This and the next three chapters are, like Chapter 19, a bit of an interlude between the end of The Two Towers and The Return of the King. And, once again, they also help to tie up some loose ends. However, unlike Chapter 19, they also plant some new beginnings as well.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

~ Estel~
I threw my arms around my mother, barely able to see her through my tears. I hadn't seen her in so long, but the sight of her was like a blade into my heart – it was sharp and piercing, and I was compelled to act. After all, she was my mother and I had believed her dead for so long. . .

But there was no way I could have mistaken my mother for anyone else, even though I only remembered her through a child's eyes and point of view.

"~Estel, my child, my dearest child,~" my mother murmured. Her arms were just as tight around me as mine were around her, and her voice was filled with barely held back tears. "~Oh, how I have missed you. . .~"

When I finally let go, she held tight on to my shoulders and let her gaze travel over me. Her eyes were full of pride and sadness when she was done, and she smiled with effort.

"~You have grown, my child,~" she said. "~You are no longer the little girl I remember.~"

Eldarion turned to us then, done kissing my sister on both cheeks in greeting, as was traditional among family members of the Believers. I stepped out of the way and moved to greet my sister, who bypassed the kissing on the cheeks and enfolded me in a tight, sisterly hug that spoke of her much she had missed me.

"~Hello, my sister,~" Tinúviel greeted.

"~How – How did you survive?~" I stuttered finally, looking at my mother and sister.

My mother sighed, and the happiness on my sister's eyes dimmed somewhat. Whatever had happened had not been happy – and that must have been on top of the forced separation from Eldarion and me and my father.

"~I think,~" my sister said slowly, "~that explanations should wait for another time. . . Brother, why don't you introduce us before the Rohirrim decide to feather us with arrows?~"

Eldarion chuckled once. "~As you wish, Lady Tinúviel.~" Then he turned to the group.

Aragorn and Legolas wore perplexed expressions on their face, even though they had understood the Elvish that we had spoken in. And everyone else was just simply confused, because of course they didn't understand Elvish at all. But Mithrandir. . . He didn't look confused or surprised. Not at all. Rather, he seemed . . . happily content with his ignorance in what had happened just now, so long as we understood and were happy because of that.

"Your Majesties," Eldarion said, his voice clear and strong, ringing with the joy and pride that was ours as a family. "This is my mother, the Lady Kiria, and my sister, the Lady Tinúviel. I beg your pardon for causing you confusion by not speaking in the common tongue, but Estel and I have not seen our mother and sister for many years, and we could not contain ourselves."

"Pardon is granted, then, if such a reason is the reason,"Théoden said after a moment. "And I welcome you, Lady Kiria, and you, Lady Tinúviel, to Rohan, though a sad condition that she is in."

My mother smiled. "I know of Rohan's condition, and it is not as hopeless or sad as you believe, Théoden King, for I have dwelt in Rohan for many years past, and I have seen her firsthand. . . No, she will survive and be all the more glorious for it."

Théoden blinked in surprise, but thankfully he said nothing. I think he's had enough surprises for one day, I decided.

"Can we return to Helm's Deep?" I asked, my eyes flickering briefly to Mithrandir.

He smiled. "I believe it is time. And making the ladies wait out here is never usually a good idea."

"~Hush, Mithrandir,~" Eldarion muttered, swinging himself onto his own horse.

Mithrandir chuckled once, but did not say anything more – which was probably a good thing, as Théoden and Éomer were looking tired of all of us speaking in a language they did not understand. Not that I really blamed them, though; it could get tiring to see us slipping so effortless into Elvish and therefore being able to speak without being understood by those around them. Others probably had no choice but to try and seclude themselves to not be overheard, while we had the advantage of using Elvish instead.

As the others set off, I urged my horse into a trot with a smile and a gladness that I hadn't felt since I had met my brother.

