Chapter 22. Epilogue

(some weeks later)

Following the wedding of King Elessar and Queen Arwen on Midsummer’s Day, the heralds proclaimed to all in the land a fortnight of rejoicing, by the order of their King and Queen. Colourful banners waved from the City walls, echoed by the festive clothing of the brightly clad citizens, who had, slowly at first but at a gradually increasing rate after the Peace with Harad was established, left off the more sombre clothing that had long reflected the City’s state of impending war and unrelenting uncertainty.  

The City, which had seemed dull and monotone to Pippin upon his arrival a lifetime ago, nowadays shone bright, with its white walls and colourful denizens, Gondorians and Elves and Haradrim and Easterlings and other visitors from far and near. 

‘Lovely indeed, shining bright with promise and hope,’ Arwen said at his side, making her young escort aware that he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. ‘Why, even the black and silver of the Guardsmen seems to stand out, proud and strong, amongst the other colours, like the boles of sturdy trees in a mighty forest bedecked with the leaves of autumn.’ She exchanged a smile with Galadriel, who had elected to accompany them. Thus Pippin marched along between Morning and Evening, and these august personages chose to walk slowly, ostensibly all the better to see the sights that Pippin was tasked to show them, but altogether likely that they sought to spare their small escort the indignity of having to trot to keep up with them at a Big Person’s walking pace. 

The youthful Guardsman bowed in response. ‘My Queen,’ he said, and then to Galadriel, ‘My Lady.’ Then, recalled to the business of the day, and his duty per Elessar’s orders, he added gallantly, ‘And what part of the City would you like to acquaint yourself with, on this finest of mornings, my Queen?’ 

Arwen tilted her head slightly to consider, then smiled down at the earnest tween. ‘Yesterday, we toured the Citadel at the highest level, and then we inspected the repairs proceeding in the First Circle...’ Since the lowest and outermost circle of Minas Tirith had suffered the worst damage, the repairs there would be ongoing for quite some time. In recent days, Dwarvish stonewrights had arrived in response to Gimli’s summons, sent out the day after Elessar’s Coronation by the hand of the ambassador of Thorin III Stonehelm, King of the Mountain since the Easterlings had slain his father Dáin Ironfoot during the Battle of Dale. These had immediately offered their services to the King of Gondor not only to repair but to improve the stone-work, as well as the streets of the great City, and he had gladly accepted. 

And fair folk had travelled alongside the stoneworkers, Wood-Elves sent by Thranduil at his son’s request, bringing with them birds that they released within the City walls. In a matter of days, the newcomers had built nests in various courtyards, whether empty or occupied, and soon began to fill the air of the seven levels of the City with sweet song. Thranduil’s folk also brought with them saplings and seeds to make the City bloom; thus, the two races worked as of one accord to bring beauty out of war and ruin, with the Elves planting trees to provide homes for their precious birds even as some of the Dwarves carved graceful fountains that would play a music of their own when the waters began to flow. 

‘Though the damage done is grievous,’ Arwen continued, ‘I found hope in seeing so many different hands working together to set everything aright once more. Our City shall shine again, more beautiful than before, and the people shall rejoice and dwell in peace that was but a dream in days gone past.’ 

Pippin nodded at her recounting their explorations of the previous day – the day after the Royal Wedding, it had been. And nearly a fortnight yet of celebration and feasting ahead of us he thought. I wonder if I shall tire of feasting? The thought seemed preposterous, and he could almost hear one or another cousin chiding him. None of your nonsense, Pip!

But with the thought came a wave of homesickness that surprised him with its sudden onslaught. The brightly smiling Sun, warming him here in Gondor, was also beaming upon the Green Hill country, where the winter barley harvest would be beginning. And the wisps of cloud in the sky above the White City suggested to him the fleecy puffs of his father’s sheep on a hillside, feasting upon the rich green grass. 

He did not see the look that passed between the two tall figures flanking him, nor Arwen’s nod, but he did feel the touch of her hand on his shoulder, bringing with it a feeling of comfort and peace, and he unconsciously stood straighter as his Queen finished her thought. ‘...and so today, let us begin in the Second Circle! It seemed to me that as we rode into the City and upward, there was less damage as we proceeded higher. I have hopes of seeing something of daily life here in Minas Tirith, and coming to know my people and their ways.’ 

‘Truly the damage was less in the Second Circle,’ Pippin affirmed gladly, shoving down once again his memories of the battle in which that damage had been inflicted, ‘and much has been done in the way of repair.’ He bowed and gestured grandly. ‘My Lady... and my Lady...’ 

Laughing, his two charges moved in the direction indicated, and the three of them began the long downhill walk to the second circle. 

