, Kitsune, Dragonfly, Anarane, Elfinabottle, and CAH. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.
A substantial portion of this chapter is taken from "White Shores," with editing and new material to make it work within the context of this story.
I have gone back to Chapter 3 and added a mention of a water cask because one appears in this chapter. (I also corrected some errors I discovered after posting. I shouldn't have posted without a beta reading, apparently. Ah, well, pride goeth before the fall.)
Chapter 4: The Voyage Out
Gimli had never been patient under the best of circumstances. Trapped for weeks on a boat, a mode of conveyance which he despised, he at last gave way to frustration. "How much longer will be rocking about on this durned craft?" he grumbled.
Legolas gave the sigh of the long-suffering.
"I don't know, Gimli," he admitted. "I have never been to Valinor."
"So we could be another s'en night away?"
"Yes."
"A fortnight?"
"Yes."
"A moon?"
"Yes."
"An entire circuit of the sun?"
"Yes."
"What if we run out of lembas bread?"
"I thought you were sick of lembas bread."
"I am, but I am even less fond of starvation."
"As I have told you, we will catch fish."
"And eat it raw?"
"Yes."
"How much lembas bread did you say we have left?"
"Enough for another month."
"Good. No so bad, lembas bread."
Gimli fell silent for awhile, leaning against the side of the boat. Then he sat upright suddenly.
"Is that a cloud over yonder?"
"Yes, Gimli, it is. I have been watching it this past hour. Let us hope that it will pass over us. We are rather low on water."
Legolas' wish was granted, and the two voyagers watched with pleasure as their water cask was refilled. Gimli tilted back his head and let some of the raindrops fall into his mouth.
"Ah," he said at last, wiping his chin, "I never thought I'd taste anything sweeter than beer, but this here rainwater wins out over any ale in any tavern o' Middle-earth."
"Thirst lends relish to the plainest beverage," observed Legolas, smiling at his friend. 'My friend', he thought, 'my friend. It is difficult to imagine that time was when that would have sounded odd. Now it would sound odd to call him anything else'.
The Elf's thoughts were interrupted when Gimli returned to a subject that was never far from the Dwarf's mind.
"Legolas," said Gimli.
"Yes, Gimli."
"You do think that they will have me?"
"I hope so."
"But you are not sure?"
"No, I am not sure. But if they will not have you, Gimli, I shall return with you to Middle-earth."
"There is nothing there for you, Legolas."
"You will be there."
"I will die. And then there will be nothing."
"There will be the places that you loved—that you and I both loved. Arda is a beautiful land. Wherever I step, the memories of my friends shall arise before me. I shall be forever smiling at the thought of them."
"Legolas, if they won't have me, I can sail back by myself. There is no reason for you to forfeit your kindred in order to return with me to Middle-earth."
Legolas shook his head.
"You lack all sea-craft. You would fall from the boat before the first day out."
"No loss there. I'm going to die anyway. It doesn't make any sense for you to sacrifice everything just to stretch things out for me a few months. Look at me, Legolas!"
Legolas looked. Gimli's hair had retained a few reddish-brown hairs when they set out, but now it had faded entirely to white, and his beard had grown so sparse that under a bright sun it seemed to vanish altogether. He was thinner than when they'd taken ship, and his wrinkled skin remained as translucent as a dragonfly's wing. As Legolas gazed upon the elderly Dwarf, Gimli was suddenly seized by a coughing spasm. The Elf took hold of his shoulders to steady him.
"You should rest, Gimli."
"What about you? You have hardly slept since we set out on this voyage—unless you want to count the time you have spent dreaming with your eyes open, however you manage that odd trick. After all these years, I still haven't gotten used to that peculiar habit of yours!"
"I find such waking dreams to be very restful."
"And I find them to be downright uncanny. What say you close your eyes for a change? I'd sleep better knowing you're not staring at me, as it were."
"Very well, my friend. I shall close my eyes for a bit."
Legolas wrapped himself in his cloak—the one given him by Galadriel so many years before—and lay down in the bottom in the boat. Gimli, also wrapped in his Lothlórien cloak, did likewise.
