The Sea Calls Us Home

To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years are failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Were the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!
Legolas – ROTK/The Field of Cormallen


Prologue

Gimli the dwarf stirred from a deep sleep at the slight sound of movement outside the chamber of his lordly lodgings in Aglarond, the colony built amidst the caverns of the Glittering Caves in Rohan. Slumber always claimed him easily, but after many years abroad in Middle-earth traveling with his friend Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, the Lord of the Glittering Caves could still rouse at the merest sound.

“Well, now that I’m awake,” he reasoned aloud, thinking there was no one to hear him, “I may as well find something to eat. I’m hungry!”

As the stout warrior passed into the Great Hall from his chambers he heard a quiet, “You are always hungry, my friend,”

Pale gold hair and deeply blue eyes swung from the contemplation of the stars through an upper window to focus on Gimli with tolerant affection.

“Hmph,” Gimli growled, though a chuckle followed it. “Can’t you sleep?”

Legolas smiled in the dim hall, the streaming rays of the moon the only light limning the elegant lines of his face. “I do not seem to need as much as you, Gimli. What woke you?”

“You did, you pointy-eared cave troll,” he grumbled and the elf laughed lightly at the insult. It was many years since Legolas took offense at his friend’s gruff words. “Come on. Let’s find something to eat.”

Stomping sleepily down the corridor, Gimli headed for the kitchens and his friend followed silently behind him. The rest of the underground colony slumbered deeply, unaware of their restless founder and his elven companion.

Legolas placidly watched Gimli as the dwarf banged around looking for his late night snack. Finally a generous wedge of cheese joined some dried beef and a small loaf of bread on the table and then two mugs of ale, the last of a small keg, rounded out the brief meal.

Gimli did not stand on ceremony and immediately sat and dug into the food while the elf sat with less alacrity.

“What’s bothering you?” asked the dwarf barely pausing before taking a deep pull from his ale mug.

Raising an elegant eyebrow, Legolas asked, “What makes you think anything is bothering me?”

“I may not have the intuition of a prissy elven princeling like yourself,” he tore into a crust of bread and chewed noisily, “but I’ve been with you long enough to know when you’ve got something on your mind.”

Without preamble, the elf replied, “I am going home.”

“Home?!” he snorted. “Whatever for? You haven’t been back to Mirkwood in years…”

“Gimli, it’s time for me to leave now.”

“What? This very moment? Surely you can wait until it’s light. Mirkwood will be there another day, my friend.”

“I’m not talking about Mirkwood, mellonmin. It’s time for me to leave Middle-earth.”

This news was enough to keep the dwarf from his food. “You’re going to take the ship?”

“Yes,” Legolas answered starkly. Gimli sat back in his chair, trying to digest this news along with his hastily eaten food. The elf-prince continued, “I do, however, feel that I should see my father before I go -- perhaps even convince him to accompany me. Although I hold little hope of that.”

The dwarf continued to sit in stunned silence another moment then stood suddenly and scoffed, “Bah! You are still just glum because Aragorn has passed away, Legolas. You would not make such a hasty decision. I’m going back to bed. You should too.”

With that, the stocky warrior strode back towards his apartments, not believing his friend would follow through on his plans so impetuously.

Yet, Legolas’ decision was neither hasty nor born of his sorrow of the King’s death. Ever since he had smelled the Sea he had longed to take the ship to Valinor. For Legolas this decision was a long time in coming and now the day had arrived to see it done at last.

-end of Prolgoue-