AN: This is it! This is the end! Of this story anyway….there's always its semi-sort of sequel that I have for this story. I'm sorry for the delay on this chapter. I was swamped with homework over Thanksgiving break. I had a huge Microbiology test, a lab report on two unknown organisms for Microbiology Lab, and a ten to fifteen page paper to write for my Religion, Society, and Culture class. Now that's all done and I can update again. All this work is getting piled on because I'm down to my last three weeks of school! Anywho, I can't thank the lot of you enough for hanging around for the ride and reviewing all along. You all rock like a box of socks and I hope you're going to ride along with me on the semi-sort of sequel to this story.

Mystic-realm: I'm glad you liked the story. Here's the last part of the story and I hope you enjoy it just as much as all the others.

LalaithoftheBruinen: Oh! Don't be sad! Be happy! This is the final part but there's always another story waiting in the wings. I'll get that story up as soon as humanly possible (or as soon as my professors let up on the work…blasted final weeks!)

Shay: Don't worry…I nearly always have something planned or a sequel in the works. I'm glad you liked everything she did back in the Muggle World and the fact she told Hope the truth. There's always the possibility of Hope showing up and having a good time there. I'd keep an eye on that gift for a while. It's going to come up in a huge way soon…and may play a part in the ending of this story. As for my creative writing class, my professor has the most monotone voice on the face of the earth. For three hours (the length of my class) he talks in the same boring voice. Other than that, and the people sometimes, the class is pretty fun.

sunni07: I'm looking for the person who invented the phrase "user friendly" to describe computers because, half the time, it's not true! They do weird stuff! I'm glad you liked the song; I kind of thought it fit…sort of…in a way. Sadly, this will be the last chapter…for this story anyway!

Ms. Unknown: She may be loosing the friend but she earned the truth in the process and she's the only one there to know the truth. I figured that the song was appropriate for the story but it's cool that you're going to use it. Have fun with it! It's a good song!

IrethAncalime3791: Well, next to the last chapter. This one is the very last one for this story. I'm glad you liked the story, especially the part where Jay was getting stared down. Maybe it was just a little payback for what he did to Niphredil during her stay with them.

Arami: Aw…thanks! Since Niphredil had nothing to lose and, really, nothing to fear, she could do or say anything she wanted to Jay and Kay. Give her the opportunity to say what was on her mind. As for Hope, she may get to pay Niphredil a visit. Then we'd get an American mutant in King Aragorn's court.

Elven Script: Here's my next post! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter!

pixie88: Don't feel bad about being busy….everyone is busy in some way, especially where school's involved. Wow! You're a Microbiology major! That's wicked cool! I am taking Microbiology but I'm just a run of the mill biology major hoping to get into genetics. Micro's fun except I find that TSA plates smell really bad. Like wet dog food or something, but that's just me. I'm glad you liked the direction this story took and I do hope you stick around for the sequel.

elentir girl: I'm glad you liked the chapter! Here's the ending of the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.

"Nana, I can't do this," Niphredil groaned, sitting down on her parent's bed.

Telling Jay and Kay what she thought was easy. Facing an angry Fire with an unknown weapon in her hands was tough but not as tough as the situation she was walking into.

This situation was absolute and pure torture. Something she shouldn't have to do and was finding that she was totally unable to do it. There were few things that Niphredil felt were impossible but this was impossible.

Arwen, sitting at the vanity table in her room, turned to face her daughter with a slight smile on her face. She could understand why this situation was so problematic for Niphredil. She had every right to be nervous- Arwen would have been more concerned if Niphredil wasn't nervous- but it was just a tad out of character for her, usually, confident daughter.

"You can, Niphredil," Arwen assured her daughter, "there is nothing to fear. It is just a few words and then there will be a celebration."

The "this" they were talking about was the small ceremony that would make Niphredil the titled Princess of Gondor. She was unable to be the city's heir because of the elven choice she had made but her father had insisted she be given the title she was due. Thus the ceremony was set up.

The problem was- Well, it wasn't really a problem but it was a strange twist in the situation- that this ceremony was done when the child was just an infant. Niphredil was in no way, shape, or form an infant. She was well aware of what was going on and of the opinions the others had about her being given the title.

