Author's note: Don't forget to read chapter 8 before you read this Epilogue. Chapter 8 is the best part of the story.

Thanks again for reading this! Please light up my life by leaving a review, and may a star always shine on your virtual journeys.

Esamen

Epilogue: The Hope of Minas Tirith

We wait for Gandalf on the doorsteps of Elrond’s house, finally ready to leave Rivendell and begin our journey South. Of all the Company, I am the only one who is glad tonight, for I am going home, but I keep my high spirits to myself in respect for their moment of leave-taking.  We are dressed for travel, silent in the chill evening breeze, each no doubt going over what he has packed and what might still be lacking.

I find that a leather lacing high on my cloak needs attention, and I work at it in the darkness until Legolas, standing at my side, finishes the job for me and then slaps my arm lightly to let me know that he is done. I nod my thanks.

Both Gimli and the Elf, like me, seem eager to start now that the time is at hand. Aragorn sits by himself, a little ways from us, still unreadable, mysterious as ever. I smile a little to myself as I watch him—whatever has so distracted him during the stay at Rivendell will be gone once we are on the road, and there are few secrets among nine folk on a long journey. I will know him better, very soon now.

Samwise and the two younger hobbits huddle by the pony, misery in all their faces. I catch Pippin’s eye and smile, hoping to raise his spirits. Frodo and Bilbo stand close together at the top of the stairs, talking until the very last possible moment. Elrond waits in the shadows of the doorway, with many others of his household, to bid us fare well.

I look around, up at the turrets and balconies outlined against the sky. Even though I am eager to see my home again, I feel a pang of regret at leaving Rivendell. This has been a journey of wonders. I am not a scholar like my brother, but I know old lays that tell of Men changed by visiting magical places, and tonight I feel as if I am one of those story-heros— more resolute, more powerful now, than when I first came to this valley.

Yet I have found more here than strength or wisdom. There is another thing one can have in one’s heart, a thing that passes knowledge and skill, a thing I had forgotten in the battlefields, or maybe never knew. I feel it now, as I watch Bilbo gather together with the Halflings a last time. It is what Mithrandir meant when he said  trueness of heart and loyal friendship have ever been our most powerful weapons against the forces of Sauron. The word comes slow to such as me to say it, but I cannot hold back the meaning: it is love, not the courtly manners or the strict obedience that I thought was love till now, but a glow that fills my heart with joy, making all things seem possible, making all costs worthwhile.

Courage born of this wells inside me as I look up at the hills. Beyond them lies my home. I have not forgotten you, my brother, my people. I am coming. Do not lose heart, fair City, I long to call across the mountains. I am coming! Let all the foes of Gondor flee! And I raise my horn and let it call, echoes leaping rock to rock in the night, because for Gondor, hope is come.

                                                ~~~finis~~~