Valor Without Renown

After a lovely four-day stay in Minas Tirith, Gimli and Malenfín were off again. They had a long journey to the realm of Thranduil before them, and had mixed reactions about the destination; Malenfín, of course, being excited beyond measure, and Gimli, of course, being anxious and just generally scuffing his feet trying to avoid it.

Six days of hard riding ensued, after which Arod damn near collapsed at the border of Eryn Lasgalen. Malenfín was in a great hurry to see his grandfather, but Gimli gently suggested that he wait until the Dwarf and the Elven-King had at least attempted to make peace. If they went to the King together, Gimli declared with all conviction, he would be in the worst mood possible and would likely toss them both out without even hearing what Malenfín was dying to tell him.

Malenfín regretfully and reluctantly agreed. He knew Gimli had a point, so he chose to plop himself down beneath a tree and just wait, rather than dealing with the Elves that were surely just waiting for him to try to get too near the King's domain.

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The Dwarf was just as regretful and reluctant as he approached the line of trees that led into the heart of the woods Thranduil reigned over.

Gimli hated these forests. The shadows of the towering trees were oppressive, although he had to admit they were less eerie now that they were at least no longer cast by the evil that once lurked here. It still gave him the chills, however, because he could almost already feel the hatred he was bound to encounter. It was as if the forest itself despised him and demanded that he turn back.

Then the real demand came. There was barely a rustle of leaves as Elves dropped expertly from the trees they had taken post in; indeed, he might not even have noticed their presence but for the shout one of them emitted. "HALT, Dwarf!"

Gimli whirled about, only to find himself at the business end of about fifty white-feathered arrows. He was a little exasperated, but not a bit surprised. Still, knowing full well that he was not only out-numbered, but dead on the spot if he made a move toward his throwing axe nestled in his belt, he froze, lifting both hands in a gesture of neutrality.

The Elven border sentinels that held the intimidating weapons all looked as if they had much they would like to say, and all of it spiteful, but the first to speak was standing almost directly behind him; so close, in fact, the breath expelled rustled the thick red hair lying against Gimli neck.

"You are not welcome here, son of Gloin."

Without even turning, Gimli knew exactly who had uttered the declaration of dismissal. He drew in a deep breath, knowing that arguing would do him no good; if there was even the slightest hint of disrespect in his tone, the Dwarf would be riddled with arrows. There were many ways he had decided would be heroic to die, but becoming an Elven pincushion was not one of them.

The silence that fell between the two was pregnant with shared annoyance.

"He would have welcomed me here, father of Legolas," Gimli replied testily, finally breaking the lull and turning to face the Elven-King.

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Thranduil had not changed...just as nothing had changed between them.

He had the same long, golden hair that his son had come to be renowned for. And the similarities abruptly stopped there.

Legolas had always looked, and acted, youthful and carefree, but Thranduil appeared old and wise beyond his years. Gimli couldn't help but wonder if losing his only child had served to age the king further.

While Legolas had been deceptively waif-like, his father's build was powerful, conveying every ounce of his strength in every inch of his body.

The hue of his eyes, unlike the brilliant azure Legolas had possessed, rivaled the green of the deepest emeralds, and if not for the frosty glare Gimli had come to expect, they would have been absolutely staggering to behold.

Thranduil's stare had never failed to unnerve him. It cut through his enemies like the sterling blade of a knife.

"I came to see Legolas," Gimli said firmly, his gaze level and stern, when the silence that had fallen over them threatened to stretch uncomfortably long.

"Do not make me repeat myself, stunted one." The king's voice was glacial.

"You never allowed me the chance to tell my best friend goodbye," Gimli practically growled. "After everything Legolas and I went through together, I could not bid him farewell and pay my last respects to the one who had come to mean so much to me. I was refused invitation to the burial ceremony, and I have not once been able to visit his final resting place. Do you dare think that is forgivable? Yet here I am, pleading with all due deference, wanting to show Legolas that I still care about him and mourn his passing. And you deny me."

Thranduil's expression did not change; the steadiness of his stare did not falter.

"Your son would be ashamed."

The emerald eyes narrowed warningly.

Gimli sighed, trying a different approach. He knew how Legolas would disapprove of the two of them flinging insults back and forth. "This is not about you, or me, or our age-long grudge we hold against each other, my lord. This is about Legolas, and whether or not you accept me as Elf-friend, he did. He would be angered beyond reason if you forced me to turn back without fulfilling my harmless wish, and you know this as well as I.

