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Ta to all who reviewed! You have come now to the end.
Epilogue.
Months later, on the Pelennor Fields...
The Black Rider gave a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like venom, and his mace fell upon Éowyn's shield. It shattered into pieces, and she stumbled to her knees, her arm broken. The Lord of the Nazgûl raised his mace once more, this time to kill. But suddenly, he too stumbled forward, and the air was rent with his cry of pain. His stroke missed, and ploughed into the ground. Merry's sword had stabbed him from behind, driving into the sinew behind the Nazgûl's knee.
Merry staggered back, his sword dropping to the ground, burning away like a piece of wood. His arm went numb, and fell useless by his side. "Éowyn! Éowyn!" he cried.
Éowyn struggled up, and with the last of her strength, she drove her sword between crown and mantle. Her sword broke, and she fell forward, utterly spent. But the crown and hauberk were empty, tumbled upon the ground in a shapeless black mass; and a wailing cry went up on the wind; that passed with the wind, and was never heard again in that age of this world.
Merry stood, blinking like an owl in the daylight, blinded by his tears. Tears for Éowyn, tears for Théoden. Tears for all that was hopless in the Quest for Middle Earth. Tears for Middle Earth itself. But in the midst of his grief, Merry felt something, a presence that made him look up. A man was standing not that far ahead of him, and amidst the despair, agony and destruction of battle, this man was writing, quite heedless of the dangers of the fighting that raged about him on either side. The man was dressed oddly, yet in a way that was familiar. Merry recognized the style of dress - different from the clothing that he had seen there, but still with the unmistakable mark of that wonderful, confusing, oblivious other world. The man was glancing about him, taking in the details of what was happening, writing it all down in the book he had in one hand. Under the other arm was tucked a large blue sphere, shining with silver tracing.
Silent and still, Merry watched him, as though the numbness of his arm had touched his mind, and now held him motionless. Perhaps feeling the look, the man lifted his head. Human gaze met hobbit gaze, seeing all that was alien, and all that was alike between them. The man smiled, and nodded his head slightly.
It was almost a salute.
A/N: There! It's finished! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Calo anor na ven, mellon nin!