48 – EPILOGUE

Days turned into weeks. Running the biggest and most culturally complex kingdom that had ever existed was hard, but both Tíniel and Aragorn had expected a challenge.

She negotiated a treaty with the Southern kings that cemented them as part of the New Kingdom, but under their own individual jurisdiction. Tíniel oversaw the Southlands, Aragorn managed Arnor, and they both shouldered the governance of Gondor.

The day before Éowyn was to return to Rohan with her brother, Faramir asked her to marry him. And the day before she was to leave for Dol Amroth, Lothíriel demanded that Éomer marry her. Both Éomer and Éowyn said yes.

The hobbits went North with Gandalf, after heartfelt goodbyes and promises to return and visit.

"They never will," Aragorn said as they waved from the walls. "The Shire is a long, long way away, and they have been away from their home for too long. Once they return, they'll never want to leave it again."

"Sam and Frodo, perhaps," Tíniel said. "But I have a feeling that we will see Merry and Pippin again one day."

"Nevertheless, I will miss them."

"So will I."

Legolas and Gimli left too, the strangest duo to ever travel Middle-earth.

"I thought you were going to leave," Tíniel had said to Legolas when he came to say goodbye. "Leave for good, I mean."

"Since the end of the war, I have come to see things in a slightly different light," he replied. "It is painful to linger, yes. But we have time now, time enough to appreciate this Eastern world for its own wild beauty. I would live an eternity in regret if I were to leave all its many corners unexplored."

"Well, so long as your path leads you back through Gondor once or twice, I will be happy," she said.

"Then, Your Highness," he said with one of his rare smiles, "I must oblige."

Tcharum left soon after the coronation, taking most of the bamyë with him save a few who had decided to stay behind in the North. It was easier than Tíniel had expected for her to say goodbye; after all, she'd done it once before.

"You need only send for me, and I will be here," he said earnestly when they were at the gates of the city. "You might be Khondyë of the whole bloody world now, but you are still my sister, and I will still protect you if you need it."

"I am not yours to protect any longer," she smiled. "So stop worrying before you turn wrinkled and toothless. You'll be a brilliant Khondyë, brother. It's what you were always meant to do."

He hugged her tightly. "I love you. Gods be with you."

"And with you," she whispered. "Khuma."

Harûk, Mahaya and Odimba, the remaining crew of the Haedannen, went East with the tribe, since Remuil had disappeared and the ship was no more. Tíniel decided not to tell them the truth about their old captain's real identity.

The Dwarves of the Northern mountains and the Elves that had come gradually began to disappear, and life in the city began to find a new kind of normal as the new age began.

It was on a quiet, warm summer's afternoon that Tíniel sat by an open window in the King's quarters, her back leaning into Aragorn's chest. He was reading something, and she flipped the book shut to read the title inscribed on its cover.

"The Tragedy of Fëanor and his Sons," she read. "Faramir's favourite book."

"Do you know what happened to Maglor?" he asked, his chest vibrating as he spoke. "I never saw him again after that night."

"I didn't see him either, until Elrond left," she said. "He nodded at me from a distance."

"How emotional."

She smiled. "He never was one for goodbyes, in my experience."

Aragorn reopened the book. "I still struggle to believe that we met the last son of Fëanor, the maker of the silmarils and the palantíri and the –"

"Fëanor made the palantíri?" Tíniel asked, sitting up straighter.

"He did."

She shook her head, remembering back to the time when the Haedannen had been burned because it had possessed a single palantír – an ancient stone that had been crafted by the captain's own father.

"That reminds me," she said, getting to her feet, grabbing her stick and walking slowly across the room. "I never returned something of yours." She opened a cupboard and pulled out the heavy object, wrapped still in a red vadi.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked.

"It is your palantír," she said. "You told me to keep it in the faith that you would come back to me. And you did."

She sat down again, this time facing him, and carefully lowered the palantír between them. Aragorn put the book to the side, and they both stared at the red cloth for a while.

"It was through this stone that I challenged Sauron himself," Aragorn said quietly.

"But he's long gone now," she said. They continued to stare at it, until Aragorn sighed.

"You want to look, don't you?"

"Not as much as you do."

He grinned. "Fine. I do want to look, but only because I don't think it could do any harm."

He reached to pull the cloth back, but Tíniel grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," she said. "I want to see whatever it has to show, yes, but I know these things are dangerous. I saw what it did to Denethor."

"We won't be like him," Aragorn said earnestly. "It was Sauron who did that. Sauron twisted his mind, not the stone."

"That may be," she said. "But even so. We only look once."

"Alright," he agreed. "We look once, and never again. I swear."

He pulled the vadi away so that the inky depths of the stone were visible. Then they both reached down and laid their palms on the surface.

At once, flashing images bubbled up out of the depths of the palantír. Tíniel caught her breath.

She could see herself, sitting on the throne that was to the right of the King's. Many people stood before her – people with many coloured clothing and skins of all shades. As one, they bowed before her.

"There is peace," Aragorn whispered, staring down. "Peace and unity. Tíniel, we are succeeding! We're bringing the world together!"

There was such joy and fervour in his voice that she looked up at him and smiled fondly.

"So, we will succeed," she said. "The prophecy will bring peace."

"The future is bright," he said contentedly. "And I am glad we looked." He began to draw back his hands, but Tíniel grabbed them and put them back on the stone.

"Wait!"

A new scene had emerged. It was the ocean, at a small port so far as she could tell. But the boats were of a make she'd never seen before.

"The Grey Havens," Aragorn murmured.

As they watched, Galadriel boarded a boat. The scene flickered; this time, Elrond and Gandalf were sailing away.

"Look!" Aragorn said. "Frodo is there!"

"And Maglor," she added. "So, he will be allowed to return home in the end. I am glad."

The scene flickered again, and an elderly hobbit was climbing the ramp onto the boat.

"It's Sam," Aragorn realised. "The last of the Ringbearers."

"And look who's on the boat with him!" she said with a delighted laugh. Waiting for Sam on the deck were a greying Gimli and an unchanged Legolas.

Then the scene flickered and changed one more time. It was Gondor, the King's quarters where they were at that moment. But it was a bright winter morning outside. Aragorn was dressed in a simple tunic, and Tíniel in a dress of green.

And each of them held a tiny, brown-eyed baby.

"Twins," Tíniel whispered, tears springing to her eyes unbidden. "I might have guessed."

Aragorn sat there in silence, his jaw ajar and his eyes fixed on the image. She laughed.

"We look so happy! Aragorn, we are going to be so happy!"

"I'm alreadyhappy," he said with emotion, and she leaned forward and kissed him deeply. The palantír dropped to the floor with a heavy thump and rolled a few feet away, forgotten.

"You know," she said, pulling back. "I was... well, I was wondering how to tell you this, but I suppose now is as good a time as will come."

"Tell me what?"

"That I'm with child."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm pregnant."

"You mean…"

"Yes," she said, starting to grin. "You will be a father. The vision will come to pass sooner than you think."

He began to laugh, and he embraced her. She hugged him back tightly.

"By the stars, Aragorn, I love you."

"And I love you."

The setting sun bathed the white city in red, and Tchakhura Rómentári lay safe in the arms of the King.

The End

You've been wonderful, and I've been very lucky.

Yours ever!

Sigebeorn