There were some who felt that she did not deserve the title because she was an elf in a mortal's city. Others felt she was not deserving because she was, technically, born before her parents were wed and her father had become High King of Gondor. These same people- most elder members of her father's council- had been the ones to speak out against her even being brought to Middle Earth.

Aragorn had heard these opinions and still insisted on this ceremony taking place.

"But, nana, they don't want me to have this title. They don't want me here at all…for a lot of reasons," Niphredil tried to explain, her voice slightly pleading.

"Like what, my daughter?" Arwen asked.

She gestured for her daughter to take a seat at the table which she did with no complaining. Both had to dress in their finest for the ceremony and, despite the fact there were maids who had offered to help the young princess, Arwen had insisted on preparing Niphredil for the ceremony herself. Already the young elven princess was wearing a cream colored dress with a startling black and silver design woven into the top. Her hair was the only thing left to deal with.

Niphredil sighed; trying not to move to much as Arwen plaited her hair into a complex series of twists, and answered, "I hear what they say about me. How I'm not like everyone else here; how I'm not normal."

Arwen tied off the end of the long braid she had been working on and, somehow managed to, pull her daughter into a fierce hug. A protective hug as if she could simply shield her from their harsh words.

"Do not listen to them, Niphredil. They are old and set in their ways and do not like the fact your father is changing everything to make this city a better place. This is just one more thing for them to find fault with," Arwen started but was cut off.

"So, it is my fault, since I came here of my own free will. There wouldn't be all this opposition if I wasn't here," Niphredil commented, dryly.

"That is not the truth, my daughter. You belong here, part of here in a way that is only beginning to show. Even if you did not come home to us, your father would still face opposition. Change comes slowly to people in all places both here and in the other world," Arwen pointed out.

Niphredil thought for a moment, weighing out her mother's words. That was very true in the Muggle World; she knew that to be correct. For her, the prime example was the situation Hope and all her friends and family found themselves in. The world was slow to accept the fact that they were different and unique but still human. Instead of acceptance, they were faced with anger, hatred, and fear. If they were ever to be expected, Niphredil knew it would take an uncountable number of years.

She nodded her understanding, going back to sitting still and allowing her mother to finish whatever she was doing. Well, that and worrying about what was about to take place.

What seemed like a short time later, Arwen appeared at Aragorn's side in the citadel's main throne room.

"How is she fairing?" Aragorn asked as Arwen took the seat to his left and straightened out her skirts.

"Niphredil's afraid, Aragorn. She is worried her doing this will cast an ill light on you and your rule," Arwen, being as truthful as possible, answered.

Aragorn shook his head and cast an angry glare at the bevy of councilmen seated together closest to the throne. If they were not there, this day would have been that much better in his mind. This was the first time, in a very long time, many of his eldest friends would be gathered together.

Needless to say, the reasons for the ceremony came as a great shock to them but they had all come. Even the sisters, Fire and Ice, along with the rest of their band, had arrived early clad in full armor. Orange, blue, and black burned brightly next to the silver armor the Gondor's guards.

"She should not worry about them. They will have to understand my reasoning for doing this and come to either accept it or not. Even if they do not, they cannot undo what we have done," he reminded Arwen.

"I know that. You will just have to get Niphredil understand it as well. Though she has a tough exterior, she feels everything as keenly as a blade," Arwen countered.

She thought a moment and added, "Like her father."

Aragorn would have responded if not for the opening of the doors on the far end of the room and the fact his breath caught in his throat when he saw the figure standing there.

Niphredil had promised herself two things as she parted from her mother and stood behind the closed doors leading to the throne room and to the fate waiting for her on the other side.

The first was that she was not going to panic and race down the length of the room like some silly flower girl in a Muggle World wedding. She was going to act the part she was being asked to act and be graceful and dignified and confident. All those things people said she was when they wanted to flatter her before she flattened them. She wasn't going to make either of her parents look bad by acting as immaturely as possible.

In the Muggle World, she had been considered nearly an adult. Certain things were expected of adults in that world and she was going to try her best to uphold them. Even if the young elf she knew herself to be was shaking in its fancy slippers.

