Gimli tossed the parchment square onto the table. His bones creaking in protest, he lowered himself into the chair and sighed. When had he gotten old? Some days he didn't even want to walk down a flight of stairs. Sad for a dwarf who had once run almost non-stop across the plains of Rohan. Slowly he reached out, pulled the crystal box forward and lifted the lid. Inside were those things he valued the most. Or rather, those things that represented memories that he particularly treasured.

The box itself symbolized his highest achievement: Lord of Aglarond, the Glittering Caves. He remembered how stunned he been when King Eomer had appointed him the caretaker of the caves in Helm's Deep. How had he, the son of a merchant, reached such heights? 'But why me, your majesty?' he had asked.

'Please, Gimli, I am still Eomer to you. Why you? Who else ever recognized the beauty of these caverns? Who else can I trust to maintain them for my people? Legolas told me of your reverence for what I always saw as only a safe haven in times of trouble. You opened all our eyes to this treasure and should be rewarded. Therefore, I name you, Gimli, Lord of the Glittering Caves.'

Gimli had bowed his head in acknowledgment of the honor, amazed at what joining the seemingly hopeless quest of the Fellowship had brought to him. Of course, there were a few rules to follow. The Caves must never be treated as a commercial venture, all were to be welcomed no matter their race or origin, and on no account was anything to be removed except under special circumstances.

The crystal of the box had been one of those circumstances. Gimli and the dwarven kin that joined him had slowly explored and excavated to open up new caverns of great beauty. On one memorable day they had discovered a large crystal that was so pure it could be seen through. When he first saw it, Gimli realized it was the crystal that he had longed to find.

After consulting with his engineers, he approached Eomer and explained his idea. 'Normally, I would not even contemplate moving such a treasure, but I was hoping you would agree that in this one case….' he said.

Eomer smiled at the dwarf's quiet request. 'Of course you may move it, Gimli. Please understand that I trust you to do the right thing. If I ever believe otherwise, you will be the first to know!'

Bowing, Gimli smiled gratefully. 'I promise it will be worth it, Eomer.'

Now he stroked the sides of the box. With his own hands he had skillfully removed the crystal, carefully cut and shaped it, and finally inserted two hairs of the Lady Galadriel into its center. Now it stood in the main hall of the Caves to be gazed at and admired by all who saw it. The leftover shards he had used to make the box that rested under his hands.

After slowly lifting the lid, he carefully lifted out the first treasure, a lock of intricately braided hair. Even as old as it was, red glints still glimmered across the brown.

Gimli had never really considered marriage. Like most dwarf-men, he knew the odds were against him. Also, he spent very little time around dwarves in general, dwarf-women in particular. Once he reached marriageable age, he was on the road with his father. Later, there was the Fellowship and the rebuilding of Minas Tirith. It was only when he settled into the Glittering Caves that he interacted with women, but those for the most part were already married or uninterested.

However, one day Gloin appeared in Gimli's workroom. 'I need you to guide a tour for me, Gimli. They have come all the way from the Grey Mountains, but I have a delivery to check over.'

'Adad, normally I wouldn't mind, but I am also quite busy today. Can't someone else do it?' Gimli protested. He really didn't like to give tours. He was almost always quite busy when asked.

'No excuses this time, Gimli,' Gloin groused. 'These are quite important people, and I would not like to see them receive less than the best we have to offer. Give them an hour and then I may be able to take over.'

Knowing his day was shot, Gimli finally conceded. 'Alright, Adad, I'll see that they get a decent tour. But you owe me one!'

Gimli walked into the main entrance hall and saw the little group gathered around Galadriel's Crystal. He was surprised as he drew closer to see that there was a dwarf-woman among their number. He was even more surprised at how his heart raced when he was introduced to her. 'Ailie, daughter of Dahrin' intoned the dwarf who led the group.

The first thing Gimli noted was Ailie's hair. It was darkbrown but with red strands woven through. She wore it in a mass of braids gathered at the back of her head. Small pearls decorated a net of gold thread that covered her hair. Obviously Dahrin was a dwarf of means. Pearls were a rarity among dwarves and highly prized. However, had she been dressed in rags Gimli would have felt the same. Something drew her to him and he had to prod himself to respond to the greetings.

