Call of the Sea

CALL OF THE SEA


Chapter 15

Gimli arrived today, rather sooner than I had expected. My people had told him where to find me and he had apparently hurried straight to the river, for he was still shouldering his heavy pack and clutching a stout walking stick.

My eye was drawn to him as he emerged from the trees at the top of the high bank, for his white cloak and the silver-streaked red of his beard and hair stood out clearly against the greying landscape. My heart leapt in my chest to see him, and I ran up the slope calling a greeting, then dropped to one knee for our embrace, delighting in the solid warmth of him.

He put down his pack with a sigh and sat on the grass beside me. We spoke for a while of his journey, until a young elf, in response to my gestured request, brought us a tray of fruit, bread and meats. I did not ask Gimli if he was hungry; in my experience the question is generally unnecessary in the company of dwarves.

He delved in his pack and produced a battered flask, which I eyed warily, for dwarvish liquor is not to be taken lightly, particularly in the heat of the afternoon sun. He grinned at my expression.

“Fear not, master Elf; there is little left. But what there is I have saved for this occasion.”

With that, he poured a little dark red liquid into each of the water goblets on the tray, and lifted one to me. As our glasses touched, he said simply, “To the future.”

I smiled. “The future, my friend.”

We ate in comfortable silence until the tray was cleared. As he found his pipe and filled it I turned to him.

“I had not thought to see you for a month yet, master Dwarf.”

“Aye, I had thought the same.” He paused to blow three perfect smoke rings. “But once I had spoken to my kinfolk of what I intended to do, I found I had little heart to stay in Helm’s Deep.”

“Was it very difficult?” I asked, knowing only too well what he had been through.

“I think it fair to say that not one of them understands my choice. They do not believe the way to the West is truly open to me, and cannot comprehend why I would wish to take it in any case. It was a bitter parting.” The sorrow in his voice underlined his words.

“Do you regret it?” I asked softly. “Or doubt that the way is open?”

He gazed at me, his eyes frank and trusting. “I could not regret it, though these days have been hard. I have little time left in this world, whatever I should choose to do. So I would stay at your side and look upon the Lady Galadriel one last time; and as for doubt, if Lord Celeborn says I have the Lady’s blessing, that is enough for me.”

I pitied him, in spite of his determined words. My own farewells to my father and the folk of the Greenwood had been hard enough, but they at least understood why I was called to go.

Gimli seemed to sense my thoughts, as he so often does, these days. “Will he join you there, your father?” he asked gently.

“I suppose one day he will; but he loves this earth yet, with a powerful passion. He will stay in the Greenwood as long as he may.”

After a moment of quiet reflection he waved his arm towards the scene of activity below us. “It is a fine sight, Legolas. I did not know you had such talent in you.”

I laughed. “Some talents I may have, but I cannot claim this one as my own. It is the design of a master ship-builder of Dol Amroth, and he himself has directed most of the work.”

We had never discussed my sojourns in the coastal city, for I had no wish to upset him needlessly; but he had always known of them, I am sure. Even after Imrahil’s death I had continued to make the pilgrimage once every few years, in order to walk at the ocean’s edge and breathe the salt air. On my last visit it had been an easy task to find a skilled man to aid me in my endeavour.

I pointed out some of the vessel’s more impressive features as he watched me with kindly amusement. At last he said, “I can see you have not been idle, my friend. But how are you, in truth? I must admit that I have been anxious about you.”

I sighed, and my arms fell back to my sides. “I will be honest with you, Gimli. At first there were moments when I thought the pain might kill me. I could neither eat nor sleep, and even to draw breath seemed an unnecessary effort. But that was not the worst of it.”

He waited, silently.

“In the past I have always been able to lose my grief in the forest, for a time at least. But it seems that with Aragorn’s passing, my link to this earth is weakened; it does not fill me with strength as it once did. In truth, only one thing gave me reason to carry on in those first few months.”

“The sea.” he stated, simply.

I nodded. “The pain is more manageable now; its quality is different. How can I describe it? For more than a hundred years I was aware of him, every hour of every day. I yearned to be with him constantly, yet I could not go to him, and it hurt me. And now, suddenly, he is simply gone, and there is emptiness where the awareness used to be. It is a strange, dull ache, but painful though it is, I dread the thought that it is diminishing with time.”

He raised an eyebrow, and leaned a little towards me. Despite the fact that we had long been accustomed to sharing our hearts’ secrets, I found it near impossible to say the words.

“I am ashamed, Gimli. Ashamed that I feel relief.”

He placed a hand on my arm and cleared his throat, seemingly thinking through his words before speaking. “I had thought you wiser than that, Elf,” he said, but in a kindly tone. “You would feel guilt for allowing nature to take its course? Thought you to live in agony for all eternity? That would be a strange choice, indeed, and he would not have wished it upon you.”

“I know that, of course; but still I cannot accept it. If I lose the pain, what do I have left?”

“Legolas, losing the pain does not mean you love him any less. You will always have that; he will always be in your heart. Do your memories of him grow dim already? I doubt it.”

