1. Meeting Heroes
"Every parting is a form of death, as every reunion is a type of heaven." - Tryon Edwards.
Write a story or poem or create a piece of artwork centred on meetings or reunions.
"Where are we going?"
Legolas merely smiled down at his friend. "You will know soon enough."
He then chuckled as his diminutive comrade shook his head so vehemently that the snow-white hair flew where it wasn't contained by braids. "I know better than to ask an Elf a direct question."
"If I tell you now, it will ruin the surprise," Legolas replied evenly, knowing that would only frustrate the Dwarf further. Thankfully, Gimli's health was still good despite his great age among his people, and time spent with Elrond at Barvedui upon arrival in Aman had addressed many of his smaller complaints adequately. It would have been difficult to tease his brother-of-the-heart were Gimli infirm.
Gimli's hands tightened in his belt as the Dwarf shifted to find a more comfortable way to sit behind him on Naur, the stallion Elrond had presented to Legolas as a welcoming gift. Gimli complained mightily whenever required to travel, both here and in Ennor, but he still prefered to ride double over claiming a sedate seat in a wain. "When I'm old and feeble," he invariably said, pointing to the mounting block. "Just hold the beast still…"
The scenery along the way was breathtaking, as Laeriel had promised when she'd made the arrangements in cooperation with Galadriel. Personally, he was glad that the plans had come together on this day, as Gimli had always disappeared to "take care of Dwarf business" before they'd sailed. And in his friend's face, he'd seen a tension that betrayed not being able to attend such "business" here in Aman.
The directions he'd received from his mother were excellent, however, and soon enough they were dismounting and letting a white-robed maia lead Naur away. "You won't tell me now what we're about?" Gimli inquired testily, brushing chestnut horsehairs from his suede trousers and tugging on his braids to tuck them tighter beneath his belt.
"When you are nearly able to discern the answer for yourself, elvellon? Not a chance!" Legolas laughed and dodged gracefully out of Gimli's reach lest he receive a potent slug in the forearm. "Come now. I think we follow that fellow." He pointed and then followed another white-robed maia.
Legolas had always suspected that the halls of the Valar would be opulent and rich, but this hall was simplicity and functionality. Yes, the floors were of polished white marble, as were the arches and pillers, but the furnishings were unadorned elegance. Finally, the two were led to a spacious room where the polished walls displayed thread-like veins of gold and mithril beneath a high gloss polish.
Near the center of the room stood the one they'd come to see, tall, muscular, dark hair trailing down his back over a robe that hung open to display a broad, naked chest and fine broadweave breeches – as well as a well-worn and used thick leather apron that hung well below his knees. The very air about the man seemed to snap with energy and power, and Legolas bowed more deeply than he'd ever bowed in his life. "My Lord," he said very quietly, "It is an honor."
"On the contrary, it is my pleasure," was the deep and accented reply. "I owe you my thanks, son of Thranduil, for you have given me an opportunity to fulfill a to dream I have dearly desired for a very long time."
"Legolas?" Gimli's voice shook, and Legolas looked down to find his friend pale and staring at the figure that stood before him. He knows, Legolas thought and grinned to himself, promising himself to relate every detail of this meeting when he got home. Both his mother and the lady Galadriel would want to know their plan had been a success.
"A special welcome to you, Gimli, son of Glóin," Aulë said in a voice that rumbled through the room. "It is my honor to welcome a child of my Seven sons at long last. May your beard continue to grow full and long, and may your axe remain sharp."
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.