“Hail, Legolas son of Thranduil and Gimli son of Glóin, last of the Nine Walkers, the Company of the Ring.” The being that greeted them on the Lonely Isle was unlike anything Gimli had ever seen before, although he was somehow reminded of Gandalf during his moments of glory.

“And to whom,” said Legolas, far too smoothly for Gimli’s tastes, “do we owe this grand welcome?”

“I am Eönwë, herald of Manwë, and since you were especial friends of his servant Olórin, who secured passage for Gimli in particular, I was asked to greet you in a fashion fitting your deeds in Middle-earth.”

Gimli took one brief look at the elves who lined the docks. “I almost dread to think how Frodo’s arrival must have looked, both for him and the company he bore.”

“You may hear enough of that tale from others. For now, enter and be refreshed. There are many who are most desirous of making your acquaintance.”

And indeed there were. Once Gimli realised that the “Olórin” continually referred to was yet another of Gandalf’s names, he decided that he was far too easily surprised for his age.

Worst and best of all, though, was when they were both summoned to the council of all the Powers, who it turned out were actually very interested in all that happened on Middle-earth. Yavanna inquired after her forests and the small dwellers of the Shire, and Varda asked after the reunited realms and the reign of their first King and Queen. Oromë was most desirous of news from the East which Legolas was willing to give. It was all getting a little too Elvish for Gimli, although he knew that was to be expected as soon as he decided to accompany his friend West.

At last one on the thrones asked to speak with Gimli in private. “Come with me,” he said in a booming voice, and Gimli followed him out a door. Through a maze of tunnels he found himself at a forge: the most beautiful, well-equipped, well-stocked forge he had ever seen.

“I had taken,” said the Vala, “thought to provide for you as soon as I learned of your arrival. It has long been a desire of my heart to see one of my creation in the flesh, and I would not have you overwhelmed by a land not your own.”

Gimli looked into his eyes; they were burning with the same fire that burnt in every Dwarf’s. “Mahal?” he said.

Aulë gave one solemn nod.

Gimli bowed low before him.

“As soon as you choose your dwellings, I will have my people come and give you a forge unlike any you have used before, for what time remains to you. If you ever lack for company, I know that many of the Noldor in Tirion will be interested in your acquaintance. They could use the insight a Dwarf brings to give them new ideas on their projects.”

“This is a gracious gift indeed, my lord,” said Gimli, bowing again.

“Conduct yourself in a manner worthy of it, as you have all your life,” replied Aulë, “and you will have paid for it in gold.”