Of course, there was little chance that Arwen would be able to see a glimpse of her subjects’ daily lives this day, so soon after her arrival. Instead, the people they passed invariably left off whatever tasks were occupying them to stare, to bow, to whisper... Pippin was somewhat used to such awed attention for himself as the “Prince of the Halflings”, in the form of pointing fingers and whispers, as well as the low bows that troubled Frodo and Sam, accompanied by respectful greetings for “the Ring-bearers”. Merry, who was “merely an Esquire of Rohan”, laughed at the others’ discomfort even as he received his share of stares. He was able to set the others at ease with a jest or a comical look or – relatively often – a reminder that their status allowed them to reap the benefit of free beer in the taverns, though they tried not to take too much advantage of their hosts. (In point of fact, a tavern-keeper could reap significant profit from a visit by two or more of the honoured Pheriannath since they drew many additional customers by their very presence in the establishment, more than handily offsetting the cost of the free drinks the hobbits quaffed.)

However, pacing steadily down the levels of the City, surrounded and eclipsed as it were by unworldly beauty, Pippin now had the sensation of going unseen, as if he’d had Frodo’s Ring in his pocket (though his uniform had none of those) and had put it on his finger. He imagined he’d feel much the same upon arriving home, simply one hobbit among many others. Somehow the thought of home brought no sorrow with it this time, perhaps because of the exalted company he was keeping and the light and grace that seemed to surround them and move with them as they went. 

When they reached the Second Circle Market, all commerce halted as the shoppers and merchants alike turned to stare and then bow low to greet their Queen and the Lady of the Wood with her. Then the greengrocer seemed to shake off the spell cast by their arrival; he grabbed up two fragrant posies and hurried forward, presenting the flowers with another bow. ‘My Queen,’ he said in greeting, and though he knew not how to address her companion, he ventured, ‘My Lady.’ 

His eyes widened at Arwen’s answer, given before he had even had the chance to introduce himself! ‘Thank you, Turambor, for these lovely blooms,’ the Queen said warmly, accepting one of the small bouquets, even as Galadriel smilingly extracted the other from the Man’s trembling hand. ‘I was told I might find you here, and I am glad to do so!’ 

The greengrocer stammered some sort of reply and, for want of any other idea, bowed again. 

‘I wish to convey Our gratitude,’ the Queen continued, ‘for your part in the rescue of Our Guardsman and the child who was with him.’ And somehow the listeners understood that their King, Elessar, stood (in spirit, at least), beside their Queen in that moment. 

‘I – I did nothing – I mean, I did not manage to do anything of substance,’ Turambor protested, still bowing and not daring to raise his gaze to meet Arwen’s, or Galadriel’s, for that matter. 

‘I must beg to differ,’ the Queen said gently, and she reached out her hands to raise the greengrocer up again. ‘You listened to your heart; you heard the cries of a youngling in distress and followed them.’ She smiled. ‘You did not dismiss the sound as the cries of a gull, but left your wares and your market stand and followed the sound to its source, even to the point of entering into that perilous place and reaching those trapped...’ 

‘But I did not rescue them,’ the greengrocer whispered, looking up at last. As his eyes met Arwen’s, he stiffened, unable to look away, and his eyes grew shadowed. ‘I – I – more of it came down, falling on me, and I was trapped myself, and needed rescuing.’  

But then he stood taller, as if strengthened and encouraged by the Queen’s regard, which was then echoed in her clear-voiced response. ‘By your actions, Master Turambor, you set their rescue in motion... and more... The Haradrim, on seeing a child’s shoe in your hand, even unconscious, joined in battle with the crumbling ruin and fought their way to victory – for Peregrin and his young friend – for themselves – for all those in the City that fateful day!’ 

A hearty cheer followed close upon the Queen’s words, while the greengrocer blinked, and his wondering wife came forward to take his hand, and their children gathered round them, wide-eyed. 

Arwen raised the gifted flowers to her face and inhaled deeply. ‘How sweet the scent of the flowers you offer amongst your wares,’ she said. ‘For my own part, I thank you for your kindness and generosity. I shall certainly look forward to choosing from the flowers at the greengrocers’ stand when I walk the Second Circle Market again.’  

‘My Lady,’ the greengrocer said, no longer stammering, and his bow this time was less awkward and more courtly, as if the Queen had poured confidence into him with her words and keen yet kindly regard. 

‘Another day,’ Arwen promised, and then she turned to take her leave of the market, leaving vendors and customers alike open-mouthed in wonder and awe. 

After they had left the market behind, part-way to the rebuilt Inn not far from the Market, Arwen was the first to speak. ‘I do hope they’ll get used to me eventually,’ she said quietly to Galadriel, who only chuckled low in her throat in response. 

Though the remark had not been addressed to him, Pippin spoke up, wanting to cheer her. ‘My cousin Frodo feels much the same way.’ 

Arwen laughed. ‘Does he?’ she said gaily. ‘And have they?’ 

Pippin regretfully shook his head. ‘Not quite,’ he admitted, adding, ‘They haven’t even quite got used to me yet!’ 

The Queen smiled down at him, and Pippin had the feeling that if he hadn’t been in his Guardsman’s uniform, she might have ruffled his curls. Perish the thought! Why, he was no child but a seasoned warrior who, in but a few years, would reach his majority! But all she said was, ‘I cannot imagine why.’ 

And then they had reached the greensward between the wings of the graceful building, which had been completely restored since the Siege – but was no longer the Inn that had been. 

