Well, clearly, not all will be well -- yet. Otherwise there wouldn't be a story to tell.

In case you didn't get the memo last time: I'm rewriting the ending of Matchmaker.

I don't own any of this except for Linwe. Enjoy!

-The Author

They walked across valleys and made paths through trees. They passed great waterfalls and stepped through bubbling creeks. Shadows whispered at them as they passed; the sun seemed misty and old before their eyes. The world had changed since when the elves had first sailed West.

Never had there been a greater understatement, Figwit mused.

They carved a path that few had seen for Ages. Others had gone before, but the Rivendell group still stamped on some insistent plants and tripped over some roots. Arwen seemed most in danger, to Figwit's mind. Her eyes never left the ground, and yet she never looked where she was going.

Linwe seemed to have forgotten her dread of the unseen Undying Lands. She hopped with glee over roots and kicked dirt at Figwit, teasing him into kicking dirt at her in return. She skipped behind him and in front of him, humming odd little tunes Figwit didn't recognize.

She had taken hold of Arwen's arm and was whispering to her when the announcement had made its way down to them. They would soon encounter a fork in the road. One way led East, and one led West. Pay attention, said the messengers. Make certain that you stay in the group; it would be very easy to let your mind wander, and then one would turn right instead of left, and be trapped in Middle Earth forever.

Linwe snorted disgracefully. "As if we wouldn't notice we weren't surrounded by people anymore," she said. "Do they think we're children? Will no one notice if one person is missing?"

"Mm-hm," said Figwit.

"Good," said Linwe. "We're agreed, then. When everyone turns right for the Grey Havens, we'll turn left."

Figwit and Arwen stared at her.

"We're not finished yet," said Linwe. "I still have Eomer and Sam and Aragorn to match up. I told you about that," she said to Arwen. "Eomer is marrying the Princess of Dol Amroth if I can just get him to look at her and then I did a little observation and I noticed that the Halfling keeps on talking about this girl Rosie, which only leaves Aragorn."

Figwit wished he knew how to get Linwe to change the subject.

"Aragorn's a tough one," said Linwe. "I worked very hard on him, you know, and he's grown into a very handsome Man. Very dignified and hard-working, and kind, too. All he needs is an excellent Queen. The obvious ones are Eowyn of Rohan and Lothiriel of Dol Amroth, but oops, they're taken. Do you have any ideas?"

Arwen excused herself from the conversation, and wandered away.

"What's wrong with her?" Linwe wondered. "Figwit? Do you know?"

Figwit scratched behind his ear and didn't respond, or at least, didn't think he did.

Linwe grabbed onto his arm and shook it. "She loves him, doesn't she? She's in love with a mortal! And all this time I've been singing a song about elf girls loving human men. I'm so tactless. Well, Figwit, we've got to convince her to come with us to Gondor. I mean, she's so pretty, he probably loves her, too. Good looks run in your family."

Figwit looked at her curiously, wondering where that had come from, or why she suddenly was blushing.

She cleared her throat. "I had something caught in my throat." She hurried on, "But I think the best thing to do is to just show up at Gondor with Arwen, and the rest will take care of itself. They love each other already. I know it."

Figwit cleared his throat. She looked at him.

"Linwe," he said, "We're going to the Undying Lands."

"No, they are," Linwe said. "We have some matches to make."

"Linwe," he said, "I'm going to the Undying Lands."

She stared at him. Her blue eyes were as big as saucers; her mouth seemed to grow smaller by contrast, or perhaps on purpose.

"And," he said, "I think it's best if Lady Arwen goes too."

"You can't go!" Linwe's voice was hushed. "I need you with me."

No she didn't.

"I can't do this without you," Linwe said. "And I need Arwen for Aragorn."

"I think you'll manage fine," said Figwit.

She stared at him again, her eyes like saucers again.

"You always do," he reminded her.

"But," said Linwe, "But. Love."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and nothing more was said the rest of the way. When they arrived at the announced fork, Linwe turned left instead of right. All the Elves called after her to return to the group, to finish the journey Home. They urged Figwit to call for her. He did; she didn't come, and he hadn't expected her to.