Chapter Seventy-Nine

~ Estel ~
I would think that being transported to almost a whole Age in the past would have some effect on me. Like I would feel nauseous or feel elated to be "home" or . . .well, anything. Something. An emotion that I could actually have a sensible, explainable, and Valar-blaming, family-oriented, publicly-acceptable reason for waking up with tears in my eyes.

No.

It was just the sun, shining full power in my eyes.

With a muttered curse, I moved towards the window to draw the curtains and cut off that sun. I wanted to be in the dark a little longer . . . to remember and hold close my last memories before I had lost Legolas forever . . .

That was when something attacked my legs, tangling them and sending me crashing to the floor.

What the –

I had been in too many fights, I guessed, so I went into attack mode, letting my instincts take over, wishing Legolas was at my side, Legolas who was always so clear-headed, sure-footed, swift in mind and action, Legolas who always protected me even if he himself was hurt, Legolas who loved me, my Legolas . . .

And that's when I heard a titanic rip.

What the . . .

I looked down at the assailant tangling my feet for the very first time.

They were bed sheets. Soft, cream-colored, and clean, they looked as unthreatening as a murder weapon ever could. Only now there was a jagged rip across them.

For the first time, I looked around my room . . . and gasped.

I had thought I would have awakened in a forest, or perhaps a dungeon, or wherever I should have been when I threw myself off the cliff. Maybe even in chains awaiting "reassignment" back into slavery. Maybe even half-dead and wishing I was dead.

But this . . . was no prison.

Not by a long shot.

The room was grand, opulent, beautiful – beyond words. Delicate sketches with tasteful colors brightened the ceiling with pictures of stars and animals and flowers. The floor was warm and fluffy thanks to the white carpet blanketing the room. A wardrobe was half open in the corner, revealing ornate and expensive dresses fit for perhaps Queen Melian herself. All around the room vases stood tucked into various corners, filled with flowers of all kinds. And the bed – the bed was a giant one, covered in soft cream-colored blankets and white pillows with an arching canopy of silk and cloth and tied back curtains.

Where in the name of Valar am I?

There was a gentle knock at the door.

Startled, I glanced around as I hastily tried to untangle my legs from the sheet. It didn't help that I was wearing a billowy white nightgown with a purple sash that floated around my legs and made things even more confusing.

Where's the door?

I couldn't see one. Anywhere.

Another knock. "Your Highness?" a tentative voice called out.

This time, I really did fall over.

"Your Highness!"

The speaker moved into view, poking her head in from the missing wall of the room. Her eyes widened, and she rushed to my side. Between the two of us, we finally managed to throw the sheets back on to the bed, where they belonged.

She examined the rip and sighed. "Your Highness, you are very lucky that the tailors adore you," she said, running her fingers along it. "I'll send it down to get repaired this afternoon; that way by the time the coronation is over they'll be back on your bed where they belong and no one will be any the wiser that their Queen is notoriously clumsy."

I blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

She bundled up the sheet. "Yes, I know, you're thinking 'Leave me alone now, Miri, I've been stressed this entire week due to this coronation; I'm allowed to have accidents.' But, honestly, Your Highness, can you try to keep your dress from ripping? It's lovely, I must say."

"Why are you calling me 'Your Highness'?"

Miri clucked her tongue. "I suppose . . . as you haven't been crowned yet, technically you're still Princess Estel. But . . . the coronation is in about three hours, so I'm making allowances."

"Um . . . Miri . . . um . . . where am I?"

"Don't tell me you slept through the entire thing!" she exclaimed, whirling to face me. She scanned my face as though trying to read a difficult book. "Your Highness, you're very good at hiding things, but do not tell me you don't remember the trudge up the levels of Minas Tirith? Valar, they are exhausting. Even you were drooping by the last two levels, child. And no wonder why. Between the negotiations with Arnor and rehearsing for the coronation, you've barely had time to eat, much less sleep. . . But you had a good sleep last night – at least seven hours, I think! So . . . I'm going to round up your entourage, and then we'll get you bathed and fed and ready. At least do me the favor of waking up while I'm gone, child."

Before I could say a word of protest, she was gone.

Once again, I wished for Legolas's presence. He would have been able to say something, do something, figure out what was going on. And get me out of here.

Who was that Miri kidding?

I wasn't a princess. I wasn't even "Estel" here; I was Elena the slave who'd just lost a son.

I rubbed at my forehead. "What is going on here?"

I knew I wasn't going to be answered.

With a sigh, I crossed the bookshelf tucked into the littlest corner next to a desk with a window in front. The desk was overflowing with books and paper and information, and for a second I was tempted to give up, close my eyes, and pinch myself really hard and wake up from this . . . whatever it was.

