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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6313 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Author’s Note: Prof. Tolkien came up with two concepts by which Elves could be returned to life. The original one – rebirth – was later supplanted by another – re-embodiment – because he decided the first one was too troublesome. I incorporated both ideas into this story.

Chapter VIII: Elucidation

It was a warm day near the end of May when Gimli sauntered down to the harbor wherein Legolas’ grey ship was moored. In a few more days, his friend would set sail for Valinor. The Dwarf sighed sadly but resignedly. He had long girded himself for this separation from the one Elf he called closest of his friends.

He found Legolas out on the quay discussing some matter or other with Elladan whilst all about Elves hurried to and fro, fixing, loading, and arranging all manner of goods and things. The archer would not be making his voyage alone. A fair number of his people would join him. But not his sister and law-brother or his twin nephews. Not yet. They would follow later.

The two Elves smiled at their Dwarf-comrade as he came up to them. Legolas winked at Elladan, giving Gimli the distinct impression that they had been discussing something that had to do with him. But as they declined to enlighten him he sought enlightenment on another matter instead.

“Would you care to satisfy my curiosity about something?” he inquired even as his eyes roamed over the graceful lines of the ship with admiration.

“About what, my friend?” Legolas responded.

“On the matter of Elves coming back from the dead,” Gimli said, his ruddy cheeks growing even redder. “What Elrohir said – ‘tis passing strange to me though if this means he will return to you, then I am certainly thankful for it.”

Legolas paused then glanced at Elladan. “I am not as learned in this as you, gwanur”—kinsman—he quietly said. “Would you explain to Gimli for me?”

“But of course,” Elladan smiled faintly. He turned grave slate blue eyes on the Dwarf. “It may seem strange to you that any being should come back from the dead but, in truth, for the Firstborn, ‘tis death that is unnatural and therefore not right.”

“When an Elf dies, his faer, his spirit, passes into the Houses of the Dead in Námo’s halls to await judgment of his life and deeds. Needless to say, not all Edhil are deemed worthy of release from the Halls of Awaiting. But for those given the grace of rebirth, ‘tis not a new life they receive but a continuation of their old one.”

“But how?” Gimli asked in amazement. “Do you just leave those halls and go on with your life as before?”

“Nay, ‘tis not that simple,” Elladan said. “The reborn body must be restored to its exact form at the time of passing though healed of any grievous desecrations to it. ‘Tis the faer’s remembrance of these details that makes this possible but it is a slow and careful process.”

“Then how are Elves reborn?” Gimli inquired. “More to the point, how will Elrohir return?”

Elladan glanced at Legolas briefly before continuing with his discourse. “That will depend on the Valar’s will. Some are released in full-grown form. ‘Tis said this most oft occurs when one or both of the parents of the Elf in question are dead or have not passed on to Valinor yet. But more are literally reborn. When Elrohir is released from the Halls of Awaiting, his faer will most likely be received into the womb of our mother to be born as an infant anon.”

“A babe?” Gimli nearly choked. “He will return as your parents’ third son?”

Elladan shook his head. “Not as their third son but as he was when he and I were born three thousand years ago in Imladris. ‘Twill be no new infant my naneth will bear but my twin brother, our Elrohir, with all the memories and knowledge he accumulated in all his long years.”

Gimli was aghast. “Rather a lot for a babe to know,” he commented. “Too much in fact.”

Elladan had to chuckle at his reaction. “The memories will not surface all at once,” he said. “He will grow like any Elfling, innocent of his past, unknowing of his future. But as he nears his coming-of-age, those memories will begin to return. By the time he reaches his majority, if all goes as they should, he will have been fully restored.”

“Are you saying that it will be as if he had never died?” sputtered Gimli incredulously.

“Elves are reborn to continue their lives, not to begin new ones,” Legolas softly reminded him.

“But – but it will not be quite the same,” the Dwarf protested. “He will live a different life from what he experienced here in Middle-earth. How can he remain unchanged?”

“He will not remain unchanged,” Elladan agreed. “But his new memories will simply be assimilated with his old. Therefore, he will be the wiser for it. ‘Tis an arduous process and best done gradually so as not to shock a returned Edhel. Or so we have been told by one who knew it well.”

