一天之中，一年之后

  此时已是落日时分。国王端坐在马上，骑士们簇拥在他周围；夕阳照耀在他们身上，照得他们的铠甲如金光四射。阿拉贡的白披风变成了一团火红色。然后他拿出那块绿宝石，高高举起。他的手上顿时射出一道绿色的火光。
                                         ——译林版《魔戒》，第三部305页



  “这就完了？全结束了？”
  “有什么不对？”
  “我们在一块儿那么久，干成了那么多事儿……”
  “嗯？”
  “……总觉着不对劲儿。”
  “呵……我想，你的意思是，这该有个漫长的过程，即便没有，也该有个爆发的瞬间，对吗？”
  “啊？”
  “你觉得时间应该缓缓流逝，不被察觉，让离愁别绪在朝夕相处中渐渐淡去，好似一天的时辰，由曙光初现至暮色降临，宁静而自然。人们不会因为黑夜覆盖大地而感到突兀，因为每天都是如此。静静的等待上路的时刻，终有一日踏上归途，心灵并不觉得失落，胸口也不似现在这样空空如也，相反却好似满载而归的猎人，收获了满腔的经历与欣喜。没有如失坠的星辰般凄凉的思念萦绕心头，每一个朋友仍然在我们身旁，仿佛只要一转头，就能看到他们熟悉的笑脸。又或者，你希望被忠诚而有力的臂膀紧紧的拥抱，让生死之交失声痛哭时洒下的眼泪浸湿你的头发，被朋友憔悴而哀伤的眼神漫过肩头，你需要这样一次猛烈的触动，引发你郁塞胸口的离愁。说到底，离别于你，不是一个动作，也不是一个过程，只是一种情绪。”
  “……”
  “不是这样吗？”
  “……瞧，看不到他们了。”

  我们朝南方看，又朝西方看。盖拉德丽尔夫人耀眼的金发，与阿拉贡手里的绿光几乎同时消失在遥远的地平线上。夕阳为他们留下的长长的黑影，一寸一寸的缩短，缩短成一个小黑点，晃动了几下，终于，什么也看不到了。

  “我们也该出发了，”精灵拍拍阿罗德，“是步行还是骑马？”
  “再待会儿行吗？”
  精灵点点头，伏在阿罗德耳边轻轻的说了什么，阿罗德打了个响鼻，踱到一边，低下头慢吞吞的吃草。
  我在草地上坐下，精灵站着，手放在背后，左手指头攥着右手指头，右手指头攥着左手指头。这个姿势让他看上去一下子小了几千岁。
  我觉着浑身不自在，这儿太静了，像是没了声音的支撑，世界就塌下来了，沉甸甸的压在身上，让我喘不过气来。其实山脊上总是很静，没什么树，风从南方吹过来，一下子就翻过山脊往北边去了，你得坐着，或者躺下，才能听到指头草和山茱萸撞在一起时发出的悉悉索索的声音。
  太阳在正前方。黄昏的太阳有时是毛呼呼的，像个大毛球。给阳光照到的地方红通通、亮堂堂的，不是果子袍子那种鲜艳的、大块大块的红，倒像是什么人害臊时的脸色，红得透亮，但不晃眼，热腾腾的，却不烫手，看了倒觉得挺可爱。照不到的地方像是被水浸透的毛毯，就连山顶那些终年不化的积雪都显出一种湿淋淋的孔雀蓝，像是它们全都背过了身去。伊森河转着大弯向西流淌，有一小段闪着红光，其余的水面全是黯黯的青色，像是地面上裂开的一道又长又深的大沟。
  我朝阿拉贡消失的方向看，屏住呼吸，想听到一星半点马蹄声，可除了阿罗德在嚼草根时发出的嚓、嚓声，什么也没进我的耳朵。
  “还能听到吗？”
  精灵点点头。
  “他们在干嘛？”
  “谁？萝林的女王陛下？”
  “不，我是说阿拉贡。”
  “为什么问起他？”
  “因为……因为下次再见到盖拉德丽尔夫人、凯勒博恩老爷和埃尔隆德老爷他们，他们一定还是这个样儿，和今天没什么分别。但阿拉贡回去以后，就不再是我们从前认识的那个大步，那个脏兮兮的杜内丹人了。”
  “这令你感到难过？你不希望这样？”
  “倒也不是……”
  “那么，我们的矮人阁下不喜欢这样的阿拉贡？”
  “这我可说不好。也许对我这么个矮人来说，一个破破烂烂、邋里邋塌的杜内丹人更实在，你可以随随便便拍他的肩膀，分点儿他口袋里的烟草，你可以不用称呼他‘您’，见到他不用行礼，也不用在意别人怎么看待你和他的关系。但他的人民需要一个又高贵又强大的国王，需要他戴着王冠，穿戴整齐，威严的坐在高高在上的王座上，他再也没功夫去想别人，我是说像我们这样不归他管的家伙，这样他才算是为人民承担了责任。或者……事情本来就该是这样。”
  “是的……他已不再是我们的同伴，但他自诞生之日起就是国王。”
  “说实在的，我可真没瞧出来。头一回见他的时候——那是在利文德尔，他就跟个流浪汉没两样——事实上，在和亚纹公主结婚之前，他一直都这么个模样。”
  “竟然被个矮人说成这样……”
  “我说，难道你不这么觉着？哪有国王像他这样儿的。”
  “我第一次见他可比你早……那时他将咕噜姆带来黑森林请我父亲派人看管，而我的父亲竟然答应了他——我想，对于证明他身为人类最尊荣的君主而言，这该是最有力的证据。”
  “那时他什么样儿？”
  “唔……同在利文德尔时没什么分别，就是衣裳干净些。”
  “你觉着他像国王吗？和吝啬鬼——和你父亲比起来谁比较象？还是谁都不象？”
  “这……至少我父亲更英俊些。”
  “瞧你说的，谁能和你们精灵比。”
  “嗯？”
  “谁能和你们精灵比。”
  “我听不清……请你再说一次好吗？”
  “嘿！得寸进尺可不是一个精灵王子应该具有的品质。”
  我们都笑了起来。精灵微微眯起了眼睛，细细的眉毛像个水泵把手，好像只要轻轻往下一压，便能从眼睛里压出又清又甜的井水来。
  不知道我笑起来是什么样子呢……我当然知道没法子和精灵比，但就算是像山猫、树狸，或者棕熊也不算很糟啊……

  红通通的夕阳，一点儿一点儿，沿着白山往下落。远处，伊森加德的尖塔清晰可见，要是瞪大了眼睛，偶尔还能看到一些比蚂蚁还小的小黑点在移动，那是树胡子。晚风打着旋儿蹭过我的脸，忽然好像听到了歌声，待到把耳朵支起来，又什么都听不见了。
  “听到没？”
  “嗯……是恩特在唱歌。”
  “老树胡？”
  “从前有片大森林，树木健康又热情。绿草如茵花似锦，泉水叮咚流不停。”
  “哦哈哈哈……嗓子怎么样？”
  “唔……就像盛夏的闷雷滚过山脊。”
  我们又笑了起来。笑得很大声。我感到清凉的空气大团大团的被吸进肺里，胸口涨得像要炸开似的——要知道，能够再次笑得无忧无虑是多么的不容易。
  精灵弯腰摘下一片草叶，放到嘴边。我以为他想嚼着玩，谁知道他吹起曲子来。从前在孤山，我也吹过枞树叶子玩儿，不过那声音又尖又刺耳，只能拿来吓唬野兔和山狸。但精灵这曲子吹得着实好听，细细的那么一道声音，晃晃悠悠跟蛛丝似的，好像一阵风就能把它给刮跑，却又牢牢的粘在你脸上。
  奇怪，这曲子……可真耳熟。
  我使劲想，可怎么也想不起来。那股子熟悉劲儿就顶在脑门儿上，憋得可真难受。
  “还记得这首歌吗？”
  “正想着呢。怪熟的。”
  “呵呵……”
  “你笑什么？”
  精灵没回答。他轻轻的唱了起来。

