Epilogue

FIVE YEARS LATER

Lizule smiled as the young mares and stallions frolicked in the sea of grass. One of the stallions, much more superior than the rest, rose on his hind legs and whinnied. Light cast down upon his brow, showing off the white star that rested on his finely sculpted head. The horse shook his mane of snow and let his forelock fall in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. Ainalad, which meant literally "holy valley" was rumored to be the most beautiful horse in all of Middle-earth, far surpassing Shadowfax. And it was no wonder, for his dam was Galada, and his sire, Arodas.

Ainalad snorted and rested his forefeet on the soft earth. The stallions eyed him warily, but the mares took an instant liking to the golden stallion. Although he was only four, he was much larger than his companions, partly because of the build up of muscle that enveloped his body. His coat was a rare golden color that was only found in the deep places of the world. But what was most spectacular about him was the sign he bore on his left hindquarters. No bigger than a plum, yet large enough for all to see, was the mark of the Valar, in the form of a silmaril.

When the stallion had been born, Galada had died immediately after his birth. Without a mother to raise him, and no other mares fit for the job, Thranduil was faced with the difficult decision of murdering the innocent colt. One of the things that stopped him was mark upon Ainalad's side. The Mirkwood King sent the foal to Lord Elrond, knowing that the Master of Rivendell needed another horse. Elrond quickly took to the stallion and raised him with his bare hands. Ainalad became the greatest and strongest horse in Middle-earth. He was as swift as the wind and as gentle as a lamb. With the Valar's supreme blessing, the palomino stallion could do no wrong.

Lizule whistled shrilly and the horses stopped their playing. They galloped up to her, with Ainalad in the lead. His long, white mane streamed out behind him, like a swan gliding over a lake. She placed a hand on his velvet muzzle and blew softly into his nostrils. He returned her greeting by breathing lightly on her. The Elf Maiden picked up the silver halter that was lying in the grass and put it on Ainalad. She then led him back to the stables, the rest of the horses following in her stead.

Rivendell's stables were expansive, for just three years before, Elrond had ordered for the construction of twenty new stalls, in addition to the already existing thirty. There were two wings: one for the visiting horses, and one for the stationary horses. All the creatures Lizule was leading belonged in the stationary wing, which consisted of thirty-five stalls. As she opened the mapple door, Gloried thrust his head out of his huge stall and hit her squarely in the back. She spun around to reprimand him, but the expression on his face melted her heart. She brushed his forelock out of his eyes and kissed him on the nose.

"Sorry I haven't paid a bit more attention to you, love, I've been busy. I promise when Elrond and Elladan come back from Mirkwood I will take you out for a ride."

The silver stallion snorted his disapproval, but butted her gently and then disappeared inside his stall. Lizule chided Ainalad and the other horses into the stable and then shut the door. They started down the long passageway, towards the end. The stalls toward the front of the stable were full, so she didn't stop until they were at least halfway down. She opened a stall on her left and led Ainalad in. It wasn't as big as Gloried's; the horses who had lived longer and proved their value received the nicest stalls. But still, his stall was not at all shabby for a high-strung four- year-old. She patted his flank as he passed, undid his halter, and continued with putting the horses away until the sun had gone down and the moon started to rise, casting silver shadows across the earth. She automatically walked towards Orion's stall to say goodnight, but with a jolt, she remembered he wasn't there. Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth, had been borrowed by Elrond, so he wasn't there either. The stable seemed empty without those two proud stallions in their stalls. She paused at Gloried's stall and bid him sweet dreams and then put up her hood. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. Lizule threw open the stable door, stepped outside, slammed it shut, and bolted up the hill at a run. She didn't stop until she was under the warm, familiar lights of The Last Homely House. She still had an intense fear of the dark.

When she was comfortable in her chambers and had on her night-robe, she opened the balcony windows. A calm, refreshing breeze drifted in, riding her of present worries. She flipped her black hair over her shoulder and leaned against the window frame while she observed the night. It was quiet and serene, but every so often an owl would hoot or a horse would neigh. But those sounds were part of the world, just like every blade of grass was part of the earth. It did not bother her.

