Authors’ Note: Our sincerest apologies for the delay! Your constant patience has been wonderful. And now the waiting pays off: here is the last chapter!!

Chapter 44

Entulesse: The Return

or Your Heart Will Be True

July 30

Ithilien

Faramir felt a profound relief as he entered the doors of his own home in Ithilien. Eowyn had proceeded there several weeks earlier when it became clear that, between Elladan and Elrohir, there was no need to worry for the safety of the royal children. He'd still been a little surprised at her eagerness to be off home — what with news of the battle coming to Minas Tirith the quickest — but Eowyn would not have been Eowyn if she had not still possessed the ability to confuse him. He hoped it was not illness, with a desire for her own bed, which had sent her home in such a rush… He had heard some hint from the stable hands in Gondor that she had had a little difficulty mounting her horse, and that was practically unthinkable. No, doubtless he was worrying for naught again.

As he passed through the wide entryway into the front room, which generally served as a place to greet guests, he was surprised to see two figures already sitting there waiting for him.

"Mae govenan," he greeted them warmly in their own tongue. Due to their close association with Legolas, he had met with both elves frequently.

"Greetings, Faramir," Raniean said with smile. "We were relieved to hear you yet lived."

"Not that we were expecting you to die," Trelan put in. "In fact, I think your men here believe you to be absolutely indestructible. There was a bet started at the local tavern you would perish dramatically in battle, and the foolish man who began it could get no takers."

"Trey," Raniean said, staring at his friend, "when did you start loafing about in taverns?"

"Peace, my friend, I heard it from one of the guardsmen." Trelan grinned.

Faramir could not help a chuckle. "I am glad to see you both as well; and in such good spirits. Please, is there anything I can do for you?"

"Our apologies, Lord Faramir," Raniean inclined his head. "We did not wish to bother you on your return like this, but while Trelan's report would seem to imply we have been staying locally ever since your departure, in actuality we only just returned from a scouting journey yesterday. The reports from Minas Tirith have been rather vague in certain areas…"

"You want to know where Legolas is and why he hasn't returned yet?" Faramir's eyebrow was cocked in a mischievous manner.

"You are very insightful."

"Not really. You had that Look in your eyes. Please, be assured, Prince Legolas was in perfectly good health when I saw him last, and none the worse for the various detours he and the king were forced to take."

"Detours," Trelan repeated, making the word into a moan.

"They had to go to Lorien to get medicine for the Queen," Faramir put in helpfully. "I don't think they planned on there being Corsairs in Rohan."

"Ran, you said that when Strider became king, his and Legolas' visits would become much more predictable!"

"I didn't say that," Raniean sighed forbearingly. "I said I hoped that would be the case, and all that aside, Trelan, can you really tell me that after all the years we've known them both, this was unpredictable?"

"Do I have to answer?"

"Either way, we need to make sure," Raniean said. "I'd rather not give King Thranduil grounds for supposing we are not doing our best to keep his son out of trouble."

"Out of trouble? How can he possibly expect us to keep him out of trouble? When have we ever managed to do that?? I ask you, Ran!" The short elf was ranting to himself now, and he began to pace, his hands flicking in exasperated gestures.

Faramir was so busy trying to quash his laughter at the two friends' plight, he didn't hear the footsteps of his wife approaching until she actually entered the room. Her golden hair was loose, and she was wearing a simple white night dress and sky-blue robe.

"…and we are completely outmatched as well! All of Middle Earth seems out to kill him!…"

"Faramir?" Eowyn whispered, her eyes shining in delight.

"…I understand and sympathize that Legolas can't control such things, but short of Valinorian power I doubt…"

"Eowyn!" he cried, and turned to her — only to stop short in surprise. The robe was not tied, for reasons that the flowing nightgown made all too clear. Eowyn's hand moved automatically to her growing belly and her eyes shone like stars. "Eowyn?" Faramir said again, as if suddenly unsure if he was speaking to his wife.

