Chapter 47

The End

Well, here we are again, at the end of another grand adventure. It was said in the beginning that this would be the story of the journey of the Elendilmir, from her disappearance after the death of he who wore her last, until she was finally laid to rest with the one she had bonded with and whose champion she had become – and so it has been.

In The Unfinished Tales, Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Tolkien wrote that when King Elessar was in the process of restoring Orthanc, he and Gimli found a secret door behind which was hidden a small room with two "tokens" on its shelves. The first token was thought to be the box Isildur had worn around his neck and which at one time may have held the Ruling Ring, and the other token they found was thought to be the original Elendilmir.

As I wrote in Chapter 4, Conversation with a Prince:

"Isildur sent away the broken pieces of his father's sword with his esquire, Ohtar, rather than let it be taken by orcs. He commanded that Ohtar save the shards of the sword from capture 'by all means necessary, by all means that you can find, and at all costs; even at the cost of being held a coward who deserted me.' Why then would it not be logical for Isildur to also send away the original Elendilmir, the sign of the King's station in Arnor, and also a family heirloom that had first been worn by his father? Would it not be perfectly logical and understandable that Isildur would not want to endanger the great jewel any more than he had wanted to endanger the shards of his father's sword?"

And so, I suggested that perhaps the Elendilmir found in Orthanc was not the original, but just another "beautiful copy."

I also proposed that the possibility existed that Isildur's body could have been recovered, for there was evidence that Isildur had been killed in shallow water, only shoulder high, so his body might not have been washed out to sea as had been originally thought.

All things be as they may, Tolkien wrote that when Elessar took up his kingship of Arnor, that he only wore the alleged original Elendilmir on high days in the North Kingdom, at all other times, wearing the crown made for Valandil by the Elven-smiths in Imladris. King Elessar said of the copy, "And this also is a thing of reverence and above my worth; forty heads have worn it before."

This would have been a perfect "cover" as well as a perfect ending. I would like to think that Isildur did redeem himself, was forgiven by his father and finally got to rest in peace. It also gives my heart a measure of its own kind of peace to think that Isildur does rest in his father's arms in the tomb on Amon Anwar instead of somewhere out to sea – but then sometimes I can be a hopeless romantic.

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After both Isildur and the Elendilmir had been interred at Amon Anwar, The group of elves and humans had journeyed back to Hope to finish the business of relocating the humans who had journeyed there from Hoth. Finally, however, it was done, and after bidding each other farewell, for a time, the Lórien elves returned home and the rest traveled back to Imladris to rest and plan what they were going to do next.

They had only been in Imladris for a short time, when Anayah, after watching Tilion trip, fall and otherwise act like a walking disaster, then watching King Thranduil roll his eyes and sigh indulgently as each incident occurred, finally had enough and took the blushing Mirkwood elf aside. Nobody knew what the two elves talked about for all anyone could see was Anayah emphasizing whatever she was saying with her hands waving about in the air, then both elves laughing so hard that they had to sit on the ground before they fell. Whatever was said between the two was truly magic, for Tilion never embarrassed himself in public again.

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A month after the Mirkwood elves had left Imladris and had gone home, a courier arrived with a long parcel addressed to Anayah, wrapped in silk and bearing the symbol of the Royal House. When she had unwrapped it, she found a beautiful hand-tooled black scabbard in which gently rested a pair of long knives, ebony bladed and ebony handled. The enclosed parchment said, simply, "Hannon-le." and was signed, King Thranduil.

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Just before the arrival of winter, in the small village of Hope, the villagers had gathered at the storehouse to take inventory of what their meager harvest had produced and to try and decide how they were going to get by over the winter and until new crops could be planted. They had always known that this was going to be an issue, for with the new villagers that the people of Hope had adopted, came many additional mouths to feed. They all knew there was a solution somewhere – they just had to look hard enough to find it.

Suddenly, from high overhead, there was a loud screeching, and when Halgar and his people looked up, they saw a large, black falcon circling and calling out to the humans below him. Instantly, heads turned toward the entrance of the little secluded valley, and when they did, they heard not only the sound of horses' hooves but also the sounds of cows and various other livestock. As a group, the villagers quickly moved toward the sound.

A grin came to Halgar's face and Lothur clapped his friend on the back enthusiastically. A long line of elves, both mounted and walking was coming toward them leading packhorses and driving a variety of wagons, all heavily loaded with supplies.

When Aragorn, the twins, Legolas and Anayah had dismounted, Halgar came forward and embraced each one in turn. Finally, he stepped back, gesturing toward the bounty behind where the five were standing.

"I don't know what to say, Estel." He wiped a tear off his cheek.

Aragorn just shrugged nonchalantly.

"This comes from Imladris, Mirkwood as well as Lórien, my friend. There is livestock, poultry, clothing, dried and fresh fruits and vegetables and seeds for planting in the spring."

The young man grew serious for a moment.

"If this is not sufficient to get you and your villagers through the winter and to the next harvest, you have but to let us know. Your people and your ancestors have protected my family for over 3,000 years, Halgar. This is but a little thing that we do to repay part of our great debt. Hannon-le!"

