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Lothlorien
The waterfall deep in the woods of Lothlorien was not the gentle sort of water fall Gimli had experienced before in the stately gardens around the flet and telain homes of the elves there, but the kind where torrents of water were poured over rocks hard enough to crash your skull and mash your brains on the way down, then swirled violently into a plunge pool below deep enough to drown you if you survived the fall! From the bottom it was awe inspiring. He couldn’t imagine it from above, though he feared he might have to if what he had been told was true. There had been reports that his newly acquired charge had been spotted diving from the very top.
Craning his neck, he looked up and up and sure enough he could see a lone figure-arms wide, head thrown back and golden hair flying in the stiff wind -standing upon what must have been a very slippery boulder. The dwarf tried to shout that the elfling should stop his madness immediately, but even his booming voice was lost in the roaring water. His next thought was that he would have to climb up himself, but it was too late for that. Before he could even half form a plan, the slender elf brought arms together over his head and with a graceful leap dove headfirst, plunging to what Gimli was sure would be his death.
His heart nearly stopped for the seconds that followed, and he was shocked when the pool at the bottom barely rippled when the graceful elf entered the water, and when only moments later a sleek head appeared, shaking wet hair out of his eyes and laughing in pure joy. As terrified as he had been moments before, Gimli couldn’t help laughing as well. When asked later why he had laughed, the dwarf claimed it was near hysteria over his charge’s insane antics, but that was not entirely the truth. It was also the first time he had noticed how infectious Legolas’ laugh was, though it would later hearten him many times throughout the quest and beyond.
In the moment, though, he intended to give the elf a blasting scold at the very least for doing something so dangerous, but when Legolas only greeted him happily, obviously pleased to share the moment with him and oblivious to the fact that he had done anything wrong, Gimli changed his mind. Instead he only told Legolas that he was expected to join the others for break of fast, and that no there was no time for “one more go.” He could not quite bring himself to spoil the lad’s fun. There would be little enough of that in days to come. He did later, however, make clear that diving should be done from safer heights and with supervision.
“So we can at least recover the body!” Gimli had said.
Legolas had laughingly agreed, but swore it was entirely unnecessary.
“I have never been afraid of the water,” he claimed.
“It was more the rocks below the water that concerned me,” Gimli grumbled, but Legolas only brushed away his fears with a flick of his hand.
“I love the water. It could never hurt me!”
Just after the war:
Legolas and Gimli sat upon a wall near the House of Healing talking, happy to have been reunited with their friends Merry and Pippin. They had been walking about the garden, but when Merry became tired, they had sat together and admired the view of the Anduin. Soon Legolas fell silent, staring out across the water.
Having noticed the elf’s silence, Gimli looked too and saw several white gulls wheeling across the sky. Gimli knew that Legolas had heard the sea calling at Pelargir, but what that meant he did not yet know.
“What is it, Laddie?”
His voice was gentle, but his heart clenched in fear, for he had seen Aragorn’s face when he had heard the news. Legolas did not take his eyes away from the river.
"Look!" he cried. "Gulls! They are flying far inland. A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir, and there I heard them crying in the air as we rode to the battle of the ships. Then I stood still, forgetting war in Middle-earth; for their wailing voices spoke to me of the Sea. The Sea! Alas! I have not yet beheld it. But deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing, which it is perilous to stir. Alas! for the gulls. No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm."
The Hobbits looked at him with wide eyes, and Gimli felt just as perplexed, and he felt afraid for what those words meant for his beloved charge.
“What does it mean, Lamb?” he asked placing a hand upon Legolas knee.
“I…I am not sure,” Legolas answered. He did not say, “but I am afraid.”
He did not have to. Gimli could tell by the way he gripped the dwarf’s great hand, and by the way his breath quavered when he answered. He wished he knew what to do that would help, but nothing came to mind. Instead he only squeezed Legolas’ hand harder, and swore to himself he would find out what he could and do his best to help his friend. There was nothing else for it. Still it was frightening and frustrating.
Damn the sea and those screeching gulls!
