SPOILER WARNING: Spoilers for Leola's story are included sort of :P So don't read this yet if you don't wanna know anything!

~The flame that burns twice as bright burns half as long.~

Lao Tzu

Epilogue

Part the First:

A Visit to the Shire

and In Which Great Gifts Are Given

It seemed to many that much time had passed since the last days of the War of the Ring. In truth, it had been only ten years- a brief time for Durin's Folk and a blink of the eye to the Elves though their time and their magic was fading. Ten years was however long enough for Man. Ten years had seen the once shattered Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor reunited, the Line of the King restored and, like the Line of the Steward, flourishing. Ten years of love and joy. Ten years of births and deaths. Ten years of rebuilding. Ten years of farewells. She missed Frodo and Bilbo something terrible on green and golden days such as the one she was experiencing now. Bilbo would be composing some song and Frodo would be lounging peacefully. But they were not at peace. Ten years of departures from the Elven-kind. Of all the things to pass out into the West, this was perhaps the saddest of them all. The world seemed a little darker, a little less magical, and it did not go out of Aelswyth's notice that tempers were wearing thin around Minas Tirith. That, she assumed, was to be expected. Matters of State were tedious and boring however necessary as Èowyn was wont to remind them all when they visited. Admittedly though their visits were becoming rarer and rarer. Governing the Ithilien kept husband, wife, and children all busy.

And in Osgiliath, still under much construction though prospering and populating itself well enough, Aelswyth felt the weight of her own burden. It was her own doing, of course. She'd at least admit that much to herself though never to Boromir. She knew that he would not gloat but there would be some little smirk that would creep onto his face and she would have to fight the urge to slap it off. Then again it had been going a fortnight since she had seen him last and she probably wouldn't be as inclined to harm him. Just now though, Mírien came bounding up to her on unsteady legs. She had the Dúnedain look to her: dark hair and keen, gray eyes. Her face however had no grimness to it though there was a certain pretty strength to her nose.

"Atheg(Daddy)?" she asked as she crawled into her mother's lap, her gray eyes bright like stars.

"He'll be home soon, little one." If that was true, she did not know and Boromir had sent no word from Minas Tirith yet. From their spot they could see the boys as they played at ward like boys so often do. They could see all of Osgiliath from their little perch. Durin's folk worked happily on the northern section of the city, the sound of hammers clanging brilliantly. From their spot they saw a swift, sure-footed stallion galloping over the bridge. The rider was golden-blonde and at first she thought of Legolas but there was no Dwarf riding with him and the hair was like spun-gold, not that white-blonde of her sweet friend. So she had to wait untill the rider and horse came up to them.

"Glorfindel!" Aelswyth said and got up to hug her old friend, taking her daughter with her. "A star shines at the hour of our meeting! What ever are you doing here? I thought you had departed already." The truth was that she had neard nothing of him since she was last in Rivendell and that had been... nine years ago now? Perhaps it was less.

"My time here has not yet come to an end. There is still much to rebuild and wounds to heal and the Blue Wizards have yet to arrive from the Far East." His face was flawless still though strained and there was abject worry in his voice. There was a tension in him that she had not known before the War.

"But you have come on some important business. Your eyes speak to me even when you do not." Her sons had quit playing at their War Games and timidly came up to the boy-ish looking elf, their eyes wide and full of wonder. They had heard their Mother's tale of the great and wise Glorfindel. He was practically a legend to them.

"Your husband asked that I pass through this way and give you his message." he said quietly as he smiled down at her boys and ruffled Mírien's dark hair.

"My friend, where is it you intend to go?" Aelswyth asked after a quiet moment, her mind circling and circling and failing to reach any sort of conclusion.

"That is not important; your husband's message is." He passed her a small note and it didn't take her long to read. "Come to Minas Tirith. I have a surprise..." It read quite shortly.

"That's it?" she asked the Elf carefully

Glorfindel smiled one of those smiles, wise and knowing albeit a little puck-ish.

"Well?" she prompted. "What is it?"

"That would ruin it for you." he said, looking ever boy-ish though something in him seemed wasted.

"Oh, my friend, do not linger here too long!"

He said nothing in reply. Instead he gave a low whistle and Asfaloth game prancing up. Mírien reached out her little hand and touched the felt-soft nose. Asfaloth huffed, blowing air out of his nose, and she squealed in an odd mix of excitement and fear.

"What is this?" Aelswyth asked him as he held the reins out to her.

"I believe it is something called a gift." he replied, still holding the reins out to her. "You'll find no better horse than him and I would not take him with to he West. Not if I knew the home he had here would be better. I put him in your husband's care now and into your son's when the time comes. And his son if it comes to that." She wondered if it would but did not speak it aloud.

