The Other Ranger [ Lord Of The Rings x Silmarillion ]

At the Fields of Cormallen

When Gandalf returned, he bore with him two hobbits. Frodo and Sam, looking more than a little worse for wear and entirely unconscious, were carried by Aragorn and Gandalf as the army trecked back to the Fields of Cormallen in Ithilien. The reached there by day's end.

In the after hours of the battle, Miril had found Bruidal, her father's horse, still alive and well. She was very glad of this and rode the brown mare back to camp.

No one saw much of Aragorn that night. He was with the hobbits, doing his best to heal them of their hurts and revive them. Miril spent her time being looked over for injuries and then she took a walk in the wonderful area that was the Fields of Cormallen in Ithilien. Beneath the stars she felt peace.

"Aurë entuluva, melda," Elrohir snuck up behind her and whispered in her ear. Day shall come again, beloved.

She smiled and spun around to face him. His cascading dark hair was recently brushed and she mocked him for it.

"First thing you do when we get out of a battle is pleat your hair?" she mocked good naturedly.

Elrohir chuckled. "Nay. But I was bored. Unlike you, I sustained no wounds."

They both looked at her right arm that had been stitched up bandaged. The white cloth that bound her arm was stained with red from where the wound was seeping.

Miril smiled up at the taller half-elf and leaned against his chest as they looked up at the stars. She looked at Eärendil's Star wistfully.

"Do you ever wish you had met the heroes of old, Elrohir?" she sighed.

Elrohir smiled softly as he rested his chin on her head. Did he?

"Often I do," he revealed. "I long to meet the Eldar and Edain of ages past."

She listened to the babbling of a stream thag flowed nearby and almost fancied she heard a voice within its music. Almost, but not quite. If it was saying something, she was unable to decode it. Miril breathed in deeply and closed her eyes and she rested against her beloved's chest and basked in the clean, rich air of Ithilien that she had longed for while at the Black Gate. Before long, the lull of the water and the gentle breeze nearly put her to sleep so she sighed and they returned to camp.

"What do you think Valinor is like, mellon-nin?" Miril asked him quietly as the tiptoed to the large tent where the commanders were to sleep.

Elrohir shrugged. "Beautiful of course. I like to think it will be more beautiful even than Lothlorien."

Miril nodded. That's what she had always equated it to. Lothlorien was probably the closest anyone in Middle Earth could come to experiencing the Undying Lands of the Uttermost West. Then something else occurred to her.

"What do you think will now happen to Lorien and Rivendell with the destruction of the Ring?" she whispered quietly to Elrohir.

"Most likely, they will fade. Fade as the elves leave Middle Earth in droves now," Elrohir sighed in response. "For there is no more reason for elves to remain here."

"Do you plan on leaving," Miril asked sadly, "Do you plan on choosing an elven life?"

Elrohir paused but shook his head. "I will not leave unless you choose to leave."

Miril sighed. "I am under the ban of the Valar. Even if I do choose immortality, I would be forced to live out my life in Middle Earth."

Elrohir nodded. "Then I stay."

Miril felt warmth fill her chest as she smiled at her beloved. Elrohir was so selfless. Elrond had certainly raised him well. She kissed him on the cheek before lying down for sleep. It wasn't long before she was asleep. Elrohir, for his part, decided to seek out Aragorn. He found the soon to be king with Gandalf and Elladan.

"There you are, brother," Elladan nodded. "What troubles you?"

"Nothing, truly." He shook his head. "I was just contemplating the fate of elven kind now that the Ring had been destroyed."

They all nodded, Aragorn speaking up, "The World has and will lose much in the coming years. The Fourth Age has begun, an age of Men. I do not doubt the elves will sail West now."

"How are the hobbits," Elrohir asked after a moment of melancholy silence.

"I have done my best. They seem to be doing well, and I do not doubt they will wake soon." Aragorn smiled. "They are a hearty folk, as you know."

"Indeed," the Half-elven twin agreed. "Indeed."

"Well I am going to check on our hobbits once more before bed," Gandalf said after a moment. "Sleep well."

They all told him likewise, and soon it was just the Sons of Elrond and Aragorn. Elrohir was lost in thought and the others noticed it.

"What troubles you, brother," Elladan pressed.

Elrohir smiled a rueful smile before falling back into silence. Finally he spoke.

"I plan to ask our father if I may take Miril's hand in marriage," he murmured in thought. "I am striving to figure out what his response will be."

"He trusts her," Aragorn said. "I trust her. And the two of you trust her. What more proof does he need to allow her hand in marriage?"

"The Doom that lies upon her will complicate matters," Elrohir sighed. "It is not an easy thing to get around."

The other two agreed. Elladan, who had thus far been silent, spoke up.

"Galadriel will help us convince him, I am sure," he smiled. "Our grandmother very much likes Mir."

They returned to silence, each debating their own thoughts in their heads. Aragorn was thinking of his own betrothed, Arwen Undomiel. He was thinking about his impending coronation as well.

"Get rest, little brother," Elrohir smiled at Aragorn. "You are weary from striving with the darkness. Rest now."

Aragorn nodded and bid them goodnight. Elladan and Elrohir were left alone now. They stood side by side, watching the waterfall feeding the stream. The night was peaceful. Much more peaceful than any night that had come before in recent days.

The company of the Captains of the West stayed long in Ithilien. A month at least they were there, and Frodo and Sam awakened and were greatly honored. 'Praise them with Great Praise!' was the cry on the lips of every soldier in that company.

Miril spent the majority of the time with the Twins, Gandalf, and Aragorn. But soon she felt restless. It was time they be getting back to Minas Tirith.

So it was in the last days of April of the Fourth Age of Middle Earth, the great host arrived back at Minas Tirith to the joy and wonder of the people there. They were met by Faramir, Steward of Gondor, and Eowyn of Rohan. They entered the city to fanfare and rejoicing. The King was returning.