Hello there! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry about the delay in this one – as for many of you, I'm sure, my life has been rather stressful and complicated over the last couple of months and it has made writing hard – particularly as we're so close to the end of the story now. I don't want to drop the ball at the final hurdle! In any case, I hope that this chapter will be worth the wait, and I hope that you can forgive any typos or mistakes I have made within it.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: Of Elwing's Brothers and Son

When Bróin was woken by a weight dropping down on his chest, the wind was knocked so thoroughly from his lungs that he could not even scream. His arms tangled in the covers as they tried to fly up to defend himself, and his eyes snapped open –

And he saw his younger brother beaming down at him.

"Bodin?" he wheezed incredulously, and his brother's grin grew, revealing a gap where one of his front teeth had fallen out.

"Surprise!" Bodin sang, and then he fell forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Bróin.

Bróin gasped, detangling his arms from the covers to squeeze his arms around his younger brother, though he also rolled over, tipping Bodin off his chest so that he could sit up.

Ever since Cirith Ungol, Bróin was unable to bear the sensation of holding his breath, let alone being unable to actually breathe. But as soon as he was upright, he tugged his brother back into his lap, resting his chin on Bodin's head, and looking up –

He let out a breathless laugh. Orla and Ola were standing beside his bed, and just to their left was Uncle Bifur. And in front of Uncle Bifur was Bofin – in a wheelchair. Bróin's laughed died on his lips, and his heart plummeted down into his stomach. There was a blanket over his brother's lap – but blanket dipped down, and it was obvious that there was nothing below it.

Nothing.

Galadriel said that Bofin was seriously injured, and the letters he had received from Erebor confirmed it, and Bróin had seen the boot and the severed foot in the Mines of Moria but Bróin had not guessed – he had never imagined – no one had told him that Bofin had lost his legs.

Bróin drew in a shuddering gasp, choking over his brother's name. "Bofin… Bofin-"

"It's alright," said Bofin quickly, leaning forward. Bifur pushed the chair closer to the bed, and Bofin reached out to grasp Bróin's hand. "It's alright, Bróin, I'm fine."

"Fine?" Bróin wheezed incredulously, his eyes frozen on the place where his brother's legs should be. Still locked in his arms, Bodin gave an indignant squeak.

"Bro, you're crushing me!"

"It was a shock for all of us," Bifur said gently, walking around the chair to reach the side of the bed and ruffle Bróin's hair. "But the elves are good healers, and Bofin is telling the truth – he is well."

"I'm not in any pain, and honestly, I – I'm kind of used to it," said Bofin sincerely, squeezing Bróin's hand. "I mean it, Bróin, really."

But horror and grief and guilt were pounding against Bróin's chest, and he shook his head. His brother had left Rivendell to find him. His brother had no legs because of him.

"Bofin, I'm – I'm so sorry," he choked, and little Bodin let out a surprised gasp at the tears spilling from Bróin's eyes. The twins sprang forward, clambering up on either side of the bed and plastering themselves against Bróin's sides, and Orla wiped the tears off of his cheeks, but all Bróin could do was stare at his older brother, and try to understand why he did not look angry, why he was so calm – why he had followed Bróin in the first place.

"I'm not sorry," said Bofin sincerely, squeezing Bróin's hand again. "Really. Don't mistake me, I'm not pleased about it, but it's happened, now, and it's not going to unhappen. I've cried all the tears I'm going to cry about it, and I stopped crying them months ago, now. Thanks to the elves I'm alive, and I'm not feeling any pain – I have a chair to get around – albeit one that's far too big – and I can move on my stumps now, too…" He raised his legs – the short stubs of what were once his legs – and Bróin's stomach flipped over itself. Bofin's voice softened. "I don't regret it, Bróin. Following you. I don't. Because whether you like it or not, you're my little brother, and I love you. It was my choice, and this," he pointed down at his lap, "is not your fault. The only thing I'm sorry about is that was so mad at you, before. Now I understand why you left, Bróin. And I'm proud of you. You did well."

Bróin's voice stuck in his throat, which was probably a good thing, as he was not entirely sure what he was going to say. He could not remember the last time he and Bofin had spoken so genuinely, without insult or eye-rolling. It felt almost as though he had tumbled into a dream, and the thought made Bróin hold on tighter to Bodin, and ease his hand from Bofin's grip so he could hug Orla and Ola closer to him, too.

"You two have much to talk about," said Bifur. "It does not have to be said all at once. Are you alright, Bróin?"

