ANNÚMINAS
by Soledad

Disclaimer: see in the Introduction

Rating: PG, I think.

Author's notes:
And now the epilogue, just as I promised. With a happy end! Go think - the mistress of tortured relaitonships actually has managed this one! Only in an alternate universe, of course, but still...

EPILOGUE

[The 10th day of Narbeleth(1), in the year 3021 of the Third Age]

Six moons later...

King Aratan of Arnor was sitting in a rocking chair, nursing fairy-faced Eldarion, while his own father was rocking sweet little Finduilas in order to put her to sleep. The little girl grew more alike her late grandmother - whom she was named after - with every passing day, and the once oh so iron-willed, grim and intimidating Steward of Gondor simply could not bring up the strength to go home. What the Dark Lord and his evil minions could not accomplish in a lifetime, this little girl achieved in mere weeks: she defeated him. The mighty Lord Denethor was putty in the tiny hand of his granddaughter.

Boromir was grateful for his father's presence. The newly-found peace between them put his mind at ease like he had not known it for his entire life. It took Denethor but a short ime to earn the fearful respect of the Rangers of the North, for his name was well-known, even in Eriador, and his open acceptance of his son's choices - even if it came way too late - seemed to finally break the ice between the King of Arnor and the followers of the late Aragorn. Not the least because Denethor bore more than a slight remembrance to the former Chieftain of the Northern Dúnedain.

There were changes, of course, as it is inevitable in life, even for Elves who do not know death. Elrond had finally departed over Sea less than a moon ago, and with him went Arwen and many of the Elven folk of Rivendell. Yet Elrohir remained, not wanting to leave as long as his brother lived, and his wife, the Lady Aquiel(2), stayed with him, them becoming the new Lord and Lady of Imladris.

Gone were all the wizards, back to Valinor, where they finally could shed their physical form, born almost for a whole Age, and rest after their long labours in Middle-earth.

Faramir and Éowyn returned home, for Gondor needed its King and Queen; and it had only been a few days ago that a winged messenger arrived with the joyous news of the birth of their first child, a son named Elboron(3).

The royal House of the Mark had less luck so far. Queen Aud miscarried her baby after two moons of pregnancy, yet she was determined to try it again, saying that even this short experience made her happy beyond measure.

Erestor and Lindir remained in Annúminas, choosing to postpone their departure and wait for Elrohir, so the three babies practically grew together. Legolas Greenleaf had visited them during summer for a short while, introducing his newly-wed, beautiful young wife, a Nandorin princess called Indreâbhan(4) and bringing mesages from the Lord Celeborn, who now ruled the southern part of Emyn Lasgalen(5). After the departure of his wife, that hit him hard, he wanted not to dwell in Lórien any more. Not without her.

For a change, there also was peace along the borders, and Boromir thanked the Valar for it every day. He knew it would not last for ever; for many of the former servants of the Enemy were still around, the worst and strongest ones of them in Harad, but at least they could hope for a few years of ease ere they grew confident enough to cause the Reunited Kingdom trouble again.

''We must not remain idle in these years'', Denethor warned him and the High King every time someone brought up a question concerning their future. ''We must show strength ere they decide to give us any troube. I have dealt with Harad all my life, and so have my sons; you know that strength is the only language these people understand, Boromir!''

''I know, father'', Boromir nodded, giving a cursory glance Halbarad, the freshly-assigned Pricne of Cardolan. ''That is why fortifying Amon Súl and rebuilding Tharbad is of such importance. We need a strong watchtower at the border of our lands, and we need the old haven, so that ships can sail up til the middle of Eriador, if necessary. Thank to the efforts of Elfhelm - and his marriage(6) -, we can count Rhún now to our allies - and a strong ally it is, now, that it finally had been united.''

As always, the High King had listened to their discussion in silence. Elladan was a fierce and experienced warrior, but not used to think in terms of whole empires, in spite of being over three thousand years old. So he readily left any problems of strategy to Boromir and his father, focussing his considerable diplomatic skills on negotiations. Which had worked just fine, so far.

Boromir finished nursing his son and offered the little fairy his father with a smile, lying the now soundly asleep Finduilas into her tiny bed. Things had become gradually better for him after the birth, and he was back to his formal shape and strength once again, beating all the weapons' masters with little to no effort, just as he used to do.

And what was more, he and Elladan were able to give in to their passion again; after the long moons of self-restrain it felt like the rain season in Harad's deserts. The mere memory of teir first love-making still scorched his hearth with the savage joy of it.

He was content with his life. It surely had not turned out has he - as any one - would have expected, though. It turned out better. Much, much better.

''What are you thinking of?'', Deenthor asked catching his thoughtful smile.

''Of how different my life - all our lives - became than we would have thought'', he admitted. His father considered this for a moment.

''True. But you are happy, are you?'' Boromir nodded.

''More than I have ever hoped for, father.''

''Good'', Denethor said, ''you deserve it, after all you have been through. Go now and ravish your Elf; tis almost sunset, and he will be waiting for you.''

''Father'', Boromir asked hesitantly, ''are you... can you truly be content with my choices?''

''Nay'', his father replied bluntly. ''I would wish a normal life for you; one that your brother leads. One that all our forefathers led. But this is your life, and I want you happy. I shall not sneak away from you like Elrond did with his son, no matter what I might think of your choices - even though I may not have too many years left. But what ever I still have, I want to spend with my family.''

''I am not the only one who needs your support'', Boromir remainded him earnestly. ''Faramir might feel neglected that you had not returned home to witness the birth of his son.''

''And justly so'', Denethor replied; ''I always have been too weak when it came to you. But I am too old to cross the lands in winter. Your Elf intends to bring down the whole court to Minas Tirith for a visit at springtime. I shall then return in your company.''

''My Elf does have a name, father'', said Boromir with mild disapproval.

''I know'', his father replied with a wicked grin, ''but I cannot get all too cozy with him just now. That would be admitting defeat, would it not?''

The End

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

End notes:

(1) Approximately October.
(2) A female OC of mine, from other, related stories. Has no significant part in this one, though.
(3) This is how Altariel named their son in her wonderful story ''A Game of Chess''. I'm not sure whether there is a footnote somewhere in the HoME books to support the choice. It might be. Altariel always does her homework.
(4) Another female OC of mine. Has even less part in this story. The name has no meaning in Sindarin whatsoever - in fact, it's the name of a Scandinavian city. I chose it for the interesting sound, boldly assuming that it was in Nandorin. So shoot me!
(5) Which actually is a canon fact. Look up in the Appendices!
(6) In my stories Elfhelm is married to the daughter of the Prince of Rhún.