This story is a continuation of “The Last of the Fellowship”, which by now has probably moved back to page twelve or fifteen of this section… Although there are some references in here to “LotF”, I don’t think it is necessary to read that story first. (Oops. Bad marketing. Read it anyway 🙂 .)
Of course, the usual disclaimer applies – the places described herein and most of the characters are the intellectual property of the Tolkien Estate. The story and the new characters, however, are mine, yesss my preciousss.
Oh, and – reviews are welcome 😉 .

The Blessed Realm

I Alqualondë

“Legolas? Legolas, can you see those creatures? What are they?” Gimli was straining to see above the railing of the Elven ship as it glided smoothly through the tranquil waters of the deep blue sea. “There! There they are again!”

The white-bearded dwarf pointed to the shimmering, silvery shapes that broke the gentle waves in slow, elegant movements, performing a playful dance in the clear water. Every now and then, the curve of a glistening fin caught the sunlight, and the spectators had to shield their eyes from the bright reflection.

Legolas, who stood a little higher, on the upper deck of the grey ship, smiled fondly at the dwarf’s excitement. But he, too, was enchanted by the beauty of the moment. A faint music caught his ears, a joyful song, somewhere far, far away. Some of his companions must have heard it, too, for they raised their clear voices in reply, chanting a soft melody.

“Those are the Silwing, Master Dwarf.”

Fingalas’s voice broke the spell. Gimli turned to the tall, green-eyed Elf who had come up next to him.

“What are they?”

“Their name means ‘silver spray’ in the speech of men,” Fingalas replied. “They have come to welcome us to the Undying Lands.” Gimli’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you mean to say that we have reached our destination?”

Fingalas laughed, but it was a good-natured laugh. “We passed Tol Eressëa yester eve, Master Gimli,” he replied. “Did you not see the Lonely Isle in the light of the setting sun? It was a sight to behold!”

The dwarf turned back to peer out across the blue waters. “Well, you may have seen it, but I am an old dwarf and not equipped with your Elvish far-sightedness,” he grumbled.

Legolas skipped down the steps from the upper deck and lightly rested a hand on his stout friend’s shoulder. “Don’t let my ill-behaved brother tease you, friend Gimli”, he said, casting an admonishing look at the other Elf. “You should know him better than that by now. Look!” He pointed westward. “Can you see the thin line at the horizon? That is the coast of Aman. Soon we shall enter the Bay of Eldamar.”

The old dwarf shielded his eyes with a gnarled hand and peered ahead. “Yes… yes, now I can see it!” He slowly lowered his hand again. There was a slight tremor in his voice when he spoke. “Master Elf, I have dreamed of this moment for many a week, ever since you and I set out from Aglarond. Yet now that the fulfilment of my happiest dream is within reach, I, Gimli son of Glóin, feel doubt, and fear, as I have not felt it in all the battles when we faced orcs and far more evil creatures together.”

Legolas looked down at his friend for a long moment before he replied. “You knew there would be no way back, and I have always marvelled at your courage. For me and my kindred, this journey is a coming home, but for you… I truly cannot begin to imagine what this must be like for you.”

Gimli did not reply. Legolas turned to the other Elf, and for once the mischief in his brother’s eyes seemed subdued. Fingalas bowed his head and stepped back noiselessly, leaving the two friends alone as they looked out across the sea in silence.

The grey boat carried its passengers swiftly closer towards the dark mass of land, and soon even Gimli could make out the Pelóri, the impressive mountain range rising beyond the northern shores of Aman. The dwarf let out a deep sigh and mumbled something in the dark, strange language of his people. To Legolas’s ears, it sounded like a prayer; but the Elf did not ask, and Gimli did not offer an explanation.

Suddenly, the rustling of mighty wings made the two companions look up. A great, silver-grey seagull swooped down from the cloudless sky and settled on the railing, looking from Legolas to Gimli and back to the Elf, its head cocked to one side. Legolas’s eyes shone.

