CHAPTER 3: JOURNEY

The morning dawned fair and bright, but more exuberant still was the mood of the hobbit and human children who could not sit still in the carriages that would bear them to the landings at Harlond.  They had hardly been able to contain their excitement since the previous night when King Elessar had proudly announced after dinner that the Star of Eärendil would be making its first journey down the Anduin to the Bay of Belfalas, and that all his friends were invited to be on board with him and his family. As the room erupted in cheers and a hundred questions, Aragorn’s grey eyes had sought and found the blue ones of the elven friend who had made all this possible, and even from across the room, the King’s delight had been enough to draw a smile of satisfaction from the elf prince.

More smiles of unquenchable joy were what filled the carriages this morning.

“Are we really, truly going to stay in the sea, Momma?” Elanor asked her mother for the fifth time as the carriages began to move, eliciting a laugh from the ladies.

“Well, we won’t be in the sea, sweetheart, but we will be on the shores of it,” Rosie replied with a bright smile. “Prince Imrahil has kindly agreed to host us for two days when we arrive in Dol Amroth.”

“What time will we get there? Will the ship be fast? Can I steer it? Will the horses go on board? Will my Bear be afraid?”

Queen Arwen, the Lady Éowyn, and the wives of Sam Gamgee and Peregrin Took suddenly found themselves overwhelmed with questions from a group of impatient little ones on their hands. They did their best to keep the children occupied and breathed sighs of relief when the carriages finally departed from the City and the passing scenery kept the youngsters enraptured.   

Merry, Sam and Pippin waved to Gimli as they rode off with the first escort of guards, at whose head rode Faramir. The dwarf waved back, then turned to Elladan and Elrohir, who were already on their horses. Gimli and the twin elves, as well as the second small group of guards who would ride with them, were waiting for Aragorn and Legolas to say their farewells to Thranduil, for the elf king would be making his own journey on land back to the Greenwood as soon as the ship-bound travelers left. Éomer had already departed early for Rohan, being unable to put off previously arranged commitments.

“May your return home be swift and pleasant, my lord,” Aragorn said with a parting gesture to Thranduil and moved aside to a discreet distance from him and his son.

The tall elf king beamed a smile at Legolas, and grasped his shoulders affectionately. Remembering how he had very nearly lost this son to a mad man bent on revenge not so many months ago, Thranduil could not help the tinge of concern in his voice as he told the prince – in full hearing of the elves of Ithilien – not to look for trouble.

Legolas groaned a little as he rejoined with a disclaimer. “I do not seek it, Adar,” he insisted, and everyone could almost hear a hint of pertness in his tone when he added: “I flee from it, but it pursues me of its own accord.”

The elf king cocked an eyebrow at his son’s remark. “Well then, ion nin, I have only one piece of advice for you,” he said wryly. “Learn to run faster.”  

Amidst the suppressed sniggers from the other elves at this rare quip from their king, Thranduil quickly planted a kiss on each of his son’s reddening cheeks. Despite the lighthearted words he had just uttered, he now whispered quietly, unable to keep the slight unease out of his voice: “Take care on this journey, Greenleaf.”

Already needled by his father’s earlier ribbing, Legolas now wondered when his father would stop worrying about him, but he suppressed his chagrin and smiled reassuringly. “It will be safe, Adar. Prince Imrahil’s shipbuilders are the best –”

“I refer not to the ship, Legolas, and you know it,” the elf king interrupted. “Take care of this,” he added, placing a strong hand on his son’s chest, over his heart. 

For a few moments, the two fair figures stood stock still, and the only movement on their forms was the rippling of their long golden hair in the morning breeze rivaling the radiance of shifting sun beams. They looked at each other with a depth of love in their eyes, silently sending and receiving an unspoken concern. From where he stood, Aragorn’s sharp ears caught Thranduil’s warning, and he tensed a little as well, for he shared the elf king’s sentiments.

Legolas broke the silence. “I will, Adar,” he replied. “Saes, do not be troubled; I will be well. Ride safely yourself.”

Not wishing to dwell on his misgivings or to dispel the pleasant mood of the ship-bound company, Thranduil released a deep breath and nodded. He threw his son and Aragorn a final smile and walked over to where Hamille and his kin were waiting with the escort of Greenwood elves. On a sudden thought, the King turned abruptly to Hamille and surprised the elf with a broad grin.

“By the way, Hamille,” he said lightly, “you might wish to make another visit home soon. I hear that there will be a particularly good fall of chestnuts this year.”