Many years later in Aglarond:
Damn the blasted sea longing!
No matter what kind of positive spin he tried to put on it, he could not deny that his heart son was getting worse. Legolas had been escorted by his guard captain once again to Aglarond where he could gain succor from his dwarven guardian and hide from the sounds of the sea deep beneath the earth. At first the lad had been able to merely turn his thoughts in another direction when the sea longing struck, but now things were different. Now things were not so easy. It had gotten so bad that Gimli had had to insist that Legolas never go near the sea alone, but soon even that was not enough. Eventually he had had to curtail all visits to the sea or the Anduin, so that Legolas could no longer farewell those of his elves who had decided to take ship. It was simply too dangerous to do so. But now the dwarf feared that even that rule was not enough to keep his lad safe from the call.
So far, Legolas had managed to remain positive in spite of his obviously failing health, but this time he seemed almost defeated as Gimli wrapped furs about his shoulders and helped him sit up in bed. Galathil and Legolas had arrived just two days ago, and the young elf had been nearly incoherent by the time they crossed through the great gates. Gimli had spent a night and a day, and half a night again at his elfling’s side, offering him sleep aids and pain reliving herbs, coercing him to eat, and trying his best to keep the poor child warm. It had been touch and go for a while, but now finally his lad seemed aware of what had taken place. Normally once he had returned to himself, he would recover quickly, but this time Legolas seemed particularly morose.
“I did not go near the sea!” he mourned. “Or the Anduin, or even the Morgulduin. I wasn’t even near a proper pond! It was a wheat field Gimli! A heavy rainstorm caused one of our wheat fields to flood, so that a couple of inches of water covered about half an acre of ground. Have I grown so weak that I have to now be afraid of the rain?”
Gimli was all sympathy of course on the outside, though inside he was furious that his elfling had had to experience such a terrible illness. He never voiced that anger, but merely held his elfling close and did his best to comfort and soothe him.
“The sea longing isn’t a weakness, Lad. It is just a condition that we must deal with as best we can until such a time as it is no longer needed. You may take your time to recover here and once you are well again, we will simply have to be more careful than before. What must be endured is best endured cheerfully, Mam used to say. Here, now, Lambkin drink this tea. it is good for what ails you, and it will help you rest better.”
Legolas took it and wrapped his cold hands around it for the warmth, bitterly thinking that the added valerian root would make a perfectly good cup of milk tea taste foul. He frowned into the cup and complained,
“I hate water!”
Crossing the Sea;
Gimli stood on the bough of the Grey ship, his long white hair whipping around him as he stared out at the unchanging scenery. Sixty days it had been since they had last seen dry land, sixty days of endlessly churning waves , the ship rising and falling with the sea, sixty days of fear and uncertainty.
Understandably, Legolas had been in despair when they first slipped anchor. He had not wanted to leave his home in Ithilien, or his adopted dwarven family, or his own parent who he feared he my never see again, but that hadn’t really mattered what he wanted. By then, it had no longer been a choice. It hadn’t been a choice for Gimli either, for he could not bear the thought of letting his heart son go alone. In fact the dwarf was pretty sure that wasn’t even an option at that point. They elfling had left it too long, and no longer had the strength or stamina to make such an arduous journey on his own.
Strangely, once they had begun the journey, the sea no longer seemed to cause his lad pain. Perhaps it was because he had finally given in to the call. Whatever the case, Gimli was glad for it, for the poor child had suffered enough. It had gotten so that even a tub full of water or a heavy rain pelting his bedchamber window could cause him to suffer. The dwarf had feared that so many days exposure to the sea itself would do the lad in, but that had not been the case.
Once his grief was spent, Legolas merely sat day after day staring at the boiling sea and saying very little. Occasionally he would speak a necessary word or two, and would eat or attempt to sleep once in while when the dwarf insisted, but mostly he just watched the water and grew thinner and less aware by the day. Gimli could not guess what he might be thinking.
It seemed that the water he had once loved so much, and later hated with a passion had at last had it’s way. He neither loved nor hated it now, but merely accepted that it had defeated him.