For her part, Ailie too was drawn to the dwarf who introduced himself as the Lord of the Glittering Caves. By the time the tour was only half over, the other four in the group could not help but notice the mutual attraction.

When Gloin came to take Gimli's place, Gimli said, 'Oh, Adad, never mind. I know you are busy. Please allow me to continue as the guide,' he said this without taking his eyes off Ailie.

Gloin lifted an eyebrow at his son. 'Are you sure, son? I thought you were too busy to take give a tour?' he asked archly.

'No, no, not busy at all, Adad.'

Gloin said, 'Very well, but don't hesitate to call for me if you need help.' He bowed to the rest of the group and departed with a knowing smirk on his face.

Three weeks later Ailie, daughter of Dahrin, and Gimli, Lord of the Glittering Caves were wed. Gimli never did find out if his father really had been busy that day or if he had been matchmaking all along. He didn't care. His life with Ailie had been more than he ever dreamed he could have. She had given him the braid on their wedding night, and he had treasured it ever since.

Placing the braid back in the box, Gimli removed the next treasure: a finely crafted toy from Dale. As with marriage, Gimli had never expected to be a father, but Ailie had given birth to their only child five years after they were wed.

A glowing Gimli had raced into Gloin's chamber with the news. 'I have a son, Adad! You are a grandfather!'

'Congratulations, Gimli. And how is Ailie?'

'Doing well according to the midwife; she is sleeping now.' Gimli paused a moment and then said, 'Adad, I am going to name him Gloin in your honor.'

If he had expected to see his father's surprise and pleasure in this announcement, Gimli was the one to be surprised.

'No, no, you shouldn't do that,' Gloin said.

'But why not? You have meant so much to me, guided me so well. I would not be here now without you, and I thought it would please you,' Gimli insisted.

'If you want to honor someone because of who you are now, than name him Thorin.'

A puzzled Gimli said, 'Thorin? As in Thorin Stonehelm? Why would I do that?'

'No, Thorin as in Thorin Oakenshield,' Gloin replied.

'But he died long ago, and I barely knew him.'

'Exactly, and now you do not remember him, but it is important that we do. To remember our past and to honor it. To never forget what we suffered and accomplished,' Gloin said.

'I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. Why do I owe all that to Thorin Oakenshield?' Gimli persisted.

'Because without Thorin, we would have almost nothing of what we have now, son. We would probably be mere traders on the dusty road. Think about it: Had Thorin not met Gandalf, he would not have invited me on the mission to regain Erebor. Without the Erebor quest, I would not have had a share of untold wealth. But beyond that, Bilbo would never have found the Ring, and you and I would never have gone to Rivendell. You would have had no part in the Fellowship; never met Eomer; never seen the Glittering Caves and never become its lord. I could go on, but surely you get the idea? Without that one act of Thorin Oakenshield, none of this (he waved around the beautiful room) would have been possible. Name your son Thorin and teach him about the dwarf who bore the name before him.'

Gimli had listened and realized the truth of Gloin's words. So instead of Gloin, son of Gimli, he had Thorin, son of Gimli. And it was a good and honorable name. Gloin and he had enjoyed telling young Thorin about the Quest for Erebor and the Fellowship of the Ring. If only their good relationship had continued as the boy aged. Gimli regarded the toy again. It was skillfully made like all the toys of Dale; a little wagon with little horses driven by a little man. All of which worked just like a real wagon would. It had been brought on a visit by some of the dwarves of Erebor to see the marvelous caves.

When Gimli had given it to Thorin, the child had shoved it aside and sneered. 'I am too old for such a silly toy, Adad. Give it to a baby!'

Perhaps it had been a little young for the lad, but he had always appreciated gifts before. Gimli had scolded Thorin for being ungrateful. It was only the first of many arguments between the two. Even Ailie had not been able to smooth things over and bring lasting peace. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. He and Thorin always seemed to be angry at one another.

Sighing, Gimli put the toy back in the box. Perhaps not the best memory, but a memory nonetheless. At least he had a son, and one he was proud of no matter what.

