Frodo tightened the belt around his waist before picking up the newly tailored jacket. It was made by Men, but Dwarven in style with a silver wolf's pelt standing out against the red fabric. It also bore a hood made of the same pelt, not that it'd be necessary in this weather.

He glanced in the mirror. His hair was slowly growing back and his feet, though bare, were starting to regain a bit of hair. It wasn't perfect, but by the time he returned, he'd have a decent amount of hair again and that made him smile.

He picked up his earrings, stringing them through the holes in his ears. He figured he should consider getting a new piercing. A nose piercing. No necklace adorned his neck. He didn't think he'd be able to wear one ever again if at all. Not after the scars left by the chain that held the Ring. He smiled. Bilbo would love that. Frodo put the coat on before picking up an anklet to lock around his ankle.

"Are you ready yet?" Legolas asked, leaning against the wall.

"As ready as I think I'll ever be," Frodo said, grinning at him. He picked up the cane and followed Legolas to the tower. They parted when they came across the Elves. Legolas kissed him, promising to see him later. Frodo agreed and went to stand with Gandalf and Gimli. In Gimli's hand was the newly fashioned crown of Gondor.

It began with Boromir and Faramir leading the army surrounding Aragorn, donned in the King's armor. They parted, calling for attention as Aragorn approached. He knelt before Gandalf and swore to temper justice with mercy, to act with wisdom as his rod, and to rule the people humbly. Gandalf picked up the crown and set it on Aragorn's head.

"Now come the days of the Kings!" Gandalf announced.

Frodo blinked. Kings?! Another crown was produced, held in Gandalf's hands. "But, I—"

"You did what you were destined to do," Gandalf said, "And have succeeded. Your name will be recorded in history. All will know your name and sing songs in your honor, Frodo Ringbearer, the Reborn King of Gondor. Whether you rule or not is your decision, but you have earned your crown and so here it is." It was smaller, meant for a smaller head, made of mithril leaves and golden lemon gem flowers. "Will you accept it?"

Frodo stared at the crown and swallowed. He glanced at Aragorn, who nodded. Frodo looked at Gadnalf again. "Only one will rule Gondor," he said. "And I wish it to be Aragorn Elessar. This is known and accepted?"

"It is known. It is understood."

"Then I will accept this crown," he said, kneeling. His heart beat erratically in his chest as Gandalf placed the crown on his head. A crown he wasn't sure he deserved.

Aragorn and Frodo left the stairs side by side. Legolas and Aragorn greeted each other. He grinned at Frodo and knelt, speaking in clear Sindarin:

"Hervenn nín, a hîr vuin," he said. "Gurendhir ná o hi ni methen. Aphadenni togeg ni orod egor amon mennai etulguruthos egor rása nahámë met bar. Man peddhir?"

Frodo grinned and took his hand. "Digwaendhir, melda nín, suidhir obad." He pressed his lips to Legolas', ignoring the silence around them.

Men.

Elves too, though Elves were more sensible, at least. Frodo doubted it was the vows spoken or the kiss that sent Legolas' people into taciturnity. Elves almost never married outside their race—well it was odd all over the place, if Frodo was to be fair, even if there were a couple tales where they did marry a mortal. He was sure no Elf had married a mortal as small as he before, though.

They broke apart in time to see Elrond present a beautiful brunette to Aragorn. "That would be Lady Arwen," Legolas whispered to Frodo as Aragorn pulled her into a kiss which was slightly more welcomed than the one shared between them.

"His sister?" Frodo asked.

Legolas grinned. "Tell me we'll still give them grief for that?"

"Always," Frodo promised.

~Six Months Later~

Aragorn's worries about Frodo's health regressing during his return journey were more legitimate than Frodo had hoped they'd be. At least he didn't need his cane anymore. Still, he had to be rushed to the healers because of an attack nearly as soon as he stepped into the mountain.

Now he was bedridden—Oin's orders—in his room. He missed this bed and the fires and the stone. It was good to be home. Frodo spent a bit of time ignoring Oin's demand that he stay in bed to familiarize himself with the room again. His foot hair was a decent length again, if still a bit short, and his hair was nearly to his nape, hiding some of the scars he had before.

He even managed a few old braids. One of status, one of marriage (he hadn't seen his uncles yet, but at least he'd be entertained when he finally did see them again), and one of achievement. His crown was still in his pack last he saw it and he was pretty sure no one had touched it since his return.

Frodo took a brush to his feet until the hair was glossy and a little fluffy.

"Finally took the braids out?"

Frodo looked at Bilbo and grinned sheepishly. "There's a funny story behind that, actually…well, depending on your definition of funny."

Bilbo narrowed his eyes. "Is that a marriage braid in your hair?"

"That's also a funny story."

"I'm not sure I like your definition of 'funny,' Frodo."

"The Ring's destroyed. I'm back in one piece," Frodo assured him. He could feel a coughing fit coming on and he massaged his throat, hoping to will it away.

"You were rushed to the healers the moment you entered the mountain."

"I had an episode," Frodo said, waving his hand. "I'm fine, I swear it, Uncle."

"Oin is telling a different tale. You've stab wounds, burn wounds, symptoms of internal injury—"

"I am fine!" Frodo snapped just as a hacking cough overcame him. He covered his mouth with a handkerchief. Bilbo helped him back to the bed. "I really am okay," he managed between coughs that shook his ribcage. "Uncle, I wasn't expecting to survive the quest. That I did at any rate is good, isn't it?"

Bilbo tucked a lock of hair behind Frodo's ear. "Of course it is," he agreed. "I just wish it didn't have to be you, my boy." He felt the marriage braid. "This is Elven. Legolas?"

"Yes," Frodo said. Bilbo managed a smile.

"You are happy with him?"

"Very."

"Then I am happy for you. I can't say the same for Thorin, though."

"I know."

"You will tell us what happened while you were away, will you?" Bilbo asked. Frodo nodded. "Everything?"

"Depends what you mean by everything," Frodo said, smirking. Bilbo whacked his arm lightly. "Fine, I'll skip over certain parts that may or may not be child appropriate." Bilbo shook his head.

"Don't tease your uncle so, Frodo."

Frodo smiled. "Yes, Uncle Bilbo," he said, taking his hand in his. "I'm glad to be home," he said, his grin ebbing away.

Bilbo kissed his fingers. "And we are glad you're home too. We missed you so much, mizimel." He stood. "When Oin thinks you're able, we'll have that feast Thorin's been planning since you got home. I'll let him know you're well enough to joke. It'll only mean your well enough to be yelled at, though, so brace yourself."

"Okay," Frodo said, his smile returning. "I'll have a servant tell you if he goes to the healers after that. He'll likely faint when I tell him who I married."

Bilbo laughed. "We'll see, Frodo." He stood. "We'll see."

~The End~

~Elfish~

Hervenn nín, a hîr vuin gurendhir ná o hi ni methen. Aphadenni togeg ni orod egor amon mennai etulguruthos egor rása nahámë met peddhir?= My husband and my lord, my heart is yours from now to the end. I will follow where you lead be it to the mountain or the hills until death comes or the sea calls us home. What say you?

Digwaendhir, melda nín, suidhir obad. = I go with you, my beloved, as you go with me.