Startled silence seized the elves for a moment before the whole group of Firstborns – save Hamille – burst into silvery laughter. Aragorn, Gimli and the sons of Elrond looked on in puzzlement, till a chuckling Legolas swiftly explained that Hamille had a particular fondness for roasted chestnuts, which had earned him the nickname of ‘Chestnut’ as an elfling.

Hamille, with cheeks as red as Legolas’ had been, bowed his head and cleared his throat. “Aye, Aran nin,” he replied softly to his king.

A smile remained on Thranduil’s face as he patted the elf’s shoulder, but his tone turned more serious when he whispered to him, hiding the words behind the noise of the group’s talk and laughter: “Look after him, Hamille. His pain will not be light.”

The elf’s head jerked up and saw the depth of concern in Thranduil’s eyes, and he realized how cleverly the sage King had used the laughter to prevent his son from hearing what he was now charging the younger elf with.

“Aye, Aran nin,” Hamille repeated quietly, though it was for a different reason now. “And I am glad that my... ahem… attachment… to chestnuts… is of some use after all.”

Now the King laughed aloud as well, with no one else the wiser about his little exchange with Hamille. He nodded gratefully to his son’s loyal friend and walked over to his waiting steed.

After Thranduil’s departure, Aragorn and his company prepared to leave for Harlond, directing their horses towards the exit from the seventh level of the City. But they had advanced only a short distance before Aragorn halted them. Puzzled, they turned back to witness an unexpected scene.

Legolas had dismounted and was engaged in what seemed to be a debate between himself and the little group of elves from Ithilien. Some were on their horses, some were just getting off, and Hamille appeared to be speaking for all of them. Their speech was in Sindarin, so only Aragorn and the twins from Imladris could understand them.

“What in blazing peat flames are those blasted elves quarrelling about now?” Gimli grumbled.

No one responded immediately to the Dwarf, but Aragorn frowned and exchanged a knowing look with Elladan and Elrohir before asking: “I thought it had been settled?”

“Apparently not,” Elladan remarked, shrugging his slim shoulders, and watched the King and his twin trot their horses back to the group of elves. Turning to Gimli, he quickly briefed the Dwarf on the subject of the elves’ contention, while the listening Dwarf nodded in uneasy understanding.

“It cannot be pleasant for Legolas either way,” the elf finished before he moved off to join his brothers.  

Elladan’s explanation kindled in the dwarf a spark of concern for his elven friend, but with his limited knowledge of Sindarin, he could not tell which way the debate was going. He tried to obtain some clue from what he could see, which, unfortunately, was of little use: none of the voices were raised, nor were there any angry gestures; only the expressions of displeasure on the fair faces of the Firstborn told the watching company that they were indeed in disagreement over something. This observation only served to annoy Gimli, who could not fathom how elves – even in an argument – still managed to look composed.

“Well, if they’re bickering – at least throw some emotion into it to keep the rest of us entertained!” the Dwarf muttered gruffly, masking his concern. “It’s so… so… disgustingly bland!”

Gimli’s remarks elicited laughter from the Gondorian escort, but the dwarf did not share their mirth despite being the source of it. He did not like the tenseness he saw on his friend’s face as the prince spoke with the elves in his service. And neither did Aragorn and the sons of Elrond as they witnessed the little argument from a discreet distance.

“You will all remain,” Legolas instructed firmly. “You know my wishes.”

“And you know we would do anything you asked of us, Bridhon nin, but the King commands otherwise,” Hamille rejoined calmly. “You cannot expect us to let you go alone.” The other elves nodded in consensus, murmuring their agreement.

The elf prince was incredulous. “I need no surveillance,” he protested, “and I never heard him give the command.”

Hamille sighed. “It was whispered only to me,” he stated patiently, bowing his head when he saw Legolas’ eyes harden.

Aragorn could see the firm set of the prince’s mouth and knew that this argument was upsetting him a great deal. The man recalled Thranduil’s earlier words and knew they had somehow contributed to this contention between Legolas and the other elves now. Feeling a little disturbed, he dismounted and approached the elves slowly.

“Your loyalty to my Adar  is beyond reproach, Hamille, but you… all of you… also made me a vow when we built the ship,” Legolas reminded the elves evenly, sweeping his eyes over the group. “No one goes to the Bay except me.”

Aragorn saw the elves turn to one another with some distress in their faces, not knowing how to extricate themselves from a vow they had made earlier. Silence reigned over them for a few moments, and Legolas turned his attention back to Hamille, who stood with bowed head.