She left the windows and sat down in a chair across the room. She tilted her head back and imagined where Elladan was at that precise moment. He was probably in the vast forests Mirkwood, riding hard in the night, with his father at his side. She was sure they had left the realm, but when they would be returning to Rivendell was hard to approximate. She could only hope it would be soon.

She wasn't sure though. The sudden, shocking death of King Thranduil had unearthed everyone. Elrond and Elladan had left the exact day they had received the news. Lizule could recall how she had begged Elladan to stay and send someone else in his stead. He had refused and ridden off without a backward glance. That had been nearly a month ago.

So she was in charge of what happened around Rivendell, but right under her, giving orders as always, was Glorfindel. Normally it would have been Elrohir, but he had left for the Undying Lands with Isitur and a small group of wearied Elves about a year before. It would only be a matter of time before the rest of the Rivendell Elves would depart too. Lizule hoped to be a member of that exodus.

She could feel her throat close up, but she swallowed hard. It was hard to understand Thranduil's passing. The messenger said he had wanted to leave Mirkwood, but his exhausted heart would have given out before he would have reached the Grey Havens. The Mirkwood King never did trust the security of the palace gates, and he had hid behind locked doors in fear. Obviously, Thranduil had given way to despair at the loss of his son and daughter-in- law, and being trapped in Mirkwood hadn't helped. He had succumbed to death. The last of Legolas was gone... forever.

Lizule blinked her eyes furiously and forced herself to think about something else. But her mind wandered to Retkia, and her vision blurred. Retkia had gone mad at the loss and betrayal of Gabriel. She was declared insane by the King and put under close scrutiny in the palace. Unfortunately, one night she escaped from Mirkwood and was never seen again. A search party went out for her, but all they recovered was her torn and tattered cloak. Some said she had been attacked, others warned that she was living in the forest and feeding off the still-existing black squirrels. The thought of either of those fates' stabbed Lizule right in the heart. She could not imagine her friend in such a dire plight. She shivered and drew her robe around her frigid body, although the room was not cold. She laid her head down on the armrest of the chair and was soon fast asleep.

When she came to, an angelic form of life was standing over her. She studied it through half-closed eyelids in a secret attempt to figure out what it was. To her dismay, it was none other than Glorfindel, tapping his foot impatiently with his eyes set in an angry glare. She tried to rid herself of disappointment. She had hoped it was Elladan.

Lizule shook her head, sat up, and stared straight back at him with pure venom.

"Yes?"

"You have overslept and the elder horses need turning out. Unless you propose to ride each and every one of them, of course. Don't let me stop you."

Lizule narrowed her eyes at the sword that was tied to belt. "Where are you off to?" The only time an Elf bore a weapon anymore was when he or she was traveling a great distance.

"What business is it of yours?" His tone was dangerous.

"I have every right to know. I am the one in charge here, not you. I could order you to stay. Now tell me."

Glorfindel smirked. "I am going to Mirkwood. Elladan has requested to come home, for he worries about you. We are exchanging places, but I am sure he is already halfway here by now."

"What do you need me for?" She was delighted to know Elladan would be home soon.

The Elf Lord glanced around nervously. "I have tried countless times to conjure up a horse from Rohan or Gondor, but as you well know, they are not considered property, but a living being. Therefore, I cannot take one. I am here to ask you if I can borrow Gloried."

For some unknown reason, Lizule felt her heart rise. The last time she had lent Gloried to him, it was so he could bring back the dead. She winced at the memory, but as she did, she got an idea.

"Only if you agree to something."

"What is it?" He looked skeptical.

"We have fought so much through our words and tones, and to tell you the truth, I am sick of it. So I say we call a truce. We are both even. I am positive it will delight Lord Elrond to know we are no longer "at war." What say you?"

