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Gimli sat back in his favorite armchair in front of the fire looking down at the crystal phial in his hand. Inside it were encased three strands of silver-gold hair. It was his most prized possession and now the biggest source of contention between him and the one dearest to him in all the world. Stubborn elf! So much fuss over a family heirloom that the dwarf only wanted to pass on to the one he considered a son!
And yet it wasn’t exactly the phial of hair that had caused the problem, he had to admit. It was what the phial represented. But damn it, facts had to be faced! Pretending things were different than they were never did anyone any good, even when the truth was difficult. If there was one thing he had hoped to teach the lad in their years together it was that admitting to the truth and facing it was always the better way to go. Hiding injuries or emotions or ignoring problems never did anyone any good and only made already difficult situations considerably worse, and pretending that Gimli would live forever would be the same. It was a fact of life that could not be changed and something that was going to need to be faced very soon; likely before the year was up.
Only this time Gimli wouldn’t be there to pick up the pieces when the truth had to be faced. The only thing to do was to prepare his elfling for the inevitable. But the difficult child would not cooperate, no matter how he tried to phrase it. Today’s discussion had been no different from all the others he had attempted over the last six months or so. This time he had tried to broach the subject from the point of trying to give Legolas the precious crystal phial of hair. Who else would be the beneficiary of this most precious possession? He had treasured it for over two hundred years-nearly as long as he had loved his elf. But Legolas was obstinate over it as usual. Almost angry even.
“I don’t want it!”
“Lamb, listen to me…”
“No, Gimli, I won’t. It is yours. I could never take it.”
Gimli sighed and closed his eyes in resignation and then gestured for Legolas to sit down beside him. The elf did so, but perched on the very edge of the chair as if he needed to be prepared for a quick get away.
“Very well, ye dinna have to take it,” Gimli relented, “ but there are still things we must discuss.”
“I have no time today,” Legolas was already beginning to rise, but Gimli grasped his wrist to stop him.
“Ye have no time any day,” he pointed out. “And we canna’ put it off forever, lad, no matter how difficult it is to discuss. I willna’ always be here and we must make a plan for your future.”
“There will be plenty of time to talk about this later,” Legolas said firmly, though tears stood in his eyes. He dashed them angrily away.
“No, Lamb, there will not,” Gimli told him softly. “My time here is nearly at a close and I dinna wish to leave ye unprepared…”
“I am not ready!” Legolas shook his head and closed his eyes as if he could shut out the thought.
“Ye will grieve for me of course,” Gimli admitted, patting his hand, “but ye are more ready than ye think. Ye are no longer a child…”
“I am!” Legolas fiercely exclaimed, perhaps admitting this for the first time in their long relationship. “I haven’t yet reached my majority, have I?”
“Ye are within a few scant years of it though and ye will be just fine on your own…”
The dwarf was not positive of this, but it would not do to seem to doubt it, but Legolas had no doubts at all of his readiness to face the world dwarfless.
“No, Gimli, I will not be fine on my own. I am too young to be left to my own devices. I still need you and I don’t want to talk about this now!”
With that the elf broke free from his dwarven guardian’s grasp and stormed out the door. It was a relief to have escaped the dwarf and his hateful, terrible words, but it worried him more than a little that he was so easily able to free himself from Gimli who had always had an iron grip. Only a few short years ago, he would not have been able to do so even with his own considerable strength.
Legolas hurried to bury this disquieting thoughts and the memory of the dreadful conversation in heavy physical labor. But while digging a deep hole where he intended to build a fishpond for the courtyard garden soothed his pent up frustration, it didn’t require enough mental concentration to keep troubling thoughts from niggling at the back of his mind. Deep down he knew that Gimli was right. As much as he didn’t want to see it, it could not be denied. His dwarf was losing ground.
Most days Gimli spent sitting in front of the fire in the sitting room with a warm quilt over his knees, something that had been unheard of only a year or so ago. His guardian had always been active and strong and bursting with new plans for the folks at Car Annûn and for the house itself, but now it seemed that everything about the dwarf had slowed down and become more contemplative. Though Mistress Glasiel always made sure his favorite foods were on offer, his usual hearty appetite for roasted meats and black ale had diminished to such a degree that he had become thin and almost frail looking; so that he seemed to be all sparkling black eyes and white hair, with nothing solid beneath it. Legolas felt that he would move heaven and earth to get half a pound back on his friend, but no amount of coaxing seemed to help. It gave the elf a new appreciation to what Gimli had gone through all those years ago when he had been so ill with sea longing that he could hardly tolerate food at all. In some ways it seemed as if they had changed places, with Legolas becoming the caregiver. The elf realized that it was something that all mortals must have to face at some point, when elderly parents became unable to care for themselves. But he was no mortal, so perhaps that was why he was so troubled. Elves were not designed to have to deal with death at all, and the thought of losing someone so dear to him was enough to make him physically sick. It wasn’t fair at all! Why should he be separated from his dearest friend so long before he was ready?