  他的身后是永夜之夜
  他的眼前是无望之航
  一叶小舟
  悄无声息的航行在那星光的海洋上

  我足足愣了好半天，直到发觉自己像个刚出炉的煎饼，从里到外都热透了。
  “想起来了？”
  “没。”
  “欺骗精灵原本就是罪恶，欺骗精灵朋友更是罪大恶极。”
  “我我我我我哪有。”
  “那是你第一次见到精灵，对吗？”
  “才不是……”
  “你之前并不知道精灵长什么模样，但你坚信他们是一种丑陋的生物。”
  “没有的事……”
  “在你的眼里，精灵只是一些白色皮肤的半兽人，同样的心地邪恶。”
  “瞎扯……”
  “我们的出现令你震惊，令你的智慧沦陷，令你自觉丧失了先机，因此你对我们满怀憎恨，和你的表兄，那位年长的精灵贵族一样，向我们的所到之处投来挑衅的目光。”
  “胡说八道……真是胡说八道！”
  “生气了？”
  “哼哼。”
  “哈哈……这下你明白了吧？”
  “什么明白不明白的，明白什么？”
  “那时我的感受。”
  “感受？”
  “每吐一字必被抬杠，每发一言必被顶撞……含冤莫白，又不能和小孩子当真的感受。”
  “你你你……你你你你你……我就知道你老觉着我们像小孩儿。”
  “以良知女神起誓，我从未有过这样的想法。”
  “把你刚才的话再讲一遍？”
  “我从来就不觉得你们‘像’小孩子，在我眼里，你们根本就‘是’小孩子。”
  这该死的精灵！
  有什么法子？又不能揍他。只好拿斧子在地上使劲儿杵了两下。
  “伊森加德的高塔即将臣服在夜晚素色的衣裙下，趁着夕阳尚未隐匿它明媚的身姿，我们应该继续自己未尽的旅程了。”
  精灵打了个唿哨，阿罗德慢腾腾地踱过来，拿头轻轻的蹭着精灵的肩膀。我也站起身来，跟在他后面慢腾腾的踱下山去。西方的天上只剩下一抹浓浓的朱黄色，云层覆盖了大半的天空，阳光照到它们的背上，所以它们的脸孔全是灰褐色。
  河谷的浅草地上还看得见阿拉贡和盖拉德丽尔夫人他们经过时留下的马蹄印，马蹄印在一个小草甸前分作了两个方向，深的脚印向南，浅的向西。而我们的方向是北方。
  我们，一个精灵，一个矮人，一匹马，不紧不慢的向北走。不用赶路，也没有任务，只要能到达范冈森林，我们爱怎么走就怎么走，爱什么时候停下来歇歇就什么时候停下来歇歇。我简直已经忘掉这种感觉了。尽管我们的速度比追赶半兽人时慢多了，但我却觉着身轻如燕，好像随时都能飞上半空。
  我们遇上了一个树胡子。他说只是出来溜达溜达，因为在伊森加德那么空旷的地方，当夕阳照上他的枝叶的时候，他的血液就好象给煮沸了似的，怎么也坐不住，只想出来跑跑。
  “和平的空气！”他的小黄眼珠亮闪闪的，像两颗玻璃弹球，“我觉得自己还能再长高点儿。至少得超过老榕树。”他是棵枝叶茂盛的山毛榉。
  “你想来点儿树胡的酒吗？”他俯下身看我。要不是之前看过他们修园子，我可真担心他弯那么低腰会不会折断了。“这酒能让你长个儿，这样你的朋友就不用像我这样，眼睛朝下和你说话了。”
  “谢谢你，但我想没这个必要。”精灵抢着说，他看了我一眼，“当然，除非我的矮人朋友自己愿意。”
  我能怎么回答？

  原本以为天就快黑了，谁知道西边那一块天空像被施了魔法似的燃烧了起来，明亮得就好像火光照在铜镜上。一忽儿工夫，黄金的火焰渐渐熄灭，变作炭火般的红色，又过了一会儿，连炭火也熄灭了，只有灰烬般的云朵之间还透着些黯红的暗火。看着看着，连这层暗火也没了。我们像是忽然走进了一个大山洞，越朝里走，光线就越暗。阴凉开始顺着脚脖子爬上来，晚风还是暖烘烘的，从脖子钻进去，出了一身白毛汗。
  在这种白天和黑夜交替的时刻，人们没法不回想往事。可我再回头想想，却发觉那些事儿都变得陌生而遥远，像是发生在很久很久以前，在思雷恩国王那个年代或者更早，又像是发生在别人身上，或者是我们从故事本子里看来的传奇故事，只是碰巧故事里的主角有着和我们一样的名字。曾经给我的心和身体留下那么强烈的记号的所有事情，莫利亚，卡拉得霍拉斯，圣盔谷，死亡之路……现在我竟然没法子通过记忆去回味那时的感觉，我记得所有的细节，但我开始怀疑自己是否真的经历过。然而，有的时候，一个声响，一种气味就能让我想起很多事来，它们就像是火镰火石打出来的小火花，只一丁点儿就能点燃整个森林。
  八月的伊森河谷里到处盛开着薄荷的小白花。夜风一阵一阵的把淡淡的薄荷味儿送到我的鼻子里，有种熟悉的感觉就跟发烧似的，一阵一阵的冒出来。
  “还记得谁最喜爱薄荷吗？”
  “伊西尔！”
  “他说薄荷清新淡雅的香味里有个故事，他喜欢独自享受这个故事成为秘密时所散发出来的神秘与回味悠长。”
  “你猜那是个什么样儿的故事？”
  “我无意从揣测朋友的秘密里获取乐趣，不过……我想那故事里一定有一位少女。”
  “女精灵？”
  “不，人类的少女。”
  “就像那个echott？”
  “谁？”
  “那个摔坏了脑袋的黑林子精灵？还有那个利文德尔的小家伙——至少当年他还是个小家伙，他们都跟人类有过不错的交情。”
  “或许吧……无论是黑森林、洛丝萝林，还是利文德尔，在精灵王国宁静安详的面纱之下，不知遮掩着多少优美动人的故事……”
  精灵忽然转过头来看着我。
  “这其中也有属于你的故事，孤山的矮人阁下。”
  孤山的矮人阁下。
  像是有只手紧紧的攥住了我的心脏，我忽然喘不上气来。但我又从这种窒息里察觉到一种快乐，就象听到了从远处不知什么地方传过来的，宏大的音乐声。
  东方的平原上，月亮已经升起来了，四周是一片海水一样的月光。我们的影子在自己脚下清晰的晃动，像是这片海水里惟一站得住脚的孤岛。记不请有多长时间，夜晚对我们而言就跟危险没两样，你不能脱掉头盔和铁甲，也不能放下武器，即使打个盹儿也必须得全副武装。你得轮班，守夜，得支楞着耳朵听听周围的动静，黑暗是坏家伙们最好的伙伴，却让我们这些好家伙感到畏惧。
  如果四周忽然长出茂密的树林，那么这感觉……就象在洛丝萝林。
  洛丝萝林，蔓蓉的永恒之乡。
  我们在那儿不用担惊受怕，提心吊胆，每天都吃得饱饱的，还能美美的睡上几觉。我记得那个起了薄雾的早晨，空气里全是精灵语优美的发音，我们遇上了走路姿势古怪的精灵……再次碰面的那个上午，湖水在阳光下闪着耀眼的金光，他借给我们枕头，还光着脚躺在窗台上……我想，等我上了年纪，腿脚不再灵便的时候，我准会想法子溜去洛丝萝林，待在凯勒博恩老爷那个“时光流逝之地”，看他的画儿，听伊西尔讲从前旅行的故事打发日子。我想把老欧洛也带去，他一准儿会乐疯的。
  想到这儿我就忍不住笑出了声。
  “回想起开心的事了？”
  我听到精灵的声音从前头传来，我抬头看他。他站在前头六七步远的地方，转身看我。
  我呆住了。
  一定有什么地方不对劲。是我的记性出了错儿，还是这根本就是一场梦？
  难道这不是在洛丝萝林的那个晚上，一个黑林子的精灵和一个孤山的矮人相互和解的那一刻吗？
  同样的月光，同样的姿势……他就是这样，在前头转过身看着我。然后，然后——
  “你在做什么？吉穆利？”
  是的，是的……同样的一句话，“你在做什么，吉穆利”，自从在利文德尔碰面以来，这是他头一回叫我的名字。
  然后，然后……他向我伸出了手。
 