Gimli pursed his lips musingly. “Then once he reaches his fiftieth year, it will be him again,” he said. “Only in a new body.”

“Only in the sense that it is conceived anew,” Elladan corrected. “But it will be his body as closely as his faer can make it down to the most minute details. Even his old scars will reappear. And every feeling and thought and talent he ever had – love, hate, joys and sorrows, desires and fears. Even his formidable skills on the battlefield and in the bedchamber,” he added with a rakish grin. He nodded at Legolas smilingly. “But most especially his binding to our golden prince,” he added softly. “Even death cannot break such a bond in Arda.”

Legolas smiled back, comforted by his law-brother’s words. He knew full well that there was no guarantee that Elrohir would indeed be returned to him anytime soon. It would all depend on the judgment and mercy of Námo of Mandos, the most dispassionate and, therefore, the least moved of the Valar. Nonetheless, he clung to his Elf-knight’s last promise to him. And every now and then reached out with his spirit to feel the other’s soothing presence.

Meanwhile, Gimli was mulling something else. “How long does it usually take before an Elf is released from the Houses of the Dead?” he queried curiously.

“No one can say,” Elladan admitted. “Only Námo and Manwë have authority in this matter.”

“But don’t you have any idea?”

Elladan hesitated. “Only Glorfindel ever returned to Middle-earth after his rebirth,” he explained. “All others remained in the Blessed Realm.”

“Well, how long did it take for Glorfindel to get his release?” Gimli prodded.

Elladan looked uneasily at Legolas. But the archer smiled wanly and nodded his acquiescence to having Gimli’s curiosity satisfied.

“He never spoke to us of his rebirth, not even to my father,” Elladan said slowly. “He may have confided in Erestor after their binding but the rest of us do not know the exact circumstances of his release. We can only guess as to the time of it. Glorfindel died defending my grandfather, Eärendil, and his parents, Tuor and Idril, against a Balrog of Morgoth at the Fall of Gondolin.”

“A Balrog!” Gimli whistled appreciatively at the Noldorin warrior’s feat, remembering as he did the creature the Fellowship had encountered in the mines of Moria during the Quest. And then he did a double take. “He died during the First Age?” he gasped. “Then when in Durin’s name did he come back to Middle-earth?”

“All we know is that he came to the court of Gil-Galad in Lindon towards the middle of the Second Age with the specific purpose of serving my father who lived there at the time.”

Gimli calculated the length of time in his head. “All things considered, that means it took at least a millennium before he returned and maybe even longer,” he remarked. He grimaced guiltily when he espied the flicker of pain that shadowed Legolas’ eyes.

“I am a bone-headed, blundering idiot!” he growled. “Your Elrohir bade me to take care of you and instead, here I am adding to your suffering. I am so sorry, Legolas. I did not mean to make you feel worse than you do already.”

“‘Tis all right, my friend,” Legolas said soothingly. “I was not unprepared and you have been of great comfort to me these past many weeks. Elrohir would be pleased.”

Gimli snorted in embarrassment. “More likely he’ll wring my neck for distressing you,” he commented. “If I’m still around when he finally gets out of those dratted halls!”

The two Elves looked at each other in a conspiratorial manner. Legolas gently said to the Dwarf: “You will be, Gimli.”

The Dwarf raised sceptical eyebrows. “I may be of a long-lived race, Legolas, but a thousand years is a tad too lengthy even for me,” he pointed out.

“Not in Valinor.”

Gimli started then stared at him. “What do you mean?” he demanded.

Legolas took a deep breath and said: “I want you to come with me when I sail for Aman.”

Gimli now not only stared at him but also gaped so gracelessly the Elves would have laughed had the matter not been so serious.

The Dwarf managed to recover his wits. “You know full well I cannot sail over sea,” he snorted. “I am no Elf.”

“That you are not,” Elladan agreed humorously. “But you can sail and sail you must if you intend to accept the Lady of the Wood’s true gift to you.”

“What are you talking about? I already have her gift.” Gimli fingered the locket on his breast with its treasure of a lock of golden hair.

“Nay, that was but the symbol of her gift,” Elladan said. “To smooth your passage to the Blessed Realm so to speak.”