Legolas awoke to the sound of a splash. He bolted up anxiously and gazed all about. No Gimli. He peered over first one gunnel and then the other. There was the Dwarf, awkwardly attempting to swim downward. He should have failed utterly were it not for the fact that he was weighed down by the axes stuck into his belt. Legolas dove after him, batted aside his hands in order to seize and cast aside the axes, and then pulled him up to the surface.
"Gimli," he exclaimed as they broke the surface. "Are you mad?"
"Quite sane, really," sputtered Gimli. "Thought I'd join Boromir, don't you know."
"Boromir is dead."
"My point pre-cise-ly," retorted the Dwarf. "He and I really ought to keep each other company. You, however, belong with your kin."
"You are my kin, Gimli. We are sworn-brothers."
"I don't remember taking such an oath."
"An oath was never necessary. We became sworn-brothers the day we stood side by side at the Gate of Mordor waiting to die together. It was nothing that had to be said—and it cannot be unsaid, so don't even try!"
Gimli was opening his mouth to speak and now clapped it shut. He looked very unhappy. At last he spoke.
"Legolas, I shall never forgive myself if you are turned away on my account."
"And I," rejoined Legolas, "shall never forgive myself if you die alone, with no one to comfort you and to mark your passing. And as I am an immortal, I would have to spend a lot more time feeling miserable than you would!"
Gimli couldn't answer this and didn't even try. Grumbling, he lay down in the bottom of the boat and truly fell into a deep sleep. Reassured by the Dwarf's snoring—which, by the by, Legolas realized that he had not heard earlier—the Elf at length fell asleep as well—with his eyes open, of course.
A month later Gimli was mournfully looking on as Legolas cast a line into the sea.
"Raw fish, eh?"
"Raw fish or nothing. The lembas bread is quite gone."
Gimli looked into the water cask.
"The water is almost gone as well. It has been several days since it last rained."
Legolas raised his head and looked about. To the west he saw a curtain of grey rain.
"Look, Gimli. We shall soon have water enough."
"To wash down the raw fish," growled Gimli, putting on a show of being disgruntled. Actually, now he really was quite sick of lembas bread, and the idea of raw fish did not disgust him as much as formerly. "Might actually be a nice change from those elvish biscuits," he muttered.
The two voyagers watched hopefully as they neared the storm line, and they readied the water cask. But just as it seemed that the first droplets would strike the boat, the grey rain-curtain turned to silver glass and rolled back. The two voyagers almost cried out in disappointment, but then they smelled a sweet fragrance and saw white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise. In awe, both Elf and Dwarf watched as the land grew nearer and nearer. Legolas had abandoned the tiller, but the boat seemed to be sailing itself, drawn onward by an unseen force.
As the boat neared the shore, elvish eyes watched it intently. Elrond was the first to spy the tiny vessel, but he was soon joined by Círdan and Galadriel.
"Who is on yonder vessel?' asked Círdan, keeper of the shore here as he had been in Arda.
"Legolas," said Galadriel, who was as far-sighted as ever.
"Legolas? That is good to know. Thranduil will be overjoyed. He had been resigned to the loss of his son."
"There is one other," observed Galadriel.
"Yes," said Elrond. "It is Gimli son of Glóin." For Elrond was only a little less far-sighted than Galadriel.
"Gimli son of Glóin? He is no Elf," declared Círdan.
"True," said Galadriel. "But he has been named Elf-friend."
"Elf-friend or no," retorted Círdan. "He is no Elf. He is one of the Naugrim."
"That race is gone from Middle-earth, as are the Elves," said Galadriel mildly. "There is no place there for Gimli son of Glóin."
"That was neither our doing, nor is it our concern," Círdan replied firmly.
More and more Elves assembled upon the shore as word began to spread that, beyond hope, Legolas had been restored to them. One Elf broke away from the band and sprinted off to carry the tidings to Thranduil.
The boat reached the shore. Legolas lowered the sails and then leaped out and made as if to pull the boat higher up the beach. Círdan, however, raised his hand and stayed him.
"Legolas Thranduilion, you are welcome here. That Dwarf, however, may not debark upon these shores. You must push that vessel back into the sea, and he must return to the east."
