Sam had never seen Strider look happier in the time he’d known the fellow, and he couldn’t say that he blamed him. After all, if all that he’d heard was true, the man had just achieved everything that he’d ever hoped for.

When he was still working out the particulars of how Strider was the King that actually had come back, he’d thought that he was doing all he did because it was part of some grander destiny—aside from his being a generally decent fellow, of course. It wasn’t until the party from Rivendell arrived that he realised there was more to it than that—though of course he should have figured it out sooner. Just like in the tale of Beren and Lúthien, Aragorn had won the heart of a maiden far above him—and in order to win her hand as well, had to achieve something beyond what a man normally could.

And he had, and all throughout the wedding Sam had to wonder if that was anything like what the weddings in the tales of old looked like.

Now it was two days later, and although Strider did a good job of looking stern and kingly most of the time, whenever there was no business at hand he smiled. Sam had never thought he’d see the day.

And almost against his will he found his thoughts dwelling on the home he’d left even more than usual.

After dinner, as Sam was running his eyes over the White Tree—the only growing thing in sight, but so ethereally beautiful it nearly made up for that—the King came over to cup a blossom in his hand.

“Begging your pardon for the impertinence, sir,” said Sam, “but was it worth the wait?”

“If by ‘it’ you mean ‘marriage to the Lady Arwen,’” said Strider, quietly, “then yes. More than worth the wait, even.”

“Good,” said Sam. “I thought so. It’s nice to see you not grim for a change.”

“I rather agree,” said the King. “Yet the duties laid upon me have not lessened; they have merely changed.”

They stood there in silence for a few moments; then Strider spoke once more and with great deliberation. “If you are wondering,” he said, “whether you did the right thing in leaving the Shire, I can assure you that you were most needed here with Frodo beyond the Bounds.”

“I know that, sir,” said Sam. “Only—thing is, a body gets to wondering what would’ve happened if he hadn’t, even though it’s mostly pointless nohow. But you’re right, as usual.” He sighed.

“I am sure she will understand once you explain the circumstances. And if it is any comfort, the wait will not be nearly as long or as difficult as mine was.”

“Thank you.”

Aragorn turned to him and laid his hand upon the hobbit’s shoulder. “When you return to your homeland, write to me as soon as you know the happy date and I shall be certain to send you my best wishes. I cannot imagine you choosing anyone unworthy of your regard, and I am certain that you shall find her waiting for you patiently upon your return.”

And as Sam looked at the King’s retreating form he marvelled that he could have something so deeply in common with as high and mighty a figure as he.