  精灵脸上的阴影和光线起了变化，变成了一个古怪的笑容。
  “又把我当成别人了？”
  “别人……什么别人？”
  “或者说……别的精灵？”
  “你……你真该死！”
  “是你自己认错人么。”
  “可你也不能假扮别人来骗人，你是个精灵耶！”
  “那么，你也不应该在做梦的时候叫着精灵的名字，你是个矮人耶！”
  “这……这和你有什么关系？”
  “我也是个精灵。”
  “那又怎么样？”
  “孤山的矮人从来都把黑森林的精灵当作敌人，一个孤山矮人竟然知道一个失踪的黑森林精灵的名字，我应该怎样解开这个谜题？”
  “这……这……总之我可没你们精灵的坏心眼儿！”
  “哈哈……不如说是缺乏精灵的智慧吧？”
  “嘿嘿！”
  这次我没恼火。真的。我在这月光下朝前走着，心里觉着很幸福。
  我自己也说不清，这满腔的幸福是打哪儿来的。  

  虽然并没有倦意，我们还是在一片树林里停下来歇歇脚。总算能把山姆的那堆锅碗瓢盆给搁下了，那是霍比特小伙一定要留给我们的。这些个玩意儿叮叮当当的响了一路，要不是为着那是霍比特小伙最宝贝的东西，身为一个矮人，我一定会把这样的馈赠当作天大的耻辱——我能怎么着？就算莱戈拉斯自个儿愿意，我也不能让一个精灵王子背着做饭的家伙上路啊。
  树林里有一片湖水，我想精灵就是为这才停下来的。湖水不大，小小的、满满的一塘，四周是些高大的云杉和棣树，长得不太密，树杆与树杆、树叶与树叶之间全是密密麻麻的星星。我真奇怪这些星星怎么忽然间全都出现了，要不然就是平时我压根儿没留意到？那时我的心思不在这儿。
  月亮还没升得太高，就在湖水的上头，亮堂堂、稳稳当当的。湖水中间起了一道银色的纹路，像是黑色的铁甲上镶的一道秘银的滚边，越发显得东边的树木黑漆漆的，好象被长年累月的风刮得残缺的黑影，显出些树的形状来。打我这儿看过去，最远的地方是孔雀蓝的天，满是亮晶晶的小点子，围着一个银色的大圆圈。隔着一层薄薄的、稀稀拉拉的黑影，面前是一块瓦亮瓦亮的镜子，聚着光，映得眼前一片雪亮。
  我听见精灵深深的叹了口气，说：“假如我年轻两千多岁，同你一样的年纪，见到这样的湖水，就会跪下来……”
  我没回答。我正听着什么地方一小股泉水注入湖泊的声音。咕咚咕咚，好听得不得了，就像……就像一个人在把笑声吞进肚子里。夜风吹动树叶，悉悉索索，像是树林在偷偷的发笑；林雉在睡梦中发出咕咕的叫声，屏住呼吸，支楞起耳朵，你还能听见风过来的时候，落叶在地面滑动，滚过泥土、树根和草叶时发出的不同的声响，还有虫子在土壤里钻来钻去的声音，夜枭拍动翅膀的风声，有时候，甚至能听到从很远很远的地方传来的马蹄声和叹息声……它们一会儿出现，一会儿消失，和什么人特意弹奏出来让人掉眼泪的曲子不一样，这只是一些无意中发出的最普通的声响，但在这个时候，在我听来，却像是拴住了我心头所有的神经，高一下，低一下，停一下，响一下，都拨弄得我挺难受的，好象在这些声音里，聚集着自生命在中土出现以来所有令人悲伤的东西。
  这都是伊西尔教给我的，事实上，一个矮人的耳朵通常分辨不了那么多声音。这些美妙的声音交织在一起，会把人久积心底的最深沉的心思呼唤上来——这也是伊西尔说的。
  最深沉的心思……我不知道。我躺着，精灵大概也躺着。我们都不开口。我想这会子我们的脑子里都是一片空白——人们在为什么事儿激动过后总这样。我觉着自己像是站在一道堤坝的下面，听着堤坝的后头传来轰隆隆的水声，心想那头一定有汹涌的河水，然而却连水的影子也看不到。心里总是在担忧，害怕堤坝崩塌后河水会摧毁些什么，但我明明清楚的知道水闸的钥匙正被稳稳的揣在怀里。奇怪的是我对那危险竟然有点儿渴望，老想着被洪水淹没是什么感觉，总是不自觉的伸手去怀里掏钥匙。
  我想抽一斗烟草也许能舒服点儿。于是我坐起来翻背包拿烟斗。我朝四下里一瞧，不见精灵，一抬头，原来他在湖边的一棵树上。
  他背对着我，搭拉着两条腿，像个钟摆似的晃来晃去，那姿势真是眼熟得要命。他自个儿发着淡淡的白光，远远看过去，就像是开在树上的一朵白色的花儿。
  我仔细的打量着那个精灵，心想他在那儿干什么呢？那样完美，远离所有人的眼睛。我想起他方才说过的话，他说在精灵王国宁静安详的面纱之下，不知遮掩着多少优美动人的故事，那么，中土那么大，又有多少像精灵这样美好的东西藏在我们看不到的地方呢？除了我这个矮人，又有谁会知道在这样的一个夜晚，曾经有这样一个精灵坐在伊森河谷的小湖泊旁像一朵花儿那样开放呢？
  我突然有点儿明白了一切，明白了为什么我们能忍受那么多的寒冷、阴沉、血腥的日子，原来都是为了创造这样的一天所必需的，都是为了这样的湖泊能够在这样的森林里安静的荡漾，为了这样的精灵能够在这样的月光里快乐的歌唱……
  我想起那个最初的日子，那个从孤山出发的日子，或者……更早些……那个另一世界的消息骤然到来的日子……那时我还不知道什么是真正的死亡，什么是对别人的依恋，什么是最初的眼泪。
  那时我相信和平而美满的日子会一直过下去，相信我总会得到远方的消息。那时的一切都笼罩在简单又明亮的阳光中，表兄，老欧洛，我，信件，提灯，蔓迪奈尔……有一个精灵叫做伊敏。
  我忍不住哆嗦了一下。我觉得自己拿到了钥匙，打开了水闸。然而，什么也没有发生。
  他出现了，在我的脑子里。跟从前一样。但他来的时候我不再神经兮兮，意识到他要离开的时候也不再垂头丧气。它原本是藏在我心底某个角落里的东西，给捂得严严实实的，谁想动它一下子都不成。但现在不是这样了。他像春天一样来了又去，又像春天一样去了又来。只要我在，他总会再来。这有什么可悲伤的呢？
  我看到精灵不知道什么时候已经转过身来，一脸惊奇的看着我。让他感到惊奇的，大概是我脸上那些自个儿看不见的表情。那该是什么样的表情……快活的？悲伤的？像是精灵走进了圣盔谷的发光洞，还是像矮人孤身踏入了范冈森林？
  这许多年来我一直想背弃。背弃我的理想，背弃我的朋友，背弃我的家园。流浪是一种极为沧桑与凄楚的体验。只有我自己知道我所有的愿望都是为了寻找一条回家的路。但“家园”只是一个永远无法抵达的幻想。在永恒的时间旅途中，通往家园的路只有一条——那就是通向一切终点的路。在那里，神带着宽和仁慈的微笑在入口迎候着我们，所有有限的存在都是虚妄的。神是何其的智慧与残酷，以他的无限性规定了我们的有限性，以他的高高在上俯视我们的欲罢不能，我们的无望与挣扎。
  在任何地方任何时候，我的意识中都潜伏着“逃”的念头。实际上，我知道我永远逃不出去。我就是我自己的枷锁。我的肉身日益沉重，我的心灵日益虚弱。无望的突围。
  这是他的话。他说过很多这样的话，我总是不太明白。
  我只能察觉到他身上的寒冷。但隔着三千多年的距离，我无能为力。
  “别像他那样……”精灵轻轻的说，“矮人的脸上永远不该出现那样凄凉的表情……你知道吗，你刚才的样子，看上去真像伊敏。”
  “什么？”
  “你还记得阿拉贡加冕之前，我们曾经去过米纳斯蒂里斯城墙下的一个小酒馆吗？”
  “小酒馆……想起来了，有个喝醉了酒的家伙站在桌子上又唱又跳！”
  “那是个精灵。”
  “什么？”
  “但他并不是伊敏，那位后来一直趴在柜台上的才是。还有那位侍者，他的样貌也非常熟悉。”
  “……可是，我不记得那晚有看到银头发和尖耳朵的家伙。”
  “要改变头发的颜色非常容易。要改变耳朵的形状也不难。”
  “可是……”
  “我们在同一片森林里共同生活了两千多年。我认得他的脸。”
  好半天，我只说出了一句话。
  “这……真是没想到。”
  精灵轻轻的笑了。
  “命运总是比任何人为的设计更加奥妙，我们永远不知道它将告诉我们什么，巨大的秘密隐藏在神的福祉中。”
  他说得没错。与真正的生活相比，最瑰丽、最奇妙的想象也只能甘拜下风。他知道趴在柜台上的是黑森林的精灵伊敏，但他却不知道那个在桌子上大喊大叫的人是伊敏的父亲，那个让他感到眼熟的侍应是莱克城的半精灵索尔。我们全都在此邂逅，聚于一处。可是有的彼此没有认出来，有的彼此从不相识。有的人以后一直也不知道今天的相逢，有的人要到后来再次相遇时才明白。[注1]
  我不知道接下来该说些什么，我竟然一点儿也不激动……于是我仰头看着树上的精灵，我从前不敢这样。
  “你瞧，”他说，“你该像看着我这样，直视他的眼睛。他应该是一个朋友，是一段美丽的回忆，而不是一个束缚，一个无法挣脱的牢笼。”
  我摇摇头。
  “你们精灵要歌唱一朵花儿，一只小鸟，或者一个漂亮的女精灵，你们可以站在那儿，站在她们面前，瞧着她们的模样，然后脑子里就冒出那么多与那模样相配的话来。可是我不成，我没法子直接对着太阳看，我的眼睛会被耀眼的阳光刺得什么也看不见。我只能看着那些被阳光照着的东西，从它们那儿去想象太阳到底是个什么模样……我想他一定有自己的道理。既然有的人能把坏日子过得快快活活，那自然也有人会把好日子过得不快活。尽管我想不出到底是什么事儿让他那么不快活。很多人不快活是因为他们的国家在打仗，他们的亲人去世，因为没钱吃不饱也穿不暖和，或者是丢了什么喜欢的东西又没法子找回来。可他又是为了什么呢？要说伤心事儿，咱们谁没有过？谁没和别人吵过嘴，斗过气，谁没打烂过东西，摔过跟头，谁没被亲人或者国王骂过，谁没上过当受过骗，谁没被打雷闪电强盗猛兽吓唬过，可咱们现在不是一样挺快活？但我想，他总有自己的理由。总有理由。”
  “我喜欢在这开阔的视野里行走。活着的世界是个迷人的地方，蓝天与阳光下的群山、森林和草原有着勾魂摄魄的美。但是我不能想象永远的在这里居住。不能想像永远在黑森林里行走，在中土四处流浪。不能想像在永无止尽的夜里一个人在树顶上眺望星空和星空下的大山……”
  “这是他的话……你还记得？”
  精灵轻轻的叹了口气。
  “吉穆利……他就像一个胳膊长了坏疽的人，拒绝以切除疾病的肢体来换取健康，因为即使是坏死或残障，也是自己身体的一部分。又或者，他无法依靠自己的力量来摆脱病痛的折磨，因为那个理想中的医疗者迟迟没有出现。你感到痛苦，是因为你觉得与他之间未曾有过共鸣。你们就像偶遇的旅人，在短暂的同行之后匆匆分手，怆惶得甚至来不及看清对方眼中的神色是漠然还留恋。你们分道扬镳，各奔东西，去向自己宿命的终点，从此孤单一人。孤独如同一位顽固的盟友，即使是在同行之日也未曾自你身旁离去。无论你怎样去爱他，去接近他，依旧被他的孤独无情的拒之门外。你无法与他交谈，因为你害怕在自己十分珍贵的事，在他也许是多余。”
  我知道精灵说得不错。但仅仅是知道他说得不错，并不能改变什么。
  “莱戈拉斯，我在想，也许没有一件事是渺小的，就是很小很小的事件的开展也会像一个巨大的命运。这命运本身就象是一块奇异的织物，每条线都被一只无限温柔的手引来，排在另一条线的旁边，千百条线互相持衡。我们都未曾想过，有一天，这只手会为我们引来怎样的一条线[注2]，更未曾想过，我们和这条不期而至的线会有怎样的纠葛。然而，我们总会把所有的丝线整理清楚，让它们在各自的位置上平行、交替……美丽也好，简陋也好，总会编织出属于自己的，与众不同的图案。”
  “这……”
  “没错儿，这话是你说的。在萝林，记得吗？”
  精灵大笑了起来。
  “那么，就这样……让它发生吧。”
  “好的，就这样……让它发生吧。”

