Guest: Thank you very much for your kind words! I wish I could have updated a little faster still.

Hilalc: Thank you! I'm afraid it is the end for now :(

I'm afraid this chapter is more of a short conclusion, I wanted a clean cut (and had originally planned no more than 5 chapters).

6. Tears

Dol Amroth - November 2028 T.A.

When Gilmith opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the ceiling. For a second, she wondered what she was doing inside, whereas she had spent the last month and a half outside, sleeping under the stars.

Her limbs felt too heavy to move, for she had awaken from a strangely deep slumber, and it took her some time to recollect her thoughts - she had been with Maglor, in Edhellond, in the small tower, on a real bed...

Yet the ceiling was white, and not grey, and it was ornated with pretty and intricate fixtures the Elves had never bothered with in their haven. There was something suspicious about the bedsheets too, for they were clean and soft and she could tell they had been ironed not long ago. And although it was night, she clearly could see there was no more dust around her, the cold had turned into pleasant warmth, and there was this lingering smell in the air - the familiar odor of lavender and sea salt...

She felt a hand pressed hers and she heard a voice, with a distinct worried tone, whisper, "Gilmith... can your hear me, sweet one?"

It was a male voice, one she was very familiar with, yet one she had perhaps least expected to hear.

"Father?!" she exclaimed, shaking her head to chase away some of her numbness.

Her eyes landed on him and she could not quite believe what she saw. Lord Imrazôr sat in an armchair, by the bed, and everything about him was slightly messy, from his puffy sleep deprived eyes to his dark blue tunic that he had obviously been wearing for many days in a row, judging from how worn and shabby it looked. He had leaned over, his gaze full of fright, and his fingers brushed her forehead gently.

"How are you feeling...? Do you... do you hurt anywhere?"

"I am perfectly fine, Father, trust me," she told him, raising herself slowly from the bed.

Gilmith was also completely bewildered and her mind was taken over by whirls of questions - mainly revolving around this crucial interrogation, how had she ended up in her own bedroom, over the night? Yet, despite this great confusion, she could at leat focused on one thing: she was home, she finally was with her father.

"Truly, you are?" Lord Imrazôr asked, almost not trusting his own ears.

Yet even he, as an anxious father who had just been reunited with his beloved daughter, had to admit Gilmith looked quite alright and apart from a few signs of weariness, she bore absolutely no traces of ill-treatment.

"I am..." she nodded, "I was... I was injured during the attack, yet I was well taken care of afterwards..."

It was an immense relief for her that her father chose not to ask any further questions. Perhaps lord Imrazôr was himself too glad to have found his daughter to bother with the details, as long as she was well, and the story of her journey back home could always be told some time later, after she had rested some more.
For now, they fell into each other's arms and while Gilmith could not restrain her sobs, lord Imrazôr also shed many tears himself, covering her hair and forehead with kisses. She finally took time to cry a lot, so much that at some point she did not know anymore what made her cry - was she happy she had returned home, to her father, was she sad she did not have the chance to bid Maglor farewell, or was she completely desperate at the thought of never seeing him again?

When Gilmith finally managed to take a proper look at her father, she was shocked to notice his tired features. It seemed that in the span of a month and half, he had aged drastically, for new wrinkles had appeared at the corner of his eyes and his hair turned grey above his temples. Guilt spread through her insides, as she stared at him, thinking of how she had spent so many days tarrying on the seashore, in Maglor's company, barely worrying about her family.

"At first, I believed you had died..." whispered lord Imrazôr, still distressed, and once more he held his daughter tight.

"I won't leave you ever again, Father," promised Gilmith in muffled voice, "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetling." And he sighed, "I should have gone to this wedding with you..."

"I'm afraid that even you could not have done much..."

Gilmith would have liked to find some reassuring words to tell her father, yet she did not get the chance to think about it further. The door on the left of her bed swang wide open, making way to her brother, and Galador, upon seeing that she had woken up, spilled the dishes he had been carrying from the kitchen. For a few seconds, he stood behind their father, completely stunned, blinking slowly, then he leapt on the bed and found a way to steal her from their father's grasp.

"Gilmith!"