Blinking back more tears, Bróin nodded, and tried to grin. "I'm good. It took a while, after Mordor, but I'm fine now."

"What happened in Mordor?" Ola asked carefully, her voice low, and eyes dark and sombre.

Bróin's grin faltered, and he pressed his forehead to his sister's for a moment. "Bad things," he said. "Very bad things. But I'm alright now, really."

"Good," said Bofin, though his voice wavered a little.

Bróin smiled at his brother and nodded slightly, glancing past Bifur and Bofin to the window. He could just about catch a dim, dusky light through the curtains, and Bifur smiled.

"It's a half hour until dawn," he said. "We arrived early."

Bróin nodded, looking over Bodin and the twins for any sign of injury or scars, but they looked utterly untouched – unchanged, even, save for Bodin's missing tooth, and the fact that the girls seemed to have both grown several inches taller over the last months. He let out another breathless laugh.

"I can't believe you're finally here," he said, squeezing Orla and Ola until they squealed and laughed in protest, and Bodin flung himself against Bróin's chest, his little arms surprisingly strong around the back of his neck.

"That's what Bofin said when we got to Rivendell," he boasted, but then his voice grew softer. "I missed you, Bróin."

Bróin smiled, closing his eyes on his tears. "I missed you too, Bodin. I missed you, too."

Drawing in a deep breath of the sweet morning air, Nelly raised her arms high above her head, and then let them drift slowly down to graze the tips of her toes. Out of the open window, the world was beginning to grow just a little lighter, preparing for the coming dawn, and it was the perfect time to stretch, and think, and be.

It had taken a long time for her to reach this point, a place where she could complete her little morning ritual. During the quest it had been the furthest thing from her mind, and when they got back to Minas Tirith it had been another three weeks before her injuries healed and her exhaustion had faded enough for her to be able to complete it.

Now, though, for the most part her wounds had healed. Her right ankle was still tender, and she could not walk without a crutch – not yet – but she was well enough to balance on her left foot through the most basic stretches, as long as she put no pressure or weight on the right. But the rest of her wounds had healed, and she was no longer hungry, or shackled by fatigue.

She still had nightmares. Perhaps she always would. Isengard and Mordor still haunted her when she slept, their constant cycle of fear and memory sometimes interspersed with the image of Moria, or Rauros, or that cave to the north of Isengard – the place where Bróin had been captured. The place where the orcs had tried to – well.

It was not a thought she allowed herself to finish, in the daylight. When she was awake, she refused to let herself dwell on 'what if's or maybes. Sometimes, at night, fear would try and extend the scene, to play out what would have happened had Bróin not been there, but when she was awake, she was in control.

It felt so good to be in control again.

She raised her arms up high again, leaning back slightly and letting out a satisfied sigh as her back clicked slightly. Then, satisfied with a job well done, she let her arms float down, and then she leant forward, taking her crutch from the wall and turning towards the closet. As she did, she caught sight of Pearl's blonde hair splayed over the pillow of the bed, and a small grin tugged at her lips.

Late last night – so late that the boys had all gone to bed, in fact – the host of Rivendell had arrived at Minas Tirith. Nelly would have been in bed too, but she had spent the evening drinking and chatting with Éowyn and Rion, and they had lost all track of time. She was glad of it, so glad of it, because seeing her parents, and her sister, and her aunt and uncle and Bróin's siblings all at once was utterly wonderful. It also made the surprise even greater when Ori came around the corner with his arm looped in her grandmother's, as Grandpa Adalgrim trailed a pace or two behind him, far too interested in the night-blooming flowers that spilled over every window sill of the city.

Little Bodin had bragged that it was his doing, persuading her grandparents to make the journey to Erebor, but when she wrapped Nelly in a surprisingly strong, trembling hug, Grandma Daisy had whispered in her ear;

"In truth, we just couldn't wait another five years to make sure you were all alright."

Guilt and love and gratitude had swelled in Nelly's heart at that, and she had clung to her grandmother all the tighter for it. She knew that Grandma Daisy was not much of a traveller, and she had said on the day of Frodo's birthday party that she was "a bit old for such a journey, Nell." Nelly had never imagined that what she and Pippin had done would be enough to inspire her elderly grandmother to break her word, and traverse the world to see her.

Nelly had also been surprised by her sister. She had expected Pearl to gladly accept Aragorn's offer of a room of her own, but instead her sister had turned to her, and asked if there was room in her chambers, with a surprising shyness. Later, when they retired to the room for the night, Pearl had sat up in bed with her knees tucked up to her chest, peering at Nelly through the dim light of a single candle.