Glorfindel's brow furrowed as he pondered her offer. Finally he sighed and nodded reluctantly. "I will abide by your terms. But I must go now."

He rushed out of the room, his white cloak following obediently. Lizule smiled faintly and felt like a whole load of rocks had been taken off her shoulders. She would no longer have to fend off his snide comments, and he would no longer have to ask so politely to use Gloried. But then reason struck her. Why didn't he use one of the other horses?

Elrond had plenty of sure-footed stallions and mares that would bear Glorfindel well. Why did he insist on using Gloried when he could spare himself the humiliation of asking and just take a stable horse? She could not fathom it. She decided it was because he felt closer to that stallion and wanted a horse he could rely on. Pleased with her assumption, she dressed, combed her hair, and asked one of the maids to bring her up a breakfast of cheese and bread. Lizule devoured the food greedily, stuck an extra slice of bread in her pocket, and then went downstairs to the main hall. A few servants were passing by, and bowed to her as she entered, but there wasn't anyone else she knew or recognized. She glanced over towards the library and saw Glorfindel racing about, stuffing a brown leather bag with ancient scrolls. He hasitly grabbed a couple books off a shelf and put them under his arm. Lizule blinked, and then he was gone. He had exited through the opposite door, which was closer to the stables.

Deciding that she should probably let the elder horses out in the paddocks, as Glorfindel had instructed, she followed him. The sun's rays were weak, but the air was warm, and the buildup of tension in her body drained. Cold, dreary weather scared her, only because it brought back horrible memories, memories she did not want to remember. Still, she drew her gray cloak around her and opened the stable door. Gloried's stall door was open, but he was still in it, dozing quietly. She went into his stall and stroked him gently.

"I'll miss you, my love, but Glorfindel is a good rider and he will take care of you. Just make sure he doesn't push you harder than you can go."

The horse nickered affectionately and nuzzled her side pocket. She chuckled and relinquished the bread she had saved for him. He swallowed it in one gulp.

"Ah-hem." Glorfindel said, to announce his presence. Lizule gave Gloried one more pat on the neck and stepped away. The Elf Lord came in and bridled the horse, and then swung lightly up onto his back.

"Where are your provisions?" She inquired. She knew it was at least a one- week journey to Mirkwood and he could not go without eating for that long. Especially when he had to cross the mountains.

Glorfindel revealed a small leather pouch that was attached to his waist. Inside was a huge supply of lembas bread. On his back was his leather bag, full of Elvish lore and maps. He nodded at the Elf Maiden, nudged Gloried in the ribs, and they were gone. Through the stall and out the door, down the hard worn path, past the boundaries of Rivendell and into the world beyond.

Lizule sighed and went to turn out the elder horses. Since Orion, Asfaloth, and Gloried were gone, she only had to concern herself with five other horses. One was the old jet-black stallion Morgul. He had been Gabriel's mount long ago, but now he was a feeble horse at the end of his line. It was only a matter of time until he passed on. She took him gently by the head and let him loose outside. He ambled off to a juicy patch of grass, laid down, and ate. He conserved whatever energy he could.

The next one was a mare. She was a favorite of Lizule's, partly because of her beauty, but also because she had borne Legolas's coffin back to Mirkwood. She had pulled it all the way to the place he had been buried, which was next to Laurelin and Totholain in the valley. When Legolas had received an Elf Lord's funeral rites, the mare took part in the ceremony, even at the beginner's age of five. She had stood by Elrond when he had placed Totholain's sword back in its resting-place. The entire time at Mirkwood she had held her honor in the highest dignity. Now ten, she was still beautiful and proud, but she was wise beyond her years. She was counted among the elder horses because of this very fact.