“Mae govannen, mellon bain. Man siniath?” (1)

Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light, but to Gimli it seemed that the big bird actually winked at them. Then it opened its beak and let out an unexpected sound – it wasn’t birdlike at all, but more like the pealing laughter of a young child. The dwarf started, taken aback; but even more to his surprise, Legolas answered with a low chuckle and turned to call out to Fingalas.

“Lasto, gwanur! (2) In these blessed realms, even the speech of the birds is of a courtesy yet to be matched!”

“What…” Gimli cast a suspicious look at his friend, not sure if Legolas had joined Fingalas in a charade put on to befuddle a weary dwarf. But then he recalled the gift of all Elves with animals. They seemed to have a mysterious connection with all beasts, great and small. With a shudder, Gimli recalled the time Legolas had guided Arod along the Paths of the Dead, calming the terrified horse with only a few whispered words and a touch of his hand, when he, Gimli the proud warrior, had been reduced to crawling on all fours in an attempt to escape the dread of those shadows. The dwarf shook his head. Probably Legolas had really understood everything that had been told in this strange bird’s laughter.

Strange. Yes, just about everything that had come to pass on this journey had been strange, sometimes almost unreal. Gimli couldn’t even tell whether it was days or weeks since they had set sail from the port of Pelargir on a misty morning at the break of winter. Winter it had been in Middle-earth, and rough were the seas they had travelled at the beginning, yet here it was sunny and warm; there was a feeling of early summer in the air. But surely they had not travelled for months…?

And then, the unimaginable adventure of the voyage along the Straight Road! Gimli could not tell how long they had been travelling towards the West, but he would never forget the sensation of that very early morning when all of a sudden a mighty tremor went through the entire ship, and everybody rushed on deck to see what was happening. As if on gigantic wings, their vessel had lifted out of the grey waters, and another vibration, slighter than the first, had shaken the ship and all on board. Gimli had felt very uneasy, and despite his mistrust of the sea he had wished they were back in the heaving waves, rather than flying through the air.

Legolas, always sensitive to the dwarf’s misgivings about this sea voyage, had come to his side to comfort his friend. “Behold, Gimli. We are leaving the Bent World. Soon, the journey will be a smooth one.” And indeed, before long the Elven boat seemed to glide on rails running along an invisible bridge. So smooth that Gimli hadn’t even noticed when their ship settled into the serene waters of Belegaer, the Great Sea of the West, having left behind forever the realm of Middle-earth.

“What is it, Master Dwarf?” Legolas’s voice brought the dwarf back from his puzzled musings. Gimli glanced up at the Elf, then stepped back from the railing and with a slight grunt lowered himself onto the lowest step of the stairs to the upper deck.

“I don’t know, Legolas,” he answered. “I don’t know if I belong here, with you, with the Elves, in this strange world.” Legolas leant against the railing, crossed his arms and studied the dwarf’s lined face. When he spoke, his voice was filled with love and compassion.

“I am immensely glad to have you here by my side, Gimli. The Blessed Realm would not be the same for me without you.” Legolas paused, and the shadow of a memory passed across his fair face. “But I understand what you say about doubting choices. I have witnessed the pain a choice can cause, and I pray to Ilúvatar that you will not regret yours.” A smile broke past his sorrow. “I do not think you will, friend Gimli.”

Gimli looked up at Legolas. As so many times before, he wondered about the bond that had formed between them, despite all the initial misgivings, the ancient antagonism between their races, not to mention their more than disparate appearance – the tall, lithe Elf, whose ageless beauty never seemed to diminish, and the heavy-set, gnarled figure of the dwarf, bent and white-haired with age. Thinking back to the beginning of their friendship, Gimli recalled Lothlórien and the first time he had beheld the Lady Galadriel, fairest of all beings that had ever walked on Middle-earth – save perhaps for her granddaughter, Arwen Undômiel. An involuntary sigh escaped the old dwarf’s lips, and his hand reached for the small parcel that rested, folded up, underneath his jerkin.

