Disclaimer: The usual stuff (see Chapter One). I own little to nothing, and certainly nothing relating to this story, character, locations, etc. Except maybe Anaran (he's sort of sweet). Otherwise it's all Tolkien.

A/N: Thank you for the many kind reviews. I still feel like I'm swimming a bit upstream here. A lot of emotion goes into this, but I can't really tell if it comes out. I've spent a lot of time in rewrites and editing and much has been cut because it's just me rambling and not filling the storyline. I apologize if this is getting a little too deep. Review and let me know if it still touches you.

Kudos to Honesty for pointing out Gimli's age. I hope you find I'm a little kinder to him here. You are right, he is the ripe age of 262 at this time. Quite the senior citizen. And I have him walking around in the streets in icy rain? Shame on me! From looking at his family tree, most of the Dwarf's in his line die around the age of 250 or so. Somehow I had it in my head Dwarf's lived even longer than that. Do your research, Ithilien! However, that is not to say there weren't exceptions in the family. For one thing, many in his family died prematurely (from battle wounds, axe mishaps, cave-ins, troll encounters, etc.) so it is hard to gauge their longevity from those examples. We know one cousin, Dwalin, lived to be 340 years old. Another, Thorin III was still alive when Gimli departed and would have been 275 at the time–we really don't know how old he ended up being in the end. Personally, I prefer to think of Gimli as a rather spry old fellow (aside from his pipe tobacco habit, he exercised regularly and had good eating habits – lembas fits all the recommended daily requirements, I'm told. Probably high in fiber too). Without any evidence to say Gimli was a decrepit old thing, I'm going to live with the image I've painted. Besides, in real life I can think of examples of oldsters who break the age mold. My father-in-law is a good one. He's in his LATE 70's, regularly wrestles on the floor with his grandkids, still works part time, travels broadly, and rollerskates competitively. He consistently medals in regional and national competitions and he looks like he's in his 50's. I expect he will be kicking well into his 90's. Go Dad!

Part Four: Visions

Gimli tugged at Legolas' arm, pulling the stumbling Elf to the darkened hearth. He threw off his damp cloak and jacket, then turned away, focusing his attention on bringing warmth and light to the room. "I cannot attend to what I cannot see," he grumbled as he laid kindling in the chimney basin. Sparking a light, the fire flicked the edges of the wood shavings and strips. A good draft licked the flames and within minutes the room was filled with warm light.

"Gimli?" he heard the Elf speak.

"Here, friend," he said turning to face his companion, a genuine smile lighting up his face in relief.

Legolas' eyes focused briefly on his form, but it was a fleeting look, and recognition did not register there. "I have to find Gimli," he said to the Dwarf with a panicked expression. "I must find him." Legolas' eyes now swept the room in search of his lost friend as shivers shook his body.

Gimli's eyes darkened again. Dementia, he thought with dread. He stepped back to his role as Legolas' caretaker and he tentatively approached his friend. In a gentle voice he said, "I am here, Legolas. You are ill and your mind is not quite right. Look at me. I will help you." He began removing the Elf's wet clothing.

The Elf looked again and was clearly confused, trying to recognize the Dwarf's rugged face. His expression danced a myriad of thoughts, but none of them registered familiarity. He began to pull away, but was obviously weak. His effort was feeble and he was left with no choice but to ponder Gimli's face. And then a momentary glimpse of recognition sparked him, and his troubled brow relaxed. "Gimli, it is you!" he whispered a sigh. His voice was vague and innocent as he spoke. "I could not find you. I was looking, but I could not find you! We have to go to the garden now." He said as he started to pull away from the Dwarf again.

"Not until I get you dried off," Gimli said in a chiding voice. He pulled the quilt from the bed and draped it across the Elf's shoulders as he pushed him into a chair. Limply, Legolas complied and it seemed that as swiftly as it came, the brief moment of recognition was lost from his eyes. A blank stare took over the Elf's face. Realizing their conversation was over for the time being, Gimli used the free moment to go to the adjoining bath and gather all the towels. On his return, he continued to strip the Elf of his sodden clothes and to dry the wet limbs. He completed his ministrations with a rough toweling of Legolas' head, making sure he squeezed the ends to collect the droplets that were welling there. Then he covered the Elf again with the heavy blanket.

