Of all the reasons he had ever had to curse his age, Gimli thought as he clung to smooth wood and spat out salt water, this was surely the defining one. The simple fact of the matter was that, willing as his heart was, he was old and the road to the Havens was long, and their speed had not been as great as he would have liked. After three weeks he had begun trying to persuade Legolas to go on without him, for fear of missing the ship - and gotten no farther than beginning, because the last time he'd seen Legolas set his jaw and lay his pointed ears back like that, forty-one orcs had come out on the worse end of it. When the sailing day had come and they were still a hundred miles east of the Shire, Gimli had tried to apologize; but Legolas had only smiled and looked up at the stars, and spoken of other arrangements. This was the "other arrangements": this small grey craft, small enough for one elf to handle by himself, skimming across the waves like a tern in flight, carved with a swan for a figurehead and wings that stretched back along the sides as though flung back on the wind. They had lost sight of land the day before, and for miles now - or whatever passed for miles on the water - there had been nothing but waves and foam and the cries of gulls; and Gimli, who was feeling distinctly ill, decided that when Aulė had created dwarves to be dwellers in mines and caves, he had made a very wise decision indeed. "Are you feeling better?" Legolas called as he enacted some strange ritual with the ropes and sail. "A bit," Gimli called back, which was true - at least his head wasn't spinning quite so badly. Legolas caught a piece of rope with his toes and wound it around an outcropping of wood with a deft twist of his ankle, then reached up to catch the length where it hung down from the mast. "Well enough for some lembas?" He wound the rope around his wrist. "Well, perhaps in a come back onto this boat this minute you reckless foolish point-eared -" Legolas, feet braced on the side of the boat and wrist still wrapped in rope, leaned farther back over the waves and caroled with laughter; and the breeze caught his hair and sent it streaming into his face like a banner tossed on the wind as sea spray shattered the light around him into a thousand glittering pieces.   Night was a bit more soothing. In the dark there was not quite such a sense of relentless motion as far as the eye could see; and Legolas paced back and forth on the deck, looking up at the stars and singing, while Gimli drowsed. "And what will become of us when we get to the Undying Lands?" Gimli asked sleepily on their third night out, shifting onto his back to look up at the starfield glittering above him. Legolas sat tailor-fashion a foot or so away, unwinding braids to comb out his hair. "We will live among my people, and the Istari, and three small hobbits; and we will sing and tell tales, and you will build stonework to your heart's content." Gimli smiled and shifted a bit, getting more comfortable. Sleeping on a wooden deck should have been disastrous at his age; but he had woken a little more refreshed every day of their journey, seasickness aside, and thought that he might be growing accustomed to this business of sailing. "Foolish elf-business," he grumbled happily. Legolas laughed. "Ah, but there will be feasting as well, enough to fill even a dwarf's belly, and honey-mead like sunlight, and good soft beds for sleeping away the feast and the mead both." A thought occurred to Gimli and he peered sideways at Legolas. "Why do elves have beds?" Legolas paused with the comb drawn half through his hair and blinked blankly at Gimli. "What?" "You don't sleep. Why do you have beds?" He bit into the corners of his mouth to keep from smiling. "Even elves like to rest on occasion," Legolas answered a bit austerely. Gimli gave a chuckle that turned into a yawn halfway through. "Go to sleep, my friend. We'll be within sight of the Undying Lands tomorrow or the next day." "A pity. I was just beginning to like this boat." "Were you?" "Mm," Gimli answered, letting his eyes drift closed, and the gentle rocking of the boat was more comforting than unsettling. In his dreams the sky was full of stars, and comets blazed like dragonfire across the sky.   "Gimli! Land!" Gimli hurried to the prow of the boat and peered into the veiling rain. "I can't see it yet." "You will in a few minutes. Stay here and keep watch." So Gimli watched; and between one moment and the next the curtain of rain and mist lifted, and he could see a quay lined with a stretch of white sand surrounded by ancient, half-ruined pillars jutting up from the earth. He narrowed his eyes and lifted a hand to his brow, peering as closely as he could. There were people on the shore, he saw as they drew closer. One, robed in shining white, stood near where two smaller ones gambolled in the water - or one of them gambolled, at any rate, diving and surfacing like a dolphin a few yards out from shore, and one stood knee-deep in the water and watched the first. Away from them stood the tall, still figure of an Elf, looking out to sea. Gimli began to laugh for sheer heart's ease. The hobbits were the first to reach them when the boat slipped onto the beach and the two of them vaulted over the side onto the sand. Legolas laughed and caught the Ringbearer high in the air, spinning him around like a child, uncaring that Frodo's hair and pants were splattering seawater onto him. Sam hung shyly back until Gimli enveloped him in a bear hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. "You are most welcome, my friends," said a deep, rich voice behind them, and Gimli turned to see Gandalf - and yet not exactly Gandalf; he seemed both older and younger, and a light shone within him that nearly hurt Gimli's eyes to look on. But he smiled and leaned on his staff, a pipe full of what certainly smelled like good pipeweed smouldering gently in his hand, and that was Gandalf enough for Gimli. "Indeed you are," said the Elf, coming up behind Gandalf. "Haldir!" Legolas cried joyfully, nearly knocking his friend down with an enthusiastic embrace. Haldir looked bemused for a moment but recovered quickly, patting Legolas lightly on the shoulders. "We knew you'd be here soon or late," Sam spoke up. "The Lady's been saying it years, it seems like." Gimli looked back to where the hobbits stood beside Gandalf. Their hands were clasped between them, fingers tightly intertwined, and it did Gimli's heart good to see pain and fear as gone from them as if it had never been. "It saddens me to think that we might have kept her waiting." "Yet all things happen in their time," said a new voice, one that made Gimli's heart come to a shuddering stop and then restart twice as fast as before. Haldir and Legolas turned and bowed their heads, lifting two fingers to their foreheads, and Gimli bowed nearly double. Oh, she was luminous here, glowing as brightly as Gandalf and dressed in a plain white gown; her hair flowed loosely behind her, a circlet set with small gemstones rested on her brow, and her bare feet left almost no mark in the sand. The Elves might have waned and diminished in the East, but here... Gimli swallowed hard and hoped that he wouldn't trip over his words and mortally embarrass himself. "Welcome, Lockbearer," she said gently; greatly daring, he looked up and saw merriment in her sky-colored eyes. "And to you as well, Legolas. You have travelled far over roads longer than they seemed, and there is weariness yet to be washed from you. Rest now, and tonight we will have such a feast as befits the homecoming of sons too long away." The mention of food galvanized the hobbits into action. Giving Galadriel a shy berth, Frodo caught Legolas' hand and Sam took Gimli's; and Gimli found himself being firmly escorted down the beach, half-listening to the hobbits' explanation of where they were going and for how long. A gull soared overhead, keening, and Gimli stopped and turned back to watch the waves crashing on the shore. Then his gaze turned back farther the way they had come, and he watched as Galadriel lifted a hand almost in benediction. The breeze lifted her hair around her like a shining aura and rippled through her sleeves, and for a moment he saw starlight flash from her finger. Home, he thought, and felt as young as the dawn of the world.   A/N: Happy birthday, cake!

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