Legolas saw the gesture, and his smile widened. He knew what his friend carried close to his heart, and his own thoughts turned to the words of the Lady of the Golden Woods, spoken to him alone, after the Fellowship had reached Lothlórien in search of a brief respite from their desperate errand in dark times.

*** “I know well the grudge that all of our kindred, and in particular your father Thranduil, bear against the race that Aulë called forth – and with good reason, some may say. But I beseech you, Legolas, to look past old grievances, for indeed you yourself have not suffered any. You are given the chance to heal an old breach, and this task is more important than you may conceive at the moment.” ***

Indeed, though it was with a fair amount of reluctance that he had bowed to the Lady’s request, Legolas had discovered to his surprise that beneath the dwarf’s gruff exterior, there was a gentle soul that cherished beauty as much as any Elf, and at the same time displayed a fierce loyalty to his chosen cause. What had started out as an exercise of duty soon turned into animated conversations, with much grumbling on the dwarf’s part, and much laughter on the part of the Elf. But even more than these cheerful discussions, it was the times of silent contemplation of the task ahead that had brought the two unlikely companions together. Even now, after well over a hundred years, Legolas could not say exactly what it was that had welded their souls together; but he knew for certain that it was so, and that was good enough for him.

Suddenly, both Elf and dwarf were woken from their separate reveries by a shout from the sailor in the lookout.

“Alqualondë!”

Legolas lightly skipped past Gimli’s stout frame and up the stairs, taking three steps at a time. The great seagull, which had remained sitting next to him all this time, flapped its wings and rose into the air to join its companions, flocks of beautiful birds circling above the travellers. Much more slowly, the dwarf heaved up his stout frame and followed Legolas onto the upper deck. From this vantage point, he strained to see what had excited his friend so much.

Just discernible to his eyes now, the distant land reached out into the sea to form a protected bay. Gimli watched the shore drawing nearer swiftly as the ship from Middle-earth flew across the waves, eager to cover the last half-league that separated it from its destination. Soon, they were within a stone’s throw of the nearest outcrop of land.

Legolas called out to the helmsman. Gimli did not catch the words or their meaning, but instantly, the grey boat slowed its approach and swung by. The dwarf’s eyes lit up as he took in the great gate of Alqualondë, the Haven of Swans. A mighty arch of living rock, sea-carved and sparkling as if set with precious stones, it curved high above their vessel as it entered the harbour’s turquoise waters. The weary travellers gazed in wonder at the marvellous sight that greeted them.

Tall rose the masts of the ships that lay alongside the piers, rocking gently in the calm waters, their white sails flapping in the soft breeze. They were made entirely of white timber, a tribute to those vessels in the likeness of swans that had been destroyed by Fëanor in his wrath. Although they did not match the beauty of the ships the Teleri had built in ancient times under the guidance of the Lords of the Sea, the ships in the haven of Alqualondë displayed a brilliant craftsmanship which made the small grey boat from Middle-earth seem dull and plain in comparison.

Gimli saw many Elven mariners busying themselves on deck or up in the rigging. When they caught sight of the grey ship, they paused in their tasks and raised their hands in a cheerful salute. The dwarf cast a questioning glance at Legolas, but for once his friend had no attention to spare. His eyes were fixed on the great swans that came gliding towards their ship. Much larger they were than the swans Gimli had seen on the river Anduin on his frequent visits to Minas Tirith; their feathers were of a dazzling white, their beaks shone a pearly rose-colour, and their bearing was of graceful pride. And lo! Half-hidden amongst the huge wings, Gimli saw small figures riding on the backs of the majestic birds, waving at the approaching ship.

“Legolas! Are those…?”

There was no reply to the dwarf’s unfinished question. Gimli looked up at his tall friend and was moved to see tears running down Legolas’s cheeks.

“A, Ilúvatar!” the Elf whispered. “Hîn…” (3)

To be continued…

(1) Mae govannen, mellon bain. Man siniath? = Well met, beautiful friend. What news?
(2) Lasto, gwanur = Listen, brother
(3) Hîn = children