The Last of the Fellowship (LOTR/Hobbit fan fic)

Prologue - The Fourth Age

The year is 120 F.A., 120 years after the defeat of Sauron by the heir of Isildur, but mostly, by the courage of 2 Hobbits, once completely ordinary and unknown.

120 years ago, after the fall of Barad-dûr, Sauron's army shattered. In the East, Gondor and Rohan's army defeated the Orcs at the gate of Mordor. In the North, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn put down Dol Guldur, and helped the King of the Woodland Elves in their battle against all the foul creatures in Mirkwood. And just when it seemed to the Dwarves under the Mountain that their kingdom would fall, so did the Orcs.

Peace slowly crept back, and never again did the Shadow troubled the heart of Men, Elves, and Dwarves. Mirkwood became Greenwood, and then part of Galadriel's Lorien; and the heir of Isildur came back triumphant from the battle. Gondor crowned its first King since 3000 years, and it was then that the fair Elven Evenstar, Arwen Undomiel, Lady of the Night, married Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, King of Men.

But as the time of Men came, so it meant that the Elves and the Ringbearers had to leave. Middle-Earth now in good hands, the Elves had no reason to stay, and they slowly all left, one by one. One of the last boat to leave Middle-Earth for the West bore Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel, Gandalf the White, Frodo and Bilbo Baggins, amongst many fair Elves, for the Ringbearers couldn't anymore be at peace in Middle-Earth, and longed only for the Sea. About 50 years later, in 62 F.A., it was the turn of Samwise Gamgee, the last of the Ringbearers, to sail in the West, at the passing of his wife.

And so the years passed, and Men grew stronger under the rule of King Elessar and Queen Evenstar. Gondor, with the help of the Dwarves, grew to be as majestic as it once was, and Ithilien, with the help of a Woodland Elves colony, grew to be as wondrous and as magical than Lothlorien, and the fairest country after all the Elves departed. Never before were there such strong ties between the Men, the Elves, and the Dwarves, and their combined strength repaired greatly whatever damage the Dark Lord created.

Chapter 1 - Two Friends Left

It was a soft and cool summer morning in the streets of Minas Tirith, and the ocean breeze fluttered in the cherry tree flowers, scenting the whole city. Legolas and Gimli were sitting side by side on a wall, their legs dangling, facing the Anduin. Occasional rings of smoke were escaping from Gimli's pipe.
In-between puffs, he said to Legolas:

"Ah, there is truly nothing like Longbottom Leaf. The Hobbits got it right: the best pipe-weed on Middle-Earth."

He continued puffing with delight, but something changed in Legolas. His expression grew sadder, and he suddenly rose on his feet.

"Hmm? What?" Gimli asked, startled by the sudden movement.

But Legolas said nothing, instead climbing swiftly down the wall, and walking at a fast pace toward a street.

"Oye! Wait for me!" Gimli cried, swinging rather clumsily his legs on the other edge of the wall, and climbing down much less elegantly than his friend.

By the time his short legs could close the gap between him and the street where Legolas disappeared, the latter was already climbing the stairs to a building. And there Gimli stopped, his breath caught by the sight of the building: Rath Dinen. He suddenly realized why Legolas walked in there. He entered, taking off his helmet, and caught sight of the Elf's slim figure walking toward an alcove and stopping there.

He approached reverently, stood by Legolas, whose fair head was dropped in sorrow, and put a comforting hand on his elbow, the only part he could reach.

"I'm sorry, lad. I should never have mentioned the Hobbits."

Legolas smiled softly.

"We can not avoid mentioning them. It's just... It has been some time since I have visited here."

Legolas lifted his head, and Gimli followed his eyes to the niche in front of them. A niche protecting two gravestones, with a sculpture of two small figures, one with the uniform of Rohan, and the other with Gondor's. Their faces were peaceful, almost smiling, their curly hairs still present even though they were old when the engraving has been made. Over the Rohan dressed figure was written, in all Middle-Earth languages:

'Here lies the brave Hobbit Meriadoc Brandybuck, T.A. 2982 to F.A. 64. May he be welcomed in the Halls of Men.'

And over the Gondor dressed figure was written, again, in all languages:

'Here lies the brave Hobbit Peregrin Took, T.A. 2990 to F.A. 70. May he be welcomed in the Halls of Men.'

Gimli stared in silence at the two tombs, remembering all his adventures with the two Hobbits, long ago, and he said softly:

"They were fine lads. Worthy of all the gold under the Mountain. Even through all the pains they gave us... The chasing after the Uruk-hai, the battles at Pelennor Fields and at the Black Gate... I still remember, on the field of battle, when I had to set down my eyes on Pippin amongst all those Orcs bodies, and he laid there as if dead... And Merry, when he stabbed that Nazgûl but he fell, as if dead too..."

Legolas smiled softly and wrap his arm around Gimli's shoulders.

"They lived a wonderful life," the Elf added. "It was their time to rest, even if we have to go on without them."

That last sentence was trailed off, and Gimli looked up to his friend, and saw deep sadness in them.

"Is that why you don't visit them as often as you wish?" he asked, in a momentarily spark of understanding.

"Yes," Legolas answered sadly. "It is the curse of my kind: to live an immortal life while seeing your friends fade and depart, to see decades pass and fade away forever."

He paused, looking at the gravestones, and then turned to Gimli.

"Before the Council of the Fellowship, I have been only surrounded by Elves. Their lives lasting as long as mine, and being enclosed in Mirkwood, I never knew that feeling of sadness of things and people fading, with their memory only known by I. Now, the Quest drew me so close to all of you, that now, every passing of my friends breaks a bit more my heart. Merry and Pippin are the example. I will live for centuries, and they will become only a dim memory of a friendship long time passed. They remind me how immortal I am, and it saddens me."

Gimli cast one last glance to the figures of the two Hobbits, and then took Legolas by the elbow.

"Come on, then," he urged, tugging a bit and retreating to the entrance of Rath Dinen. "Enough brooding. Stop torturing yourself, and let's go back where it is joyful and calm."

Legolas smiled and followed Gimli back in the main street of Minas Tirith.


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