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It is recorded in the Red Book that in the year 120 of the Fourth Age, after the death of King Elessar, Legolas the Elf was sent a dream from over the Sundering Seas. The Lady Galadriel, who had passed into the West at the end of the last Age, spoke tidings to him that it was known that he would soon depart for the West, and when he did, the Valar had granted that he might bring Gimli the Dwarf Glóin’s son with him, for the knowledge of their great love, and for the love that the Lady herself bore Gimli, among all others of his race.
It was true that Legolas’s heart had heard the call of the horns of Ulmo, and there had been a great yearning in him since first he set sail from Umbar during the final days of the War of the Ring. He tarried now in Middle Earth for the sake of his companions, of whom there had been but two remaining, and now only one, and it gladdened him beyond measure that he might take Gimli with him, and be forced to endure no parting. For the Elves know not what may come of the Children of Aulë after they depart indeed from Middle Earth.
And so he came to Gimli, who was now old by the reckoning of Dwarves, being in his two-hundred and sixty-second year, and the Lord of Aglarond. His hair and beard were now white as the snows upon Zirak-zigil, woven with the braids of his status and hung with jewels, and beads of mithril and iron. Though Dwarves age, it is not after the fashion of Men or Hobbits, and though Gimli had grown venerable, he was weak neither in body nor mind. So he agreed to come with Legolas, who was the dearest and longest friend of his life, and left the lordship of his halls to his sister, Ái, for she was stout and bold and wise, and had heirs of her body as Gimli did not. He left with her as an heirloom of his house the findëvírin, the three tresses of the hair of Galadriel, set indeed as he had promised in imperishable crystal. The crystal was of such a substance and subtlety that it glowed not of its own beauty, but only caught and made greater the beauty of that which was set within it, and the hairs of the Lady of Light were as wires of gold, or moonlight, or the edges of leaves that are gilded in the blended light of Arien and Tilion when both are in the sky.
Together, the Elf and the Dwarf crafted a vessel for the undertaking of that journey, and though Gimli had little knowledge of woodcraft, even a ship of the Teleri could not have had finer fittings of brass, nor a bell that sounded so sweetly. And when it was finished, a small caravel to be crewed by two, they named it after their friend who had died, Telcontar, and Legolas blessed it for the journey, praying that Uinen spread her calms over the ship-roads, and that it would find the hither shore untroubled. Gimli, for his part, stamped a boot on the ground, liking not entirely the notion of a sea-journey that would keep him from firm bedrock for weeks.
It was a fortnight since their departure from the Grey Havens, and the fangs of the Pelori were nigh upon them, when Gimli broke the silence of thought and labour, and asked, ‘What know you of the tongue of the Dwarves, Legolas?’
This was a strange question, for the tongue of the Dwarves, their secret Khuzdul, is not spoken of to the other races, and is a treasure the Dwarves guard as jealously as their gold.
‘Very little,’ said Legolas in answer, ‘save what I have heard from you. It is a strange and uncomely tongue, to my ears.’
At this, Gimli scowled, though it was a scowl long known, and with no threat of the axe behind it. ‘Perhaps when we get to the Blessed Realm, you may tell Mahal how strange and uncomely you think the labours of his creation, and see what he has to say to you.’
Legolas’s clear laugh rang over the waves. ‘Well said, friend Gimli! I am glad you shall ever be here to clip my tongue when it needs amending. Forgive my words. What meant you?’
‘None other than Dwarves know our language, this is true, for Khuzdul was the Maker’s gift to us. And so the names which we give to the world are not in that tongue; that name, our root-name, is kept a secret and not even carved on our tombs.’
At this a puzzlement fell over Legolas’s fair young face, for though he had spent many years of his life in the company of Dwarves, perhaps more indeed than any other Elf in the histories of Midde Earth, he still often found himself puzzled by their customs and habits. ‘That is a strange thing,’ he murmured, taken with thought. ‘Then is Gimli not your true name?’
‘Indeed it is not. Our Khuzdul names we trust only with our closest blood, and the loves of our hearts.’
Then, Legolas thought he began to understand, and he felt himself humbled, and a warmth grew in his breast that was not merely the warmth of sun and sea breeze. He said nothing, merely waited, and Gimli, by the tiller, slapped the wood with his broad palm, and looked away, for even the stone-hardiest of the Dwarves may be abashed at the giving of such gifts.
‘I would tell you my name,’ he rumbled. ‘If you would hear it.’
And at that, Legolas Thranduilion smiled the slow smile of the Eldar, who have known long years of sorrow and joy, so that their joy is all the more poignant. He was glad once more that Gimli had consented to this journey with him, and he said, ‘I would hear it.’
Gimli spoke then a word in the ancient tongue of the Dwarves, which rumbles with the scrape of rockslides down mountains, and is soft as the shift of gravel under the foot of a Hobbit. What that word was, the true name of Gimli Glóin’s son, Elf-Friend, Lockbearer, Lord of the Glittering Caves, is not recorded here. But so it was that Legolas became the first Elf in all the Ages of the world to learn the secret Dwarvish name of one of the Children of Aulë, as Gimli was himself the first of that race ever to set foot on the green shores of the Undying Lands. It was said in later days that in that, as in much else, they were well-matched.