I had to stop and consider before I could reply to his question. The world has become so strange to me in the past few years, it is sometimes hard to distinguish one thought from another. “I do not think so,” I said, slowly, “Yet I cannot be sure. There are times when the memories are so clear, I could reach out my hand to touch him. But there are days when the world itself grows, an, and all that is in it, and the sea fills my mind completely. It is then that I fear I am losing him.”

He smoothed his beard thoughtfully.

“I cannot pretend that I know much about what happens in the West. Yet I do not believe that you will go there only to forget. Perhaps once your heart is healed of its longings, your mind will be clearer and your memories will give you some comfort. But it seems to hat hat it is largely beyond your control, in any case. What use is guilt in such circumstances? Allow your spirit some peace.”

I could not help but smile at his practical words. For a long while now, he has been the one to bring me back to earth from my mind’s wanderings. “Perhaps you are right, friend. Perhaps his passing has simply left my spirit free once more, and I must learn to cherish it again.”

His answering smile was almost mischievous. “If your spirit is free once more, could you not eventually love again?”

I looked at him through narrowed eyes; and he knew my thoughts. He laughed, a single shout of mirth. “Nay, Elf, I do not ask on my own account! It is many years since I felt such stirrings; this old body of mine is long past such things. I simply hope that you will find some happiness, and that I may be there to see it.”

Now it was my raised eyebrow which spoke of mischief. “Do not be so sure, Dwarf. It is said that the very waters of Valinor have marvellous powers of rejuvenation. Who knows what delights may await you there?”

It will never cease to astonish me, the ease with which we can talk lightly of such matters, and laugh in the face of sadness. But when he spoke again, his voice was quiet and serious.

“Just know that while I live, I will help you to keep the memories of Aragorn fresh in your heart. You will always have my ear when you wish to talk of him.”

I knew he spoke the truth, and that I would hold him to his promise. One day I would be ready to tell him how the story ended.


********************


It was Arwen who had summoned me to the palace, her message so unexpected that I knew something was amiss, long before I reached the city.

At first sight he looked little changed since my last visit, some months before; his body visibly aged, though not yet infirm, his eyes still bright and lively. Yet as I crossed the great hall to take his hand and bow before him I sensed his great weariness, and knew at once that my fears were confirmed.

There was little time for more than formal greetings before he retired to a side chamber with his counsellors, to deal with some matter of state. It was then that the queen appeared at my elbow and asked me to walk a while in the gardens with her.

We sat in the shadow of the white tree, and as so often in Arwen’s company, I found myself searching for words. Since first we met she had only treated me with grace and courtesy, and I felt naught but admiration for her. Yet the wall of formality between us had never been breached; I had often thought that it was easier for both of us that way. Of what had passed between Aragorn and myself, not a word had been said.

Now she turned to me, and spoke from her heart. “The time is coming.”

I nodded, afraid to speak for fear that my voice would fail me.

“I will ride out with Eldarion this afternoon. There is much I would tell him before . . . before the mantle falls on his shoulders; we shall seek some tranquillity in the forest.”

My eyes widened, but I said nothing, hardly daring to think what she might be telling me.

“Be with Aragorn tonight, Legolas,” she said, and I thought my heart might stop.

“All this time you have kept your distance, at what cost to yourself I can only guess. I cannot thank you for your kindness and tact, for I would not condescend to you so. But it is over now, and there is no harm that can be done, and I would have him meet his end at peace with his spirit.”

I gazed at her speechlessly, marvelling at her composure.

“We have known joy, but he has missed you so, and still grieves for the harm he has done you,” she said, in a voice drenched with sorrow.


********************


I did not know what to think, as I stole through the strangely quiet corridors to the king’s private rooms. It was not that we had not td ind in those last hundred years; my visits to the palace had been regular, and he loved to ride out to Ithilien to spend time with my people there. At first we had avoided being alone together, but after some twenty years and the birf thf their children, Arwen herself had encouraged our friendship. So we would walk or ride together, or spend long evenings over a chess board, but a distance there was between us always. For my part I knew too well that as soon as I allowed myself to come closer, the full force of my love would be released once more; and I did not trust myself to control it. Perhaps a wiser being than I would have stayed away altogether, but I had not the heart to do so. I would take whatever crumbs of his company I might, sooner than starve myself completely.

He was waiting fo, of, of course, with a light in his eyes that stirred my soul, although I felt oddly unsure in his presence. It was not long, however, before he had put me at my ease, with a glass of fine wine and the warmth of his voice. At first we sought safe topics, and talked of Gondor and Ithilien, of Arnor and the Greenwood, of our friends gone before him, and of the children he would leave behind.

It felt as if one hundred years of friendship was ours to enjoy that night. As we fell to reminiscence, we laughed much and shed more than a few tears, but as the hour grew late and the city fell silent, we came to the end of our words. So we sat, unmoving, and carried on the conversation with our eyes.

His eyes had not changed, except perhaps to grow more wise. They burned still with the honest passion of a strong man in his prime. It was his face that betrayed his age; his skin was pale and lined, his hair entirely grey. As I looked on him I realised that to me such change was as nothing; he was as beautiful as he had ever been.