The second promise she had made to herself was very, very simple and straightforward. Whatever she was going to do, she wasn't going to fall. Not that she made it a habit to fall but, with her luck, she knew a spill was entirely possible.

As the heavy wooden doors were pulled open by two silver clad guardians of the citadel, Niphredil had to fight the normal fight or flight reaction. Suddenly it was not the length of a room she had to walk down but some kind of length of air desert or dense, impassable jungle.

"Come on," she chided herself, as she took a few tentative baby steps into the room,
You can do this. There's nothing to be afraid of. This is just another competition."

She kept telling herself that as she made her way down the length of the room and tried to ignore all the eyes that seemed to be following her. Instead she focused on the banners that lined the walls of the room. Save for the silver and sable of her own city, she did not recognize any of the others on the walls.

Nor did Niphredil recognize a majority of the people seated underneath the brightly colored banners. Sure she recognized Emma, sitting silently but comfortably between her brother and her foster mother, and her grandfather, who sat between his sons with a stoic expression for the moment. Her eyes grazed over the faces of the council members as she pretended not to recognize their, sadly, familiar faces.

Everyone else in the room, though, seated under the festive banners, was a total and utter stranger. All the more reason for her to make an attempt to keep up a brave face. That would have been great…make her father look bad in front of the obviously important people.

Much to her relief, as an age passed in her mind, she reached the foot of the throne. Her father, standing while her mother sat, baffled her for all of a moment. Then she noticed the small downward motion her mother was making.

In the midst of all the excitement, she had forgotten completely what she was supposed to do. The directions she had been given days before had completely slipped her mind.

She "took a knee," as the expression went, kneeling in deference to her father's position. Of course, the move made little sense to her as she was about to take a position a little below her father's. Though, Doc had taught her to play along and follow the moves of an opponent. There was always an opportunity to learn something in there some where.

Aragorn smiled and offered his daughter a hand, which she took. He brought her to a standing position and, much to everyone's shock, linked arms with his elven daughter.

"You look wonderful, my daughter," he whispered, just low enough for elven ears to pick up.

She mumbled something in response, fighting the blush that threatened to spread on her face. That wouldn't have helped any in her current situation.

Everything seemed to slow, as she was brought over to where her mother sat.

Again she was asked to "take a knee," as her father started to speak the oddest language Niphredil had heard. It sounded like elvish but certainly not the version she was learning to speak. It had a formal and, an almost, ancient quality to it. It still, however, managed to maintain the same musical quality all elven speech- Well, that's what Niphredil assumed anyway- seemed to possess.

The music of the words lulled her into a sense of peace as her father continued to speak. Somewhere in the back of her head she recalled her mother telling her that these were the traditional blessings said upon a newly born member of the royal family, modified since she was not newly born nor was she of mortal fate. Instead of asking for a long, healthy life, Aragorn asked for a good life, filled with all the wonderful things only the immortal elves could ever understand and appreciate and for smooth sailing to the Undying Lands when the time came.

He eyes flicked upwards, full understanding returning, as Aragorn reached to the table between his and Arwen's thrones. Sitting on an ink colored cushion, was a thin band of silver and pearl. In its natural design, made to look like twisting vines, the mark of the elves could be found.

This band was lifted and, with a gentle motion, placed on her head.

Her father's hand she took again, getting to her feet with a nervous smile. Gone were the images she once had of poofy dresses and heavy crowns and wicked stepmothers and malicious kings and knights in shining from the fairy tales of the Muggle World.

They had been replaced by what Niphredil knew now. Images of parents who wanted her and just happened to be king and queen and of princesses who were not pawns in power bids by their families. Of being allowed to dress and act as she wished so long as it made her happy. The knights in shining armor part she was still out on but, then again, she was still new to this world.

"My good Lords and Ladies, I present to you my daughter and princess of Gondor, Niphredil," Aragorn called, voice echoing throughout the vast chamber.

For half a heartbeat the room was silent. Then clapping, polite at first but louder as the moments passed, sprang up in the room. Aragorn's smile dimmed only slightly as he noticed the members of his own council not among the clapping throng.