Raniean's eyes flicked from the pregnant lady to her stunned lord, and he quickly grabbed the shoulder of his still-ranting friend. "Come on, Trelan, this is the part where we leave them alone."

"…entirely un— what?" Trelan had just time to ask, before he was hauled unceremoniously from the room and the door was closed with a click behind them.

"Surprise?" Eowyn murmured, coming slowly forward.

"It is that," her husband agreed, completely dumbstruck.

"I was about to tell you. In the rose garden, remember? Right when the message came that summoned us to Minas Tirith." Her palms reached up to rest on his chest. "We were pledged to serve our king. I had to do what I could, and so did you, and when you left for the border — I wanted to say something so badly. But there was no point in making you worry over two people…"

For a moment longer Faramir stood staring at her, and then he reached out to hug her tightly to him, marveling sense of the small life held in between them. "Oh, my love," he breathed into her hair. "I have never felt anything like this… No explanations needed. I just… Dearest, how much I have missed you!"

"And I you." She smiled at him, the pixie mouth at home and out of place beneath the Shieldmaiden's eyes. "There was talk of an assassination attempt, and then word of worse injuries in battle, and nobody could tell me whether you were well or not." Her fingers questioningly traced the fading lines of recent cuts on his face and hands.

"The assassination attempt was quite uneventful; only a scratch on the arm," he chuckled, knowing she wouldn't believe him.

"Well," she said, mock-seriously, "I'm glad they managed to sew it back on, then."

"You think I didn't fear for you? They said the palace was attacked. And you were pregnant all that time?" he seemed suddenly stricken at the thought.

"Shh!" she commanded immediately. "Don't spoil my efforts by worrying over the past. It's done. And he's fine."

"She's fine."

They exchanged challenging looks.

"She, Eowyn, and she'll be graceful and fearless and more beautiful than all the stars in the heavens."

"He, and he'll be strong and honorable and valiant and a lover of words, following in his father's footsteps."

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"I thought you loved me for my stubbornness!"

His lips parted in a low laugh as he cupped her face between his hands and sea gray eyes met sky blue ones. "Well, yes. But for so much more besides"

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July 30

Minas Tirith

Two soldiers walked along the empty boulevards of the city, silent except for the echoes of their own footsteps and the occasional calls of the watchmen. The shorter man was a little unsteady on his feet, the taller one shortening his stride so that his friend did not have to tax himself to keep up.

"I need advice, Erybenn," the taller one said.

"Will wonders never cease?"

"Don't be an idiot."

"Yes, General."

There was a pause.

"Well?" Erynbenn asked, no longer teasing.

"I'm afraid I'm wading into deep waters," his friend sighed. "Even before I began shutting people out on purpose, I had no understanding of how the human heart worked. There are too many mysteries for me, I'm afraid."

"I don't understand everything about the human heart either, Bartho," Erynbenn countered hastily. "Practically nothing, in fact."

"You know it better than I."

The younger man cocked his head. "Is that what you think? You interact with the world differently, I'll grant, but you recognized quality when you found it. If you were so heartless and stupid as you think, would you have twenty-odd letters from a certain lady hidden in your saddlebags?"

Bartho scuffed the ground with his boot. "Prying, insolent, contrary young jackanape."

"I know, I know, I am all that and more. Bear with me. There are words, I just don't know if I have them..." He looked to the stars for inspiration. "There is a strength on Arda that Ilúvatar gave us from the first wakening of men and elves. A staying-power, stronger than all the forces of evil. A flame from his own unfathomable soul, so that the greatest hate in all history, from Morgoth to Sauron, cannot overcome it.

"It is the same substance that drove Aragorn through hell and back to cure his wife. It gave wits to Legolas to think and to fight beside his friend, hoping still when Aragorn could not. It held Queen Arwen to this side of the last shore to wait for her Elessar's return, whether he brought her cure or no. It drove Gimli across the hills and woods on the barest chance that he could warn his friends of danger. It granted Faramir bravery in the face of all-too-familiar defeats. It took Eression to Rivendell and Elrond's sons, his past, at his king's orders. It bound Duurben to his post when mistake and defeat followed on the heels of betrayal and the easiest course was to depart. It strengthened the Lady Eowyn and Pippin to defend the palace when no one else came. It gave young Eldarion valor to fight beyond his small years. Connections, Bartho, and I know there must be others that I cannot name. Think what came of them."