"It was Legolas's dying wish that we reconcile, my lord. I would prefer to negotiate a truce in the absence of your well-armed border patrol."

"I will not do it for you, Master Dwarf."

"Then do it for him."

Thranduil gave a heavy sigh, then looked to his guards, making a lowering gesture with one hand as he nodded. They reluctantly unstrung their bows and vanished back into the darkness.

There was a tense lull as neither Elf nor Dwarf knew how to begin. Finally, the King began with a most confusing subject. "I am sure you have heard of Valinor."

"Of course," Gimli answered, wary now. What a weird topic to leap into after their rocky introductions only moments before. But he decided to humor Thranduil. "I heard much of it from Gandalf and Lord Celeborn. It must be a wondrous place, this haven for the Eldar."

"I wanted to journey there after the War of the Ring had ended, as I knew in my heart that the evil of Sauron would not prevail and peace would ultimately be restored to Middle Earth, and had asked for my son's pledge to accompany me. Of course, Legolas would have nothing of it. He adamantly refused to offer me any promise to make the voyage to the Grey Havens. He told the messengers I had sent to Rohan to announce to his king that he would not go without his Dwarven friend."

"I am no fool, Lord Thranduil," Gimli commented on a snort. "You would never allow Legolas to avoid Valinor on account of one Dwarf."

"Indeed not, but I know too well my son's propensity for stubbornness. So, as a compromise, in the interest of seeing to it that my son eventually travels to Valinor and joins me there, I suggested he build a ship."

"A ship?" Gimli echoed, clearly confused.

"Aye, a ship. A ship worthy of making the journey, even with the heaviness of a Dwarf aboard."

"Legolas wrote to me before the Fellowship departed from Rivendell, and mentioned that he thought the ship would be a wonderful idea and that he had full intentions to do so, should he..." The King took a deep breath before he finished, "Survive the war."

"He wrote to you?" Gimli asked, surprised.

"Yes," Thranduil sighed. "Legolas spoke very highly of you, in fact. He told me that everything I had said of your father, the stubbornness, war-lust and impulsivity, was accurate also when it came to you, but that he had learned to love you in spite of it. He called you a brother in arms, and deemed you to be a hero in his eyes."

The Elven-King was utterly surprised to see tears making their slow journey down the Dwarf's cheeks into his russet beard. He was even more surprised when his heart clenched like a fist at the sight and the sincerity of it.

His voice was softer as he added, "Aragorn came to me last summer and told me that you tried to save him. I have to thank you for that, Gimli."

"I failed," the Dwarf admitted miserably, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You offered him solace in his last moments. He was not alone. He had..." Thranduil paused, and then his face lit with a brilliant smile that almost caused Gimli to fall over backward in shock. "He had his best friend with him."

Gimli was beside himself for a moment, gaping at the Elven-King, who looked amused. He knew how much the Dwarf had never expected him to direct a smile his way. But he couldn't help it; Legolas was right, this stunted creature had a good heart under all that...well, fur was the word that came to mind.

"Go to him," Thranduil said, clasping Gimli's shoulder in a bewildering gesture of comfort. Apparently, Gimli decided, he was trying to see how much unexpected benevolence it would take to kill the Dwarf. "I know he misses you."

Gimli swallowed hard. "I doubt half as much as I miss him."

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"Come with me," Thranduil bade, and Gimli followed as the Elf swept off through the dense shadows of the lush foliage in the direction of his son's final resting place.

It was deep in the forest; likely placed far from the border in case of attack by the few remaining Orcs who still insisted on trying to vex the Elves of the Greenwood, as those foul creatures would surely desecrate the memorial.

The Elven-King stopped after a long while, making a forward gesture with one graceful hand. "It is just beyond that line of trees, in the center of the clearing. Take your time, Master Dwarf."

"Thank you, my lord. I cannot wait to tell him all that has transpired in these two long years. He will love to hear all that we have accomplished in his memory after the War of the Ring. I appreciate you allowing me this moment with him."

Thranduil stared ahead, but his smile was clearly meant for Gimli. "I am sorry that it has been so long since you could see him. I see now why my son spoke so highly of his friend."

"It is forgiven, King Thranduil. I see now why my friend spoke so highly of his father."