I had never doubted that his love for me remained strong, although I had long ago vowed not to touch his spirit to feel it for myself. But as I looked into the depths of those grey eyes I saw the full truth, that his passion had not dimmed; and that he loved me now no less than on that last night when I had found bliss in his arms.

At last he spoke. “Legolas, it is ending now, and there is no more time for regrets. Would you let me hold you tonight, and tell you all that I have not said for over a hundred years?”

I bowed my head in assent, suddenly unable to speak.

He stood slowly and straightened with difficulty. I controlled my impulse to jump up and help him, but sat still and waited for him to move. He took my hand, and the shock was immediate. Frail his bones may have been, and his skin dry and delicate, but the pulse of his life was as strong as ever and his love surged through me. I stood, and let him lead me into the bedchamber.

We did not make love that night, though not for lack of desire.

We lay on the bed in a loose embrace and talked at last of intimate things; he told me much, as he had promised, although little I did not already know. After a while we removed our clothes and the embrace tightened; in spite of the changes in his body, I felt that I had come home. We kissed for a long time, and it was sweet and gentle, though full of many years of wanting. I knew I was holding back, although I was not sure why; he knew it too.

“Please, my love,” he whispered finally, “Let me feel you.”

So I closed my eyes and kissed him again, this time without reservation. The years fell away and pain was not even a memory, as we gave ourselves completely to the moment. All the sorrow, all the guilt, all the anguish fled our hearts, and we knew once more the healing joy of absolute union.

Afterwards, he asked me to sing.

“I am an elf,” I told him, as my heart filled with sweet nostalgia. “I do not need to be asked twice.” He smiled at the memory, then shut his eyes and relaxed in my arms as I sang for the last time the nge nge and haunting song of our love.

We lay together until dawn, talking softly, or gazing silently into each other’s eyes. I knew that he was weary, but he would not sleep.

“I do not need so many hours of it these days,” he said, “and I would not waste a moment of this night.”

When the first sounds of the waking world came to our ears I rose from the bed and pulled on my clothes. As I bent to kiss him he grasped my hand and stared at me. I felt his question, before he even said the words.

“Will you stay in the city a few days, my love?”

“I will be at your side, as I have promised.” I could not say more, for I did not wish to speak of my sorrow.


********************


I was there at the very end, although the songs do not tell of it. None saw me enter the House of Kings, the cloak of Lórien pulled low over my face, as none saw me leave when it was over. But I was there, and when Arwen called softly to me I entered the chamber and sat at his left side, his queen at his right.

It seems that at the last his heart had found peace, and the guilt that had plagued him for so long had vanished. For when all that we had to say was said, he took my hand and hers together in his.

“I am the luckiest of all men,” he said very quietly, “to have been twice blessed with such love.”

His eyes closed, and his spirit left this world.

For a long while Arwen and I sat still and silent, united in our grief. Then, at least, each was glad of the other.

She is gone now, her mortal body at rest, they say, in the grey, empty woods of Lórien. I admit that there are days when I envy her tragic fate; but a different ending has been written for me, and the sea will not let me forget it. She may have joined him in whatever afterlife is granted to mortal men, but mine is the task of keeping his memory alive on this earth. There are days when I envy her, but I cannot say that I would have chosen differently, had the choice been mine to make.


********************


I glanced at the sun and realised with a shock that we had been sitting there for some considerable time. Gimli seemed unconcerned; no doubt he was lost in remembrances of his own. But when I shifted slightly on the grass he turned at once to me, and his smile was warm. I knew that he would wait as long as it took for me to share my story with him.

A lone thought lingered in my mind, so I put it to my friend. “Would it have made a better tale, do you think, if I had died for love of him?”

The question may have been foolish, but he did not laugh, for I am sure he understood the remnants of guilt and pain behind my words.

“No.” His voice was firm and emphatic. “No, it would not, Legolas. The elf he loved was ever strong and joyful; it was that, more than your beauty, that drew him to you. He knew that he could love you without limit and yet trust you to carry on. If you had been the type to die of it, it would have been a different tale altogether.”

I could not hold back my tears then, but through them I saw the love in his face; and drying my eyes, I smiled. “Thank you, my friend.” I said, and he knew I spoke not only of his kind words.

A sudden burst of laughter reached us from the elves at the bottom of the slope, breaking the afternoon’s melancholy spell. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, then leapt to my feet.

“Come, Gimli! It is time to look more closely at their work.”

I took the dwarf’s hand to help him up and let it rest in mine. We turned our backs to the forest, and together we walked down to the boat.

***************************** END *****************************

Author's Note:
_____________

If you have enjoyed this story, or have comments or suggestions to make, the author would greatly appreciate feedback, however brief. Why else would she go to the trouble of posting the work in a public forum? Leave a review here or contact Capella directly at capella@hotPOP.com

You are also welcome to browse the other stories available at Capella's website:

www.geocities.com/c_capella2000

All stories feature Legolas and new chapters / stories are added regularly.