"I really missed you, Nell," she had murmured. "More – more than I ever thought I would." A small smile had flickered over her face. "I even missed you constantly winding me up."

It had been easy as breathing to smile back. "I missed you too, Pearl. Really."

After hesitating for a fraction of a moment, Pearl had made her way across the room to sit on the end of Nelly's bed, taking her hands, and they had wiled away another hour or two in quiet conversation. Nelly could not remember the last time she giggled so much, or the last time she and Pearl had chattered away so deep into the night.

She was not surprised that Pearl was still snoring. It must have been nearly two in the morning by the time they eventually went to sleep, and travelling was tiring business, after all. Careful not to make any noise, Nelly eased open the closet and began to get dressed.

In the months she had been in Gondor, she had managed to get a couple of outfits custom made, so that she was not running around in children's dresses all the time. The boys had done the same – though Merry and Frodo had both ordered far more outfits than she had – and the tailors of Gondor had done rather well in copying the strange blend of dwarven and hobbit fashion from the plans the dwobbits had provided. However, there were also elements of the style of men within the clothes they had created, something that made it infinitely more interesting to Nelly.

The dress she picked today, for example, was hobbit-style in length, ending halfway down her shins, and the delicately embroidered bodice would not look out of place in the Shire at all. The skirt, however, waterfalled down her legs in a style that would stick out like a sore thumb amidst the much fuller skirts that both dwarves and hobbits preferred. Nelly quite liked it.

As she moved on to braid her hair, the birds outside began to sing, and anticipation began to spark in her stomach. Last night had been an evening of long-awaited reunions, and the joy of it had been untouchable, but this morning there was not going to be a different sort of family reunion – one where the fractured family had never met before.

They had not woken Red and Rín last night. It had been nearly midnight when Elrond's host arrived, and though the rescued prisoners of Mordor had all made great progress, the trauma they had endured was not one that would be unwound in a matter of months. Knocking on the door unexpected in the middle of the night could have triggered a fear in the twins that nobody wanted, so Elladan and Elrohir had agreed with their father to introduce Elwing's brothers in the morning.

And they had asked Frodo and Nelly to come with them.

"They trust you," Elladan had said sombrely. "Perhaps still even more than they trust us. I believe it would be a comfort to them to have you there."

Casting a fond look at her sleeping sister, Nelly slipped out of the bedroom and made her way down to a nearby guard hall. It was, she had found, the best place to get a bite to eat before breakfast, and there she found Frodo already nibbling on a scone, with a mug of tea before him.

"Morning."

He glanced up at her and smiled. "Good morning. How's Pearl?"

Nelly snorted, sitting down beside him and pulling up a plate, taking a couple of scones from the middle of the table. "Asleep. Of course."

Frodo's smile grew, and he sighed. "I'm glad they're here. As lovely as Minas Tirith is, I'm more than ready to go home."

Nelly nodded, glancing carefully at her cousin. For the most part, Frodo was doing much better – they all were. But there was still a weariness beneath Frodo's eyes that he could not seem to shake. With any luck, it would fade when they got back to Erebor, but in the meantime, she would keep an eye on it. A close eye.

Not that Frodo had to know that.

"Me too," she said, reaching for the jam. "We're not quite altogether yet, are we?"

"No…" Frodo murmured, glancing down at his tea. His hand had risen to the chain around his neck again, and that little silver shield. "No, we're not."

Nelly leant closer to him, resting her head against his for a moment, and Frodo smiled again.

They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Elladan appeared at the door, a huge smile on his face. Just behind him, standing very close to each other, were Red and Rín, and Nelly smiled warmly at them.

After two months in Minas Tirith, they were almost unrecognisable – even the very shape of their faces had changed, rounding out a little as they put on much-needed weight. Their hair was still short, far shorter than any elf that Nelly had ever seen, but it was now long enough to cover the tips of their ears, and looked to be growing healthy, and strong.

Red shot a weak smile back at Nelly, and Rín bowed his head, but she could see fear flickering in their eyes, and they were standing so close to one another it was a wonder they did not trip over each other's feet.

"Well, let's go then, shall we?" Nelly said, grabbing her crutch and standing up, and Frodo followed her.