He closed his eyes slowly. "Think too of a frightened woman concussing an assassin with a vase for a man she only met twice. Imagine a general combing a hillside of carrion on the small hope that a foolish captain might be found there, still alive." He opened his eyes again and reached up to press his palm against Bartho's constricting chest. "Love, friendship, loyalty, patriotism… it takes so many forms, and they are much alike… but none of them come from the head. Cold thought is not so foolish or so reckless. When your greatest trials come, my friend, and your head bids you flee for safety, it is your heart that will be true and to that you must listen. That is all the understanding we need."

There was something gripping Bartho's throat and pricking behind his eyes. It startled him and his lips parted as his breath came in raggedly.

Erynbenn looked at him compassionately. "You're the bravest man I know. Running doesn't suit you."

The older man nodded. He had already said this, he had cried it to the hills, and every time it came easier. "I love her. More than life itself."

"Good. Then you already know what to do." Erynbenn let his hand rest on his friend's shoulder for another moment, and then turned and limped up the white street alone. In the twilight the closely nestled houses looked almost identical, but in the window of one a candle was burning.

Bartho watched like one hypnotized as Erynbenn paused in front of the doorway, as if trying to decide whether or not to knock. Then suddenly the door burst open. Golden light illuminated the red flowers in their pots beside the walkway. Melima came out in a rush of pale, flyaway hair, and her husband's arms immediately caught her up. The old injuries were forgotten as Erynbenn spun her off her feet, and when the breeze from her whirling skirts snuffed the candle on the sill, the couple stood in the dark under the stars and didn't notice.

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Arien started up at once when a knock came at her door. Whisking a robe over her sleeping gown, she pushed ineffectually at her hair and cracked the door open in concern.

"Is something amiss?" she asked, and then was immediately tongue-tied as she recognized who it was.

"I'm afraid so," Bartho said. "A great many things. Can you come?"

She followed in silence as he lead her down the dark halls and out the palace's main doors. He draped a cloak around her shoulders and took her hand to keep her from stumbling as they crossed the courtyard. The white tree gleamed under the moon, but they passed it and walked on until they reached the very end of the promontory.

The wind picked up out in the open, but Arien was not chilled. If she had tried to deny it before, it was all too clear now — so obvious in the pounding of her heart. She loved him. His bluntness, his clumsiness, his pessimism and underlying compassion, loyalty, and humor. There was only one question left, and she wished she could read the answer past his dark eyes.

"I have an explanation."

"An explanation?" she asked, a little bewildered.

"For why I'm so late in coming." His head ducked, like a guilty child. "More years ago than I care to count, a young man found himself in a jail cell, destined for a noose. The cause wasn't, in fact, the woman he loved — though she had sent him there through her empty-headed fears. Rather the fault was his own stupidity. He'd allowed infatuation to blind him." He was speaking awkwardly, like he'd never tried to tell this story before. "I'm glad to say he learned his lesson. I'm ashamed to admit, he learned the wrong lesson. Feeding off his own misery, he strayed along, and if a few people broke through his barriers, none were women or had golden hair."

Arien closed her eyes for a moment — guessing a great deal of what Bartho would never say. "I don't have golden hair, Bartho," she whispered. "I'm not empty-headed, and I'm not afraid."

In the starlight, his eyes chuckled and his strong hand reached up to push the dark tangles back from her forehead. "I know. You've proved that time and again. Often enough that not speaking to you honestly has been wretched of me. So. For fear of falling to even worse stupidity than ever that young man did, I have to ask you…" He hesitated and exchanged his intended question for a new one. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." She didn't hesitate.