With this task done, he realized he was unsure what to do next. "I'm too old for this, Elf," he said to the listless figure.

A knock came to the door. Gimli hesitated before answering it. Beyond the threshold he saw the worried face of Eldarion. Relief washed the Dwarf's expression. He had been unsure as to how to explain the presence of a sick Elf to a stranger. "I came to see if you had found Legolas," the young Man said. Touched by his concern, Gimli opened the door more fully and glanced back to the Elf. The prince looked over the Dwarf's shoulder and saw the Elven figure reclined in a chair near the hearth. A great smile spread across his face. "And so you have. May I enter?" he eagerly asked as he looked again at the Dwarf.

The prince walked boldly into the room with quick steps, but stopped short. He could see something was amiss and realized his mistake. There was illness in the eyes of his father's friend. Legolas shivered and Eldarion approached him with trepidation. He bent down to touch the Elf's face and his brow creased with worry. Looking back at Gimli, he gasped, "Gimli, you told me he was ill, but you did not tell me it was like this. What ails him?"

"He would not want you to know," the Dwarf said in a mumble as he protectively moved to Legolas' side.

"I can try to help him," the prince said sincerely.

"We can relieve the symptoms, but nothing else. There is no cure. He is ashamed of his illnesses occurrence, especially around Men," Gimli said defensively, his eyes darting between the would-be king and his friend.

"Then you should tell me, for you obviously forget that I am also half-Elf," Eldarion said in a tone that left little doubt his query was a command rather than a request.

Gimli sighed as he softly answered, "He suffers cuivëar."

Eldarion arched his eyebrows but nodded in understanding as he returned his gaze and touch to the Elf. His eyes registered deep concern. "I have never seen it this bad before. He has a fever," he noted more to himself than to the Dwarf. A look of puzzlement creased his brow. "Elves are not known to be prone to infection and sickness. He must be gravely afflicted to succumb to mortal ailments. How long has he been this way?" he asked the Dwarf over his shoulder.

"Which do you mean? The fever or the illness?" Gimli replied.

"Both."

"The fever I just discovered myself. But the Sea-longing has been with him since the War of the Ring," the Dwarf said.

"Over a century? Dear Eru! How wretched! He is Silvan, is he not? Then it is no wonder he is so ill!" the prince said with astonishment. "Why has he not left?" he asked, forgetting the delicate intimacy he was broaching in that question. Gimli's hackles went up. If this prince understood the disease before him, surely he knew it was a matter of decorum toward Elven nature that kept one from asking such a question. It was not information shared lightly and one of his chief concern's with sharing any knowledge of the illness with Men.

Gimli answered as tactfully as he could. "You should tell me Eldarion, why your mother did not leave. Then I would say Legolas stayed for reasons of like."

Eldarion realized his misstep. His face showed gratitude to the Dwarf for treating his answer deferentially. He said sadly, "She dies of a broken heart." Noble eyes registered newfound understanding as he gazed upon the Elf before him. "And so he does too, I suppose."

"His heart and soul are torn. Heartbreak in all forms sunders him." Gimli said with a mournful sigh. He suddenly felt very tired. He turned away from Legolas and focused his gaze on the fire. "His symptoms are all jumbled," Gimli said despondently. "One illness feeds the next. You could say he is dying of many things now."

Compassion showed on the younger Man's face. Genuine feeling played on his features as he looked upon the Elf. With gentle strength Eldarion bent down and clasped his arms about Legolas' shoulders and legs. He easily lifted the Elf wrapped snuggly in the quilt and carried the light body to rest on the bed.

Legolas stirred at the motion. His eyes refocused slightly and he glanced around the room, but he did not appear to truly see. "The garden," he moaned. Then squirming in his blankets, he muttered fearfully, "She is waiting…must go home…Gimli help me. Gimli?"

Gimli went to his companions side. "Here Legolas," he answered pushing hair from the Elf's face. Cupping Legolas' face in his hands, he drew his own near trying to force his friend to look at him.

