Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings. Haven't we gone over this already?
Summary: See previous chapters
A/N: This final chapter is dedicated to my twin who never stopped nagging me about writing it, and who sadly passed away on Boxing Day 2005. Love you, Sal.
Chapter Fourteen
The Fellowship and the rulers of Middle Earth had received news of how the battle had ended, and were now gathered in Natasha's study.
The war had been won, but at what cost? None of them wanted to hear the news that one of their children had been killed.
The males appeared to be remarkably calm, though a closer look would reveal the tension in their poise.
Eowyn was muttering something under her breath, which sounded strangely like counting to ten in several different languages, one after another. Laer was pacing, casting the occasional glance over to where Boromir sat, or to where Arwen and Natasha were drafting a letter to the families of those who had been killed.
Finally, after countless attempts, the letter was finished. After all, there really is no way to tell someone that their child will not be returning home.
Unfortunately, this left Natasha with little else to do except join Laer's efforts to wear a hole in the carpet.
Finally Faramir, his nerves also stretched thin, gave them both an exasperated look. "Would both of you please stop that, all the pacing is starting to drive people insane."
Laer, forgetting that her position with the Steward was still unsteady from the whole sending-people-to-another-world incident, snapped back. "I'll go insane if I have to sit down with nothing to occupy my mind. Let it lie."
Eomer turned to his wife, hoping for a slightly more peaceful resolution. "Love, will you please sit down? It'll be no help to anyone if you wear yourself out. It's for your own good"
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Eomer winced at the mistake. If there was one thing his wife hated, it was being told that something was for her own good. Whether it was true or not was beside the point. It was also one of the things that she and Eowyn had in common. Sure enough, Natasha gave him a truly glacial stare, "And siding with me is in yours, love. Now…"
Whatever she was about to say was cut off as the door opened and the room's occupants were greeted with the sight of their children.
Elfwine felt a strange pang of uncertainty as he and the others approached his mother's study.
All of their families were inside, and Elfwine worried about how they would feel.
His father was Marshal of the Riddermark and one of it's greatest warriors, would he be proud of how Elfwine had commanded? Or would be frown at the number of injuries and casualties?
What about his mother, who hated war in general and still felt partially responsible for the whole fiasco? Would she be happy that the war was over, or disappointed that it had happened at all? Would she be disappointed in him because he lead the battle?
What about Aunt Eowyn, whose reputation as a shield-maiden was well known? Would she laugh at some of the tactics they had used (the Ent-wives and sugar-hype, for instance) or would she be annoyed that she had not had a chance to kick their backsides eight ways from next month? (That particular quote had come from Laer, and had caused a fit of laughter from his mother as she tried to explain.)
Even Laer, who Elfwine had come to like, regardless of her Mary-Sue status. Would she be glad that the threat against both herself and Middle-Earth was gone? Or would she be too upset at the loss of her fellows?
They reached the study door in time to hear Natasha inform Eomer that siding with her in something would really be in his best interests. Wonder at what sort of hole his father was digging himself into now temporarily overrode Elfwine's worry, and he knocked at the door and pushed it open.
There was a sudden silence in the room as the adults froze, then whipped to face the children. The men looked visibly relieved and moved swiftly toward them, sweeping the children into an embrace. The ladies looked vaguely amused as they waited a turn.
Elfwine finally pulled free of his father and turned to face his mother, trepidation worming its way back as he looked into the face, the expressive eyes, that had always meant the world to him.
Natasha studied her son gravely, taking in the black eye and bruises and the haunted look on his face, then wordlessly opened her arms. Elfwine flew into her embrace, clinging to the comforting warmth as he had when he was a toddler, slowly relaxing as she held him close and soothed him, promising that it would be better in time.
…then the moment was broken as his mother gave a slight 'oomph' when his siblings flew to her for their hug and she opened one arm, drawing all of them into one embrace.
Later that day, they had finished with the public speeches and withdrawn to their quarters. Laer and Boromir were bickering again and being calmly ignored as the others simply sat and talked quietly, or watched as Natasha started to teach Saranna what she called 'Finger knitting' that seemed to involve wrapping a strand of wool around one finger in two loops, pulling the lower loop over the top and off the finger, then wrapping another loop around the finger, and repeating the process. Elfwine didn't try to understand his mother's hobby, but watched as the ball of wool bounced when Natasha pulled at the strand to unravel the ball, her hands flowing like water as the pile of knitting grew at her feet.
The quiet atmosphere was finally broken when Laer almost snarled "My 'Mary-Sue charms' as you call them, only work if I attempt to make a pass at Eomer. He is immune, obviously. Therefore, if lovelorn boys fall at my feet all the time, then it is certainly not from any encouragement by me! I've never thought of them with anything but annoyance and if you think silly boys trying to compose bad poetry is going to make me swoon into their arms, you are greatly mistaken!"
This seemed to give Boromir pause. "Then you're not in love with any of them?"
Laer glared. "I just finished explaining with a fair amount of emphasis: No, I'm not."
Boromir seemed to consider something, then nodded to himself. "Well then," he said. "I've something to say."
Laer raised her chin, giving him a defiant look.
"I can't make flowery speeches," Boromir began, "and I wouldn't even if I could. I won't cower at your feet like some of those callow idiots that follow you around. I don't write poetry or play an instrument. I don't intend to change my manners or my way of life, but if you'll have me, Laer, I'd be obliged if you'd marry me."
The following silence was so profound that Elfwine could hear the peep of a bird in the distance. Eowyn, Arwen and Natasha exchanged looks in varying degrees of incredulous shock, their thoughts running along the lines of 'He calls that a proposal?'
Laer's expression didn't change. Taking a deep breath, she said, "I don't like flowery speeches, and if you ever try to make one for me, I'll just laugh at you. I despise simpering poems, I hate the squealing of most instruments and we'll see if you change your manners or not. Yes, I'll marry you."
Looking between the two of them, Natasha broke the silence by saying, "I'm not sure if I have just witnessed a challenge or a marriage proposal, but I wish both of you the best of luck."
And so, two months later, Laer the reformed Mary-Sue wove flowers into her hair and joined her hand in marriage to Boromir of Gondor. People rejoiced at the symbol of peace, for the threat of Mary-Sue was forever removed from Middle-Earth.
Evil is never truly gone, but all took comfort in the knowledge that however much fan-girls of Earth may wish otherwise, the plague that they had once inflicted upon Arda would never fully return.
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A/N - OK, so the part about Mary-Sues leaving Arda alone is probably just wishful thinking, but we all like happy endings.
Sorry it took so long to get up, but my twin sister died on 26th December, 2005, and I haven't felt very motivated for a while.
Anyway, like it, hate it, tell me in a review.
Thanks, Nathalia.