Sorry I haven't updated in a while; I've been out of town and all. Well, now we continue the adventures of Figwit and Linwe, the matchmaker. I don't own anything except for Linwe, who's annoying on purpose, by the way.

-The Author

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Figwit left his packing and quietly followed his Lord Uncle Elrond into the bedroom of his cousin Arwen. He seemed to go unnoticed by Arwen, who lay upon her bed and stared out into the world. She traced a circle with the knuckle of one of her fingers, and although her eyes were aimed at the window, she was looking at something else.

Said Elrond, "Arwen."

Arwen turned and sat up, to look at Elrond.

"It is time," Elrond told her. "The ships are leaving for the Valinor."

Arwen turned her head.

"Go, now," said Elrond, "Before it is too late."

"I have made my choice."

Figwit felt awkward; this wasn't his dispute. He wondered why he was here at all.

"He is not coming back," Elrond stepped forward to look at her more directly. "Why do you linger here when there is no hope?"

Arwen looked up. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "There is still hope."

Figwit knew he was here to aid in an argument. He didn't understand the sides; he just knew he was on the side of Elrond in this. Elrond walked to the other side of the room, gathering, planning his next attack, the old general he was.

He said, "If Aragorn survives this war you will still be parted."

Figwit looked up. Elrond had shown him images in his wash-basin. Images of the Lord Aragorn's future, of his crowning, his son, his death, his funeral, of Arwen crying over him and wandering the woods, lost forever. Now he knew why he was here. He was to send Arwen daydreams.

His beauteous cousin Arwen loved with Linwe's Aragorn.

Elrond continued.

"If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn becomes King and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword or by the slow decay of time Aragorn will die."

Figwit revealed to Arwen her future: the picture of Aragorn's funeral, and Arwen, in mourning clothes, still young and beautiful, crying for him.

The wind blew Arwen's hair back. She was crying already.

"There will be no comfort for you," Elrond said. "No comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death, an image of the splendor of the Kings of Men in glory undimmed before the Breaking of the World."

Figwit blinked a little at this sentence; it was hard to follow, but he understood. He changed the daydream. Arwen was now alone at Aragorn's grave, and Aragorn's body had been replaced by a fair statue.

Elrond continued his narration. "But you, my Daughter, you will linger on, in darkness and in doubt, as night falling in winter without a star."

He couldn't stand this picture; he changed the daydream to Arwen walking among the trees in the forest. Elrond didn't seem to mind.

"Here you will dwell, bound to your grief under the fading trees until all the world is changed and all the years of your long life are utterly spent."

Elrond sat upon Arwen's bed, where she still sat crying. She broke into a sob. Figwit immediately left. This was not his dispute. He didn't not enjoy that task; he felt oddly dirty. He couldn't believe Arwen had found love in a Man. Anyone, Man or Elf, that had found his way into the Lady Arwen's heart had to be extraordinary.

"Figwit!"

It was Linwe. Now what? Probably, he thought, Faramir had not returned to the melodramatic Eowyn and had found some woman of his own country to court. Beauty or no, he thought, melodrama was annoying.

"Figwit," Linwe said, "You must come quickly! The Steward is about to confront his lady love!"

Aha, this was important, in some land populated by Linwe alone. Figwit went to Linwe, and they sat before her washbasin and watched Faramir go to Eowyn, alone in the gardens. She wore the starry-blue mantle Faramir had given her a few days earlier, when the Ring-Bearer had thrown Sauron's Ring into Mount Doom. This was how Figwit remembered it. Linwe had applauded when Faramir and Eowyn, intent on watching the battle from the walls of the City, had clasped hands, and giggled and fidgeted when Faramir had kissed her on the forehead, and had therefore named it "the Day They Held Hands."

Faramir spoke. "Eowyn, why do you tarry here, and not go rejoicing in Cormallen beyond Cair Andros, where your brother awaits you?"

Eowyn turned to look at him. She was paler since last Figwit had seen her.

She said, "Do you not know?"

"No," Linwe hissed, "He doesn't so tell him."