"That will make him very happy." she said as she took the reins from him. Happy was probably an understatement. Happy didn't quite have the proper ring to it. Overjoyed. Ecstatic. Those were closer than happy. "Where are you going?"

"Farther into the East. Do not fear for me, Aelswyth; I wait now only for their word."

"And if their word does not come? If they... linger?" They shared sad smiles. As Glorfindel departed, she turned now to her children knowing she would not see the golden-haired, boy-ish Elf again.

"Come, darlings. Let's go see Father now."

Asfaloth whickered happily and Mírien let out another excited squeal though if it was for the horse or her father Aelswyth did not know.

When the day was said and done, the trip to Minas Tirith had turned into a sort of adventure for the boys and Mírien was fascinated by every blade of grass, every whispering wind. And the boys... Oh, she was eating her words now! What ever was I thinking? Wanting two of them? Ha! Half of one is enough!

"Mírien!" she called as the little girl ran headlong off of the path after a dragonfly. Her dark, curling head of hair popped back up, tangled now with leaves and twigs. She looked Elven and up to something. "Oh, my little jewel, you couldn't wait a few more moments could you?" Aelswyth proceeded to pick the debris from her daughter's hair as the boys ran on ahead of them. It mattered not; Minas Tirith was close enough that nothing would happen. She never used to think that though. She was from a different time than these boys of hers. They played at war but the knew nothing of war save what they heard in stories. But she knew war and she remembered it well, better than most.

"Baradion! Don't get your brother into trouble!" she called as she threw a few green leaves aside. She turned her keen gaze back to Mírien and frowned slightly. "Well, that's as good as you'll get. You look a mess though, little jewel. What will Eldarion say, I wonder?" Not that the boy talked too terribly much though. He was like Aragorn in that respect. Well, that and every other one as well. He did seem to get his mother good sense though. He'll be a wise king one day she told herself and a great man. She heard a short cry from up ahead and pressed forward. Baradion and Amathion were both soaked and covered in mud. Aelswyth could not help but laugh when they started pointing fingers at each other.

"Enough! Enough!" she told them. She didn't even bother asking them how they managed to do it or who was really to blame. "We're almost there anyway. You two can tell your father all about it." They fell silent quick enough; Mother was, as far as they knew, gentle and sweet with her smiling face and soft eyes. Father was... not. He was the grim, stern one with his grizzled beard and frowning mouth. Father was a force to be reckoned with. Mother was... not. How little her children knew! And in a moment of frozen time, their sticks became mighty arching swords and their cries of joy became bloody and bold. I remember, she told them as she looked ever ahead, I remember.

"Your sons are quite the trouble-makers." she informed Boromir as though he did not already know that. He looked to her with a light in his eyes that she had not seen since Mírien had been born.

"I know that. Tell me something I don't know." he said as was his fashion now. There long weeks apart kept them wholly out of the loop, as the phrase goes, with one another. Messengers there were in abundance but a note here and there was not the same as an actual conversation.

"Well, our little jewel down there got into some trouble of her own."

"No. Not her! She is supposed to be the good one."

"All our children are good... Most of the time. Now, tell me why you've brought us all out here-"

"-I know Osgiliath is keeping you busy, my love, just as we are all kept occupied here but I have a surprise." He seemed like a little child. Up to something... She did not tell him that she too had a surprise. One he would probably get more enjoyment out of. "Can't you guess?"

"No and the suspense is killing me. Tell me!" She prompted him with a brief kiss but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. In the Court of the Fountain below, they could hear Mírien squeak and there was a short burst of laughter from Eldarion.

"We are going to the Shire." he announced with much gravitas.

"We are?"

"Are you not pleased?" Worry creased his brow as he eyed her curiously.

"Yes, of course! I have not seen the Wee Ones since they left years ago!"

"But?"

"Well, I think you'll enjoy my surprise much more." She took him by the hand and lead him to the window. Below Asfaloth was patiently putting up with Aragorn's girls as they pulled and tugged on his silken, snowy mane. Eldarion watched on and Mírien sat appealingly at his side. Boromir let out a little joyful laugh and Asfaloth turned his head suddenly up. His dark eyes held the same sort of worried light that had touched Glorfindel's.

"How-? Why-?" he stammered.

"I believe it is called a gift. Glorfindel knew you were fond of Asfaloth. As to why, well, I am not too sure and I don't suspect you care."

His face creased into a smile as he watched the sight below them.