A glint of silver gleamed in the box and Gimli pulled a silver brooch from its depths. It still glittered as it caught the light, undimmed by the years. Beautiful eyes and hair of gold now flashed through Gimli's memory, and he smiled as he remembered the kindness of Galadriel. He had loved two women in his life, and both were associated with this pin. He had loved Galadriel for her ethereal beauty and acceptance of dwarves. He loved Ailie because she made him complete.

Ailie loved the brooch and cloak from the first time she saw them. Gimli had explained how it had been made by elves and how he had worn it for decades with it showing very little wear. Her hand had stroked the fabric. 'I wish I could have met her, Gimli, to thank her for keeping you warm all these years.

On impulse, Gimli unfastened the brooch, removed the cloak and draped it around her shoulders. 'There!' he exclaimed. 'Now it will keep you warm for another hundred years.'

Ailie had protested such a wonderful gift, but Gimli had insisted. 'I will be able to appreciate it all the more by seeing you wear it, my love.'

Sadly, he now remembered the last time he had seen the cloak. Ailie had come down with a fever that caused her to shiver and ache. 'Gimli, I am so cold!' she had cried. He brought the cloak and wrapped her in it, then cradled her shivering form. Slowly, the tremors diminished and he thought perhaps the cloak had brought a miracle cure. But it was not to be. When he called her name, there was no response and he realized that his beloved wife was dead.

He held her for hours before Thorin and the healers convinced him that it was time to let go. When they started to remove the cloak, he had stopped them. 'No, leave her be. Let it be her shroud.'

Now he held the leaf brooch and stroked it gently. Although it had been several years since she had passed, it seemed like yesterday. 'Sleep, Ailie, sleep. I will remember you, always.' He placed the brooch next to the lock of hair.

Reaching into the box one last time, he pulled out a battered leather-bound book, the cover stained and its pages slashed and charred at the edges. 'You had better keep it, Gimli, and take it back to Dain, if you get a chance. It will interest him, though it will grieve him deeply.' Even after all these years, Gandalf words echoed through his mind. He had taken the book and carried it throughout all those months of the War of the Ring nestled safely in the bottom of his pack. Through Moria, through Lorien, through battles, triumphs and tragedies. It had been with him when he first saw the Glittering Caves. It had gone with him into Fangorn. Although Gimli had dreaded his promise to Legolas, he had gone with the elf to visit the ancient forest and survived to tell the tale.

And at last he had returned with it to Erebor but not to give it to Dain. Dain was dead; slain in battle at the foot of the mountain. Now his son, Thorin Stonehelm struggled to rebuild what once again had been destroyed by vast orc armies. He had little time for, and less interest in, a battered book from Moria about dwarves long departed.

'Balin dead, you say?' he had asked. 'That is a great sorrow, but my father did warn him about entering that accursed place.' When Gimli offered to give him the book, Thorin had said, 'Just leave it in the archives, Gimli. Someone there may find it of interest.'

Gimli had taken the book down to the vast cavern that housed the history of the dwarves of Erebor, but when he stood at last in the door and looked at the innumerable records, books and scrolls amassed there, he did not have the heart to leave this last remnant of Balin behind to be lost forever. 'No one will ever miss it or even know it exists,' he thought as he tucked it back in his pack.

And no one ever had. When Eomer appointed him Lord of the Glittering Caves, he brought it along as a reminder of his adventures. Even though he examined it on the brightest days of the year, he had never gained any further knowledge of Balin and the ill-fated Moria expedition. It didn't matter. It had taken on far more meaning to him than it would ever have had for anyone else.

The box empty, he turned his attention to the message that had arrived that morning. It was composed of very few words, but the import of it was immense:

I weary of Middle-earth. It is time. Look for me in a few days.

It was signed by a single letter 'L' in the Elvish script.

Gimli sighed. He had known this day would come, if he lived to see it. Lately he had begun to think that he would be dead before Legolas made his final journey West. They had long discussed the elf's longing for the sea, but Legolas had seemed to find comfort and pleasure in the restoration of Ithilien. Now he knew it was a forlorn hope.

Slowly he put his treasures into a pack at his feet and placed the little note with them. There were only a few things left to tend to. He had long prepared for this day. He pulled a velvet bag out of a drawer and placed the crystal box inside. Now all he had to do was wait for Legolas to arrive.