Chapter Thirty-Four: The Return of the King

The courtyard was alive with elves as the great escort prepared to depart. Elrond and his children were there, as well as Glorfindel and the other nobles of Imladris. They all dressed in their finery, for they travelled to meet the King.

Elrond had held a short council with many of the wise among the elves shortly after Mélanyë's revealing vision. The decision was unanimous- they would go to Gondor and support Aragorn, for good or ill. They all knew that there was every possibility that they would loose the final battle, but they decided to meet whatever comes as one united people under Eru.

Mélanyë was also there, prepared to journey with them and dressed in a shining gown of blue and silver. Shani also was dressed in her finery, a saddle and bridle of purple accented with silver rested on her shining coat, and Laspis and Mélanyë's bow were strapped to it. She neighed happily at the prospect of going on a journey.

Elrond looked around at his people and smiled. Mélanyë could only guess what was going through his mind at that moment, for she knew he thought this was the last time he would see his realm while they were still a free people. Even then, he felt somewhere in his heart that the war would be lost, and that all would fall under the great shadow. That is why, although his words were hopeful, Mélanyë heard in them a great sadness and almost a lamenting of things that could no longer be.

"We now leave behind our fair city to stand with Men in their final hour. You who stand here today know that if the battle goes ill, there will be no escaping the power of the Dark One to the Blessed Realm. If, however, the battle is won, we will be witness to one of the greatest and joyous celebrations of the new Fourth Age of this world." As he spoke these words he looked into the eyes of Arwen and smiled.

The fair company set out soon after. They rode by the swiftest path, down through the gap of Rohan. The journey was mostly without incident, save for the shock that swept through the company as they beheld the ruin of Isengard. The Ents still guarded the tower, and greeted the elves as they passed.

On the fourth day they left behind what was left of the Ring of Isengard. Mélanyë suddenly halted her pony, trembling as she held the reigns. Elrohir rode up next to her and took them from her as they fell from her shaking hands.

"Mélanyë, what is it?" asked Elrond. She looked in his direction, not at him, but through him, as if she could see beyond for many miles. He looked behind himself and realized that her gaze was fixed on the east, towards Gondor and Mordor. He turned back to her. "It's begun, hasn't it?" She nodded numbly.

"Estel rides for the Black Gate," she said in a voice that seemed not her own. She shut her eyes tightly as images began coming to her mind, vivid images blocking out all other sight, disorienting her awareness of the present. The longer she faced east the more detailed and intense they were. Finally Elrohir caught her as she slid from Shani's back.

For the next several hours they all sat and listened as Mélanyë told them of what she saw. She lay on the grass, numb to all else save the images in her mind. She told of Aragorn and his confrontation with the Mouth of Sauron at the Black Gate, the mithril coat and sword, and at last, the final battle. She became very quiet near the end, not wishing to give voice to what she was seeing, but instead allowing the others to imagine for themselves. At last, after many hours she stood in alarm. The others thought that something terrible had happened and a wave of disbelief and shock went through them. She looked sharply east as if expecting something to appear. At last it did.

Far east, on the edge of even elven sight, were the great mountains of Mordor. As they all turned they saw a faint glow behind them, followed by what looked like an explosion of enormous power. Mélanyë gasped with the shock of it, and Elrond knew she saw it through the eyes of one who was on the battlefield, close enough to feel the intense heat of the fire. Tears in her eyes, words came from her, a mere whisper, but a triumphant cry in the quiet stillness around her.

"It's over."

A week later the company finally came within sight of Minas Tirith. To Mélanyë, the look on Arwen's face at the sight of the White City was one of joy mingled with pride and excitement. Elrond placed a hand on his daughter's and spoke softly to her.

"You are sure, yeldënya?" he said. She looked to him and smiled through her tears, nodding wordlessly. He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze as he blinked back his own tears. "Ride on," he commanded to Glorfindel.

They arrived in the city soon after, everyone eager to reach the celebration they could hear in progress on the top level. They were not hindered as they rode up the spiraling streets, and only halted on the sixth level as they were met by a most familiar and welcome face.

"Mae Govannen, Legolas Thranduilion!" cried Glorfindel who jumped excitedly from his horse and embraced the Silvan elf in a welcoming hug. The other elf had dressed in his princely robes, his hair hanging loose from the circlet upon his brow, slightly crimped from the warrior braids he had worn for so long. Beauty radiated from him like the soft glow of the moon. "Important things go on overhead," Glorfindel continued, "I hope we have not come too late!"

"Indeed not, my old friend," said the prince. "You are always timely in your appearances." He then turned to regard the rest of the company, approaching Elrond's horse. He touched his hand to his heart and extended it in greeting. "My lord Elrond," he said as he helped him from his horse. He then turned, catching the eyes of Arwen. She smiled down at him and extended her hand. He took it almost reverently and kissed it. "My lady." She slid from the horse with all the grace one would expect of a Vala. He then bowed to her, again touching his heart and rising to cup her cheek with his hand. "Your King awaits you," he barely said.

Excited, hasty preparations were then made to ready the party to be presented to the King. Since they were all fresh from riding, many wished to clean up before the coming ceremony, and Arwen's handmaids worked fervently as they braided her hair into the crown she was given. At last all was ready. Elrond nodded to Legolas, and the Mirkwood prince turned to the final gate. Only those closest to him saw the glistening of joyful tears in the Sindar's eyes as he led the party up the final steps to the seventh level of the city.