"So, when do we leave?" she asked him as he pulled her closer if such a thing were possible.

"As soon as the King returns from the Ithilien."

"And who will govern-?"

"Shhhh, my love. You are worrying again."

Below, they heard one of Aragorn's girls giggle and Asfaloth whickered again. He was nothing if not patient.

The City passed into Arradon's very capable care now. After the War, and after his wounds had healed and he had been married, he returned to his King's side. He was, like his father had been, dutiful to a fault. She knew she would not have to worry about Osgiliath; Glóin, son of Gróin, was old even by Dwarf standards but she could trust him with her city long enough and his years made his wise though sometimes forgetful.

So the band of travelers set out with a few more than what Aelswyth had imagined. The last time she had gone on such an adventure... She shook her head and would not think on it. She would not mar such a fine day with thoughts of War.

Instead she watched all the children as they played at their games and occasionally the men as they spoke of old times and smoke their pipes. She sighed, content at long last.

The Shire all together seemed to come up out of nowhere. Or everywhere really. It was nothing but fertile farmland and green pastures and warm days and ancient oaks. This Aelswyth thought is peace. True the only sound to be heard aside from the laughter of children was the slow hum of a lazy river. Somewhere a bird dared to chirp and a dragonfly thrummed along with them. Boromir looked at ease on Asfaloth who seemed to bear his years far better than his rider. His hair was growing gray although slowly and he didn't quite have that kick in his steps. Oh, my sweet husband, you're getting older. One day she hoped he would realize it was a young man's work he we doing but she thought not. The Guard was his to command untill he died or untill he could no longer hold his sword.

"Peregrin Took!" she called from nowhere though now she did recognize the dapper looking Hobbit that walked along the Road. With him was a sweet looking lass and a wee little babe in her arms. "It has been too long!" At least since his marriage to Diamond of Long Cleave and Aelswyth must've looked something like a bear then. She dismounted as though she were years younger and embraced Pippin as though he were son.

"I didn't think you'd be here so soon and I didn't think you would bring, well, everybody!" he said as he looked at everyone in turn, a happy look of surprise crossing onto his face.

"We're all here now!" came Boromir's gravelly voice. Pippin smiled warmly and looked around again. Well, almost anyway. Aelswyth had noted that Faramir had not been able to leave the Ithilien.

"I don't think we've enough room for all of you!" He smiled, looking impish with his golden curls and twinkling dark eyes. "C'mon then! Supper'll be done soon!"

Mírien chased the lightening bugs with her hair twisting behind her and while Eldarion chased after her. Aelswyth leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds around her. Arwen sat with her girls, braiding flowers into their dark hair, their eyes all shining like the stars. Pippin had brought Merry out of whatever little hobbit-hole he had been hiding in and just now they were both smoking their pipes. Baradion and Amathion were tussling in the grass. Aragorn and Boromir were both quiet as they looked on.

"You are thinking." Aragorn said softly so the others would not hear him. Boromir turned his head only slightly; the man had not aged a day, it seemed.

"Thinking? Not I!" They shared a chuckled before Mírien came stumbling up to them. She opened her little hand and a lightening bug flew out of her grasp. It lingered there just out of her reach before taking off into the night. She turned, saw Eldarion coming for her and ran again, her hair mingling with the night and her laughter ringing like the soft sound of bells. "I am old, aren't I?" he asked after a long time.

"We are all old now." Aragorn answered casually. "We cannot escape age nor death. Instead of brooding perhaps, old friend, you should simply enjoy this evening. It is a fine evening, is it not? An evening like this should be spent surrounded by our families and friends." Though Faramir and his extension of the family was missing, it was, in all fact, the perfect evening and he had no complaints. He strode across the lawn to where Aelswyth stood leaning and took her into his arms. He captured her lips with a slow, ardent kiss.

"What was that for?" she asked breathless as she blushed.

"I love you; what else could it be for?"

And so the night ended as quietly as it had begun. Mírien and Arwen's girls were sprawled together on the lawn while Baradion and Amathion clung to their war games even as they slept. Eldarion was nestled close to Arwen and even the adults knew the night was at it's end. They slept and when they dreamed it was nothing if not peaceful.

A.N.:

So long! And there a few more parts to go plus I'm working on a family tree and it's kind of kickin' my butt! Ai! Sometimes I wonder!

Baradion- Sindarin. "Son of the Tower".

Amathion-Also Sindarin. "Son of the Sheild."

Mírien- "Daughter of Jewels".

I hope you have your many girly squeals, Naurwe. Decidedly that's what this chapter was for :D

Leola's chapter is next!