“And you, Hamille?” the prince demanded a little sadly. “Would you break your vow, too?”

Hamille remained silent and unmoving, and Aragorn could feel the uncharacteristic tension in the aura from the elven beings as they struggled with their emotions. He understood why Legolas was so resolutely rejecting the company of his kin on the journey, and he knew how unhappy his friend must be, but he was not used to seeing Legolas this irate, and certainly not with his kin. He remained at a distance, waiting to see what would unfold.

Hamille raised his head at last, and Aragorn could see the distress in the faithful elf’s features.

“I would never break a vow to you, Legolas,” he said softly, disarming the prince with the use of his name. “But I also wish to keep my promise to your Adar and my liege lord, so I beg of you – if you will not allow anyone else to accompany you, at least let me do it. The others can disembark at Pelargir.”

Legolas shook his head and sighed. “You know I am ever grateful for your companionship, mellon nin, but you know not what you will – ”

“If you still refuse, I will ride all the way to the Bay and find you there,” Hamille interjected, looking unblinkingly at his prince, “so what you try to avoid will still come to pass. But I would much rather go on the ship with you.” His tone softened then as he pleaded again. “Saes, Legolas, we have been friends a long, long time. Please… release me from that vow.”

Aragorn felt the sharp intake of breath by the elf prince, heard the hiss from his lips, and felt him struggling painfully with the alternatives presented before him. The glittering eyes of his elves were trained on him, awaiting his decision. Then Legolas’ shoulders sagged, and there was a mixture of sadness and frustration in his voice when he spoke.

“If there is no way to dissuade you from it, Hamille… so be it. I will release you from that vow – this one time,” he said resignedly. “But there is no need for anyone else to come.” 

The brown-haired elf lost some of the tenseness that had been on his face. “I will accept that for now,” he conceded, relieving the whole group of the tension that had gripped them. Even Aragorn felt easier in his heart.

The elf prince himself was clearly glad that the debate had been resolved. “Well, I could not have stopped you forcibly, in any case,” he said to Hamille in mock exasperation. “Even as an elfling, you were bigger and stronger, and that has not changed.”

And you would do well to remember it, my prince, Aragorn could almost hear Hamille say in his mind, though nothing passed the lips of the amused elf.

Amidst the light laughter that followed the elf prince’s jest, Legolas turned and saw Aragorn and the sons of Elrond studying him. They said nothing, but the elf prince saw the unuttered question in their eyes and heard it on the tips of their tongues.

“Aye, I am sure,” he said quietly in answer, giving them a reassuring nod, before they all returned to their horses and the waiting company, and departed for Harlond.

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The Star of Eärendil could not have asked for better conditions under which to make its maiden voyage. It did indeed seem as if the Valar were blessing the journey that day and the next, for the strong grey ship sailed steadily with the swift current and favorable wind from the East. The Standard of the King waved proudly from the mast, and the people who dwelt in small pockets of farmland along the shores of the Anduin watched in wonder and reverence as the billowing sails proclaimed: Behold the Vessel of King Elessar!

On the evening of the second day, Legolas stood by himself on the deck, comfortable with leaving the ship in the capable hands of the experienced men Prince Imrahil had assigned to the task. The elf noted with quiet satisfaction the utter happiness on the face of the King as he stood at the helm like a sea god, his cloak billowing in the wind and his dark hair streaming behind him. When he turned his face to the setting sun and stretched his hand out as if to touch it, and the flame of the West fell upon his countenance and set it on fire, Legolas saw in the features of his friend the joy of a Captain, the pride of a noble lineage, and the fulfillment of a dream the Man did not even know he had till an elf who loved him gave it form.

Legolas then noted the disbelieving awe that had not left the shining faces of the hobbits – younger and older alike – as they waved happily to the tiny figures on land. He watched Faramir and Eowyn laughing over some humorous matter, and even the Gondorian guards seemed at ease. All day long, the pleasant gusts had tempered the heat of mighty Anor in a clear sky, and even now, they fanned light, dark and brown tresses about flushed, smiling faces as they swept away – for a while at least – the cares and concerns of running a kingdom, or a county, or a family.

The elf prince took in a deep breath of the river air and let it out. This scene of joyful respite before him was exactly what had hoped to see when he first planned the building of this ship; this was what made all the months of hard work worthwhile. And they have not even reached the Royal Bath yet, he thought contentedly.