But deep down, he admitted, he would never be ready. But ready or not, it was going to happen. All mortals eventually had to succumb to nature, and Gimli was already well beyond the normal life span of a dwarf. It was inevitable that sooner or later he would-Legolas’ stomach clenched and his throat tightened-he could not think of it now.
But thinking of it or not had little influence on the effects of time on the dwarf. In the weeks that followed, Gimli had days that he didn’t even make it down to the sitting room and often spent entire days in his own chambers, sometimes not even rising from his bed at all. Legolas spent many hours making sure the dwarf was cared for and kept comfortable, frequently sitting cross-legged on his guardian’s bed and entertaining him with light chatter and news of the goings on of the place. Gimli treasured his elfling’s company in those days, but no matter how gently he tried to bring up the topic of what lay ahead, Legolas would not talk of it.
Still he discreetly arranged for Lord Elrond to call at Car Annûn to ‘visit’ his ailing guardian, though he had to push down the panic that struck him when the great healer came out of the dwarf’s chambers shaking his head.
“I must talk to you about Lord Gimli, Thranduilion,” Lord Elrond began only to be cut off.
“Very soon, my lord,” Legolas answered him, “but not today. I am sure the tonic you left will do him a world of good.”
“It is not a cure, child,” Elrond softly explained, “it is only to make him more comfortable as he…”
“I do not mean to be rude, but I am in a great hurry today. I’ll make this up for him now, and we can talk another time.”
Legolas pretended not to hear Elrond’s sigh as he hurried to close the chamber door in his face only to have to pretend again that it was perfectly normal for Gimli to be asleep in the middle of the day having been exhausted by the few minutes spent with the healer.
Legolas’ ability to pretend things was sorely tested over the next several days as a string of old friends stopped in to visit his guardian. It was just a coincidence that they all came at once, not that they had all been sent by Lord Elrond to say their final goodbyes. It also was becoming more difficult to detour around Gimli’s increasingly desperate attempts to try to get him to discuss his demise and its aftermath. Each night as Legolas worried over the dwarf’s labored breathing, he swore to himself he would be braver the next day, but when the time came to discuss things, he always backed out. It was a terrible predicament to be in for he had no desire to upset his dwarf, but no matter how he tried he could not wrap his mind around going on without him. To talk about it would make it too real and his accepting of it could give Gimli reason to give up the fight. He was in constant turmoil and Gimli was determined to wear him down. It was almost becoming a battle of wills, and the elf knew very well that he seldom came out the winner in such situations. Gimli had a maddening habit of almost always being right.
He knew he would have to face things and talk to his dwarf, but he felt no closer to being able to do so than he had six months ago. Still it had to be done and he was no coward. He owed it to his beloved guardian to hear him out, so he swore to himself that the next time Gimli brought it up, he would force himself to listen.
On the day of his making that decision, Lady Galadriel and her entourage from New Lothlorien came calling. The household staff were in a veritable tizzy trying to come up with proper arrangements for such dignified company, unexpected though they were. But the lady would not hear of such a fuss being made over her, for she had come for one reason only. She would not even allow Legolas to go with her when she went to visit with her Lockbearer. She wished to speak to him alone.
One hour later, she came out of the chambers, graced Legolas with an ethereal smile, and left without words of comfort of consolation.
Legolas did not find out what was said in that hour, for when he entered the room he found his guardian sleeping soundly with the phial of silver gold hair in his hand. A wave of guilt washed over him for having refused the gift, for he knew his dwarf could never rest easy without knowing it was given into the hands of someone who understood its significance. Though he knew he would never be able to bear to look at it once the dwarf was gone, he decided that the next time it was offered he would take it. He could always bury Gimli with it when the time came. He shivered at the thought. It was the first time he had allowed himself to imagine the dwarf’s funeral.
Legolas never got the opportunity to find out if he would have the courage to accept the gift or not, for it was never offered again. Over the next several days, the dwarf was especially distracted and contemplative. He listened quietly when the elf told him the events of the day and patiently accepted whatever care was deemed necessary including eating what was offered without comment or thought. He never once mentioned the future or the fact that his elfling needed to prepare himself for life without him.
Legolas was puzzled by this behavior and even worried for his dwarf’s soundness of mind. It was not at all like Gimli to retreat when he had his mind set on something and he had been unwaveringly determined that the elf should face the fact that he would not be in the world much longer. But now it seemed he had just given up.