They made their way through the citadel to a small garden – the same garden that Nelly and Éowyn had taken tea in when she first arrived in Minas Tirith, though today a significantly bigger table had been set out. Elrohir was waiting for them at the entrance to the garden, wearing a grin just as enthusiastic as his brother, though better hidden – the eagerness shone from his eyes, rather than his lips. Standing beside him was Arwen, just as breathtakingly beautiful as ever, and over her shoulder, Nelly could see Lord Elrond. His back was to the rest of them, and he was staring out over the city, and in the brief moment before he turned around to face them, Nelly could have sworn that she saw the elven lord's hands twisting behind his back. As they approached, however, he turned, and Nelly turned her attention back to the twins.

The moment that they saw Arwen, Red and Rín froze, their eyes widening in a unison that would have been unnerving, if Nelly was not very used to the antics of identical twins by now.

Red's mouth dropped open, and Rín's hand seize his brother's wrist, tight. Arwen smiled slightly, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She glanced at the ground, and then back up at Red and Rín, and with a start, Nelly realised that the Lady of Rivendell was a little flustered.

"May I present our sister, Lady Arwen," said Elladan proudly, and Arwen gave a small curtesy, smiling almost shyly at Red and Rín. "And our father, Lord Elrond. Your nephew."

Elrond stepped forward, and Red and Rín bowed slightly, though they looked much less perturbed by Elrond than they did Arwen.

"Ada, Arwen," Elladan continued, "This is Eluréd and Elurín, sons of Dior. They go by Red and Rín."

Elrond opened his mouth, and then he paused, shaking his head slightly with a small smile. Somehow, it made the ageless elven lord look like a little like a child. "I – well… it is an honour to meet you, I – I have thought long and hard about what to say to you, but even so, I barely know where to begin…"

"We are happy to meet you," said Rín, his voice soft, and cautious. Red was still staring at Arwen, but Nelly was not the only one who had noticed.

"We've heard it said that our sister is the image of Lady Lúthien," Elrohir said, and Red jumped, glancing quickly away and reaching for his brother's sleeve.

Wordlessly, Nelly moved to his side, smiling encouragingly up at him, and a little of the tension eased from Red's shoulders.

"There – it is – yes," he said, his words all but whispers as he glanced at Arwen. "I am sorry – I thought you were a ghost."

Arwen smiled gently, shaking her head a little. "There is nothing to apologise for. I understand."

There was pause, and the quiet threatened to turn awkward, so Nelly cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should sit down?"

"Of course," Elrond said swiftly, bowing his head and holding his hand out towards the table. Red and Rín's chairs were so close together they almost touched, and Nelly placed herself at Red's side, while Frodo flanked Rín. Arwen took the seat beside Nelly, and Elrond the one beside her, and finally Elrohir and Elladan settled themselves in the remaining chairs.

But if Nelly had hoped that the time it took them all to sit down would give someone a chance to think of something to say, she was sorely mistaken. Even Elrond seemed unsure of what to say, his gaze flicking from one twin to the other as though he had never seen anything so mesmerising, and his children were not much more help. Elrohir was murmuring something, yes, but almost silently, and into his own twin's ear, and Arwen was silent.

Nelly scrambled for something to say, but as she did, her cousin came to the rescue.

"I know this must be strange," Frodo said, looking first at Red and Rín, and then Elrond and Arwen. "For all of you. When I was first living at Bag End, Dís came down from the Blue Mountains for the first time, to re-meet Kíli. It was awfully awkward at first – he had no memory of her, and there was so much to say – so much time to catch up on… And that was after just two decades, let alone two ages… Now, it – well, frankly it feels childish to bring up, but what did help Kíli and Dís break the ice was the question game."

"Oh, good idea," said Nelly, trying to quash the urge to laugh at the idea of Lord Elrond playing the old Shire dinner game. Though she succeeded in not giggling, she was unable to keep the grin from her face.

Elrond's eyebrow raised. "What is the question game?"

"Well, essentially someone asks a question, and then you go around the table and everyone has to answer it. The questions are usually silly or trivial, but that's what makes it fun," Nelly said, pausing. "It's also what makes it a grew way to get to know each other."

"Very well," said Lord Elrond slowly. "Would you care to begin, Frodo?"

Frodo smiled wistfully, nodding his head. "Alright… Well, what is your favourite food? Nell?"

Normally, Nelly would have rolled her eyes at so dull a question, but she understood. It would be a careful game, with Red and Rín – questions about irrational fears or even happy memories could be the opposite of comforting.

"My favourite food is probably honeycomb," she said thoughtfully. "At the moment. Also, warm cake and cream. Oh, and pie!" She turned to Arwen, who paused.

"Well… I do have a fondness for fruit tarts," she said, and Elladan snorted.