~ Éowyn ~
When everyone returned, I noted with a frown that there were more horses coming in than had gone out. Two more, actually. And their riders – there. And then I frowned even more when I found the riders. They were two women, actually, one older and one younger – but both were breathtakingly beautiful.

The older woman had a subtle beauty, the kind that first you just skip over and then you find you just can't look away from. With the aura of quite experience and the noble air that came with the way she carried herself, I could barely take my eyes off of her.

And the younger was just beautiful. Even had she been dressed in rags, I could never have failed to mistake her beauty. There was no doubt in my mind that she possessed the beauty of the Elves, but in a different way than Estel.

And speaking of Estel. . . Where was she?

But no – she was right there too. Talking and laughing with the two new women. Did she know them?

"Éowyn."

I turned to see my uncle there, taking off his cloak. He seemed exhausted now that I got a better look at him, and about ready to collapse the second he had nothing to do or tend to or worry about. I immediately turned my attention to him; the questions about the new women could wait for now.

But he seemed to have already guessed what was up.

"They are the Lady Kiria and Lady Tinúviel," he said, walking to stand beside me.

"Do Estel and Eldarion know them?"

"I would hope so."

His tone was amused and reflective yet with a hint of sadness. Confused, I turned back to him, wondering why he would answer like that.

"What do you mean, my lord?"

He laughed. "Éowyn, the Lady Kiria is their mother. And Lady Tinúviel is their sister."

Oh. . . That makes a lot more sense now. Now I could suddenly see the resemblance and the affection between the four – mother, sisters, brother. They were truly a little family down there, with the affection and the familiarity to prove it. And it would explain why when I saw the two, I immediately thought of Estel and Eldarion.

"How are the wounded?"

"We are seeing to them. And now that you and the others have returned, at least we have more healers."

"Supplies?"

I shrugged. "At worse, we can always send out hunters."

He smiled. "You're a good one, Éowyn. Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever find someone good enough for you. . . But enough of my rambling. I'm going to get some rest and then I'll hold a meeting to find out what we'll do next."

I kissed his cheeks and bowed. "Yes, my lord."

I cast a glance down, seeing that Aragorn and Legolas had now joined the little family. I've found a man worthy of me. But now the question becomes – Does he want me?

~ Tinúviel ~
Aragorn's gaze was clear as he gazed at me. "~So . . . You bear the Evenstar, then?~" he asked in a low voice.

"~Yes, my lord.~" Without thinking, I lifted a hand to curl my fingers around the precious inheritance. The Evenstar of Arwen Undómiel, she who was one of the ancestors of the Believers and who had made our existence possible. Just as the Elessar belonged to my sister, Estel, and the Ring of Barahir to my brother, Eldarion, the Evenstar belonged to me.

Legolas nodded slowly. "~You were named well,~" he commented. "~You look a great deal like your namesake.~"

I smiled slightly. "~Thank you, Your Majesty,~" I replied.

The Elf sighed when I said his title. "~Do you all know who I am?~" he demanded in a frustrated tone, his eyes flitting to my sister.

"~Yes,~" Estel and Eldarion said as one.

"~Why, do you not like your title?~" my mother asked, resting a placating hand on my sister's shoulder. "~Would you deny that which is your birthright?~"

"~No. But I would rather be treated as an equal among friends. Besides, your bloodline is as vaunted as my own, and yet you do not go by your title,~" Legolas pointed out. "~Why, then, and I different from you?~"

At this, my mother and I hesitated to answer. We didn't know if the Prince knew of our secret. I was sure we could trust him – but would he be angry to know that he hadn't been told? And Aragorn – did he know? And could we tell him? He obviously recognized the Evenstar that I wore, but did he know of its significance in his future? And should we tell him about his future and hope that he didn't alter it by trying to fix what had happened?

So many questions, and we had no answers.