Legolas' breath grew into pants as he continued to flail about in his blindness. His eyes widened and his voice grew in panic. It was apparent he was lost in another place and was unable to see the friend only inches from his face. "Gimli!" he cried. "I need Gimli! No! The noise…please, help me! She's waiting! …Must find her…home…" he wimpered.

At the side table, Eldarion lit the lamps and poured water from a pitcher into a bowl. He doused a towel with it. Ringing out the excess, he handed the cloth to Gimli.

"Hush now Legolas, hush," Gimli interrupted his friend's suffering with his patient words and the chill of the wet cloth. "Calm yourself now. Who is waiting? Tell me, friend." the Dwarf continued in a soothing voice as he swabbed the Elf's fevered brow.

The coolness of the towel had an immediate and pacifying effect to Legolas. His eyes began to drift shut. "She's waiting," he whispered. "Galadriel…"

Gimli stiffened. Astonishment and apprehension registered in him. It was twice now Galadriel's name had been mentioned in a like number of days. The randomness of this event fairly startled him, for both times the words had come from the lips of dying friends. It was not as if Legolas in good times spoke her name often. Nor did Aragorn. Nor did he for that matter. The Lady was loved by all, but she was not a common topic among them. And it appeared even stranger still, for Gimli knew Legolas had not been present when the king had spoken of his dying wish. It has to be coincidence, he told himself. But it disturbed him all the same.

Eldarion interrupted Gimli's thoughts. "I can brew a tea from willow bark to help assuage the fever," he offered.

"Yes…" said Gimli still lost in thought.

"I could also spell you for a while from your duties," Eldarion said. Then he looked at his father's friend and concern creased his face again as he noted the Dwarf's distraction. "Gimli?"

"Eh, what?" Gimli answered, shaking his head as he realized Eldarion was speaking to him.

"Gimli, when was the last time you had a break from your worries? I see no others here tending to Legolas. Do you ever get respite?" Eldarion asked as he lead the Dwarf around to a chair.

"There is no one of family to attend to him. Save for a servant or two, I am the closest he has," Gimli said with fatigue as he slowly sank into the chair being offered. His mind was still locked on Legolas' cries.

"He is not the only one to be inflicted with pain here. You suffer too. And in some ways it is worse, for when he dies, you will still have to live this illness in your memories. You need to loosen your ties and consider yourself as well."

Legolas moaned softly, and Gimli reflexively stiffened. Eldarion put out his hand to touch the Dwarf's arm and he stepped into Gimli's place. "I will tend to him for you. Go rest while you can. You are damp and probably hungry and Legolas' room is not in use. Find some comfort for a while," the prince said. Then seeing the Dwarf's hesitation, he said, "Do not worry, I will watch him myself and keep your secret safe from the prying tongues of Men." He smiled at that for emphasis. Then becoming more sober, he said, "I know what you are experiencing. Sleep now, Gimli. I will call you if he needs you."

Gimli sighed. A good night's sleep was tempting and would most certainly do him well. It was refreshing to have someone else take his place, even if it was just for a night. Still, Legolas was seriously ill. How could he think to leave him in someone else's care while he was in this state? Especially Eldarion. He had already been through so much. Gimli did not want to add to his burdens.

He stood and approached the bed, watching as Eldarion swabbed the Elf's face with the cool, soft cloth. Gimli felt so tired. Tired of the repetitiveness of the illness. Tired of the daily worries and trying to keep Legolas safe. Tired of living in a world centered only on his friend. With cathartic anguish, he felt desperately sad in that moment and he longed with all his soul for an end. But as he watched Legolas' fevered throes, an ache rose in him from the pit of his stomach. No! This is wrong. He cannot die!

He realized he was shaking in fear. His mind was confounded and he felt befuddled by anxiety. He did not have any clear ideas on what to do next. He only felt dread. End or continue, he did not know which was worse. And yet another part of him knew he would continue to the very end of his own limits if need be. Still, a rest would be nice, even if it was just a short while. The opportunity was there for a reprieve. He would be a fool not to use it.

"You made mention of a potion to ease the ague? Go brew it up while I find more comfortable attire, and then I will leave him to you," the Dwarf said with resignation.