The regal Elf's smile widened. "I will leave you and my son alone. I hope your moment with him makes up for lost time."

Gimli replied, dipping his chin slightly in respect, "It will, my lord. Thank you again. I am eternally grateful."

The golden Elf returned the gesture, then turned and began to walk away, but just as Gimli was about to do the same, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Always know that from this day hence, Elvellon, you are welcome in the Greenwood, by order of the king."

The Dwarf laughed, not missing the naming of him as Elf-friend. "Legolas would be so pleased."

Thranduil nodded, then turned back and disappeared into the shadows.

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Gimli took a deep breath, then set off in the direction that had been instructed. When he made his way past the mentioned line of trees, and his eyes fell upon the small tribute erected in the middle of the clearing, his throat constricted even as his soul filled with delight.

The mallorn tree, a tiny sapling when Gimli had last set eyes upon it as it was being gently uprooted and carefully carried out of Lothlórien, was now nearly thrice his size. The great branches dipped slightly downward, as if the tree itself bowed in reverence to the memorial beneath it.

To Gimli's amazement, as he stood there staring at the burial site, a ray of sunlight penetrated the heavy cover of leaves, drenching the final resting place of his dear friend with liquid gold. His heart warmed, and he laughed out loud. I know, Legolas, you foolish Elf. You just have to show off.

The relief of just being here, at long last, washed over him. Tears sprang to his eyes. He could feel Legolas here. It was a soothing balm to his aching soul.

The marker was simple, bearing only the Elf-Prince's name nestled inside the large, carved outline of a leaf and a couple of lines of Elvish runes, which Gimli surmised were meant to be private from those who were not of the Elves, but he took no offense.

He placed his palm gently on the cold stone slab. "Ah, old friend, it has been too long. I am sorry for that. It was not for lack of effort on my part, I assure you. Until this very day, your father braced his feet and held his grudge, and adamantly refused to grant me permission into his kingdom."

You should be relieved to learn that we had a very long conversation, and have at last reached some semblance of a truce. You told me you loved us both, and wanted us to know why, but the truth is that it doesn't matter why. We are united in our gratitude for your love. You accepted us as equals, and that now is enough for us."

Fighting back an onslaught of tears, he took a break, allowing himself a moment to compose himself before he continued. He just reveled in being so near his friend for awhile. It was so comforting.

Finally, he was strong enough to go on. "I was rather surprised, and I think that goes without saying, when your son popped into my life less than a fortnight ago." He chuckled. "Only a creature as cryptic as an Elf could harbor such a secret."

Gimli's tone changed from playful to sober as he continued, "He's wonderful, Legolas. You deserve praise for fathering a spirit so incredible." He paused, then added, "And a good hard thump on the head by the butt of my axe for not telling me about him in the first place." He harrumphed. "Some friend."

For a moment, he was solemn and silent, his fingers were rewriting the name engraved into the stone, but suddenly he let out another laugh.

"I swear by my beard that I can hear you now, Legolas, reminding me that Arwen raised him, and that Elrond and Aragorn had a hand in it, so they should be the ones congratulated for how fine Malenfín turned out to be, but he is you. I insist that it is your spirit that shines brightest in him."

I think about you all the time, Legolas, and miss you more than you'd believe I could. It's been over two years, and I still find myself expecting to have you bursting into my study and regaling me with tales of birds and trees and other such nonsense."

His fingers traced the leaf as he sighed shakily, and his rough voice cracked as he admitted, "I always wish you would. Someday, I intend to reunite with you. For now, you deserve your peace, Legolas and I hope that Valinor is everything you claimed it would be. I miss you, but I am glad to have known you for the time that I did; however short it may have been, it was worth every moment. It was worth the pain of losing you."

Taking a breath as deep as the pain in his soul, he smiled down at the marker. "It fills a void to be here, Legolas, and know you are listening. I am glad your father brought you here, to your home. I know it is what you would have wished; I was just hurt that I could not see you for so long. But I am here now, and I will return often. You have my word. By now, you should know the value of my word, Legolas. I have never broken a promise to you, and I certainly do not intend to begin doing so now. Farewell for now. Take care, my dear Elf."

With great effort, he rose to his feet and exited the clearing, knowing now that he had done what he had wanted. It gave him such peace; he wanted to laugh for the relief of it.