Reader poll: It's up to you, y'all. Should she end with Legolas or not? Should she stay or go? Let me know! (Hey, it rhymes. Hee)

111

A little over an hour later, we're all gathered in the hall. It's loud, full of talk and laughter. Aragorn is seated at the head of the table, watching. The Hobbits are gathered around Frodo, and probably more food than they're combined body-weight. Boromir and Faramir are arguing about Pelennor, Eowyn and Eomer injecting their opinion. Elladan and Elrohir burst in, and before you know it, they're re-enacting the battle using cutlery, condiment dishes, and water goblets for Oliphaunts. And bickering over who's view was better.

"No, no, no! That was over there, while the dead came in from the river."

"Yes, but we don't have a river, brother."

"Here!" Merry says, and hands over a bowl of blueberries.

Aragorn sighs and shakes his head. "You're going to make a mess," he says mildly.

"Aye." Elladan finishes arranges the blueberries and smiles, then pulls over the eating knives that are serving as the black pirate ships.

I shake my head and dig into my own food before they can decide to make it part of the orc army.

"My Lords?" one of the guards says in a hesitant voice.

Aragorn looks up and meets his eyes. "Yes?"

"There are visitors, my Lord, demanding to see Lord Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas." He nervously clears his throat. "They're rather...intimidating."

Elladan lets out a hoot of laughter. "Aye, perhaps an Elf Lord with golden hair?"

The guard nods slowly, and Dan punches Legolas in the shoulder. "Your Adar?"

Legolas grins and bounds out of his chair. The Twins follow him.

"Oh, this should be fun," Gimli mutters into his pipe.

111

"I am supposed to be able to breathe?"

"No," the dressmaker replies serenely.

I make a face and fiddle with the sleeves of my snazzy new gown. "Well, then I'd say it's perfect."

She nods. "There. Except for the stitches in your face, you almost look like a real lady."

As opposed to what, you bitch? A fake one?

She turns in a swirl of skirts and leaves. Iariel glares after her for a moment, then steps forward to fix my hair. "I'm sorry, milady. She has very distinct opinions about what a lady should and shouldn't be."

I'd make another face, but it hurts my stitches. "Yeah, I could tell."

Iariel finishes winding the braids up on the back of my head and pins them in place. "There. You look lovely."

I nod slowly. "Right. The scars add a touch of elegance."

Iariel shrugs. "They add character."

I touch the scars on my left arm. "Then I've got a helluva lot of character."

She laughs and smooths the braids. "Even without the scars, milady, you ARE a character."

111

I stand between Boromir and Faramir. On the other side of Boromir is Denethor, finally concious, but not really happy to be here. Next to Faramir is Eowyn, and I have no idea where Eomer is. I watch, feeling like a giant marshmallow, as Gandalf places the crown on Aragorn's head. "Now come the days of the King," Gandalf says, smiling slightly. "May they be blessed."

The crowd immediately bursts into cheers, clapping and laughing. Next to me, Faramir lets out a delighted laugh and steals a kiss. Boromir rolls his eyes. Denethor applauds slowly, like a man in a dream, as he watches Aragorn walk up the stairs and take his place in front of his people.

Aragorn holds up his hands for silence, and, bit by bit, the crowd quiets. They're too excited, too charged, too thrilled about having their King among them at last, to quiet immediately, but eventually they do, enough so that he can speak.

He takes a deep breath, and I can almost see him bracing himself. "This day does not belong to one man, but to all. Let us together rebuild this world, that we may share in the days of peace."

The crowd cheers again. Some time soon, I need to stop smiling. My face hurts.

Aragorn closes his eyes and starts to sing, quietly, a sweet song in Elvish. Note to self: Ask Hal or the twins what it is. It's beautiful.

He passes in front of us, and we all bow. He nods in return. I watch as his eyes catch Faramir and Eowyn's linked hands, and he smiles. Either he's happy they're happy, or he's just glad he doesn't have to worry about Eowyn pining away without him. Believe me, that girl is NOT pining.

But in no way did she sneak out of Faramir's room early this morining. Nope, not at all. Heh. Heh. Don't tell Eomer.

I lean forward as Aragorn stops in front of Legolas. They clasp shoulders, and Legolas smiles like he's got some kind of secret. Which, I think, in a way, he does. Behind him is a long procession of Elves. I can see Galadriel and Celeborn, all in white and silver, arm in arm. Do they always glow like that? Next to them is Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir slightly behind him, all of them decked out in their best royal robes, with circlets at their brow. I can also see Glorfindel, near the twins, and a tall, imposing Elf Lord with long golden hair, scary green eyes, and a striking resemblance to Legolas. Ah, that would be King Thranduil.

In front of all of them, however, is a white banner embroidered with the White Tree. I let out a most undignified squeak and clap both hands over my mouth.

"Is that her?" Boromir asks. His smile almost takes in his ears.

I nod. "It has to be. Oh, this is great."

Faramir frowns. "Who?"

Eowyn leans forward, her face suddenly glowing with interest and her eyes huge. "She's here?"

I nod again. "Has to be. This much ceremony, couldn't be anyone else."

Eowyn grins. "Oh, that's wonderful."

"Who?" Faramir demands again. "Who in the Nine Hells are you talking about?"

Boromir smirks at him. "Our Queen."

I laugh as Faramir's jaw falls open and lean forward to watch the rest of the reunion.

Arwen stops in front of Aragorn. God, she looks BEAUTIFUL. She has some sort of intricate, chained circlet on her head, and she's wearing a gown of this improbable pale green nobody else would be able to pull off. She smiles nervously and bows her head. Aragorn catches her chin in his hand and tilts her head back up so he can look her in the eye. There's a long moment, and then he kisses her. Hard. In front of all of Minas Tirith. He grabs her around the waist and swings her around, still attached at the lips. When he finally lets her breathe, she lets out a laugh and wraps her arms around him, her feet still an easy foot of the ground.

The crowd is cheering so loud, I'm practically deaf. My hands hurt from clapping, my face from smiling, and my eyes are burning with unshed tears. Eowyn and I lock eyes around Faramir, and then we both laugh. She holds out her hand, and I take it.

"What is THIS?" Faramir asks, eyeing us both.

Eowyn laughs and kisses his cheek. "You'd have to be a woman to understand, my love."

The brothers look at each other and simultaneously roll their eyes, reminding me of Elladan and Elrohir so much I have to laugh.

We watch as the procession continues, Aragorn greeting those he comes to, his whole face lit up. Being with Arwen definitely agrees with him.

The Hobbits meet his eyes, and uncomfortably bow. Aragorn takes a step forward, holding out a hand. "No. My friends...You bow to no one." And with that, he gets down on one knee, his head bowed, and all of us follow suit.

I've never seen people look more uncomfortable in my life.

Hey, that's what you get for saving the world.

TBC...