  第三纪3019年8月22日，我在伊森河谷做了个梦，梦里出现了很多人，发生了很多事，但我醒来的时候，却什么都记不得了。
  我也不记得，一年前的同一天，我在孤山喝得大醉，晚上梦见了一个精灵。
  我仅仅记得睡着之前，迷迷糊糊的听到精灵好听的声音，像是在向我道晚安……
  “做个好梦……”他低低的说，“一切美好的事都将发生……”



  注1：原文引自《日瓦戈医生》。半年前重读这本书，看到这段话，发了半天呆，忽然间就决定了给伊敏另一种命运。所以我写文……真是任性而胡为啊……汗。
  注2：引用里尔克的话。


  一年了。看着那个初次发贴的日期，自己都不敢相信。

  一年了。小吉从孤山出发已经整整一年了。
  觉得自己已经习惯了用小吉的眼睛去看世界，下班等索道的时候，站在江边，看着对岸，总是忍不住想，当小吉站在伊森河谷的小山丘上的时候，看到的是怎样的一副景象？
  一年了，这个故事已经出现整整一年了，竟然还没有结束。不知该如何面对关注着它的人。我只感到惶恐。因为害怕承认手中的笔是多么的虚弱，试图围剿人物的命运，却被人物挣脱了束缚。到头来，不知道是谁在控制着谁，不愿妥协，于是对峙。

  站在时间的中点，回想一年之前，有着怎样的心情？设想一年之后，又是怎样的感受？  
  这一年，有人从学生变成了国家工作人员，或是社会闲散人员或是外地来X的人员。
  这一年，有人不需要再参加期末考试，但需要被查验流动人口计划生育证明。
  这一年，你也许流过汗，也许旅过游，也许上过床，也许跳过槽，也许微过笑，也许哭过泣……
  这一年，你也许企图做许许多多的事情，但最终可能由于种种的借口而未遂。
  一个人在广州的朋友对我说，赚不到钱也许有许许多多的原因。但我不允许我的原因是自己没有努力。
  我无比凄惶，因为我无法说这样的豪言壮语。我赚不到钱的原因是因为我笨。这不是我允不允许的问题。我写不出文的原因同样是因为我笨。这不是我努不努力的问题。