Faramir looked her over. Eowyn looked right back. Figwit respected her for it; other women Linwe had matched could never look their suitors in the eye.

"Two reasons there may be," Faramir said, "But which is true, I do not know."

"She loves you, stupid!" Linwe cried. Figwit gestured for quiet as Eowyn told Faramir to speak plainer.

Faramir explained: "You do not go, because only your brother called you, and to look on Lord Aragorn, Elendil's heir, in his triumph would now bring you no joy." He looked at her closer now, to see her reaction; she hung her face, so her blonde hair hid her from his sight. Faramir continued. "Or because I do not go."

Eowyn lifted her head up, but it was turned, so neither Figwit nor Faramir could see her expression. Linwe sighed impatiently and began tapping a rhythm on her thighs. Figwit grabbed a hand to stop it.

Faramir said, "Because you still desire to be near me."

Eowyn did not move.

"And maybe," said Faramir, "For both these reasons. And you yourself cannot choose between them."

Eowyn ducked her head again. Faramir stepped one way, and then another; he wasn't quite pacing. Linwe squeezed Figwit's hand until it hurt. Figwit pulled it away. He hadn't realized he had kept it there.

"Eowyn," said Faramir, "Do you not love me, or will you not?"

Eowyn moved her head again, enough so that Figwit could see her wet eyes. "I wished to be loved by another," she said, "But I deserve no man's pity."

Linwe moaned. Figwit shot her a look.

"Figwit!" she said, "She's not cooperating!"

"Not everything works out the way you want it," Figwit said. "She doesn't love him, and that's that."

"No!" said Linwe. "Don't say that! She does!"

"When he gave you only understanding and pity," Faramir was saying, "Then you desired nothing, except a brave death in battle."

He looked at Eowyn, who was looking down again, her face unseen.

"Look at me, Eowyn."

Figwit shook his head. There was nothing he could do. He just wasn't Aragorn.

Eowyn looked up. Her eyes may have been wet, but her face was stoney and proud. Faramir shook his head. "Do not scorn the gift that is a gentle heart, Eowyn! For I do not offer you my pity. For you are a lady high and valiant and have won yourself renown that shall not be forgotten; and you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the Elven-tongue to tell."

Figwit and Linwe sat up in their chairs.

"And I love you," said Faramir.

Linwe squeaked and said, "I forgive him!"

Figwit shushed her.

"Once I pitied your sorrow, but now, were you sorrowless…" Faramir seemed ready to wax poetic. Figwit half-hoped Linwe would interrupt again, but she stared intently at her bowl. "…were you the blissful Queen of Gondor, still I would love you."

He looked at Eowyn. Eowyn was looking straight ahead, more at his chest. A strange look had crossed her face.

"Eowyn," said Faramir, "Do you not love me?"

Eowyn took a deep breath. She looked up at him, and she smiled. Linwe gasped.

"I do not desire to be a Queen," she said. Faramir laughed.

Linwe giggled and smacked Figwit's knee. He slapped hers in return.

"That is well," said Faramir, "For I am not a King. Yet I will wed the White Lady of Rohan, if it be her will, and if she will, then let us cross the River and in happier days let us dwell in fair Ithilien…" He went on, but Linwe was hugging Figwit and shrieking in his ear.

"Figwit!" she cried, dancing around. "Figwit! We must attend their wedding!"

Figwit rubbed his ear.

"That's two heroes!" she said. "Who are the other ones?"

Figwit thought.

"Aragorn, of course," Linwe said. "And Eowyn's brother Eomer. And the Halfling. Oh, no," she sighed. "There aren't any more girl heroes."

At Aragorn, Figwit immediately thought of his cousin, and her love for the Man. He understood why they had to be separated from each other, of course. She belonged with her people, not some mortal Man, no matter how great or powerful he may be. He decided not to mention Arwen to Linwe. She would want to set them up. He remembered the vision of the future Elrond had given him, of Arwen wandering in the woods, mourning for all eternity. He kept his mouth closed, and he smiled for Linwe.