"They will learn," he decided as his smile returned.

It was not the vast feast that passed in a blur of food and faces that impressed the newly crowned elven princess. Instead, it was the small party that took place afterwards.

Those Aragorn considered to be closest friends and family gathered in a smaller room for a less formal celebration of sorts. All the trappings of royalty had been stripped away leaving them not kings, queens, and princes but friends, brothers-in-arms, and family.

"Emma, can I talk to you for a second?" Niphredil questioned, approaching the quietly observing Mirkwood Princess.

"Sure," Emma replied, Americanized speech slipping in her voice as she spoke to Niphredil, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Look, I have an idea. Something I've been meaning to do since I found out you danced and that my dad's seen you dance," Niphredil broached.

A bright smile flitted over Emma's face. It had been a long time since she'd last danced for Aragorn and Arwen. It had felt like ages, actually, since she'd last preformed for anyone other than those in Mirkwood. The dancer in Emma was itching for a different crowd, despite the fact she had danced at the same studio much of her time in the Muggle World.

"What are you planning?" she asked, her voice and demeanor excited.

"Here's the plan," Niphredil began, leading Emma away from the main body of the crowd lest someone hear her plans.

With Emma's assurance that she knew exactly what she wanted to do, Niphredil approached her father the moment she saw him standing alone. Seeming rude and interrupting him when he was with others was not part of her plan in any way, shape, or form.

"Father, would if be possible for me to address those gathered here?" she asked, trying to keep the smile off her face and her voice as even as possible.

"Of course it is possible, Niphredil," Aragorn replied, "Why?"

"I was just curious and there's something I'd like to d…say to everyone," she sputtered, almost stumbling over what she wanted to really say.

With a few shouted words in both human and elven speech, Aragorn called the small gathered crowd to attention.

"The floor is yours," he told Niphredil, gesturing to the spot where he stood.

"Thank you, father," she answered, standing in her father's spot.

Emma, quiet as a mouse, slipped next to Niphredil, making her foster parents and brother wonder what was going on.

"I've been meaning to do this for a while but now seemed like the best time to do this. Just a note, the song's called 'Proud of your Boy' but neither Emma or I are boys. It's the premise of the song that counts," Niphredil explained.

To Emma, who was fairly bouncing on the slippered balls of her feet, she asked, "You ready?"

"Of course," Emma answered, taking a pose someplace near the center of the room.

With a nod from the young dancer- who claimed to be modeling her dance after some combination her class did to a different song but the steps still fit- Niphredil began to sing.

Niphredil finished the song with a flourish and Emma with a small bow. Comments and credits were about to be given to the pair- who were steadfast in their claim that this was truly the first time they had every work together- when a wide-eyed Ice came bursting into the room.

She no longer wore the armor she had one earlier in the day. It had been replaced by a simple garment of shifting gray hues. On her back was a quiver of white fletched arrows and a bow was in her hands.

"My Lord Aragorn," she stated, bowing slightly before straightening up, "I am very sorry for interrupting your celebration but I bring urgent news from Lothlorien."

The change of clothing and of weaponry was easy to explain, as was the means by which Ice had come and gone from Gondor to Lothlorien and back again in such a short period of time. It was Patrick and his infamous Portkey or something very much like them.

"There is no need to be sorry, my lady Ice. What word comes from the Golden Woods?" Aragorn wanted to know.

"The Lady Galadriel requests you send your daughter to Lothlorien with me. It is time she learns of her abilities and there is good she must do," Ice replied.

Niphredil looked to her father, confused and nervous all at once. She hadn't a clue what was going on. What abilities did she have? What was she going to have to do?

"Come, Niphredil, you must prepare," Aragorn, gently, said.

"What's going on, father, nana?" she asked.

"You have been ordered to go see your great-grandmother, my daughter. We best get you ready," Arwen said, "It is not wise to leave her waiting. We best get moving."

Confused and, admittedly, a bit afraid, Niphredil followed her parents. No knowing what was going on or what to expect, she just did as she was told. It seemed her questions would have to wait until later…until she met this great-grandmother of hers…whomever she might be.