But then Aragorn spoke. "~You need not fear to tell us the truth,~" he said gently. "~I know. Estel and Eldarion have already told us.~"

"~And I know as well,~" Legolas admitted. "~It is why we have both pledged ourselves to the defense of your children, Lady Kiria. Trust me when I say that I will allow no harm to befall them.~"

I could see how my mother sighed, her eyes closing and her shoulders relaxing. I too felt relief, for I trusted these two and it was gratifying to know that somewhere, someone was looking out of us. All of us.

"~I thank you for your words,~" my mother said finally. "~I do not like to bear the burden of secrets.~"

There was a momentary silence. No doubt Aragorn and Legolas were still getting used to the idea that more of us – well, from the future us – survived. I was sure that they had had a great shock when they had met Estel and Eldarion (I would have to wring the story out of them later) and learned the truth of their existence. I mean, it wasn't every day that your very-far-in-the-future descendant popped up. And now with us reunited, it wasn't just one descendant – it was all four of us.

Pity Father is not here, I thought with a pang of sadness. My father would have loved to be here, to be with us. He loved my mother, despite the fact that it had been an arranged marriage that had brought them together. And he certainly loved us, his children and heirs.

"~Well,~" Aragorn said finally, "~I fear I must get back to the healing halls; there are many more wounded who have yet to be treated.~"

Eldarion nodded. "~I'll see to the barracks. I'll send anyone to you if I feel they're unfit.~"

But before the rest of them could split up, a young woman appeared in the crowd and headed towards us. She had long wavy pale blonde hair and blue eyes, very much like my mother. She carried herself with a regal air and confidence, despite her simple dress. I had no doubt that she was a shieldmaiden or something – someone from the King's court.

Sure enough, Estel looked up and said, "Éowyn."

I struggled to contain my shock. So this was Éowyn Èomundiel, niece of Théoden King, future wife of Faramir Denethorion – and the tie that allowed the blood of Rohan's royalty to flow in the veins of my family.

"You're back," Éowyn said, her eyes moving immediately to Eldarion. "And you've brought – survivors?"

"No," Eldarion replied. "Lady Éowyn, may I introduce my honored mother, the Lady Kiria, and my sister, the Lady Tinúviel."

Éowyn's expression settled into something – resign, perhaps? But why resign? And why had she come all the way from . . . from wherever she had been simply to find out if we were survivors? Surely she trusted her uncle's judgment in letting us enter. . .

"What is it, Éowyn?" Estel asked, cutting through the awkward silence.

"Healers are needed for the wounded," she explained shortly. "And everyone has been waiting for your return."

Aragorn nodded. "We were just going there. Eldarion – send anyone you find unfit. Estel – can you get some more supplies? Legolas – can you try to find some more herbs for me?" Each nodded at his words.

Then he turned to us, and his expression became respectful. "~I hate to ask for your aid – I can imagine you are weary and need rest – but we need help.~"

"I understand, my lord," my mother replied. In a lower voice, she added, "~As Chieftain, you need not worry of being disrespectful.~"

Aragorn smiled slightly. My mother's words had been just short of blunt, reminding him that he still was the Chieftain of the Dúnedain and that he had to maintain that appearance when not around those who knew the truth about us – such as Lady Éowyn.

"My mother and I can see to those whom you have already treated and merely need rest," I offered. "It won't be too strenuous, even though we are tired."

"That will be good," Éowyn cut in, startling us all. "Lord Haldir needs constant supervision, even though the healers say that they have done all that they could for him."

The name struck a familiar chord within me. I subtly looked sideways at my brother, who gave me the tinniest nod possible. Ah. So I was right. They were speaking about Haldir, last Marchwarden of Lóthlorien – and one of those who had died a valiant death in the Battle of Helm's Deep fighting off the Uruk-hai.

My mother looked at me. I knew what she was thinking. I was a stronger Believer than she was, with stronger ties to my Elvish heritage – and I had the Evenstar as well. If anything went wrong, I'd know faster than she would.

"I will," I said.