Legolas obeyed, but as the boat began to drift from land, he climbed aboard once again and started to raise the sail.
"Legolas, what are you doing?" called Círdan.
"I am returning to Middle-earth," Legolas called back.
Gimli spluttered his protest when he realized that his friend meant to hold fast to his resolve to stay by the Dwarf's side.
"Legolas, you cannot do this!"
"Peace, Gimli. I would know only sorrow if I were to forsake you—and that for an eternity."
"Do you understand what you are doing?" cried Círdan in astonishment.
"Yes," Legolas said simply.
"You would forfeit the Undying Lands for a Dwarf?"
"No!" Legolas exclaimed. "I would forfeit them for a friend!"
"Legolas Thranduilion, what shall I say to your father? In joy he shall hear that one last ship has arrived and that you are upon it. He shall hasten to greet you, only to learn that you have departed for the east, never to be seen again."
"I shall remain offshore for a little while," called Legolas. "Tell my father to hasten so that I may greet him once more before I return to Arda."
"When his father arrives," one of the watching Elves said to another, "we must lure Legolas ashore. While he speaks with his father, one of us may swim out to the vessel and cut the anchor cable. The Dwarf will be carried away by the tide, and that will be the end of it."
His companion shook his head. "Nay, you are mistaken. I am sure that something dreadful would ensue if we did as you counsel. I was raised in Rivendell during the time that Legolas was fostered by Elrond. If Legolas swears that he will not be parted from the Dwarf, then he will not be parted. If we thwart Legolas of his wish, he will fade, and then these shall no longer be the Undying Lands. And then what shall become of the rest of us, if mortality should set foot upon these shores?"
His friend shuddered. "We had better let them depart, if that is the case."
"Or admit them both," replied the other.
While the onlookers debated, so, too, did the Lords and Elders. As Legolas had expected, Elrond and Galadriel spoke in Gimli's favor. Celeborn, Glorfindel, and Erestor, hearing the news, hastened to the shore to add their voices to Elrond's and Galadriel's. Gandalf was elsewhere in Valinor, in company with his belovéd Hobbits, but Galadriel bent her thoughts toward him, and he was hastening back. In the end, though, his support proved unnecessary.
Of those who spoke in favor of Gimli, Elrond was the most eloquent. He had reason to be, for he knew what it was to be parted from a child, and he had no wish to see Thranduil suffer the same fate. "Círdan," he declared, "many of our kin fell during the Wars of the Ring and so never took ship for these Undying Lands. Many are the parents who thus know what it is to be parted from their offspring." Softly he added, "I myself know this sorrow, albeit it was not war that robbed me of my child." Then he raised his voice once again: "But it is not necessary that Thranduil be like these parents, forever parted from his son. If Legolas will not leave the Dwarf, then let the Dwarf accompany him, for I deem that Gimli should take the place of one of the fallen. Oft has this Dwarf chosen to risk his life for this Elf, and as you see, this Elf willingly offers to surrender his place in Valinor to remain with his companion. Such friendship should be honored. Let both Elf and Dwarf together be admitted to these Undying Lands."
Círdan stood in doubt. He had never been called upon to answer such a request, and it seemed to him that he had no precedent to guide him. Then he bethought himself of the ship that had carried the two Ring-bearers away from Mithlond. Those sojourners had been Hobbits, not Elves, and they had been accompanied by a Maia in the guise of a Man. Then there had been that later vessel that bore yet a third Hobbit, who had also carried the Ring, albeit briefly. Would it be so strange if a Dwarf were to follow in the wake of these travelers, moreover a Dwarf who had been one of the Company of Nine, a Dwarf whom Galadriel had named Elf-friend?
Long did Círdan consider. At last he nodded.
"Very well, Elrond. It shall be as you wish. This Elf and Dwarf who have journeyed long together shall not be parted now."
The assembled Elves, moved by the words of Elrond, signed with pleasure, and several waded out into the water to help Legolas beach the boat a second time. Many willing hands helped lift Gimli from the boat and set him upon the shore. Others gladly began to unlade the boat, carrying the possessions of Elf and Dwarf to a nearby pavilion.