Legolas’ worry increased considerably a day later. When he entered Gimli’s chambers, he found him not in his bed or even in his chair by the fire, but outside standing on the balcony and leaning over the rail with his palm outstretched. A long golden thread in his hand caught in the wind and danced away. On the floor was a small throwing axe and Gimli’s precious crystal phial crushed into several pieces. Lady Galadriel’s hair! The three precious strands that had been gifted to the dwarf so long ago now floated free in the wind. For well over half his life Gimli had protected and cherished that phial only to destroy it now? It made no sense at all.
But then Legolas began to wonder if this strange behavior wasn’t his own fault. Could it be that his refusal to accept the gift had driven Gimli to resort to such a drastic action? Perhaps he would rather see it destroyed than left in dubious hands. Legolas’ first instinct was to rush in and demand to know what was going on, but on thinking again he realized that it wouldn’t do to startle his dwarf at this time. It was too late to undo what had just been done and besides, hadn’t Gimli always told him it was better to think things over before acting? Perhaps now was a good time to take that advice seriously. He silently backed out of the room before the dwarf detected his presence.
Over the next couple of days he didn’t stop wondering and he didn’t stop worrying either, for Gimli continued acting strangely. He no longer talked about the inevitability of his death and the need to plan for the future nor did he reminisce about the past as if he had to brand certain memories into his elfling’s mind to sustain the lad in coming days as he had before. He didn’t ask about the doings at Car Annûn or ask after old friends as if he never expected to see them again. He didn’t talk of his dwarven family with whom he expected to soon be reunited. He only sat listening to Legolas’ falsely cheerful chatter with a thoughtful expression on his face and a strange gleam in his eye. Oh he nodded on occasion and added a word or two to show he was aware and interested, but for the most part he was strangely mute.
It was then that Legolas began to wonder that the stress of worrying over Gimli’s mysterious behavior was beginning to play tricks on his own mind, for somehow-some bizarre and crazy way-the dwarf began to seem…well…better. It was impossible. Legolas knew that. He told himself it was just wishful thinking; his deep desire to believe it had made it seem so! And yet he somehow couldn’t shake the feeling that his dwarf was gaining strength and beginning to recover. Such a thing could not happen; mortals did not recover from old age and yet…
The next morning he was surprised to find his dwarf not only sitting up in a chair, but also doing his best to comb through his long white beard, something he hadn’t done on his own in some time. Legolas hurried forward and fell to his knees in front of his guardian in order to take over the task. Gimli only smiled contentedly, handed over the comb and then sat back to enjoy this special attention from his elf.
Again Legolas was reminded of their last years in Middle Earth when things had been reversed and his guardian had so gently and so devotedly brushed and braided his hair for him when he had been too weak and ill to do it himself. Back then he hadn’t allowed himself to consider that the time would come when he would be the one who had to care for his dwarf. Gimli was the strongest, most reliable being he had ever known, so it hadn’t occurred to him that the dwarf could ever be weak or frail. Unwanted tears sprang to his eyes at the thought, but he only blinked madly and continued to smooth out the snarls, afraid to try to speak for fear of choking on the words. Unfortunately one morbid thought lead to another and before long he was imagining himself brushing and braiding his guardian’s beard one final time before sending him to his long rest. He hadn’t thought of it lately, but of course he would be the one who would attend to such matters. He had long ago sworn to do so and it was only proper. This time blinking wasn’t enough. He had to duck his head to hide the tears that slid down his cheeks, and he couldn’t completely smother the sob that issued from his throat.
Of course Gimli noticed. A gnarled hand reached out to touch the elf’s cheek and carefully brush the tears away with his thumb.
“Lamb, we need to talk,” Gimli said, “ I have something I must tell ye.”
The words hit Legolas like a physical blow, causing him to cringe and clutch at his stomach. So many days had passed without mention of such things that the elf had been unprepared for the topic. All his resolve to listen the next time the dwarf wanted to talk fled at once. He leapt to his feet as if to flee, but this time he was not quick enough. Gimli grasped him firmly by the wrist and would not let go, and Legolas was shocked to find that he could not free himself this time.
It was true! The dwarf really was stronger!
Still he continued to struggle until Gimli spoke again, this time very firmly.
“Legolas! That is enough! I have something important to say and ye will stop this nonsense at once and listen to me, or ye will sorely regret it. Is that plain enough, Elfling, or do I need to clarify it for ye?”
Legolas was so stunned at the tone and the fact that he couldn’t get away that he stood still at once with an expression on his face that was so comical that Gimli couldn’t help chuckling. Legolas did not find anything amusing.
“It is not funny, Elvellon,” Legolas reproached his guardian. Gimli could see the hurt in his elfling’s eyes and softened his tone.
“Of course it is not,” he softly agreed, “But I have something to say and you must listen without interruption while I say it.”
Legolas still felt a mad desire to flee, but he took a deep breath, swallowed hard and nodded.
“Come, lamb. Sit with me while we talk.”