The prince smiled at Gimli's decision as he left the room.

Legolas moaned again, "…Galadriel…"

Gimli approached his friend's side, drawing himself close. Why is he speaking of her? It puzzled the Dwarf. He leaned in closer to the Elf. Legolas mumbled, "Ithilien… the garden."

The next thing that happened was astoundingly swift, and when Gimli would later try to recall it, he would be perplexed at the instantaneous nature of it. Like lightening, there and then gone, almost as if it did not occur. Legolas opened his eyes. Penetrating they were and they looked deep into Gimli's soul. They were now crystal clear and shone with a light Gimli did not know the Elf possessed. They bore through the Dwarf with such intensity that he found he could not turn away. Gimli's eyes widened. Wordlessly a message passed, and then the Elf's eyes faded away as Legolas fell back into fever.

Gimli pulled away and gasped. His heart was racing. He felt goosebumps tickle his skin as a shiver ran down his spine. Every question he had had now became perfectly clear in answer. By divine intervention or from whence, he did not know, but he suddenly knew exactly what he had to do. "Of course! Valar, of course!" he whispered as he sucked in his breath. "We must move before it is too late!" He was gripped with panic as he tried to fashion their next action. All prior fatigue was gone. He had so little time and he knew he had to be quick! Personal healing would have to wait.

"Eldarion!" he exclaimed when the young Man returned. "You must help me! I have to find a way to get him home! Now!"

The young Man looked at the Dwarf then back at the Elf. "Calm down Gimli," he said. He put down the tray and approached the Dwarf. "Legolas is not fit to travel right now. Perhaps in a week or two when he is better…" Eldarion said looking over the prone form to assess his condition.

"No! He does not have a week or two!" Gimli interrupted. "You must understand. He will not recover this time!" the Dwarf said with a certainty that surprised even himself.

Eldarion scrutinized Gimli who was clearly distressed. It was an abrupt and frightening change and he wondered on that. It was not typical of the Dwarf to be so agitated and impetuous. In an attempt to appease, Eldarion considered the alternatives, "I could have a van made up. We could transport him that way. But Gimli, he still would need a day or two to recuperate before we could do so. He would not make it otherwise if he were to travel in his current condition."

"No, Eladarion! We must find another way. We have to leave now! There is not much time left. He will die ere two days pass. Please!"

Eldarion looked at the Dwarf and sighed. With deep faith and trust he asked, "What happened, Gimli? Tell me."

Gimli's eyes brimmed. He knew his words would sound of madness, but he would put his trust in this young Man. Eldarion had the power to help him. He held in his breath as he spoke, hoping his words would not read as too futile, "I do not really understand it but it has something to do with your father and a dream he had. Galadriel…he said Galadriel would help. And I believe him Eldarion!" He released his breath and his voice began to quake. "Legolas is calling for her now, and I believe it is true! I saw it myself, just like your father. I know it with certainty: we must return to the gardens of Ithilien. It was where he recovered, and it is significant to him. Please, you must help me! Galadriel is waiting for him. Somehow I know she is there."

Eldarion paused a long while before answering. Gimli waited for his judgement. He could not read the young noble's eyes but all his hopes rested there. And yet he was desperate. If the prince would not help, Gimli would find a way on his own. He was even willing to drive the mare that had delivered them if necessary, though the thought of it mortified him. Still, he remembered his pledge to bring his friend to his destiny. He felt it renewed. Legolas was not meant to die. There was a chance he could yet live and Gimli would not let him down. His eyes stung from held back tears created by his own frustration. Perhaps Eldarion saw this and it prompted his decision. At last the prince spoke, "It may be folly to go on, but I will not deny it of you. There are many mysteries of Middle-earth that I do not understand. I shall not start on this one. You will leave at dawn with my aid. But please, Master Dwarf, allow me to tend him while I may. And allow yourself some rest ere you end up in a sickbed as well." He arched his brow and a wry smile breached his face. At that moment he looked much like Aragorn. In Gimli's relief, the Dwarf burst out with a sob and lunged at Eldarion in embrace.

"Thank you!" he said and tears openly flowed.

TBC