Eomer realized his neglect and mistake after he found out Tolwyn ran away, and immediately regretted every mean thing he had ever done to her. He had indeed loved her, but had not understood just how much until she was gone. He sent out every available Rider of Rohan there was in search of her, and some still roam Middle-Earth today looking for her.

The people of Edoras, indeed all of Rohan, mourned at her loss. She was never mean to them, and in the year before she left, when she had been walking among them, she got to know some of them very well.

Elfwine received a letter two years back, when Tolwyn would have been eighteen years old. Its message was this:

Dearest brother, it has been three years since I left you. The time has passed quickly. I have done as you said and traveled with other people as often as possible, and I have been rewarded greatly with experiences beyond my wildest expectations. I have fought many, many battles, too many to count. I am scarred deeply, but stronger. I continue to grow stronger every day.

I have grown other ways too. I can wield a sword better than you now, probably. I have made a great many friends, though none of them know my true identity. Baldor obeys my every whim now, and no longer has the temper he had when I first received him.

I still remain slender, but I've grown taller. I believe I'm your height now. My hair has gotten browner (most likely because it is under my helmet) but my eyes remain the same. My alias still works, for I look just like a gangly, awkward young man that is still too skinny.

At the moment, while I write this, I am sitting at an inn in Bree. The men stared at me when I came in. They wonder what a boy as young as me is doing in an inn far from home. I say, let them wonder. They can always ask, but men are such cowards.

Now, my clothes, as far as the green tunic and black pants, are worn but still usable. The leather boots and belt, and Father's armor, also are in good shape. The sword and bow I care for well, and I try to retrieve every arrow I shoot.

All in all, Elfwine, I have adjusted well to this life. It is dirty and painful and hard, but I feel so independent and free. Sometimes, though, when I know I am all alone, I take off my helmet. Sometimes under the same circumstances I begin to sing to song of Eorl. But I love watching the stars at night, and watching the sunrise in the morning. I love the feel of the wind on my face when I gallop through fields with Baldor. I love the feel of battle, of my sword connecting with flesh, of the mixture of sweat and dirt and blood that runs down my face. I've killed many enemies, and please don't think me bad for this, but I rather enjoy it.

I continue to miss you and Father every day, and often dream about home. Perhaps someday I will return. But until then, I continue to love you, brother.

Yours always, Tolwyn

Tolwyn, now a grown woman of twenty-one years, is very alive and healthy, but hidden. No one knows where she is or what she is doing. Most everyone believes Tolwyn is dead by now. Some say she ran off and married a charming lad. Some say she died in battle, after revealing her identity one last time. But King Eomer believes she is still alive, and some consider him crazy for still searching for her. She has no intention of returning to her home soon, but her intentions may change with time. But the daughter of Eomer continues to fight disguised and live the life of an outcast.