He had yelled her name and as he hugged her, he let himself fall on the bed beside her, nearly crushing her in the process - that was quite typical of Galador, to almost choke her to death as a way to welcome her back. A few tears gleamed in his eyes, but soon enough he was laughing, ruffling her hair.

"How you scared us, Gilmith! You ought be grounded for having caused us such fear!"

"I am sorry..." she said, earnestly.

"Don't be, you fool!" Galador told her, chuckling.

His cheerful mood had helped their father relaxed and lord Imrazôr now looked fondly at his two children, a smile finally illuminating his face. He felt he had just stepped out of a nightmare, the worst of all nightmares. Losing his wife had by no means been easy, however it had been expected, for he could have never dreamed of keeping Mithrellas forever by his side - it would have been like keeping a wild bird in a cage and watched it waste away. But his daughter, his precious daughter whom he had always pampered... how could he have bore to lose her?

"You seem quite fine," Galador reflected, looking intently at his sister and he patted her head, smoothing the curls he had been messing with just then. "Perfectly healthy, I daresay."

"I am quite alright, indeed," muttered Gilmith, and she brought herself to ask that question, at last, "How did I... end up here, home?"

She could not quite process how she had cover the distance between Edhellond and her father's city, some fifty miles south of the Elven haven. Had he somehow carried her all the way, while she was asleep...

"A few miles away from Edhellond, farmer found on his doorstep, uncounscious," lord Imrazôr told her, squeezing her hand. "That was three days ago."

Three days ago? She had been sleeping for so long...

Gilmith did her best to focus, she had to remember these last moments she had spent with Maglor, in Edhellond. They had been in that small tower, in a bedroom with an actual bed - and she blushed just thinking about it - and what had she done last ?

She had drunk the broth he had given her, yet could he have put some sleeping draught in it? Had he then planned all along that this day in Edhellond would be their last together? Did he know already, when they made love, that he was about to deliver her to her people, at last?

"My dear Gilmith, you must be starving, perhaps I should ask the cook to make you supper, since Galador ruined our meals? It is bit late, however they will surely be happy to get you anything you would like to eat," said lord Imrazôr, shaking her away from her thoughts. "Everyone was greatly relieved that you were finally found, safe and sound."

"I am a bit hungry, that is true," she said, wiping a tear away.

Yes, she was safe and sound...

And heartbroken.

For a few days, her father and her brother did not let her sleep alone and in fact, they barely ever left her side, which was quite alright, for Gilmith could use all their cheerfulness and their smiles and hugs to keep at bay the immense grief of being apart from Maglor.

Yet the moment she could enjoy some time by herself, at last, she got out of bed as soon as her father had closed the door behind him, for there was something she had to do. Swiftly, she went outside, on the balcony, and there were three seagulls standing on the balustrade, staring at her. Gilmith was not surprised to find herself facing the birds, for she had been spying on them from her window and she knew they had done the same, circling above her father's house from dawn till dusk.

"Has he sent you here to check on me?" she said, stepping forward the birds slowly. "If so, please tell him I made it home safely, tell him he too should go home and tell him, I... that I..." She sighed heavily and added, "Just tell him thank you."

For a few seconds, her fingers brushed the white feathers of the seagull she was the nearest to, then it spread its wings to fly away, closely followed by its two companions.

And so, tears running down her face, Gilmith sat on the bench ornating the balcony, surveying a view that she was all too familiar with - there was the cliff, the beach and the sea.

Where had he gone? And, more importantly, would he ever forgive himself? Then would he go home?

Gilmith would likely never know.

So this is the end. Or at least, this is how I wanted this story to end, I thought it could not be a happy ending, for multiple reasons. However, I've got a few ideas about what could come next, so I am planning on writing a second part, but not before some time after Christmas. I still need to think about it a lot, because I want it to be plausible (I don't believe Maglor's issues can be resolved easily, as for Gilmith, she still has to deal with her identity).

So for now, I'll mark the story as 'complete', because those 6 (5 and half?) chapters are self sufficient :)

Anyways, thank you for having read this story so far, I have to say my two reviewers left some quite warm-hearting comments I am very thankful for! And thank you also to those who followed/favorited :)

See you soon, when I get my life back!