"You haven't known me that long."

"I know you," she returned, and then a small smile graced her lips. "Or did you forget to tell me something important?"

He took both her hands, hope sparkling brighter than the stars. "I predict rain in summer."

"I like rain."

"I serve a king who invents wild schemes."

"I serve a queen who has wild children."

"And Erynbenn says I snore."

"Oh dear." She started to laugh. "I'm not sure, Bartho…"

He'd pulled her closer, so that she had to tip her head back to meet his eyes. "What if I could counter that."

"What are you offering, my lord?"

"My love, lady. Always. And since you already had that a long time ago, whether or not I told you, I offer my trust as well." With a look of reckless joy, he finally asked his true question. "Arien… I fear I do not have much, but will you be my wife?"

She felt her entire body lifting as if on a magnificent inhale. "Yes," she whispered. And then louder, "Yes! Yes, Bartho, yes!"

And then she was laughing and crying at once, and he was laughing with her. Loud, long, and fully — a deep wellspring of mirth too long unsounded, that echoed amidst the wind and lit his eyes with warmth.

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On the balcony outside the second floor of the palace, Legolas' keen ears caught the sounds laughter and his wondering eyes turned to meet those of Aragorn and Arwen. "Did you hear that?"

The king was sitting at the head of a divan, leaning against the back arm, with Arwen reclining comfortably against his chest. There was a blanket lying over her, but her eyes showed nothing but clarity as they sought the source of the noise.

"It is my handmaid, who ought to be in bed, and Estel's general, who ought to be with the healers," she told him, failing to fight her glee.

"Truants," Aragorn said fondly. "I can't believe he actually asked her."

"Asked her?" Legolas asked in puzzlement.

"Arien."

"Asked Arien what?"

"To put up with him in sacred wedlock until the end of time." His eyes twinkled.

"So certain, meleth-nin?" Arwen teased. "What if he's merely entertaining her with tales of the time his king fell into a peat bog?"

"I can read the hearts of men, remember? And you promised not to bring that up anymore."

Legolas leaned back against the balcony railing, "Peat bog?"

"Get Arwen to tell you later — I prefer not to be directly responsible for my own humiliation."

"More than once, he means."

"What became of the charming, supportive wife I left at home? She has turned into her brothers. If Lady Galadriel were here she would be shocked senseless — to think that all her tutelage was for nothing and you have become a confirmed malapert in Elladan and Elrohir's wild footsteps."

For a while the three of them laughed, enjoying the freedom to jest again. An eagle soared across the moon, from far off came the echoes of the river, and the ever-present wind rustled the leaves of the White Tree below them and cooled the stones after the day's warmth.

Arwen's slender hand reached back to caress her husbands face. "I'm sorry. Very well, you can read the hearts of men. But what of women's hearts, hm? Can you read them as well?"

There was a tone in her voice that caused Legolas to drift away toward the balcony's further end; it wasn't much in the way of privacy, but his friends would have saved this moment if they were truly bothered by his presence. He appreciated the lack of awkwardness.

"No," Aragorn murmured, "that is beyond me. I'm afraid you'll have to just tell me what you're thinking."

Her blue eyes sought his. "I'm thinking that even when I first loved you, and even when the realization came that a thousand years could not equal a lifetime at your side… I did not realize how great was the man whom I married. People will tell you how astounding an honor it was that an immortal chose you to be her husband, and it wearies me. I know what they do not — that it was an equal honor that you should have loved me."

His head came down so that his chin rested lightly on her dark hair. "Does the hero then win his heroine anew?"

"Oh, Estel… He never lost her."

"Thank Ilúvatar." He hugged her tightly, breathing love and relief into her hair. "Only one problem presents itself, dearest heart."

"What?"

"Who is left for you to try and marry off now that Bartho is happily paired?"