"Nimelen, my chosen one, how are you?" The gorgeous mare put her head over her stall door and neighed. She butted Lizule playfully with her head and then went back to the food she was eating. Nimelen's color was most unusual. Her entire body was blacker than darkness, but for a white star on her forehead and one white sock on her left hind foot. Her mane and tail were pure, silver white, the color of mithril. Her mane was longer than Apollo's had ever been. Her eyes were an ocean blue, her hooves strong and hard. Elrond had often said she was not all horse. There was some other magical creature in her.

Lizule let the mare eat her grain and went to the remaining horses. Nimelen was a slow eater anyway. Once the other horses were turned out with Morgul, she went back to Nimelen and got her out of her stall. When she led the frisky horse into the delicate sunshine, she bucked and galloped off over the grass, dancing and plunging. Lizule watched her for some time and then headed back up to the Last Homely House, the sun following in her wake.

TEN YEARS LATER

"Hurry, Lizule! My father will leave us behind if we tarry any longer," Elladan said anxiously as he vaulted on to Loskal. Orion had died two years ago, and his new mount was still learning the ropes. Loskal pawed at the ground with one forefoot. He was nervous with all excitement about.

"We have plenty of time. Lord Elrond would not leave without us, I assure you." She said. Lizule led Gloried out of his stall and put an emerald blanket over his back so she would be more comfortable. She then mounted up on to the stallion. Gloried whinnied, his brown eyes dancing.

Elladan eyed the horse skeptically. "What's with him?"

Lizule shrugged and ran her hand along the stallion's well-muscled neck. "He is excited, that's all. I believe he wants to go to the Grey Havens as much as I do. He is probably sensing my unrest."

"You know, I have always wondered how that horse has lived so long. I can remember him as far back as my memory goes, bearing Totholain into battle. I am sure Totholain had him before I was born. That makes Gloried rather old, doesn't it? Old for an Elf horse, anyway. He should be dead by now."

"Yes, but he isn't. Perhaps it is just something in him that keeps him alive and as frisky as Ainalad."

"Perhaps. But enough talk. We must go to the courtyard and report our arrival. My father plans to leave soon."

Lizule laughed. "Yes, I know."

They headed up the hill and along the well-worn road to the courtyard. Even though they were still far away, Lizule could see a huge congregation of people. The last remaining Elves were leaving Middle-earth today. It was a big event. Sindarin and Noldor both had been accepted and were departing together. Mirkwood stood empty, its vast halls silent. Although Lizule had never gone back after Legolas's burial, she had always wished to see her two closest friends one last time. But it was too late for that now.

Finarain, the Mirkwood Healer, rode up to the couple. "My Lady, I hardly recognized you. I mean, you look so great! How have you been?"

Lizule quickly filled the healer in on the latest details. She stopped when Elrond rode into the middle of the group upon Ainalad. The young stallion was now fully grown and the prettiest thing Lizule had ever laid her eyes on. Elrond sat smiling, his eyes dancing with joy. The Elf Maiden didn't realize she was crying until she felt the wetness upon her cheeks. She had never seen the Master of Rivendell truly smile.

"My people, today we depart for our last and final journey. Some can hardly wait. I know my son, Elladan, is among that group, aching for knowledge and for unknown lands. But others wish not to leave. In consideration of their feelings, if anyone wishes to stay behind, come forward and speak."

It was silent for a while. Not even the horses dared to move. The wind whistled through the trees, bring down copper-colored leaves. Then a young, melodious voice spoke as a comely Elfling made her way next to Elrond's side.

"I wish to remain here, my Lord."

Lizule gasped. It couldn't be. Alqua could not stay! She was only twenty, still naïve and unlearned. Glorfindel loved her. He would not permit her to linger in Rivendell alone. She had been subject to harsh ridicule just ten years before, accused of being Gabriel's accomplice in the horrid act of killing Legolas. Only until recently was she able to prove herself innocent, and then she was released from the dark dungeons of Mirkwood. Glorfindel had stood by her side and had remained a truthful friend, if not lover. Lizule glanced over at him and saw his face was in complete shock.

