Disclaimer: Read 48 previous.

Author's Note: You've all been great. It hit me today that I'm done. Finished. Finito. For you it's only been a month or so, but for me it's been four. It feels like most of my sparetime this past month and the first month of writing this story was spent solely on this. Now it feels really weird to let go. Huh... A little sad as well :( Maybe because the ending to this is less than happy. Oh and how many of you now know when in the Chronicles of Narnia timeline this is set? Right answer gets a cookie!


Chapter 49 – Hymn of the Boy King

Eomer stood in front of a force of several thousand. It only took the orcs a few moments to completely surround Aragorn's army. For that was what it was now. He couldn't rightfully claim anyone's allegiance yet. Not even his uncles knights. Not until he was crowned and felt ready to accept such responsibility. Now they were all united under one leader. One man who had inspired so much more than he had recieved credit for. The army of men had rallied behind Aragorn in the end. Not Eomer. He was no king. He was a warrior, bred to fight.

In a brief moment of doubt he even thought Eowyn would have been better suited to rule. She had a temperance he would never possess. A grace and strength in difficult situations that he envied.

But she was a woman. The law did not permit women to rule, and so the responsibility of ruling Rohan fell to the last remaining male-heir of the empire. Though not as large as Gondor, or as large as the kingdom Aragorn would once form – uniting both Gondor and Arnor in peace – it was still enough to bring a sense of terror to his heart. In the silence before the last men of the west stormed the soldiers of Mordor he had the fleeting thought that he should have ensured Eowyn's right to the throne should he fall this day.

The regret stayed with him as he noticed Aragorn. He was a bit away, but still saw the soon-to-be king turn to his friends with a look of complete trust. He looked those closest to him in the eye. His blue eyes swam in unshed tears, and with unshakable faith he raised his sword and stormed forward. At the tip of his army.

What Eomer didn't see was the look he shared with Edmund immediately before his flight. The Just King gazed at the new ruler with as much belief as he could muster. He had so much faith in Aragorn, even if the ranger didn't have much in himself. With a whispered prayer "For Frodo," he turned and stormed the orcs head on.

Edmund closed his eyes in those seconds and sent a swift pledge to everything he had once stood for, and still did to some extent. "For Narnia," he opened his eyes and began running, one step behind the two hobbits. "For Aslan!"

The small army spread out like a flock of birds. He had faced worse odds with Narnians by his side. He had remained strong in the last stages of lost battles. With nothing but faith in the Lion, and the trust in his friends to carry him forward.

He knew how much could be won by will alone. He suddenly realized, as Rhindon crashed against a crude orc-sword, that he knew without a doubt what a few loyal men could accomplish. Where most in all worlds only had their faith, he had seen what pure will could achieve. He had seen men chase down beasts thrice their size for days on end, and kill them simply because there was no other option. He had seen wounded friends pull through fatal injuries simply because they refused to give in. Whipping out the elven blade alongside Rhindon he slashed and cut his way through the horde of enemies. He kept swinging and swinging even after his arms began to ache. Even after a vicious slash ripped open his back and made him cry out.

He guarded his new friends as he would have his old ones, and almost cried in blood-red victory when they guarded him as well. They could never beat the army back. There were simply too many. But maybe, just maybe they could hold them long enough to show that they were not weak. To show the enemy what a few good men could do.

As this thought came and left he heard a terrible boom. His eyes drifted east as the orcs stopped fighting. Men and beasts alike watched the massive volcano in the center of Mordor explode. Red-hot rock blasted out through the wasteland and made the earth shudder. This would be seen for miles around, he knew. People would know that Sauron had fallen. And as this second realization came to him and left as well, he saw the dark tower fall. An evil like the one he had once, a long time ago, come across in another world, fell to the ground in rubble and fear.

The bright eye widened in agony as the ring no doubt vanished in a river of lava. He almost smiled until the next horrible thought struck him. What of Frodo? If the hobbit was anywhere near the exploding mountain he would surely die. He couldn't take his eyes off the violent event to save his life. Not until he saw three eagles appear out of the thin layers of the atmosphere.

Their screams heralded salvation in the midst of chaos. Like angelic choirs, the heavens opened up and sunlight reached the desolate ground. The orcs began running as the ground caved in beneath them. The army held still, and was spared from falling to their deaths as if by magic. Edmund smiled then. The eagles had vanished in the plumes of black smoke, and the sky seemed to be roaring with victory. They had won. His leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt the sky open and sunlight hit his face.

Victory. Relief. Sadness. Love.

All these feelings vibrated through him with every heartbeat. They had won. When he opened his eyes he found Gandalf standing in front of him with relief on his face as well. The old wizard then did something unexpected. He bowed to the strange king. He kneeled in the bloodied mud with his staff before him. He kneeled to Edmund out of reverence and love.

Edmund couldn't find his voice and numbly stepped forward to assist the man to his feet once again. As he stood, he placed a hand on his shoulder just as Edmund had his. Gandalf gently pulled the young king close and allowed the white folds of his gown to close around them. Only those closest to the two saw the tender moment, as the most powerful magician of his time embraced a boy with the heart of kings. A boy, born as a servant of his society, turned king and leader of a country.

The only regret in Gandalf's heart was that the other three siblings were not there to share the moment. He vowed he would show his appreciation for all they had sacrificed before his journey was done. Before Eru called him home.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the hobbits all saw the pride in Gandalf's eyes as he proclaimed his allegiance to the King of Narnia. And though the moment was short-lived, it would not be forgotten. In the minds of every Gondorian that moment would live until the end of days.


AN: I got over my melancholy when I once again realized I'd begun the sequel to Last Guardians. Another long one so I won't get bored on those slow, summerdays. Hoped you enjoyed this one and didn't find it too sappy. In any case, let me know.