In the midst of all this bustle, Thranduil arrived. He happened first upon Gimli. "My friend," he cried, "my friend." He threw his arms around the Dwarf and squeezed him until the Nauga thought he heard his ribs cracking as Legolas's had so long ago. If Gimli had feared that Thranduil would be angry at him for depriving him of his son for so many years, this reception put paid to his apprehension. This was not the irascible Thranduil who had thrown Gimli's father Glóin and his twelve companions into a dungeon when they and Bilbo had been caught blundering about Mirkwood centuries earlier. No, during the sorrowful centuries through which he had waited, Thranduil had learned both patience and compassion. Moreover, loving his son as he did, Thranduil could not help but feel affection for anyone whom Legolas chose as a companion.
At first Gimli knew not what to say or how to act, but everyone was at pains to put him at ease and see to his needs. Glorfindel, erstwhile balrog-slayer, offered Gimli a newly picked peach, and it seemed that the fuzz of this fruit went a long way toward restoring the Dwarf's beard. Elrond produced a little vial of miruvor, and after Gimli swallowed a mouthful of the draught, it seemed to all who stood near that Gimli's skin became less translucent. Erestor eagerly advised the Dwarf that he expected a full accounting of all his adventures, and a gleam came to Gimli's eye when he realized that he had a new audience for his tales. And Galadriel, her face grave but her eyes sparkling, drolly asked him whether he had come all this way for another strand of her hair.
"I have come to the conclusion, Lady," the Dwarf retorted gamely, "that there is something more beautiful than a mere strand of your golden hair."
"Indeed, Master Dwarf? And what would that be?"
"A strand of your golden hair in place upon your head is more beautiful by far than a strand apart from it. I would therefore detach no more strands from your person."
Galadriel inclined her head. "Master Dwarf, the passage of years has but made you the more eloquent." Offering him her hand, she conveyed him to the pavilion, where an impromptu feast was soon underway. In the midst of the festivities, in hurried Gandalf, with Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam at his heels.
"Legolas! Gimli!" shouted Sam. "I knew you would rejoin us by and by. Legolas, there are trees here even grander than the mallorns of Lothlórien, and, Gimli, you will soon see that in Valinor the least of river pebbles exceeds in beauty any of the gems that decorate the gowns of the fine ladies of Minas Tirith."
"Why, Sam," laughed Legolas, "you have become a poet!"
"He always was a poet," said Gandalf, "but it took the Elves to teach him that. You will find that our Sam has a place of honor amongst the storytellers in this land."
Sam blushed a bright red.
"But he's just as bashful as ever," grinned Gimli. "He hasn't changed in that regard!"
Chaffing and chattering, Bilbo and the surviving members of the Fellowship passed all the long day in one another's company. Only once did they separate, when Gimli drew Gandalf aside for a little while. When they returned, they both reeked of pipe weed. "Ugh," said Legolas, "I wish I had not packed that pouch of yours, Gimli."
"Don't fret, Legolas," said Gandalf. "Gimli and I have finished it off. Unless another straggler arrives from Middle-earth, we must both perforce be cured of our predilection for puffing upon our pipes."
Legolas shook his head. "The in-gathering is complete, Gandalf. Save for a few Periannath, only Men remain in Arda."
"I hope they appreciate what a treasure they possess," Frodo said thoughtfully.
"If they knew the lengths to which you went to preserve it for them," declared Sam fiercely, "they certainly would."
Legolas had seen signs before he departed for Valinor that, sad to say, Men did not value Arda as they should; but he held his tongue, for he did not wish to distress his fellows. Gandalf, however, gave him a knowing look from beneath his bushy brows. 'We did our best, my boy', Legolas heard the wizard's words in his mind. 'All we had to decide was what to do with the time that was given to us. We made our choices, and now Men must make theirs'. Legolas caught Gandalf's eye and nodded at him. Then he turned his attention to that part of Arda which remained to him: his friends.
TBC. Coming up in the final chapter: A conversation between Legolas and Galadriel and another between Legolas and Thranduil.