Gimli reached for his elf’s hand and drew him forward while patting own thigh with the other; an invitation for his lad to sit in his lap. Legolas strongly objected.
“Elvellon, I can’t! I’ll crush you!”
But fighting seemed to be futile this day and he ended up perched on the dwarf’s knee, though he tried his best not to put his full weight on him. Gimli put a quick end to that by grasping Legolas about the waist and knocking him off balance and shifting his weight back against him.
“Never, laddie! The day will never come that ye are too heavy to sit in my lap.”
Once again Legolas was shocked that he couldn’t seem to free himself from the dwarf’s suddenly strong grasp, though only a week ago he had had days where he was too weak to rise from his bed. It was uncanny! And he was certain now that he was not imagining it!
“Gimli, what in Mahal’s name, is going on?”
“Only this,” Gimli said, reaching over his shoulder and bringing one of his long braids forward. He placed it in his elfling’s hand. Legolas gave him an odd expression, but examined the hair nonetheless and then suddenly leapt up and dropped the braid as if it had stung him. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again and then picked up the braid once more. Shocking! Impossible even! And yet…and yet…undeniable! He could see it with his own eyes.
The hair that had been as white as snow for over one hundred years now had a small but very obvious vein of russet running through it! Legolas felt the blood drain from his face.
“Wh…what does this mean?”
Gimli stood and reached our to steady his elf.
“It means, my dear sweet lad, that things are about to change! Come, sit with me and let me explain.”
This time Legolas did not object when Gimli pulled him into his lap being far too stunned to put up a fight even if he had wanted to. Instead he leaned into the hand that began stroking his hair in a way that was comfortingly familiar and listened as the dwarf told his tale. It had begun with Lady Galadriel’s visit.
“Ye were right to refuse to take the phial of hair, laddie,” the dwarf began, “My lady helped me to see that right off. It was never meant to belong to ye. It was never your choice to make.”
“Choice?” Legolas was clearly and understandably confused,
“Aye lamb a choice she called it, and I tell ye, I must have looked just as flummoxed and ye do presently! But it seems that the gift that was given to me all those years ago during the quest was more than just a symbolic gesture as we had always believed, for the Lady of the Galadhrim has the sight, and she knew even back then, that this time would come. She understood that I would find it impossibly painful to part from ye, and so she made the arrangement then to give me this choice.”
“I do not understand…”
“Of course ye do not, lamb, and ye never will if ye keep interrupting me! As I was saying, the gift was more than we’ve always believed. Those three strands of hair were tied up with a promise of a future choice, though of course I did not know that until a few days ago. It was the choice to accept, or not, the gift the Valar have reserved for mortals.”
Seeing that his elfling was still not understanding, he lowered his voice and said plainly, “Lady Galadriel had gifted me with the chance to choose to remain forever here in the undying lands-the opportunity for immortality, lad. To gain back my former strength and return to the youthful vigor I had back when I was given the gift originally. To make such a choice, all I had to do was set the hair adrift on the winds of Tol Eressëa.”
Legolas’ eyes grew wide at the implications of this, and then wider still as it dawned on him that the choice had already been made. He nearly toppled to the floor as he sat suddenly straight up. Indeed he might have done so had Gimli not caught him in time.
“You don’t mean…”
“Oh, Lamb, but I do! I broke the phial two days ago.”
“I know it, Elvellon, I saw you do it! Why didn’t you tell me of it earlier?”
Legolas threw his arms around his guardian’s neck and breathed in the familiar scent of leather and pipeweed to assure himself that this was more than just a beautiful dream. But then he thought of something else and pulled back, regarding his dwarf in concern.
“But Gimli, that means never being reunited with your dwarven kin. You must not make such a sacrifice on my account. I couldn’t live with myself if you were to do so.”
Gimli reached out to give his elf’s braid an admonitory yank.
“This is exactly why I did not tell ye of this before! It was my business and my decision to make, not yours. I dinna need advice from a featherbrained stripling such as yourself and I didn’t want ye to influence me in any way. It was MY choice, and my choice only. Furthermore I’ll have you know that not everything has to do with you, elfling! It is the height of arrogance to think so, not to mention very poor manners besides and ye know very well how I feel about such things!”
As he had done many times before, the elf laughed at his guardian’s antics. He knew perfectly well that Gimli’s pretend annoyance was meant to distract him from his worries. The dwarf never made a decision of any kind that was not done with his best interest in mind. He wondered if he should feel guilty for that, and perhaps in days to come he might.
But for now-for this exact moment in time-he felt nothing but unadulterated joy! It was a miracle-a priceless gift form the Valar-and if he could not quite wrap his mind about how that had happened it didn’t matter. His dwarf was going nowhere, and for now, that was all he wanted to know. There would be time indefinite to figure out the rest.