The only sight that brought a slight frown to his fair countenance was that of Hamille. Although the tall elf was presently enjoying a conversation with Gimli, Legolas knew that the smile would depart from that elven face in a day or two, and then… who knew what would happen afterward? But the decision had been made, and Hamille would have to accept the consequences.

Legolas turned his eyes back to the deep waters of the Anduin as the ship sailed smoothly down its length. He heard footsteps behind him and smiled, knowing who it would be even without looking.

“How do you fare, my friend?” he asked without turning around. “Is the journey pleasant enough for you?”

A grunt was heard in reply as heavy boots clomped to a stop beside the elf. “Well, it’s much easier to keep steady on my feet this time around,” a gruff voice stated, thinking back to his first journey on the Anduin over ten years ago. “Plenty of wind, and there’s no thought of war or a Ring or the Quest hanging over our heads now. So, I have no complaints on any score, but one.”

“Oh?” Legolas queried, turning his head to look at a frowning Gimli. “What can I do for you then? Food and drink a-plenty have been long stored below, and we do not want for visions of beauty – just look around us. The galleys can offer you anything you might need, Master Dwarf, save pipe weed, for which I am afraid there is no such stock on board.”

“In case you have not noticed, Master Elf,” came the wry reply, “we – by some fortuitous happenstance – are in the company of three hobbits and one former Ranger who would never leave home or dwelling without the Leaf. There is therefore very little chance that they would not have it in stock. You do not need to fear that I will trouble you with that.”

The elf grinned. “Food it is then!” he declared teasingly.

“Blast you, Elf,” the Dwarf said gruffly from beside Legolas. “You act all smart and brave, jesting each league between Harlond and the Bay, when you hide your coming torment?”

The elf quickly hid the twinge of perturbation he felt at the reminder and lifted his eyebrows at the Dwarf next to him. “And pray tell me, my good Gimli, what brought this subject up of a sudden, on a glorious day –”

“Don’t you hope to squirm out of this conversation by pronouncing my goodness,” the Dwarf interrupted, wagging a finger at the elf. “And sudden it is not, elfling, for you have apparently been struggling with this for some time and – according to a very reliable source – have been obstinately refusing advice from several quarters as well.”

“I am no elfling and have not been for nigh a thousand years, stalwart Dwarf,” Legolas rejoined immediately, feigning a look of hurt. “And I take advice gladly when it is needed, thank you.”

“So you refuse it now?” Gimli challenged, staring at the elf.

“Aye, my friend, though it is well meant,” Legolas replied easily, “for there are none here who can offer me advice based on experience, and indeed I am glad of that, for I would wish it upon no one – including your…’source’… who, I might add, has had no experience of it either, although that will soon change.” His eyes returned to Hamille at those words, his features immediately reflecting his dismay.

The Dwarf lord grunted and stroked his beard, considering his friend’s words. “Hrrrmphh, you have a point, I must concede,” he agreed grudgingly. “You speak truly: no one here can offer you any wisdom on the… um… the affliction.” He lapsed into silence and fingered the wood on the walls of the ship, not quite knowing how to phrase the question he longed to ask. After a few moments, he cleared his throat and voiced the query: “Is it… will it be very painful, Legolas, for you?” He looked up at the tall elf and puffed out his chest. “Not that it’s going to worry me or anything, mind you, but I don’t care to have a moaning, groaning elf on our hands!”

Meeting the dwarf’s gaze steadily, Legolas saw through the gruff front to the tender heart beneath, and smiled. “The ‘affliction’, my dear friend, has a name,” he said kindly. “It is called the Sea-longing; you need not skip around it for my sake, though I thank you for your gentle thoughtfulness.” He laughed lightly at the look of horror that came over the Dwarf’s features upon hearing the word ‘gentle’ being used to describe him. “And yes, it can be… distressing,” the elf prince continued, “but I certainly hope I shall not be moaning or groaning to cause you or anyone else undue unease.” The sparkle disappeared from Legolas’ eyes then when he added: “I cannot tell, however, what Hamille will feel, but I fear that he will be affected by the call of the gulls as I was, which is why I was anxious for my kin to avoid the journey to the Bay. Hamille was too stubborn to listen; he could not have imagined what it is like, and now I wonder… I wonder if he will wish to resist it as I have…” his voice was almost a whisper as he finished his sentence, “…or sail.”