The elves spent a week in Hope, helping them build enclosures and shelters for their new animals and stowing away the rest of what they had brought. There was some remembering and somber moments, yes, but there was also a lot of laughter, until finally, whether they would will it or not, the day of departure came and the elves began to leave. At the back of the column, this time, Lord Elrond's children and the Mirkwood Prince turned and waved goodbye, knowing full well that they would see each other again, a thought that made the parting just a bit easier.

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This story had a little bit of everything in it. There were naked elves, sword duels, a horse race, ghosts, a message from the Valar, and an epic battle. But finally, it is winding down and the end is in sight.

What happened to some of the other characters we met?

Aglarion would be Halgar's inheritor and to him would be passed all the skills and the lore amassed over the past 3,000 years.

Aragorn had once again shown his kingly qualities when he chose to champion the slaves of Hoth where, even though outmatched in both arms and experience, he had inspired and led the people to victory – they were free. Neither Aragorn nor his people had been guaranteed survival but they had all stood tall anyway.

The brave freedom fighters had fought with honor and with no guarantees but to anyone who chose to look, there was always courage in abundance both before, during and after the great battle. For many of the survivors, it was after the battle that they found themselves faced with the hardest task of their lives – moving on. The brave survivors had to say a final goodbye to their friends, loved ones and acquaintances that had given their lives in the name of freedom and dignity, not just for themselves, but for everyone.

Cyrano, the cutup of the donkey world, loving mate of the Lady Irildë and father to baby Tinu. These three had helped soften the aura of tragedy that had surrounded the slaves of Hoth and reminded the elves that if you looked hard enough, a light could always be found somewhere in the darkness – you just had to remember to look for it.

Garm, the ex-Ranger in self-imposed exile and drunk on the power of his position. The Dúnadan got more than he deserved, as well, for as Anayah put it, he ended up as nothing more than a fool, laying out in the middle of a field with an arrow sticking out of the middle of his forehead – kismet.

Greyfell, the son of a Noldor elf and Dúnadan mother, accepted by neither race, had become increasingly dissatisfied with the path his life had been taking in Hoth until Anayah befriended him and drew him into her family. After spending some healing time in Imladris where Lord Elrond would help him relearn how to be an elf, Greyfell would join the Rangers, taking charge of young men who, like himself, were having trouble fitting in.

Lothur stayed in Hope with his friend Halgar, for there was much to do with the new villagers that Hope had "adopted." At long last this ex-soldier had found a way to create rather than destroy.

Ostara, a twisted, freak of nature, dark hearted and heavy handed. She came to her end of days, in a fashion that truly suited her evil nature – on her knees and without a head.

Tathrin, displaced and without any family other than Aglarion, the ex-slave boy he had grown to love as one of his own, was a wonderful wood artist, and would be called upon fill the worthy and empty boots of an old man named Sirius.

Hyadar and Orion, one a young boy blinded by a cruel master and the other, a young dog, a helper, confidante and above all, a best friend. These two would be together for the rest of the boy's life and it is with these two that we finally reach the end of our tale.

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Lord Elrond stood in the doorway of his library, silent and watchful, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Passing by the room on some errand or another, Elladan saw his father standing there, looking inside the room while silently crying and so he paused, for he wanted to know what his father was looking at that could make him so sad.

"Ada? What is it? What has caused you such distress?"

With a gentle hand he reached up and wiped the tears off his father's face. In turn, the elf Lord took Elladan's hand and after kissing it, held it to his heart.

"Look."

The single word was so quietly spoken that the eldest twin had to lean closer to his father to hear. Elladan followed his father's gaze and when he did, felt tears fill his own eyes. Together, father and son just stood quietly, watching what was happening inside the room.

Young Hyadar, Hy to his friends, was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace with an open book sitting on his lap. The elves of Imladris had taught him how to read books where small bumps on the paper represented the elegant Tengwar script that filled most of the other books in the large library.

It wasn't so much the fact that the young boy had learned to read, nor that he always applied himself with enthusiasm to his new skill. No, it was more the fact that he was sharing what he had learned with such an adoring audience – and that deeply touched the heart of both the elves standing in the doorway. Orion, the dog given to Hy as a gift, the young boy's eyes but most of all, his loving friend, lay beside him, his head on his paws, his beautiful brown eyes gazing at the boy with loving and rapt attention.

Occasionally, Hy would pause in his reading to show the dog a picture in the book, a picture only he could see. But that was good enough for Orion who dutifully looked at each "picture" the boy showed him, then would lick his friend's hand, encouraging him to continue. It mattered not to the dog that the pictures his friend was showing him existed only in the imagination, for real or not, he loved his friend anyway.

In the doorway of the library, father and son stood with their arms around each other's waists as they watched the loving scene before them. Then, almost as quietly as before, Elrond turned toward his son and said with a sad smile, "From the ashes will spring forth new life.

The End

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A/N: I believe I am limited as to what I can say here but feel that a few words would not be out of place. I want to thank every person who read this story including the people who I never got a chance to meet. The time you took to read was greatly appreciated and I hope we get to meet in the future.

I'll be back September 23, 2005.

Hannon-le a namarië mellyn-nín!