  以一年为一个阶段来祭奠自己，不知道是太短还是太长。
  其实有时候一天都是永远。
  你也许在这一年与恋人相背而走，也可能成为孩子他爹、他妈。这一年有人死去，有人出生。尽管那都不是你。但谁知道呢？也许就在明天。假如还有明天的话。

  常常因为某件事而开始怀疑自己选择进行一个故事是否有意义，是否应该继续。那感觉，就像午夜梦回，一头一脸的冷汗。
  如果你相信我，那一切都是真的，如果你不相信，一切都是假的，这个世界也不过是个假设而已。
  所以，最终，还是会继续吧。

  小吉从孤山出发的时候，不曾想过有如此艰辛的旅途，当然也不曾想过，光明的结局来得如此迅速。
  所以，毕竟，希望永远存在。

  许巍的歌：
  我不停地走啊，走啊，直到我累了。
  我不停地弹啊，弹啊，直到弦断了。
  不管这一年，你是累了还是断了。你快乐吗？
  我不可能知道这答案，但至少我能肯定，一个叫吉穆利的矮人和一个叫莱戈拉斯的精灵是快乐的。至少，在我的故事里是这样；至少，在故事的结局是这样。
  快乐，是浮世唯一的真实。

  感谢WW、SunnyMay、hbybz、水大、魔羯、Ian猫猫、阿豆……对我的帮助，也感谢所有关注并喜爱《向西》的朋友。谢谢你们：）。


PS：至于8月22日是否会有满月……呃……请自动忽略。

厚着脸皮把回帖也重复一遍：p

一天，或是一年……
一瞬间，或是永远……

是的，正像你说的，时光流转，世事变迁，很多曾经的东西都已不再，无论是龙堡抑或其他
繁华落尽吗？
可是，我还是要说，春去春又回，花落还会再开
一年，到底是长还是短？
一瞬间的感动，可以永远铭刻在心底……也许会渐渐淡去，但并非消失，而是沉淀如一首老歌

告诉我明天有几天，告诉我永远有多远……
（盗用一下^^）

“我们全都在此邂逅，聚于一处。可是有的彼此没有认出来，有的彼此从不相识。有的人以后一直也不知道今天的相逢，有的人要到后来再次相遇时才明白。”
是怎么样的机缘，让我们在此相遇
为了曾见证过的美好而感谢生命本身
尽管梦总是会醒来，我也不要放弃做梦的权力
修理工对小老鼠斯图亚特说：一个想在旅途中寻觅到什么的人，绝不会走得太快。
（And a person who is looking for something doesn’t travel very fast.）
现在想想，滚滚红尘中一路匆匆行来，曾错过了多少好风景？
衷心的希望，这样一种心灵的旅途能够继续，直到生命的结束。


跑一下题……
最近忽然又把达明一派的歌翻出来听（周期性发作了：p），不知道为什么一直特别偏爱这一首（其实准确地说应该是黄耀明的）

忽而今夏（曲：花比傲 词：林夕）

看见了漫漫稻田在掠过
看见了烈日在遥望着我
过去每一分钟刹那之间涌向我
某月某年 彷佛再生
照亮那曾 天昏地暗 一个炎夏

看见了面上泪痕滑下去
说过了道别话然后别去
听见了一颗心叫我一手敲碎
那夜与谁 怎么告吹
那是某年 惊心动魄 一个炎夏
无端过去

迷离面孔 像昨天的我
曾相识 而难以碰面
然后在今天 忽而今天
再遇 这孤独少年

看见我为寂寞寻觅伴侣
听见我为静默寻觅字句
去到了讲不出那个家中的派对
那夜有谁（看见了漫漫稻田在掠过）
（看见了面上泪痕滑下去）
都不要紧（看见了烈日在遥望着我）
（说过了道别话然后别去）
那是某年通宵踏旦一个炎夏
（那个我就像是和谁在说话）
（那个我在念着喃喃动听话）
如此过去（终于过去）

迷离面孔 像昨天的我（那个我散发披肩）
（那个我痛快一点）（那个我放肆一点）
曾相识 而难以碰面（如炎夏青春的脸）
（如红日初升的脸）（从来没风霜的脸）
然后在今天 忽尔今天
再遇 这孤独少年
再会 这孤独少年


不知道为什么听的时候总是有一种惊心动魄的感觉……每次被某种东西触动的时候就会有这样的感受，是一种无比熟悉但又永远无法名状的东西刹那之间涌上来将自己淹没，仿佛死而复生一般甜蜜的痛苦。
就算是痛苦也不会放弃那些感动，为了我的心灵不会僵死。

PS：
只要还可以看到如此美丽的文字，只要还有真正认真致力于学术研究的人在这里，龙堡就还是当初我所热爱的地方，我就还会继续在这里潜下去。

This is so ethereal, intimate, sad and merry...
Thanks to Elrond for such a gift.

矮人的故事结束了？？？
开始觉得寂寞起来～～～～

实在是很爱向西这个系列及衍生作品啊~~~~
文字语言情节心理每个描写都是那么的真实感人
而且文字朴实精炼,没有很多文章常有的词藻堆砌现象~~~
叹气^^^^^大人什么时候继续呢?

disclaimer: i translated this piece of fic into english for entertainment and love for elrond's writing. no copyright impingement was meant.  

Within a day, a year later

“So this is the end? All is ended?”
“Anything wrong?”
“We have been together for so long, and have achieved so much……”
“En?”
“……It feels queer somehow.”
“Huh……I guess, you mean there must be a long process, even without that,
there should be an exploding moment, right?”
“Ah?”
“You feel time should pass by slowly, without being noticed, sadness be
fading away among our group activities, like the process of a day, from
sunrise until sunset, serene and natural. People won’t feel unprepared when
the night falls, because every day is like this. All the time you are waiting
for the journey homeward, therefore when you finally embark on the road, you
won’t feel lost in the mind, or empty in the heart, but like a hunter who has
obtained a full load, achieved complete experience and happiness; no sorrow
surrounds your heart like a fallen star; all the friends are still close by,
as if you’ll catch their familiar smiles when turning around. Or, you wish
to be hugged by faithful and strong arms, your hair be moistened by dear
friends’ tears, your shoulder be touched by their bleak and sad glances; you
need such kind of violence, to induce the accumulated sorrow. In other words,
leaving, to you is not an action, or a process; it is only a feeling."
“……”
“Isn’t it so?”
“……Look, we can’t see them any more.”

We looked to the south, then to the west. Lady Galadriel’s glimmering golden
hair and the green light in Aragorn’s hand both disappeared on the faraway
horizon. Their dark long shadows cast by the setting sun, were shortened bit
by bit, into a black dot, shivering a little; finally nothing was there.