‘And here,’ Pippin said, sweeping his arm before him to encompass the space and the children who played there, ‘is the City Refuge, a part of the Houses of Healing...’ 

‘Here? In the Second Circle?’ Arwen said in surprise. 

‘Here is the largest expanse of grass in the City,’ Pippin explained. ‘And so, the healers thought it the best place for the children.’ For a refuge is a place of shelter and protection, promising sanctuary, and new life and hope, in a way that the term orphanage could never convey. 

For the most part, the children were so intent in their games that they did not notice the visitors at first. As the visitors stood watching, some of the children began to put down their balls, their dolls, their shovels and hoops and streamers and other playthings, and came shyly forward, gathering in a loose circle, eyes wide and mouths open in childish wonder. 

The last to break off their games were a group of children farthest from the street, who were climbing upon and sliding down a large, dark mound. And then to the Fair Ones’ surprise and delight, the mound itself rose up from the ground, shook itself, and bounded forward with a joyful bark. 

‘Mittens!’ Pippin cried, fending off the enormous hairy face and enthusiastic tongue. ‘Mind your manners, sir!’ 

The dog immediately sat himself down, so ponderously that one might have expected the ground to shake under him, panting with joy. 

‘That’s better,’ Pippin said, reaching to smooth back the long curls from the doggy face, unearthing a pair of bright, intelligent eyes. The great tail stirred the grass behind the young dog as his erstwhile owner rubbed one of his blanket-sized ears, and then the other, and then the large body flopped upon the grass and rolled over. Pippin looked up to his two companions for permission, and then he bent to rub the young dog’s proffered chest, sparking a movement among the circling children to join in petting the dog, considering the wide, broad expanse of tummy needing attention, as it were. 

To Arwen and Galadriel, Pippin said, ‘Sometimes he forgets... he was mine, upon a time, but now he protects the children here.’ Looking up, his gaze moving from one ageless face to the other, he added solemnly, ‘He keeps them from harm – he won’t let a one of them anywhere near the street without an adult! – and when any of the children is weeping, he knows somehow, and snuggles close, giving comfort as long as it is needed.’ He smiled, as if from personal knowledge, and said then, ‘And they can tell him, if they wish, all their secrets, and he won’t tell a soul about a single one of them.’ 

‘What a good dog!’ Arwen said softly, and the great tail wagged again in response. 

But then one of the older girls came forward, bearing a furry burden. 

‘May I?’ Galadriel said, and when the girl nodded, the Lady of the Wood gently stroked the silken fur, and a purr arose for all to hear.  

The dog gave a joyful bark. 

‘Yes, I know she’s yours,’ Pippin said. ‘But you need not deafen us with your claims!’ He shook his head. ‘Mittens and his kitten,’ he said. ‘I’m surprised no minstrel of Gondor has immortalised them in song yet, seeing as how the rhyming has already been done for him!’ 

The children surrounding them laughed, having heard this sentiment multiple times over the past month, and with the laughter, their shyness seemed to dissolve, and they crowded closer to the wondrous visitors without fear or hesitation. 

‘That’s better,’ Arwen and Galadriel heard Pippin say under his breath. They were in full agreement with him. 

And now to Arwen and Galadriel, the youthful Guardsman bowed once more, and then he stretched out his hand to the purring kitten, telling how she’d grown larger and stronger and hardly resembled now the wee mite that the General of Haragost had drawn from a crevice in a crumbling wall. ‘My Queen... My Lady...’ he said solemnly. ‘If I may present to you, the Peace of Harad.’ 

‘We just call her Peace,’ the girl said in the careless way of children. 

‘Elessar told me,’ Arwen said, reaching out her own hand to join Galadriel’s caresses. ‘She is the one who set everything in motion, that day when the Haradrim marched to the Citadel.’ 

‘She is... or her mother was,’ Pippin said. ‘Hiding her in that crack. I imagine she carried her kittens away to safety, one by one, when the roof began to fall in, but couldn’t get to this last one because of the growing danger, or maybe the crowd...’ Shyly, he whispered, ‘I asked Strider if he’d look in... well... to see her, and he... he told me some time later that she was well, and teaching her kittens to catch rats that would otherwise spoil the wares in the marketplace.’ A little louder, he said, ‘Turambor tells me he’s seen stray cats in the alley behind the market... perhaps it’s Peace’s family.’ 

‘We’re her family!’ the girl holding the kitten protested. 

‘Yes,’ Galadriel said, smiling into the upturned faces. ‘She told me so herself. You’re her family, indeed, and... Mittens, here, belongs to her as well.’ She looked around the circle of wondering faces. ‘She says that her mother came to see her here, and was pleased to see what a good home her littlest had found.’ 

‘May she prosper, and her kittens with her,’ Arwen said, and to the hobbit’s ears, it sounded somehow like a promise and not a mere wish. 

And Mittens gave another thundering bark as if in complete agreement. 

***   

A/N: In this chapter, some descriptions or turns of phrase were borrowed from various passages in The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.