The Last Nineteen (COMING 2016)

One - Return From the Undying Lands

A/N: I owe you guys some sort of sneak peak. I haven't started this properly yet, but this is literally just a tiny chapter. I have no idea when I'm going to write the rest. So PLEASE if you like what you are reading, PLEASE comment. The truth is, if barely anyone likes this or even tells me they like it and is prepared to read it, I'll have to take it down. :/ I've got a lot of stories, so please please please tell me if you like it or not, because then I'll never know! I seriously don't know if I'm going to continue with this. :)

"Ada!" she called as she ran past the White Tree, panting, gasping for air, lungs bursting. She was exhausted. After all, she had just run up three of Minas Tirith's levels, so why wouldn't she be? "Ada!" she called again as she ran up the pearl white steps.

"Tarwa," Arwen said, shocked to see her daughter running towards her as she came out of the large grey doors--ancient doors, decorated with white flowers, engraved in a swift Elven hand that swirled around the arch:

Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!

This is what King Elessar had said to the peoples of Gondor after the War of the Ring. In a more common tongue, it translates:

Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place I will abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.

It was Elendil's Oath.

"Nana, where is Ada?" Tarwa stopped in front of Arwen as a gentle breeze teased the end of her mother's light purple gown and tickled her hair, pinned back from her face. Tarwa inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath.

"Ada is busy, Iellig, my daughter," Arwen's eyebrow furrowed with concern. Stroking Tarwa's long brown hair, wavy and soft, just like her own, she sighed. "What is it? Trenar nin, tell me."

Tarwa's eyes narrowed, and a pensive silence fell upon them. There was too much going on. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too few answers. She just managed to get out, between stuttering breaths: "The ... Elves ... they are here!"

* * *

Tarwa slowly opened one of the big smooth doors. It gave a slight creak, and the wind blew from behind her causing her hair to dance wildly in her face. Stepping slowly inside, she closed the door behind her cutting out the sunlight from view.

Taking a deep breath, Tarwa tip-toed cautiously down the long hall towards the King of Gondor who, perched on his throne, continued with his tense discussion with the Steward of the City - unaware of her presence. Unable to help herself, Tarwa found her eyes running over the many statues of the Kings of Old; polished marble, each one of their faces were carved with great detail. Almost alive. She quavered as a shiver ran down her spine. Perhaps it was the cold day, but she had always felt unnerved by them. Of course, she saw the statues nearly every day, though she tried to stay out of the room as much as possible. It gave her an unpleasant feeling. She once told Nana that she felt as though she was being watched. Arwen had said not to worry, and nothing else.

Unfortunately, on this occasion, not much could be done. She had to brave it. She had to tell Ada the news.

She came passed the statue of Elendil, father of Isildur; his face was lined, the weight of many men seemed to be laid on his shoulders. Despite the fact that he looked tired and war-weary, the strange thing that stood out for Tarwa was his eyes. Small, but wise. They stared at her. Always watching. What did he think of her? She shook her head. He was just a statue. Lost in her own world, she stared at him at him for a while.

Tarwa wondered if he had ever gotten scared of something as little as statues. She sighed. But of course not! He was Elendil. He was a king. The King. King of Gondor.

Looking down at her feet, her red dress just reaching her brown shoes, she exhaled deeply. She could never pass as a queen. Even her brother thought her to be 'weak'. She--

"Tarwa?"

"Hm?" She looked up and into her father's loving eyes watching her from across the hall.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Oh!" She had completely forgotten why she was there. Rushing towards him, she bowed her head. "Ada..." He stood up from his throne and wrapped his arms around her. She squeezed him back. "Ada, I need to tell you!" she exclaimed, pulling away from her father, eyes dazzling with excitement.

"Anything," he smiled. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear. His grin widened as he was reminded how grown-up she was looking.

"Ada, they're here! The Elves, they're here!" she beamed. "They're on their way. Haldir says that they arrived a little while ago."

Aragorn said nothing. Shaking his head slowly, he said, "You remind me so much of your mother."

"Ada, listen!" she laughed. "They're actually here!"

"Faramir!" he grinned from ear to ear as he turned around to face the Steward. "Where is Lady Éowyn?"

"I will go fetch her, my Lord," he stood up from his chair. He smiled in response to Tarwa's little wave.

"Elves, you say..." Aragorn took his daughters hands and examined them. "And a wizard?"

"Yes, Ada," Tarwa smiled.

Aragorn nodded. "Then let us prepare a feast to welcome them!"

Tarwa's auburn-brown eyes lit up, and suddenly, that dull room that used to scare her seemed to glow with a warm light.