“We gotta go.” The Elf patted Arod, “You prefer walking or riding?”
“Can we stay for a while?”
The Elf nodded, lowering his head to whisper something into Arod’s ear. The
horse sniffed and strolled away, bowering down and starting to chew the grass
slowly.
I sat down on the grass. The Elf stood there, hands behind, the fingers of
his left hand grabbing the fingers of his right hand. This pose made him look
thousands of years younger.
I felt uncomfortable everywhere.   It was too quiet here, as if the world
collapsed without the support of sound, pressurized on me, and strangled my
breath. Actually it was always quiet on the mountain. Almost no trees
around. Wind blowed from the south, swiftly passed the mountain and headed
for the north. You gotta sit down, or lie down, to hear the rustling of the
grass.
The sun was right in the front. The sun of nightfall was hairy sometimes,
like a big feathery ball. The land touched by its light was crimson and
brilliant. It was not the same as fruits’ juicy redness, but like the color
when one blushed, brightly red, not shiny though, warm and not hot, very
lovely. The land in the shadow was like a piece of carpet soaked in water;
even the snow on the top of the mountains appeared dampened blue, as if they
all turned back. The River of Isen made large twists and rushed to the west;
a small part of it shimmering red, the left dark green, like a long and deep
crack on the earth.  
I looked toward where Aragorn disappeared, holding my breath, craving to hear
a little horse step, but nothing I could get except the noise of Arod’s
chewing grass.
“Can you hear anything?”
The Elf nodded.
“What are they doing?”
“Who? The lady of Lothlorien?”
“No, I mean Aragorn.”
“Why ask about him?”
“Because……because if we meet Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, or Elrond next
time, they’ll be the same, no difference from today. But after he goes back,
Aragorn is no longer the Strider, the messy Dunedain we’ve known before.”
“This makes you unhappy? You don’t hope for this?”
“Not really……”
“Then, our master dwarf doesn’t like this type of Aragorn?”
“I can’t explain this well. Mayhap for a dwarf like me, a messy Dunedain is
more real. You can pat him on the shoulder, grab some pipeweed from his
pocket; you don’t have to address him respectfully; you neither bow to
him, nor care how others see the relation between us. Anyhow his
people are in need of a noble and strong king; they need him to be crowned,
clean and neat, seated in the royal chair. He no longer has time to care
about others, I mean people like us who don’t belong to his kingdom. Like
this he is shouldering responsibility for his people. Or……things have been
like this from the beginning.”
“Right……he is not our companion any more. He has been the King since he
was born.”
“Frankly, I didn’t see it at the beginning. The first time I saw him, in
Rivendell, he was no different from a tramp—in fact, he had always been like
this before wedded with Lady Arwen.”
“So was he in a dwarf’s eyes……”
“I say, don’t you feel this way? No king can be as messy as he used to be.
”
“The first time I saw him is earlier than you…...he brought Gollum to
Mirkwood and asked my father to have an eye on him, and my father agreed—in
my opinion, this must be a strongest testimony that he is the most respectable
King among Men.”
“What did he look like at that time?”
“Hmm……no difference from the day in Rivendell, except that his clothes had
been a bit cleaner.”
“Did you think that he was like a king? Compared to the bastard—your
father, who was more like a king? Perhaps neither was.”
“……at least my father was more handsome.”
“Surely you are joking. No one can beat you elves.”
“En?”
“No one can beat you elves.”
“I can't hear you clearly……Mind repeating once more?”
“Hey! An elf prince shouldn’t be so naughty.”
We both laughed. The Elf squinted his eyes slightly. His thin eyebrow
was like a handle to the pump upon a well, as if when it were to be pushed
down,
sweet and clear water would flow out of his eyes. I wondered what I looked
like when I laughed……of course I knew I was not comparable with the Elf, yet
even looking like a cat, or a bear was not so bad.  

The crimson sun, little by little, fell along the white mountain. The distant
tower of Isengard was clear in sight. If you widened the eyes, you’d see
black dots smaller than ants were moving back and forth; they were Ents. Wind
of nightfall swirled and touched my face. Suddenly I seemed to hear
someone singing. When I strained to listen to it, it was gone.
“Did you hear it?”
“En……The Ents were singing.”
“Treebeard?”
“There was an old forest long long ago, trees tall in a warm glow, flowers
blooming on the green meadow, waters running in a melodious flow.”
“Oohahahahahah……how’s it?”
“Hmm……as if the thunder in the hot summer rolled over the mountain.”
We laughed again. Out Loud. I felt lots of cool clear air drawn into my
lung, my chest full as if to explode in a second—you know, it was not easy to
laugh again, in so carefree a way.
The Elf bended to pick a grassleaf and brought it close to his lips. I
thought he was going to chew it playfully, yet he started to whistle a song.
When I was in Lonely Mountain, I used to play with leaves too. Nevertheless
the sound I made was sharp and shrill, only was able to scare a hare. But the
Elf’s whistle was truly pleasant.   This thin strand of sound was shivering
like a spider’s web; wind could blow it away, yet it glued to your face
strongly.  
Strange. The melody sounded……very familiar.
I thought hard, but couldn’t recall anything. That familiarity stuck to my
forehead and was very disturbing.    
“Do you rememeber this song?”
“I am thinking of it. It sounds kinda familiar.”
“Heheh……”
“What’s so funny?”
The Elf made no reply. He started to sing softly.

The eternal night falls behind;
A bleak passage is extending forward.
A tiny ship
Sails in the ocean of starlight, without sound.

I was speechless for quite a while, until to find myself as hot as a fried pie
out of the oven freshly.
“Remember it?”
“Nope.”
“Cheating an elf is a sin; cheating an elf friend is sin upon sin.”
“I I I I I didn’t…...”
“That’s the first time you saw an elf, isn’t it?”
“Of course not……”
“Before that you had had no idea how elves looked like, instead you had
believed they were ugly creatures.”
“Of course not……”
“In your eyes elves were white-skinned orcs, and wicked as well.”
“No way……”
“Our appearance shocked you, caused your wisdom to collapse, made you feel
losing the original motivation, as a result you resented us, as your consin,
that elder dwarf lord did; you threw hard glares wherever we went.”
“That’s not true……not true at all!”
“Angry?”
“Heng!”
“Hahah……now you understand it.”
“Understand what?”
“My feelings at that time.”
“What feelings?”
“Anything I said was being rebuked; anything I suggested was being bullied…
…I was wronged, moreover, I couldn’t really take it hard as a child did.”
“You you you……you you you you you…I know you always think we dwarves are
like kids.”
“By the Valar, I swear I never think in this way.”
“Say it again?”
“I never think you dwarves are like kids. In my opinion, you dwarves ARE
kids.”
Damn the Elf!
What could I do? I couldn’t really fight him, except thudding my axe hard on
the ground a few times.
“The tower of Isengard is going to be veiled beneath the black gown of the
night. We’d better go on with our journey before the setting sun hides his
bright countenance.”
(it’s me, or. cant bear it any more. don’t you feel this elf speaks
like..eh..a nerd? //escape)
The Elf let out a whistle. Arod strolled by slowly, his head touching the
Elf’s shoulder. I stood to my feet, followed him to go down the mountain
slowly.
The west sky was tinged with thick orange color. More than half the sky was
heavy with clouds. The sun shined upon the back of them and turned them grey.
We could still distinguish the horses’ footprint on the meadow of the vale
when Aragorn and Lady Galadriel passed along. The horses’ footmarks were
divided into two directions: the deeper ones went to the south, the lighter
ones to the west. We were going to the north.
We, an Elf, a dwarf, and a horse, were making to the north in a leisure.
There was no need, no duty to hurry up. Before reaching Fangorn Forest, we’
d go however we liked, rest whenever we preferred. I almost forgot this
feeling. Even though our speed was much slower than chasing orcs, I felt as
light as a swallow, ready to fly in the sky anytime.
We met an Ent. He said he was only out to take a stroll, because in
such a remote and empty place like Isengard, when the setting sun cast light
on his leaves and branches, his blood was boiling and he couldn’t sit
still for a second, only desired to walk outside.  
“The peace!” His little yellow eyes glistened like two glass balls. “I
think I can grow taller, at least taller than the Oak.” He was a birch with
thick leaves.
“Would you like to taste some Ents’ wine?” He bended to stare at me. If
not seeing they rebuild the park, I would have been afraid that he was going
to break his waist to bend so. “The wine would make you grow taller; and
your friend won’t have to look downward to speak to you like what I am doing
right now.”
“Thank you. But I don’t think it is necessary.” The Elf replied a bit too
quickly, then glanced at me, “Of course, unless my Dwarf friend wants it.”
What should I say?