Gimli stared at the two Elves in befuddlement. “Wha-what?” he all but stuttered.

“All speaking races not of Man-kind are fading,” Legolas said somberly. “Even Dwarves and hobbits will dwindle as men spread out and take over the lands of Middle-earth.”

“Almighty Eru has given leave to the Valar to take of each race and preserve more than their memory in the Undying Lands,” Elladan added. “As the Ring-bearers now represent the Halflings in Valinor, so have you been chosen to represent your kindred. ‘Twas my grandmother’s privilege and duty to make this decision and she chose you, Gimli.”

The Dwarf stared at them flabbergasted. Despite all the improbable things he had encountered and the most impossible events coming to pass, he had not at all expected this astonishing gift. And from the Lady at that!

Nevertheless, he was not easily won over even by the knowledge of the Lady’s favor. The Elves had to argue long and loudly with him to convince him to accompany Legolas.

The Dwarf balked at going to a land peopled by, as he so baldly put it, blasted immortals who were probably more insufferable than the Elves of Middle-earth. He also grumbled about the nuisance of packing and preparing for an eternity in a strange new land. What was he supposed to bring with him? What could he bring with him? Oh, botheration! It was simply too much trouble.

Legolas finally resorted to other means of persuasion. Would Gimli now break his promise to Elrohir? he demanded. Had he uttered those words merely to ease his passing?

“That is blackmail!” Gimli roared.

“Of a sort,” Legolas agreed.

“You would resort to so low a deed?” Gimli retorted.

“If I have to,” Legolas replied.

As the Dwarf stood there huffing with indignation, Legolas pleaded with him. “I would not ask this of you if I did not need you by my side, old friend. Please.”

Gimli hesitated. But finally he grinned and said, “At least, I shall get to see whether the Lady is still as beautiful as I remember.”

And Legolas smiled in relief. It was one victory that he savored. He did not think he could bear to lose his Dwarf friend as well. He placed a hand on Gimli’s shoulder as they all turned to regard the ship once more.

A few more days, the archer thought longingly. A few more days and he would at last seek the western shores.

*******

His sword. His clothing. His leather-bound collection of illustrations. Legolas hugged the sketchbook snugly and closed his eyes.

It was the eve of his departure and he was in his bedchamber. The room he had shared with Elrohir for close to a hundred years. Where his Elf-knight had shown him naught but love and brought him more joy and contentment than he had thought possible for any being.

He was not leaving anything of Elrohir’s behind. Each and every item had become as a treasure to him. And he intended that if – when, he determinedly told himself – his mate returned, he would have his possessions again.

He sighed. His heart still bled for his spouse. He doubted the wound would ever be staunched completely. It was worst at night. At least, during the day, he had his duties to distract him from his loneliness and grief. But the nights...

How he missed Elrohir then. Missed having his warm, withy body pressed against him. His limbs entwined with his. His inimitable kisses and caresses. Even the sounds of their loving had become a most precious memory to him. And indeed, it was not simply their love-play that he so yearned for but their mutual loving expressed in that most physical and intimate of ways.

He did not know how others coped with the loss of their mates. He wished he had their strength. His father’s strength. Thranduil had lived without his beloved wife for years beyond count. How had he done it? Legolas knew he would not last that long. If Elrohir did not return soonest...

He did not have that strength. Not where his heart was concerned. He had known this from the moment he entrusted it to Elrohir. And the Elf-knight had tenderly kept it all these years. And still kept it.

He reached into himself as he always did when the sorrow threatened to overtake him. Reached for the assurance of his darkling spouse’s love and concern. It was not always enough to keep the tears from falling. But it was always just enough to keep despair at bay. As it did now. He felt the balming connection again and drew a calming breath.

He would be strong. He would not fade. Elrohir would never forgive him were he to return and find him less than whole.

He saw in his mind’s eye the grey ship in Anduin. Tomorrow it would bear him away from Middle-earth. He would at last answer the sea-longing that had awakened more than a century ago.

He was going home.

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

Glossary:

Edhil, Edhel - Elves, Elf

naneth - mother

To be continued…
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- 9
- 10
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Greenleaf & Imladris 29 - Aduial: Soul of a Knight