Epilogue - Elfwine
After Elfwine's marriage to Magda, the young prince's habitual recklessness came to an end. He stayed home for three years before going to join Elboron's campaigns in Mordor, and then he only participated for five years. He came home to his wife and was named by his father Chief Marshal of the Mark, charged with organizing and mustering both the Eastfold and the Westfold when Elessar called.
Elfwine's first child, Eoril, a daughter, was born in the year 26. Blonde and fair (a fact noted with relief by Eomer) she grew into a beauty that sundered the hearts of many hopeful young riders.
Her sister, Imalaeth, was born two years later. Not so fair as her older sibling, she was still clearly the daughter of Elfwine the Fair. Her interest was not so much in needlework and dresses, though, as it was in armor and shields.
After her there was no issue for some time and the Mark grew nervous. Eomer was still strong, though, and his son was yet young, so all such concerns were kept quiet. As anxious as the Rohirrim were for the line to continue, they were still contending with the reality that the child would be half Dunlending.
In the year 34, an urgent message came to Edoras from Dol Amroth. Imrahil's ship, the flagship of the fleet he had commanded for so many years against the corsairs, had come to Dol Amroth under a black sail.
Prince Imrahil had passed and his youngest son was called home.
There was a great and raucous celebration that night in Meduseld as everyone bid farewell to the transplanted prince they had all grown to love. All were told this was not merely a visit home, Amrothos was taking leave of the Mark for once and for all. He departed the next day and rode off home for his father's memorial. And then Amrothos took charge of his father's fleet, sailing forth to keep the corsairs away from the fair city of his home.
In the year 38, Magda gave birth to Theomund, the first of Elfwine's sons. When it was known that the heir of the Mark had hair as dark as coal, Eomer took to drink for a fortnight - and it was not from celebration. He was heard to mutter such things as "end of the Mark" often to himself.
Elfwine spent as much time as he could with his family, but he did ride out with his father in service of King Elessar, for the Haradrim caused much strife and discord for the people of the West. Known to be a patient and implacable strategist, Prince Elfwine helped to bring about many victories for his father and Elessar.
In the year 41, after the death of his beloved friend, Elboron, Elfwine grew heartsick and did not venture from the Mark. He was able to share his grief with Prince Eldarion and no other, for no one but they could encompass the vastness of their loss.
In time, the wound did heal somewhat, as these things do. Eldarion stayed much with Elboron, but he did also visit Prince Barahir in Emyn Arnen, who he was very fond of. The youngest son of Faramir and Eowyn had grown into a bright young man with grand designs for his city and his people. Though versed in tactics and combat, King Elessar did not call him to the wars. He instead preferred Barahir keep watch on Mordor - a duty of little importance, after Elboron's reign of destruction.
However, Elessar firmly believed Barahir's family had sacrificed enough on Gondor's behalf.
In the year 48, Theomund was sent to live with his mother's people for a few years. The ten-year-old heir was already showing signs of possessing his father's wit and it was agreed that he should know the Dunlendings and their ways better.
The year 50 saw Eomer, aged but still keen of mind and strong of limb, ride home from his final campaign. Elfwine led the eoreds forth behind Elessar's banner himself after that, and all of the men of the Mark followed their prince as much out of love as fealty.
Theomund married Heletha, Thaedenbrand's daughter, in the year 59. The Rohirrim were surprised (and relieved) at the match. The Dunlendings reacted with suspicion in some cases and anger in others. Many had come to think of the heir as more Dunlending than Rohirrim and had expected him to strengthen the Dunlending bloodline in the Royal family, and they wondered if he had been forced to marry a Rohirrim girl.
The sixtieth year of the fourth age saw Elfwine assume most of the kingship duties for his aged father. Irascible and cantankerous in his old age, Eomer took much more joy in regaling his grandchildren with exploits of heroic deeds from ages past than with sitting on his throne and listening to complaints and pleas.
Two years later, at his father's request, Elfwine sent word to Elessar that Eomer King had requested to see Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, the Hobbits, again, and no one doubted what that meant. It was no sooner asked for than it was done. And more.
Merry and Pippin arrived in the summer of the following year, and soon after came Elessar, Arwen, Gimli, and Legolas. It was a gathering of friends, a reunion of heroes. There was much laughter and pauses to remember details of the old adventures. And, of course, there were the light-hearted disputes of who had really done what and when.
Eomer took his final ride as the first frosts touched the grasses of the Mark that year, surrounded by all those who loved him.
Most of the Mark turned out for the beloved King's funeral, for there were few in the Riddermark whose lives had not been touched by the man. Wynohael sung before the crowd, her voice as clear and beautiful as notes from a harp.
It was an opportunity that their enemies could not let go by.
Dunlending clans who had come together over the years, joined by bitterness and unwillingness to leave off their grudges, chose that day to make war upon the Mark. It was a brave and bold gamble, one that had been planned for years while they awaited Eomer's death. With the Mark paralyzed by the loss of its long-time King, a swift and decisive victory could be achieved.