I thought night had fallen, yet the west sky seemed to be flecked by magic and
started to glow, as bright as fire cast upon an ancient mirror. A swift
moment later, golden flames died away and turned red like burning woods;
another while slipped by; even the seeming woods were burnt out, except that
dark red flames were leaked through ashy clouds. All the time we were looking
at the sky, the dark flames were gone. We seemed to enter an enormous cave,
dimmer and dimmer as we got deeper into it. Shady coolness crawled up our
heels.  
One couldn’t help recalling the past at such a moment bordered on day and
night, however, as I looked back, those things became strange and distant,
seemed to take place long long time ago, earlier than King Thorn’s era, or
seemed to be others’ business, the legends we read from books except that the
heroes happened to share the same names as ours. All those that had struck me
hard in body and soul, Moria, Helm’s Deep, the Path of the Dead……were
completely lost to me at present. I remembered all details, yet I began to
wonder whether I had really experienced them, until a kind of sound, or scent
brought all those alive again; they were sparkles hit by stone with stone and
were able to inflame the whole forest.
White blossoms of mints were blooming everywhere in Isen vale. Wind sent
their faint scent over. A familiar feeling was rising inside me like a
wavering fever.
“Do you remember who was fond of mint most?”
“Ithil!”
“He mentioned there was a story in the cool and faint scent of mint, and he
rather enjoyed its mysterious loveliness when the story became a secret.”
“Can you guess what was the story like?”
“I didn’t mean to pry into a friend’s sceret, but……I think there was a
young lady in this story.”
“An elf lady?”
“Nope, a human girl.”
“Like that echott ?”
“Who?”
“The Mirkwood elf who cracked his mind? And the little kid in Rivendell—at
least he had been a little kid years ago. They had all been involved with
Men.”
“Perhaps……no matter it was in Mirkwood, Lothlorien, or Rivendell, many
lovely stories were veiled beneath the serenity of elfland.”
The Elf suddenly turned to look at me.
“Among these there was a story belonged to you, Master Dwarf of Lonely
Mountain.”
Master Dwarf of Lonely Mountain.
A large hand seemed to grasp my heart and my breath was taken away, yet I felt
a surge of joy in such stifle as if I heard grand music coming from a remote
unknown space.
Moon rised high over the east land. Moonbeams like the billowing sea drowned
everything. Beneath our own feet, our shadows were quavering distinctly, like
a lonely island in this sea. I lost track of time. Night was the same as
danger to us. You couldn’t take off helms, armors, or weapons. We had to be
fully armed even to take a nap. You got to take turns for stand and guard,
prick up your ears to listen to the sound around. Darkness was the best
friend of evil, yet held us good people in awe.
If here had grown out thick woods, it would have been like Lothlorien.
Lothlorien, the eternal home of Mallorn.
We had no concern, no worry there. I recalled in a misty morning, the air
was full of the beautiful sound of elvish voices; we came cross an elf who
walked strangely……in the following morning, the lake flicking golden light
in
the sun, he lent us pillows and reclined on the window sill, barefoot……I
thought, when I was old, I’d try to enter Lothlorien, stay inside “the well
of time” built by Lord Celeborn, viewing his paintings, listening to Ithil’s
stories about his past journey. I’d take old Eluo with me. He’d be crazy
happy.
I let out a glee at this.
“Thought of jolly things again?”
I heard the Elf’s voice some way ahead and looked up at him. He was six or
seven paces ahead and was turning back glancing at me.
I stopped.
Something was queer. There must be something wrong with my memory, or was
this only a dream?
Wasn’t this the moment that a Mirkwood elf and a dwarf of Lonely Mountain
began to be friends in an evening in Lothlorien?
“What’s up? Gimli?”
Yes, yes……the same inquiry, “What’s up, Gimli?”, this was the first time
he called my name since we had met in Rivendell.
And, afterwards……he held out his hand to me.

