A/N: I would like to say thanks to Nilmandra for allowing me to come back to the site. I will be re-submitting my fics a few at a time over the next couple of days. I hope you all enjoy them.

Though I am sure she's no longer around it would be wrong not to credit Leaward for betaing this fic and for doing a very good job as always.

Night was falling on the third age of the world. Yet Celeborn of Lorien remained on the dock long after the ship had sailed. I watched him, standing still as the carvings on the quayside, never turning his gaze from the horizon.

“I may be but a simple dwarf,” I said gruffly, “and have not the wisdom of Elves, but tell me, why is it that he stands thus, long after even Elven sight has failed him?"

“He grieves.” Legolas turned and fixed me with a knowing look. “As do you Gimli son of Gloin.”

“Then why did he not go with her?” My words rang out like blows of a hammer in an empty cave. Curse these Elven harbours; they were too calm. If I had lost the one I loved, I would not stand silent and mournful by a tranquil sea. I would drown my woes in wine and song, relishing in all that life had to offer.

Yet here I stood.

Strange how three strands of hair could seem more precious than all the Mithril in the earth.

The flames in the lamps lighting the havens seemed like living gold, twisting and beckoning to me like the forges of my home. Still the elf on the dock had not moved. He was a strange creature, this plainspoken elf, so unlike his Lady, whose grace and mercy had won my heart.

My feet carried me forward almost before I knew it.

He towered above me now, as imposing as the Argonath, until the stone melted and he smiled down at me.

“You ask why I am not now beyond the circles of the world?” he murmured, his accent flowing and lilting around the strange sounds. “And I have no answer to give you. Elves are wise in many ways, Master Dwarf, but in matters of the heart we are rendered as foolish as any mortal.”

Not as foolish as a Dwarf who loves an Elven queen, I thought, fumbling with my beard like a nervous boy. What right did I have to stand here? I had been vain as the woodland king to think that I might offer my counsel. I turned to leave him to his peace when he spoke again.

 “You also yearn for her, son of Gloin.”

It was a statement, not a question. I looked up, only to find myself pierced by a keen far-seeing gaze so ancient that I felt studied by time itself.

“It is as if all light is gone from the world.” I said finally, “and it has become less without her.”

At that he laughed. “And they say that Dwarves have no way with words.”

“I have not,” I replied shortly. “I have only an eye for beauty.”

“Then it is a good eye that you have, Master Dwarf,” he replied, still smiling. “But do not despair, for her beauty is not gone forever; it shines still, in another land far from here, and she rests content.” The laughter faded from his face and it grew solemn once more.

I sought a reply but could find none that did not seem hollow and selfish when set against his quiet acceptance of her loss. Then my answer came to me. I unfolded first the leather covering and then the unwound the silk from about the priceless treasure held within it.

Three strands of gold, the only trace of her perfection remaining in mortal lands.

I would offer him one.

Only one?

I would appear only as a greedy Dwarf to him, seeking to hold a treasure not my own from one who deserved it far more. I stared at the spun sunlight in my hands, torn in indecision. This was my most precious possession, a thread of immortality itself.  But it was not mine to possess. The lady who had given it had been gracious and gentle, generous beyond measure. I would do well to honour that legacy.

I looked up from my musing only to realise his eyes had already lighted upon what I carried. I dared not gauge the depth of feeling roused there, nor could I, a mere mortal, judge its meaning.

Then, hardly believing that I was capable of such an act, I held them out to him.

He studied them for a moment with eyes that bespoke a tenderness and a longing that only those who had loved with all their strength could know and perceive.

“Nay, Son of Gloin, by this gift an honour has been bestowed upon you that was denied even to Feanor. It is not for me to take it from you.”

For a moment I was angry, slighted even, by his refusal and all the words I thought to speak were bitter and cruel. I felt he dishonoured his wife. But then I saw he had meant neither not to shame me nor tarnish her memory.

“We are parted for a time she, and I,” he continued, “though this will not endure forever. I shall be united to her once again, and then I shall hold in my hands a thousands strands of gold and we shall remember you.”

Then, in the silent way of elves, he rose and left me alone. I allowed myself to look upon the last radiance of the Elven Queen once more before I placed them safe away against my heart. My eyes sought after the point beyond the meeting of sky and sea to where she dwelt, but I could not penetrate its mystery. I was a Dwarf and a mortal, and I was not meant to seek such places. I sat a while longer with only the sound of the waves and the memory of his words echoing in my ears and, for a moment, I understood what it was to long for the lands across the sea.