"I will not leave my beloved homeland, Lord Elrond." She fell to her knees in front of the mighty Elf Lord. Elrond nodded gravely while Ainalad watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her white hair shaded her face from view.

"So be it, my child. But you can not remain here alone. Is there anyone or anything you wish to stay with you?"

"My Lord, if I could have Nimelen, my heart would be merry. I know she is a kingly gift, so I would understand if you refuse to abide by my requests." She remained bent over, and never once looked up at Elrond as she told him her wishes. "And-and if my Lord Glorfindel would remain here, with me, I would be most grateful. He has loved me ever since I was born, and I have loved him in return. He means more to me than anything else."

Lizule glanced over at Glorfindel again. His face was set in an almost angry stare, which only intensified his beauty. So he had loved Alqua all these years, even when he was proposing on marrying Lizule. The Elf Maiden decided that she would never be able to figure Glorfindel out.

"Of course you can have Nimelen, my dear. But Glorfindel staying here is a different matter. You will have to ask him, not me," Elrond replied.

Alqua raised her head at turned to look at Glorfindel. A heart-wrenching expression crossed her when she faced him. He just stared at her, out of shock or out of anger Lizule would never know.

"Please, my Lord, I love Rivendell, but I love you more. I will go wherever you go, but my heart would sing if I could remain here- with you." A pleading look was in her eyes as she said the words, and her already pale face turned to the color of snow.

Glorfindel seemed in no hurry to make up his mind. Asfaloth pawed beneath him, anxious for his master to come to a decision. The crowd of Elves watched him with anticipation.

Finally he smiled, which broke up his irate glare. "Of course I will stay here."

Alqua grinned and raced over towards him, tears streaming down her face. He encompassed her in a hug as all the Noldor and Sindarin Elves clapped. It was an extremely happy moment. Happy moments had been lost in Rivendell, and experiencing one made Lizule feel much younger than she had ever felt after Legolas's death.

Elrond rode to the head of the crowd. "To Rivendell! And to the race of Men!" He cried. The Elves took up his call and their shouts filtered through the crowd.

"I guess I am going to miss everything about Middle-earth," she told Elladan as the joined the lineup. 'It is such a magnificent place."

Elladan leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. "Me too. But I can't wait to inquire Manwe about the Battle of Dagorland and the War of the Silmarils. I am positive he will be able to tell me everything."

"You thirst for knowledge. Knowledge is not everything, my love."

"Aye, but wisdom is."

Lizule patted her stomach as Gloried took a step forward, following the horse in front of him. Soon they were out of the Rivendell courtyard, beyond the gates, and in the woods, walking along the never-ending trail towards the Grey Havens. It was then that Lizule was reminded of something.

"Oh, Elladan, I have been meaning to tell you this, but amidst all the excitement and confusion I guess I just forgot." She blushed as he gazed at her searchingly. In order to put off his curiosity, she said,

"Approximately how long have we been married?"

Elladan blinked but answered indifferently, "Ten years."

"Ah. A wonderful number. And after ten years of bliss, guess what happened?"

The Rivendell Prince shrugged his shoulders, displaying his genuine confusion. Lizule smiled at his ignorance and took a deep breath.

"I'm with child."

For the Noldor and the Sindar Elves, it all worked out in the end. There had been a lot of suffering, death, and tears, but the immortals of the Fourth Age were leaving Middle-earth in the hands of men. The war against the Balrog had accomplished at least that much, if it can be called an "accomplishment."

Several days later, when Middle-earth bid farewell to the Firstborn Children of Illuvatar, a single, white rose sprouted up from the soil above Legolas's vault. Years passed, and the rose grew and grew until it covered the graves of two Elves and one Maiar. Even though the spirits of Legolas, Laurelin, and Totholain were in the Halls of Mandos, their undying love for each other bloomed for a long time in the white rose, until centuries later a young man discovered it and gave it to his lover.

THE END

IN MEMORY OF: Richard Harris, October 1st 1930 – October 25th 2002