Gimli prayed for just a glimpse of land, and solemnly swore to himself that he would never again even glance at the sea.
After several years living in Tol Eressea:
Gimli breathed deeply of the briny aroma and sunk one hand into the soft sand, squished it through his fingers and let the damp clumps fall back to the ground enjoying the interesting formations they made. He closed his eyes for a moment and laughed into the warm breeze, causing his companion to chuckle as well.
The laugh was from the ellon next to him, who sat leaned back on his elbows squinting into the sun, his shoulder length caramel brown hair beginning to come free from the tail he had tied it in. For a change, the elf was fully relaxed, his white shirt open and blowing in the breeze, his leggings pushed up to his knees and his bare feet buried in the sand. Forodren had become Gimli’s closest friend on the island, other than his Legolas of course. They had been through a great deal together over the years, but now they were enjoying a rare lazy day with their lads, even though they both regretted having left the black ale they both loved back at their campsite.
“What is funny, Lord Gimli?” Forodren asked, a crooked smile playing on his lips.
“I was laughing at myself,” the dwarf confessed. “for today I have broken a vow, the first one in my life, but I am happy for it.”
Forodren looked at him curiously, so he continued to explain.
“I swore never to look at the sea again, and yet here I am!”
Forodren laughed as well.
“Yes here you are,” Forodren agreed. “and it looks like you might be doing more than looking at it soon.”
Gimli shaded his eyes and looked out to where Forodren was pointing. All afternoon Legolas and Gaearon had been attempting to stand on the boards that Gimli had made them to try to ride the surf, but the surf was too tame to keep them interested. Now it seemed they had tired of that game, and they were swimming for the shore. Gaearon made it first, and he dropped the board on the sand and grabbed his father by the hands pulling him up.
“Swim with me Ada!” he insisted, and Gimli watched as Fordren threw his shirt aside and followed his sun bronzed son out into the surf.
The next thing Gimli knew, his elfling was beside him, golden hair glistening in the sun, and dripping all over him. He shook it like a wet dog for good measure, then leapt out of the way of the swat Gimli attempted. Gimli knew very well what he had in mind, so he answered before he was asked.
“Forget about it, Laddie, dwarves do not swim!”
Legolas plopped down beside him and threw a wet arm around his shoulder, soaking Gimli’s shirt more than ever.
“Usually that is true, but you forget, my friend, that we haven’t just met. I happen to know you are quite a proficient swimmer and that you even taught the rest of your family how to swim.”
Damn that elven perfect memory!
“That may be so, but I only swam in direst need, and taught my family in case of emergency! There is no emergency now!”
“But it is an emergency!” Legolas lay his head on the dwarf’s broad shoulder and looked up at him with big liquid eyes, though Gimli noticed they were sparkling with mischief and mirth. “It’s an emergency because Gaearon bet that I couldn’t get you in the water, and if you refuse, I’ll have to muck out the stalls for him tomorrow night.”
“A little hard work will do you some good,” Gimli harrumphed, “and mayhap teach you the evils of gambling!”
“But if you agree,” Legolas continued as if the dwarf hadn’t said a word, “Then Gaearon has promised to run back to the camp and bring back the black ale we left behind this morning…”
“Ah! Well that IS interesting!” Gimli said, “I suppose I could go for a dip in that case.”
After a small cheer and an impulsive kiss on the cheek, Legolas leapt up and took his guardian by the hand, pulling him to his feet. A loud whistle caught Gaearon’s attention, and Legolas pumped a triumphant fist into the air at his win.
And then the elf and dwarf walked toward the warm sea, the gentle waves welcoming them as they entered the surf hand in hand.
“I loved the water,” Legolas laughed-that familiar infectious laugh that the dwarf had learned to love- “Isn’t it beautiful Elvellon?”
Looking up at his lad, Gimli smiled again at the look of pure joy on the elf’s face, and was suddenly assailed with memories of that long ago day in Lothlorien. It was a lovely memory and a wonderful sight to behold.
“It is beautiful, Lamb,” he agreed. “It is very beautiful indeed!