Authors note: SORRY! So sorry I haven't updated in so long! Our internet was canceled! Yes, insane, no? well, back to the basics, I own nuttin!

Arwen watched the sky brightening over the mountains, the grasses turning golden in the Pelannor fields. Not far off her son slept peacefully. He had been more cheerful the last few days than he had been since his father's departure. She sighed, restless eyes wandering again. "Had I your hope, my little Eldarion. But you cannot know what they face…" An owl hooted and fluttered for the shadows. "He did not take the Evenstar with him…"

"…mother? Are you still awake mother?" Eldarion looked at her from sleep clouded eyes; he snuggled down further into the blankets.

"Yes, I'm still awake."

"You worry too much mother!"

"…do I? Why do you say that?"

"Because I told you it was all right! And you still don't believe me!"

Arwen smiled, she rose from the window seat and sat at the edge of the bed. "Yes, you told me it was all right. But it is a mother's nature to worry, and so I do. I'm sure your right Eldarion, they're probably fine. After all, Mithrandir is with them."

"When they get back, do you think he will teach me magic?"

Arwen laughed, but stopped quickly when Eldarion started to pout. "Oh, I'm sure he would if he could, but magic is not meant for men. Mithrandir does magic because he is a Miar. That is part of what they do."

"Do elves do magic?"

"…only a little, and nothing strong, if we can avoid it. An Elf knows what they should and should not touch."

"And didn't men do magic too? Long ago?"

"…Some did, yes."

"Why could they do it, and not me?"

"Why do you want to learn magic so badly?"

Eldarion paused, deep in thought he looked away. His wide eyes closed in concentration, then opened, still confused. "I…I want to learn magic, so I can be as strong as they are." Arwen looked puzzled.

"…As strong as the Miar?"

"…no… just as strong as them, so dad won't have to worry about me anymore, so he won't have to, to make deals he doesn't want to. He did, you know. Make a deal."

Arwen grew pale, "how do you know of this?"

"Well, who do you think I asked to protect dad? I can't talk to Mithrandir! He's too far away…" Eldarion shook his head, as if stating the obvious. "He was dreaming too, so I just tapped him, and he woke up." He sensed something was wrong, she was too still… "Mother? I won't do it again mother… I don't even think I can." Arwen did not reply. Her gaze turned to the rising dawn. There was sadness in her eyes, in the tilt of her head, her hand tightened about the pendant at her throat.

"Mother… he didn't hurt me. I felt… it was like touching a lion."

"A lion."

"Yes, you have to respect the lion, but don't fear him." The prince of Gondor smiled, "If I had been afraid of him, he might have hurt me, but I was not. Mother, were they not men? Men like father?"

"The Witch king of Angmar is not a lion my son, nor any other noble beast. The Witch king was a jackal, a warg, a shadow of Sauron. Nothing noble was in his presence, I know this Eldarion, because I faced him."

"…You?"

Arwen smirked, "…Does the shield maiden of Rohan strike you as the only woman to have ever hoisted a blade?"

"No! I'm sorry mother! I didn't mean it!" Eldarion looked like a fish on land, blinking and moving his mouth frantically. "I never said that! No! I bet you had to fight for father too, didn't you!"

"…well my son, only some nights… but that is neither here nor now. Promise me, promise me regardless of whether or not your father brings the Nine to Minas Tirith, you will not speak to them, especially that one. To be in a Nazgul's debt is a terrible thing."

"I promise mother… but I don't think they are coming back with him…"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because… in my dream, he was watching the sea."

Across the fields a lone horn rang.
It came again, closer now.
Arwen rose, Eldarion at her side, both rushed to the window. The field was golden in the first light, and the horn rang again unseen.

Minis Tirith, just awake, listened disbelieving to the horn. Its blast rang again, warming hearts, waking minds.
The horn of the steward! The horn their steward had himself smelted back to one piece.
The horn of steward! The Return of the Steward and the king!
The trumpets of the Citadel sounded a reply, a roar rose from the seven circles as the swiftest of the Fellowship appeared over the field.

Aragorn, Faramir and Gandalf, their robes tossed in the wind, their horses nickering to be home. A whinny rose to greet them, Shadowfax leapt from the west and ran astride them, tossing his head and bellowing his call. The sun rose behind them, dancing off white wings as the muscles flexed and scales glimmered. Astride the White Dragon sat Bilbo, Frodo, Sam and Legolas, Merry and Pippin, and even Gimli upon his back. The dragon roared; the trumpets sounded again, and the horn echoed off the stone.

The gates opened for the riders, who were then swamped in the streets by the city's men, yelling and talking whisked away the horns ring in the crowd's joy. The white dragon circled, spiraling upwards until the hole to his lair was in sight, then he plummeted and vanished into the earth itself.

… Aragorn looked about him, the city, its people, his companions in arms. It seemed a shadow of his own was lifted. There was no wraith to fear in the night, Sauron forever slain, Morgoth locked in silence. There was no fear in his heart, and no pity… no more wishing for the flight, no more memories not his own, no more fighting what he knew had been great men, they were free now, their trials and suffering ended. And with theirs, his.

Faramir let the sound envelope him, still clutching the horn to his breast. Home, and safe, with Eowyn and his children waiting for him, his duty to his city served. He looked at Aragorn, smiled at the look upon his face. This could become another Golden era, they had the light, they had the time. And if his king ever suggested he needed to travel again, he would toss him from the highest of the white city's circles. That was a vow.

Gandalf slipped silently away from the masses. Large crowds made him claustrophobic at best. Ever faithful Shadowfax kept in step beside him. "It is done my friend; they were the last of it." The grey steed whickered, proud head arched to regard him. "The black throne is vacant, and none will ever claim that seat of power again. I am old my friend," The stallion snorted. "Yes, yes, you are old too. And we have lived to see the last of it." They stood now upon the wall. Looking toward the land of shadow. "Men will do as men have done, darkness can never be separated from light. New horrors will come, men may become their own dark lords, but they will never recreate what has occurred here.

…It may come to pass, that all we fought for is forgotten, that we will be less than stories told by the wind to farm boys, mere memories of the soil." The wizard's eyes sparkled. "…But the victory we have had, the light reborn from the bosom of death itself… that, I think, may just endure forever." Shadowfax was still for a moment, then he leaned back upon his hocks and reared, hooves racked the sky, and the great stallions roar heralded the birth of a new age.

…Means while , Gimli, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Samwise, Frodo, and Bilbo were left with the task of finding their way from the dragon's lair. Legolas tried again, "We see no stairs, there are steep walls everywhere, the hobbits and the dwarfs cannot jump very high, and I cannot see! Anantaboga! We will be trapped down here till all of Arda freezes over!" The dragon continued to snore, though one eye stayed on the potentially thieving dwarf.

"It's no use elf. Just start yelling and hope someone hears you."

"And will you assist me with this Gimli?"

"Nay, not at first. This is extremely fine craftsmanship…"

"Get your eyes from there and lend me your lungs!"

Author's note: 2 chapters to go!