We stopped to have a rest in the woods even though we were not tired. Finally
I could lay down Sam’s pots, pans and plates. He had insisted to give these
to us as a parting gift, which had been ringing along the way. If not because
they were held most precious by the Hobbit, I would have taken such a gift as
an insult for a dwarf —what could I do? Even Legolas didn’t mind it, I
couldn’t let an elf prince shoulder these cooking stuff.
There was a lake in the woods. I guess that’s why the Elf stopped here. It
was rather a small full pool, fenced by tall trees. The trees were not thick,
dense stars dotted among leaves and branches. I was surprised how come all
stars appeared here. Perhaps my mind had been away and I hadn’t heeded them.
The moon wasn’t too high and was right above the lake, luminous and
unfaltering. In the center of the lake there emerged a silvery rippling path,
like mithiril lace on a piece of black iron armor; as a contrast, the trees in
the east looked darker, as if only a vague shape glimmered through the broken
shadows howled by wind for many years. The most distant place I could see was
the blue sky, bright pin points surrounding a large silver circle. Nearby
through thin slight shadow, I could see a radiant mirror that gathered all the
light and shined upon the place.
I heard the Elf breathed a sigh saying:" If I was two thousand years younger,
as young as you, I'd kneel down beside this lake."
I didn't reply. I was listening to a stream of water flowing into the lake.
The sound was melodic, as if a person was swallowing his laughter back into
his belly.  
The leaves of trees rustled in the wind, like somebody’s chuckling. Birds
chirped in the dreams. If you held your breath and pricked up your ears, you
’d hear the fallen leaves glide on the ground, the various crackling when
they rolled over the roots and grass, and worms’ sneaking in the earth and
bats’ fluttering in the wind. Sometimes you could hear hoofs and sighs far
far away……they came and went now and then, distinct from the heart-breaking
music; they were the most ordinary nonetheless. At this moment they entangled
all my nerves, and I was saddened. In the sound there seemed to contain the
most sorrowful things that had ever appeared in the life, in the whole history
of middle-earth.
It was Ithil who taught me this. Actually a dwarf was not able to distinguish
so many types of sound. Mixing of beautiful vibrations would bring up one’s
deepest thought—so said Ithil……the deepest thought……I had no idea. I lay
on my back.. The Elf perhaps did too. We were silent. I thought my mind was
blank—that’s how people felt after thrillment. I felt I was standing
beneath a ford, listening to the vigorous noise behind it, thought there must
be rushing river down there, nevertheless I couldn’t see them, and was
worried what the river would ruin if the ford collapsed, yet the key to open
the ford was right with me. It was strange that I longed for the danger, the
feeling being drowned, and unconsciously reached out my hand for the key.
I thought I’d feel better if to have some pipeweed. I sat up to open my bag.
I looked around and the Elf was not here. I glanced up. He was in a tree
beside the lake.
He turned his back to me, long legs dangling. This pose was awfully familiar.
He glowed with pale hue and appeared like a little white blossom blooming on
the tree. I gazed at him carefully, wondered what was up with him there, so
perfect, distant from everyone’s eyes. I thought what he had just said, that
many lovely stories were veiled under the serenity of elfland. Middle-earth
was so large, and how many things as lovely as elves were hidden and invisible
to us? Except a dwarf like me, who else would know an elf was blooming like a
flower by the lake in Isen vale?
Suddenly I understood a bit, understood why we could endure so many cold,
gloomy and bloody days. All the enduring was for such a day, for such a lake
that flowed quietly in the woods, for such an elf who sang joyfully in the
moonlight……
I thought about the first day, the day I set out from Lonely Mountain,
perhaps……even earlier……when a message from the other world came……when I
hadn’t realized what was truly death, what was affection for others, what was
the first teardrop.
At that time I believed peaceful and happy days would go on forever, and I
would receive messages far away one day. Everything of that time was shrouded
in clear and bright sunshine: Cousin, Elou, me, letters, lantern, Mandenair…
…and an elf named with Imen.
I shivered a little. I got the key, opened the ford, however, nothing
happened.  
He appeared, in my mind, exactly the same as before. I was no longer neurotic
when he came, neither was I dismayed when he went away. It had been something
hidden in a corner of my heart, wrapped up tightly, that no one could touch.
Presently it changed. He came and went like spring. As long as I existed,
he’d come. Why should I be sad at this?
I noticed the Elf had turned back and gazed at me with surprise. What
surprised him was probably the expression in my face that myself couldn’t
see. What kind of expression was it……sorrow? Joy? Like when an elf entered
the cave of Helm’s Deep, or when a dwarf entered Fangorn Forest?
All these years I desired to escape, to get away from my idealism, my friends,
and my home. Aimless travel was a somber and sad experience. Only I knew all
I wished was to find a way back home. But “home” was the inaccessible
ideal. During the eternal journey through time, there was only one way to
reach home—the way to get to the end. There Eru was awaiting us with tender
and noble smiles. All definite existence was void. Eru was wise and
merciless, granted our mortality with his infinity. Beyond He was looking
down at our desire, despair and struggle.
Anytime anywhere there was always a sense of escape hidden in my
consciousness. In fact I knew I could never get away. I was my own trap. My
body was burdened; my soul was weaker and weaker. Hopeless escape. That’s
what he said. He mentioned many such things. I didn’t understand much.
I could only feel the chilliness about him. And I couldn’t help as I was
more than three thousands years away.
“Please don’t be like him……” the Elf said softly, “A dwarf should never
be so sad……Don’t you know……you looked like Emin just now.”
“What?”
“Do you remember we had dropped by a small inn under the wall of Minas before
Aragorn was crowned?”
“A small inn……yes. There was a drunk fellow jumping and singing on a
table!”
“He was an elf.”
“What?”
“But he was not Emin. The one who folded his arms on the counter was. And the waitress, she looked familiar too.”
“……But I don’t recall anyone who had silvery hair and pointed ears in that
evening.”
“It was very easy to change the color of hair, neither hard to change the
shape of ears.”
“But……”
“We lived in the same forest for over two thousand years. I remembered his
face.”
After a long while I muttered: “This is……truly unexpected.”
The Elf smiled, “Fate is more marvelous than any of our own design. We never
know what it will reveal. The great secret is concealed in the Grace of Eru.
”
He was right. The most beautiful and miraculous imagination couldn’t beat
the real life. He knew the elf who stayed behind was Emin, but didn’t know
that the elf who was jumping and singing on the table was Emin’s father, or
the familiar wairtress was the half-elf Sole from Lake town. We all met in
one place, nonetheless some of us didn’t recognize each other; some never
knew each other before; some would never learn about the encounter from the
time onwards; some only came to know it next time.
I didn’t know what to say next. I was not thrilled at all……and I gazed
upon the Elf, though I had not dared to behave like this before.
“You see,” said he, “You should look into his eyes as you look into mine.
He is a friend, a beautiful piece of memory, not a tangle, or a trap.”
I shaked my head.
“When you elves want to sing about a flower, a bird, a pretty elf lady, you’
d stand there, face them, gaze at them, and many proper words rush out of your
mind. But I cant. I cant gaze at the sun. My eyes would be hurt by the
lustrous sunrays and nothing I can see. I can only look at those bathed in
sunlight and try to imagine the sun from them…...I guess he must have his own
reason. Since some can live joyously in hard days, others can be miserable in
good time, though I have no idea what saddened him. Many people are sad
because their countries are in war, their family members passed away, they are
too poor or they lost something precious and can’t find it. But why was he
sad? Mentioning ill fortune, all of us had the experience. Who hasn’t ever
bickered, fought, broke things into pieces, tripled and fell, been reproached
by friends or the king, cheated by others, scared by thunder, lightening or
beasts? Yet we are merry as well. He must have his own reason, his own
reason.”  
“I love to roam in the open view. The living world is enchanting. Below the
blue sky and in the sun, mountains, woods and the land are beautiful. But I
cant imagine to live here forever, to stroll in Mirkwood all the time, to
wander around the middle-earth. I cant imagine to gaze upon the starry sky
and the mountain alone in the eternal night…….”
“That’s what he said……you still remember it?”  
The Elf sighed softly.
“Gimli……He is like a person who has an ulcer on the arm and refuses to
recover by having it severed. Even though it is deadly or deceased, it is
part of his body. Or, he is not able to defy illness by his own will and
strength, because the legendary healer hasn’t appeared yet. You are pained,
because you never feel in common with him. You and he are two travelers that
encountered then separated, even didn’t have time to look into each other’s
eyes to see whether it was indifference or affection there. You parted, went
on your own way, toward either’s destiny, alone even since. Solitude was a
stubborn ally, never left you even while you were with someone. No matter how
you loved him, how you strained to approach him, you were shut out of his
solitude grimly. You couldn’t converse with him, because you were afraid
that things you cherished were nothing to him.
I knew what the Elf said was sensible. But only knowing it was sensible didn
’t change anything.
“Legolas, it occurred to my mind, that nothing was trivial, that even the
unfolding of most tiny things could be great fate. This fate was like a piece
of strange fabric, each thread summoned by a tender hand and assembled along
another, thousands of threads balancing each other. We never mused, what
thread this hand would produce, moreover, what entanglement would come between
the thread and us. Nonetheless we always pieced them together, to have them
paralleled, mixed……beautiful or simple, we were all to bring forth our own
unique pattern.”
“……”
“Right. You once said these. In Lorien. Do you remember it?”
The Elf laughed.
“So, let it happen this way.”
“Yah, let it happen this way.”

It was August 22, 3019, the third age, and I had a dream in Isen vale. Many
people had come and many things had taken place in it, but I remembered none
after I was awake.
I neither remembered that I had dreamed of an elf after being drunk in Lonely
Mountain one the same day one year ago.
I could only recall hearing the elf’s beautiful voice that seemed to murmur
good night in my drowsiness before I fell asleep……
“Have a pleasant dream……” He whispered, “And all beautiful things will
come true……”

QUOTE (fethra @ 2003-09-12，09:47 AM)

disclaimer: i translated this piece of fic into english for entertainment and love for elrond's writing.  no copyright impingement was meant.    Within a day, a year later

惊叹&佩服……
另外：
申请转载
蒙Elrond大人应允，她的文都转到一个以文为主的奇幻网站作为典藏品收录了，在此特向大人申请转载此英文版。
谢谢！
（地址我给大人留了短信，因为那个站版规规定不随便公开地址）

hey sjj, you are welcome to transfer it to the site. since there were many errors in my translation and i dont have enough time or energy to revise it, please put a disclaimer as follows on the top of the article.

"Disclaimer: I translated this fiction into English for entertainment and love for Elrond's writing. No copyright impingement is intended. Due to the limited time there are errors and the translation is not fully faithful. Any suggestions are welcome."

    很冒失地为这么久以前的文章发贴，但因为我现在才看到这篇文章。
  还记得当年第一次看到《向西》（好像是《没有拉郎配的同人文》）时的惊喜与快乐，以后每星期一次的上网总是最先冲到这里看新贴，等待并快乐着。
  而后是高三，一切的一切似乎只能为了高考。但我心里始终有着份期盼，直到今天。
  现在我刚高考结束，正和家长为报志愿举旗不定。不过一切都会好，我相信。
  感谢Elrond，能写出如此精彩的文章，并祝您一切顺利。
  并以此贴纪念我初来龙堡时的日子。

QUOTE (天平 @ 2004-06-10，23:50 PM)

很冒失地为这么久以前的文章发贴，但因为我现在才看到这篇文章。     还记得当年第一次看到《向西》（好像是《没有拉郎配的同人文》）时的惊喜与快乐，以后每星期一次的上网总是最先冲到这里看新贴，等待并快乐着。      而后是高三，一切的一切似乎只能为了高考。但我心里始终有着份期盼，直到今天。      现在我刚高考结束，正和家长为报志愿举旗不定。不过一切都会好，我相信。      感谢Elrond，能写出如此精彩的文章，并祝您一切顺利。      并以此贴纪念我初来龙堡时的日子。

嘿嘿嘿嘿~~~~````
欢迎归来并祝考试顺利
然后
看这里