"Well…" she smiled playfully, tripping a teasing finger over the arm that wound around her middle. "I have thought it a shame, you know, that Legolas—"

"No!" the wood elf exclaimed, spinning around in only faintly amused horror. "I don't need a wife, thank you very much, Arwen. Raniean and Trelan are quite enough trouble — not to mention Aragorn. Visit your ministrations on someone else's head. Gimli, perhaps."

"She's toying with you, mellon-nin," Aragorn chuckled at his friend. "If you'd seen your expression just now, you'd know why."

They laughed again, and then they talked of other things until Arwen grew tired and Aragorn helped her off to bed. When he came back to the balcony, he found his friend actually standing on the railing. Legolas' faint glow gave his pose an ethereal look, but it was one that was shattered when the elf turned, grinned, and stepped lightly back to the floor again.

"Tell me honestly, Strider, did you ever expect such marvels?"

"Such as?" Aragorn moved over by his friend and looked out on the city below.

"Such as standing here. Alive, I might add," he laughed at the human's snort, "with your wife and children slumbering behind you, and Minas Tirith whole again, and Gondor at peace?"

"No. Dreamed distantly, but never really expected. There always seemed to be something dark and evil lurking in the way…" Aragorn's hand reached out to rest on the elf's shoulder. "And all this would not be, but for you, Legolas. Starting from the moment you defended me at the Council — no, further back than that. And if you had not been close at hand these past months, I would be standing here a widower, if not also childless. What joy would there have been in anything else, peace or war, if that had happened? Accept it or not, I owe you the lives of my family, the crown on my head, Gondor's freedom, and my life — many times over."

"How can you speak of debts?" The fair being arched one eyebrow. "Do I not owe you all that as well? Except for the wife and children, of course."

Aragorn smiled, but remained serious a moment longer. "I mean it, my friend. Please accept my gratitude; I know you would be insulted if I offered you anything more."

"I was thinking of being insulted by your gratitude as well, but if you insist, I will add all this to your side of our ledger. Then we can tally the past years up and decide who is actually indebted to whom here."

"Legolas, we don't keep a ledger…"

"Exactly."

"Ah. I see."

"You're cleverer than your brothers make out."

"Your jests will finish me if you keep on."

"Well, I hope you can put up with it a bit longer, mellon-nin, because I would hate — after all this — to have Mavranor's scheme ruin my attempt at a peaceful visit. Ran and Trey are probably melting with anxiety, but that only means they'll come looking for me soon and we can celebrate together when they arrive to lecture me. Eldarion declares that Pippin has taught him the most wonderful song and he wishes me to sing it with him at the victory banquet."

"I'd be wary if I were you, Legolas — you were at the victory celebration after Helm's Deep. You know how dangerous hobbit songs can be."

"As dangerous as a town full of Corsairs in Gondorian armor?"

"No, but a close second."

"Perhaps I'll feign illness that day."

"Elves don't get ill."

"To think I forgot! But stay, you forget your place — it is your job to concoct insane schemes, and my duty to throw cold water on them." Legolas snorted. "Ah, well. The dawn always brings new circumstances and fresh councils."

"Indeed it does. And if that is truly Bartho embracing Arien in the courtyard, I doubt that any forecasts of rain will be made to mar it for you."

"Thank the Valar for small favors." He paused. "Perhaps you could push me off the balcony and I can escape Eldarion's wishes by way of the healers."

Aragorn stared at his friend in wonderment at this sarcasm. "I think your father's right, Legolas."

"Right?"

"I've had a horrible influence on you."

"Ah, but think how my life would be without you, my very best of friends!"

"Sane?" the human tried, blandly.

"Tedious."

"Ah! Valar forbid it."

"That seems to be their intent."

And Aragorn chuckled as they turned to go back inside.

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Finis

Authors’ Other (and final) Note:We want to sincerely thank you all for reading and reviewing — your support and the hopes that you would enjoy it were the main reasons we pressed on to finish this last story of ours and post it, instead of abandoning it halfway. You have made us glow, kept us on track, and there aren’t hugs enough in the world for you! We could not have hoped for a better exit. *grin*

Namarie!

- Sarah and Hannah