Not knowing what else to say for the moment, elf and dwarf turned back to studying the scenery again, watching Time flow with the current. The laughter and shrill voices of children wafted over to them, light and buoyant as the white foam on the crests of waves in the wake of the ship; yet, little weights tugged at the minds of the two companions, sending them to quieter depths, till the laughter was a distant murmur on the surface of their thoughts and the brightness of mirth was, for the present, diffused.  

“What about Elrohir and Elladan?” Gimli spoke at last. “And… and Arwen…what about her?”

“They will not be going beyond Pelargir,” the elf replied immediately. “It has been decided. We will all visit the Royal Bath and spend a night in the town, after which we will be continuing the journey to the Bay, but the twins will accompany Arwen back to the City from there. They decided that it would be in their best interests to… avoid the Sea… for now, at least.”

Gimli grunted his agreement. “It would be harder for her,” he noted.

Legolas nodded. “I will be able to leave… eventually,” he affirmed, his voice soft and sad. “But if she is afflicted, there will be no such release for her... not ever. And her brothers… they stay for her, so they wish to avoid it as well, at least for the remainder of her… her time, lest they too give in to the call.”

Dwarf and Elf lapsed into silence again, pondering the bittersweet consequences of this trip for themselves and those dear to them. Legolas rested his forearms on the side railing of the ship, while Gimli clutched at it, still not entirely trustful of a vessel that was not on solid ground.

“This hadn’t occurred to me before, Elf, or I might have tried to stop you from making this journey,” the dwarf said at last, “I didn’t notice the conflict within you.”

Legolas shook his head at those words, laughing lightly. “Nay, you did not fail in taking any action, Gimli, nor did you lack in observation,” he stated firmly, “for there was no struggle, no conflict within me; there never was.” The elf kept his eyes on the speckles of gold reflected off the river below, and dropped his voice lower as he added: “And even if there had been, I would not have missed this journey for anything, for I know how much this means to Aragorn.”

Legolas closed his eyes and sighed, hearing no sound from the dwarf beside him, save a slight shuffle of feet. Bowing his head, the elf smiled and almost whispered the rest of his words: “I hated to see him on the Black Ships, Gimli – I hated to see him captain of the wretched fleet of the enemy. This voyage on his ship… this is the journey he should be making. Words cannot describe the joy I feel at seeing him at the helm of his own vessel, Gimli, and the satisfaction of seeing him happy… aaah, it numbs all pain. Aye, it is overwhelmed… and I gladly bear it.”

Silence reigned for a few moments as the elf kept his eyes closed and heard the sighing of the wind in his ears. “Gimli,” he spoke again. “I would that you not speak to Aragorn about this; he is aware of everything, of course, but he does not need to be reminded of it, or to hear more about the claim that the Sea will have upon my heart.”

“And yet he comes to know,” a voice said quietly behind him at the same time that Gimli coughed, and Legolas whipped around to see the grey eyes of the King fixed upon him. The elf threw the dwarf a hard look, but the latter merely shrugged his shoulders.

“I thought you would have heard him approaching,” Gimli muttered  in explanation.

Legolas’ features softened, and he laughed uneasily. “He has learnt too well from the elves,” he quipped, sweeping aside the strands of golden hair being blown into his eyes as he turned back to the King. “Aragorn –”

“I do not ask it of you, mellon nin,” the man said softly. “You have no need to go the whole way, for the thought of you already marks each league of this journey for me. Stay –”

“I wish to go, Aragorn, and we will speak no more of this, as we agreed,” the elf insisted, straightening his shoulders and looking unblinkingly at the man. “This is my choice, Estel; from beginning to end, it is my choice.”

“Hrrmphh, and not necessarily the best one,” Gimli mumbled, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “But try telling this rock-headed elf –”

“Let us leave this subject,” the elf said quickly, clapping a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders and ignoring the King’s expression of discontent. The elf turned to look at the western sky and his eyes brightened. “Lo, Pelargir approaches,” he announced, and smiled at his friends. “Come, it is time to tell the others!”

The three friends did not know it then, but they and their companions would not be the only visitors to Pelargir that night.

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Silent and unseen, they approached, and a rage was in them.

They remembered, though they had been forgotten. Twice.

Note:

I’m sorry I may not be able to write as regularly as before, but the next chapter will be up much sooner than this one; that’s a promise. Hope you don’t give up on me.  :–)

Further information on Thranduil’s remark about chestnuts to Hamille may be found in Chapters 6 and 7 of my other story Once Upon a Strongbow.