Then something in the window caught my eye, so I looked out.

And jumped three feet in the air.

This was . . . This was . . . This was Minas Tirith. I was in Minas Tirith. In one of the high towers. Reserved for the king or the royal family generally. I had only been in here once, with Aragorn, to help set up things.

What was I doing here?

I suddenly realized that the Elessar was still with me, and it was warm again. It seemed to direct my gaze downward, and I obeyed.

There was one book on top of the precarious clutter.

I squinted at it, and realized that it was some sort of recording book, meant for the histories. But whose or what histories escaped me.

That is, until I read the first line.

King Elessar II passed away, leaving behind only one heir to the throne – his daughter, Princess Estel, who will take the throne as Queen of Gondor, Arnor, and now Rohan to form the United Kingdom of Middle-earth.

I collapsed in the chair. This made no sense. . . And yet . . .

I flipped feverishly back through the pages, unconsciously thankful for this storage of knowledge as guidance. It was so long, and there were so many sections, but I didn't have the time to scan and read. Pity. I'd have to go back later; some of these names were very interesting. Finally, I found what I was looking for – the section titled King Elessar I, first King of the Reunited Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor, and Queen Arwen Undómiel.

My eyes flashed over the section in a flash. Nothing new there. . .

Except the mention of King Elessar I's most trusted advisor – a Man named Lord Eldarion, for whom the son had been named for.

I skimmed through the rest of the sections . . . and slowly pieces started falling into place.

The future, it seemed, had changed.

A lot.

And I was about to be part of that change by becoming Queen after my father's sudden death.

I stood unsteadily. Well, Queen Melian did say I had to continue the line of Kings. . . And I am the only heir still alive and able to be here. . .

And so, apparently, I was going to be a Queen now.

Excellent.

I fingered the Elessar nervously as I crossed to the dresser and opened it. All the dresses there were elegant, beautiful, and befitting a Queen of Gondor, Arnor, and Rohan – but there was one in particular that stood out.

Carefully, I lifted it out of the dresser and spread it on the bed.

Depending on where I stood and how the sun hit the gown as I watched, it was alternately yellow or green or blue – it shifted colors like the sea did. Its slender, figure-hugging bodice was adorned with lace and embroidered with flowers and stars etched in delicate colors of silver and gold. The yellow-green-blue skirt, which was scattered with more embroidered stars and had tiny diamonds sewn in, wasn't too large or billowy, like my nightgown, but it still was big enough that I could see that its function was to drape over my legs and flow with my steps, rustling and shimmering as I went. The sleeves were entirely of silver lace, woven to preserve my modesty while also demonstrating my position of power as Queen.

It was . . . beautiful.

At that moment, there was a knock, and then Miri entered.

"Oh, so you brought it out. Good, good," she said almost distractedly. "Well, come on, child, come over here! We only have two hours!"

Three hours later, I was kneeling on the steps on the terrace of Minas Tirith, and I felt the weight of the silver and gold crown rest on my head. It was heavier than I had imagined, but still lighter than most crowns thanks to the fact that Elvish craftsmanship had produced it. Besides, the weight also was due to the delicate chains of silver filigree that Miri and the others had woven into my hair, matching my dress.

"Now come the days of the Queen! Let them be blessed."

I recognized the same words, and somehow I knew that they had been said at each coronation since Aragorn's, a tradition unbroken in this somehow-fixed future.

I sighed, closed my eyes once, and then stood, and opened my eyes, pasted a smile on my face, and turned.

Showers of flower petals rained down upon me, and my smile turned genuine.

Then the crier stepped forth.

"Her Majesty, Queen Estel Elessariel, Queen of the United Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor and Rohan, the the last of the line of Isildur, of Eärendil, of Lúthien Tinúviel!"

The words rang in my ears, and suddenly a rush of memories flooded my mind.

Something suddenly clicked. Now I knew why Legolas and the others had been so uneasy after our trip to the ghost army, and then when I had released them of their oath, and even when I had confronted the Mouth of Sauron at the Battle of Mordor – I had spoken almost those exact same words, proclaimed my identity for all to hear, told everyone. Even then, I already had assumed the mantle of the Queen.

I glanced at the crowd of people – my people, now.

And it felt right.

My smile widened. I had lost my family, I had lost my friends, and I had lost the only one I had ever loved.

But this felt right.

I'll make you proud, Father – I will not let this kingdom fall as the Stewards did.

And I'll never stop loving you, Legolas.

And so I raised my hands, and the crowds quieted, and I descended to greet my people for the first time as Queen Estel Elessariel.

AN: And that's the end! Anyone surprised, happy, confused, etc?

No, just kidding! There's still one more chapter to go, so stick around for the real ending of My Fairytale, coming out next week . . . sometime.