The only thing between them and their day of bloody triumph was Theomund, the new Chief Marshal. And he was few in years and, more importantly, was known to have a great love for his mother's people. He would not offer them more than a token resistance, they were certain.
Five thousand screaming berserkers came at the Rohirric town of Edelmon even as Wynohael's voice was raised in song for her departed father some hundred miles away. The guards in the town slammed the gates shut, but they were very few against so many.
Theomund, however, offered more than a token resistance. He personally led the charge of a thousand horseman that cut the Dunlending assault in two. But that was only the first part of his plan. For he knew that were this merely Rohirrim putting down another Dunlending uprising, the feuds would spark back to life.
So the next wave of his assault came from his own contingent of Dunlendings - men who were better trained, better armed and better armored than their discontented cousins. Those men loved the prince and the ferocity of the battle showed that.
The rebellion of the year 63 was crushed in a matter of hours.
King Elfwine assumed his throne with a heavy heart. At sixty, he was hale and hardy and ready for the challenges of his rule. His beloved wife, Magda, remained a strong presence by his side. And after the unequivocal victory in the uprising, Theomund had been elevated in the eyes of both Rohirrim and Dunlending.
Father and son set about trying to settle the old feuds once and for all. It was an effort of supreme diplomacy, backed with the arm of Rohan's military might, but both sides were eventually appeased.
Theomund's son, Caeldred, was born in the year 67, and Elfwine doted much upon his grandchild. The aging King took every opportunity to spend time with the child, reading to him as a babe and, as the boy grew up, taking him out for long rides and fishing trips.
Lothiriel of Dol Amroth lived out her reclining years surrounded by her family, all of whom stayed close by. Wynohael spent many hours with her, carefully writing down every one of her mother's memories so that they would not be lost. Hanild, Finduilas, Theodora, and Eltherial and their families were also about, filling Meduseld with activity.
In the year 71, the Lady Lothiriel caught a sickness of the lungs, and not all of her remedies were able to fight it off. Her spirit took sail out of the Mark for once and for all.
Elfwine's united Mark was rife with tensions and distrust, but they gave way in time, as neighbors married and barriers fell away. That is not to say there were not clashes and skirmishes, but they were few and easily dealt with.
In the year 90, Elfwine gave up his throne to Theomund and retired to his library, where his books awaited him. Barahir had sent many copies of rare tomes that he had found along to his cousin, and Elfwine wanted nothing more than to spend time with those musty pages.
Eldarion still visited, though it was painful for him. The heir of Gondor had grown into a tall, strong man, and though there were the faint signs of age lines upon his handsome face, time had left him largely untouched. It was something Elfwine teased him about, but Eldarion did not find it particularly amusing.
The one hundredth year of the fourth age dawned and it pleased the doddering Elfwine to have lived to see the year come. In all, he was a very happy man who was very happy with his life. He had achieved peace in the Mark, he had lived to see Elessar bring peace to Gondor, he was content.
When his strength finally faded, he took to his bed with only minimal regret. Eldarion came as soon as he was informed, nearly flying across the miles that separated them. And he sat beside his old friend and they talked of things past and present and they laughed.
"...and when we got back, my father was ready to skin me!" Elfwine recalled, remembering the look on his father's face when he had told him the three heirs had gone off to visit the Dunlendings.
Eldarion nodded, grinning. "We were responsible for most of your father's grey hairs, I am sure." He shook his head. "It's a wonder he didn't lock us in a dungeon."
Elfwine laughed and coughed. "I'm sure he wanted to. Oh we had some times..."
We had some times.
Elboron's final words echoed in the silence. They were both sure they felt him there, between them, smiling with them.
"Dar..."
"Yes, Win?"
Elfwine reached out and patted his hand. "You think you'll ever find that ship you dreamed of? The one that would take you into the West?"
Eldarion looked wistful and he sighed in longing. "I still dream of it, Win. I hope it's real."
"I hope so too..." Elfwine's smile lit up the room. "That's an adventure I wish I could share..."
Eldarion's heart hurt and his eyes stung. "You and Boro will be with me...if I ever make it there."
The old man on the bed laughed dryly. "I meant for real, you old poet." He let out a long sigh. "I have loved my life, Dar. Every day of it. This...this isn't so bad."
Eldarion smiled through his tears and nodded. "You are loved...by us all."
"What more can any man ask for?"
Eldarion nodded and took his friend's frail hand in his. There was an awkward silence and he had nothing to fill it with.
Some time later, with Magda, Theomund and most of the rest of Elfwine's family crowded into the room, Elfwine murmured his words of love and benediction. Then he fell into a deep sleep and, after a time, took his final ride, leaving behind a legacy of peace for the people he had served and loved so long.