"Fondness?" He turned to Red and Rín. "What she means is she once scaled two walls and a garden fence to swipe a cooling tart from the kitchen windowsill after our mother said she was to be sent to bed without dessert."

"She did?" Nelly's eyes widened with glee as Arwen went very pink, glaring at her brother.

"I was nine years old," Arwen said, her voice steely. "And the lack of dessert was a most unjust punishment for a prank that Elladan pulled." Her glare softened, allowing mischief to sparkle in her eyes. "I ate the whole tart before anyone caught me though."

Elrond stared at his daughter, shaking his head, though amusement shone clear on his face. "It wasn't the only time, either. I am afraid to say that Arwen was never much of a lady until she was well over a hundred years old."

Arwen shrugged – a movement that she somehow made seem graceful. Nelly made a note to practise in the mirror. "Then what is your favourite food, Ada?"

Nelly did not pay too much attention to Elrond's answer. She was too busy looking at tiny, growing smile on Red's face, and the way that Rín's eyes fixed so intently on whoever was speaking. It looked like the twins were drinking in every word that their kin said, revelling in every anecdote, and Nelly could not help but beam.

Frodo was right – the question game was a wonderful idea. By the time it ran its course, Red was leaning forward, rather than onto his brother, and all the tension had faded from Rín's shoulders. And when Elrond cleared his throat, his voice was much surer than it had been before.

"I do not think I can wait a moment longer to tell you how sorry I am for all you have suffered," he said, and Red and Rín watched him carefully, both becoming very still. "I do not know many who could have even dreamed of surviving it. But know that I will never ask you to speak of it to me, if you do not want to. You may tell me as much or as little as you wish, and I will listen, but your past is your own, and I shall not pry." Elrond paused, glancing at his hands for a moment. "I do not say this to darken the mood – I say it because I cannot bear not to say it any longer. You are the brothers of my mother, my family, and my blood, and you have my full protection. As long as I draw breath, I will do all in my power to ensure that no harm befalls you, and my house will be a home for you – should you wish it – for as long as you like. Soon, I will be departing to the West." He glanced at Arwen as he said that, and Nelly pretended not to see the flash of pain in the elf-lord's eyes. "You are more than welcome on that boat. But if you wish to stay, my protection will remain here with you, and Arwen will be living in Gondor. Elladan and Elrohir also intend to walk Middle-Earth a while longer. Whichever you chose, you will not be alone. Your lives are now your own, and we will help you lead them how you will."

The twins stared intently at Elrond, and Elrohir leant across the table slightly. "Nothing needs be decided now."

"No, not at all," Elrond agreed. "There is time, yet."

"Thank you," said Rín, bowing his head.

"You're going West?" Frodo asked, his voice surprisingly small, and Elrond bowed his head.

"It is my time."

Nelly stared at her cousin intently, trying to read his face, but Frodo kept his thoughts to himself.

"Elwing went West," said Red, a little unsurely, and Elrond nodded heavily.

"Whether she dwells in Valinor or still at sea, I do not know, but she did travel west."

Red nodded thoughtfully, his head tilting to the side slightly as he looked at Elrond. A small smile spread across his face. "You look much like her. There is much of our sister in you."

Elrond blinked, and then he put a hand over his heart, and bowed his head.

"Well," Frodo said softly, when Elrond had raised his head again. "I think I could do with some elevenses, Nelly. How about you?"

"Sounds marvellous," she said, smiling at him. "If you will excuse us…"

"Of course," said Lord Elrond, as the elves rose to their feet. Elladan helped Nelly down from the chair, passing her the crutch.

"Thank you," she said, turning to face the table. "We shall see you all later!"

The elves chorused back a goodbye, and even Rín smiled, and Nelly's heart rose. She looped her arm through Frodo's as they walked out of the garden, leaving behind them a family comfortable in each other's presence, a family beginning to heal.

The overwhelming urge to see her mother again came over her, and she quickened her pace, heading eagerly towards the hall where she knew her parents would be. There was an ache in her chest, missing Vinca and Nori and the rest of her dwarves, but now that the elves were here that would soon be gone.

Soon, so soon now, they would leave for Erebor.

Soon, Nelly would be home.

I hope that you enjoyed that chapter! Please do let me know what you thought, if you can, I really appreciate it!

We're very close to the end now guys, probably only one or two more chapters, so I hope that you can be patient with me – I want to make sure the end of the story is just as strong as the beginning, and its proving a lot more tricky to write!

In any case, until next time, please take care, and stay safe.