Homesick

By The Last Evenstar

A/N: And at long last, we reach the conclusion of this epic saga. Hey, if you've read this far, congratulations.

Anamaria Elentari - Well, it wasn't my CHOICE to put the stalker there! Blame the Love Match thing. It's dumb . . . just wait 'till you get yours . . .

dandelion - I'm glad you like it! Thank you for your nice review!

Blackbird10 - I hope, by your review, that you meant you liked it . . .

The Converted - Thanks. I guess you can't blame the people - they're curious (or jealous). Here's another strand. I washed this one. Kinda takes away from the effect, though.

b-witched83uk - Yes, we love him regardless of his hygiene habits. I hope you don't have to wait until august to post - that would be terrible! I think ff.net uses the American system . . .

galadriel evenstar - Wow! You really MUST be Galadriel - you guessed exactly what I was planning for this chapter.

Thank you so much, anyone I missed! My computer's been kinda screwed up, so I might not have seen yours - I know there was one I definitely can't find . . .

Chapter Three: Twelve Years Later

"There it is, Naneth!" Eldarion cried out. "I see it! I see it!"

Arwen laughed at her son. "One would think you'd been away for years, not just a few months," she replied with a grin.

The boy stuck his tongue out at her. At nine years old, Eldarion had yet to show any of the behavioral grace of his ancestors.

The much more solemn little girl sharing Arwen's horse looked up. "I don't see anything special." Four-year-old Silmiesin was infinitely more Elven than her excited brother.

Aragorn, riding alongside, reached over to ruffle her dark curls. "Look that way, [whatever}," he told the child. "See the White City?"

A slow smile spread across the little girl's face. "We're home?"

Arwen laughed. "Not quite. But a few hours away."

Eldarion grumbled. "It's not fair! I can ride faster than this!"

Arwen looked skeptically at the boy, sitting incorrectly on his dumpy brown pony. Over the years, the skill of suppressing her laughter had come in handy more than once.

She looked more closely at the scene, taking it all in. Despite her numerous efforts to teach him, Eldarion could not ride bareback, as was the custom of the elves. Silmiesin could keep her balance, but only with one of her mother's arms tucked firmly around her waist.

They grow more and more human by the day, she realized wistfully. They've grown up so fast – and without knowledge of their culture or heritage. She looked down at her stomach, which, although not full, was much greater than usual. And it will be the same with the next one. My children will grow and learn in the world of men, and –

She turned to see Eldarion arguing ferociously with his friend Bergil about whether or not girls were yucky. He argued already with the fervor and charisma of a king.

- and they'll turn out just fine.

Aragorn watched his wife intently. Whenever she had that look on her face, he knew she was thinking about her home – and the people she had left behind. It made his heart ache for her, but he knew she no longer suffered for it. She loves this land, he mused, and she fits in so well, you could never tell by listening she was a foreigner.

He saw Arwen laughing and talking gaily with a handmaiden, unaware that Silmiesin was busying herself by playing with Arwen's dagger. Aragorn rode closer and swiftly grabbed the weapon out of his daughter's hand.

"Arwen, meltha, you need to be more careful with what she gets a hold of –"

He was cut off by the little girl's reproachful glare. "I'm careful!"

Arwen laughed. "You silly, even Eldarion isn't allowed to play with weapons."

"Although for a slightly different reason," added Aragorn, remembering the finger that had almost been lost. "I'm sure you know enough not to throw –"

"We're almost there!" Eldarion cantered over, lopsided, on his pony. "Look, Silmy!"

Sure enough, it wasn't long before they were passing once more through the white stone gates. "Sit up straight," he could hear Arwen whisper.

His daughter's wide eyes looked up into his own. "Are we home, Ada?"

It was Arwen who answered. "We're home."

When Arwen stopped in the courtyard to kiss her husband, no one watched and no one cared. After all, there's only a certain point up to which something is interesting.

They found their way to the bedchamber with remarkable ease. Only one did they take a wrong turning, finding Bergil and one of the maids in a broom closet, proving once and for all that girls were not yucky.

"Glad to be back?" Aragorn asked as they unpacked their things.

She grinned. "There's no place like home."

He took her in his arms. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that."

Her eyes twinkled teasingly at the look on his face. "Actually, I think I might venture a guess."

He pulled her closer. "Would you now?" He paused. "I'm glad you don't miss YOUR home."

She grinned and kissed him. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, never wanting to let go.

At that moment, the door burst open. "Naneth! Ada! Ioreth said I was being a nuisance again!"

Aragorn laughed at his son. "She was right. Go along and play."

Eldarion wrinkled his nose. "Bergil's busy."

King and Queen exchanged looks. "Eldarion, {{}}, maybe you'd better find some new friends."

As the boy scowled, his sister came up behind him, arms folded in a four-year-old expression of annoyance. "Naneth, El-dare-yon won't play with me!"

Aragorn grinned. "There, you go, son. Play with your sister!"

The future ruler scowled. "You're missing the point!" He turned and ran off.

Silmiesin lingered a moment longer. "He thinks girls are bad," she explained, with childlike seriousness, before following her errant brother.

Once they were gone, Arwen began to laugh. "We need to get a guard for that door."

Aragorn shook his head. "Eldarion could outwit any guard," he said proudly. "He's my son, all right."

Arwen smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "And he has your modesty, too."

The King grinned lovingly at his wife. "Let's hope the next little one does better, then." He patted her stomach.

"Better than this?" She shook her head. "Our children are perfect."

From outside the room came the indignant cry of a bothered Bergil, followed by a slamming door and childish giggling.

Aragorn nodded. "Perfect," he said, then pulled her in for a long, deep kiss.

"I love you," she whispered.

He grinned, puzzled. "I love you too."

She shook her head, knowing that no one could understand how she felt. "I love my life. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

He kissed her. "You might want to think about trading that son in for a less wild model."

She slinked her arm coyly around his back. "I thought he was 'your' son."

He pulled her backwards onto the bed. "Exactly."

I don't miss MY home, she thought, laying in his arms, because it's right here.