Into the West (A Lord of the Rings Fan Fic)

Chapter Thirty Two

Not long after Amaruil and Legolas’ betrothal the four hobbits and Gandalf made their plans to depart for the Shire; along with them would leave Elrond and the other elves that had travelled with him, as the day drew nearer Arwen’s spirits lowered and Amaruil could tell that it was because she knew, with Elrond’s departure from Minas Tirith he would travel to the Grey Havens. More often than not Amaruil would find Arwen and Elrond walking in the gardens, occasionally with Aragorn as well, and it was clear that Elrond had accepted Arwen’s choice though both his daughter and his adopted daughter could see the sadness and pain which lined his face. Amaruil planned to stay with Arwen but before too long she would return to Rivendell, with her betrothal to Legolas made official she knew that they would have to find somewhere else to live; originally she had believed that they would live in either Rivendell or Mirkwood but once Legolas had mentioned starting a new elven colony in Ithilien she knew that that was where they would spend their years in Middle Earth; Legolas was going home while she was in Rivendell and would see if any elves were interested in joining them there while Amaruil would do the same in her home. Once Elrond left for Valinor someone else would have to be the leader of Rivendell, either Elladan or Elrohir depending on whether they decided to stay in Middle Earth with their sister or leave with their father, and she knew that the time of the elves really was waning – she was sure that Galadriel and Celeborn would leave with Elrond departure on the final ship to the Undying Lands and their departure would signal the true end of the elves’ time in Middle Earth, she found it hard to believe that it was really happening but she could no longer shy away from the knowledge and was forced to face it with strength and accept what was coming.

It was still high summer when the group’s horses trotted out of the gate into the city, their hooves clattering on the cobbles and a heavy silence hanging over everyone in the group as they bore King Théoden’s coffin back to Edoras where his people were waiting; out of everyone Éomer seemed to carry with him the heaviest burden, the pallor of his sadness matched only by that of Eowyn as she rode beside him; both of them had lost the man who had been their father throughout their childhood and the others who travelled with them could only imagine what they were experiencing, especially Eowyn who had had him die in her arms.

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Once they arrived in Edoras they spent just under a month with Éomer who, after Théoden had been buried alongside his son, had been wholeheartedly accepted by the people of Rohan as their king. Though the times were hard and much of their land had been destroyed by Saruman’s poison they refused to be cowed, eagerly following Éomer’s lead and the first few seeds of his ideas to restore Rohan to its previous greatness as they started to grow; he was grateful, nonetheless, for the presence of his friends in the Meduseld and their help with beginning to build Rohan back up and support him as he worked out how to assume the role which he had been made to fulfil.

Two weeks into August much of their party took their leave of Éomer as the hobbits began to feel the tug of the Shire pulling them home again and they said goodbye on the steps of the Meduseld, Éomer arrayed in all of his kingly attire but still looking a little uncomfortable despite having been prepared for kingship since Théodred had not returned triumphant from the Battle of the Fords of Isen but had instead been borne back on the shields of his soldiers.

“I will stay with you,” Eowyn whispered to him as they embraced before the departing guests mounted their horses; as she watched them and bid them farewell, standing alongside her brother and her betrothed her dress billowed out behind her as it caught in the breeze, the rich emerald fabric shimmering in the afternoon sunlight, and her hair gleaming as it settled over her shoulders. Beside her Faramir smiled and bowed to Aragorn before glancing at Éomer and, with a small nod of his head, all their friends assembled who stood nearby could understand the exchange; in the time which they had spent in Rohan and the time in which Éomer had seen the happiness which radiated from Eowyn when she was with Faramir and with the gratefulness he felt to him for rescuing his sister from the darkness which Éomer had seen her starting to succumb to Éomer had given his approval to her choice and come to regard Faramir as a brother; despite their differences he could recognise the greatness which was bound around Faramir’s very bones and suffused his blood and he could think of no one who deserved his dear sister more. The announcement of their betrothal the previous night had been cause for much celebration, even after the sadness of Théoden’s funeral feast. Beside Eowyn stood Arwen and Amaruil, both of whom were to stay behind since neither of them had any wish to ride further out to Orthanc with the thinning party. A pale expression of mournfulness drained Arwen’s face of any colour the sunny day tried to put into it while beside her Amaruil looked equally as grave. They clutched each of their friends to them in turn, whispering words of love and friendship to them as they took their leave, each promising to return at some point in the future, unwilling to forget the bonds which tied them together, had done for the past year and would do for the rest of their lives while the people who sat on their horses looked no less miserable as they bid farewell to the fantastic adventure which had whisked them away from everything they knew and change not only the world but also them and their natures.