AN: Here it is - the finale! Thanks so much for reading this story! And if you've lost the thread and want your memory refreshed without having to read the whole thing again, the chapter immediately before this has a long summary at the start. In the last chapter, the humans Sophia and Brandon arrive in the planes of Valmar, reuniting with a host of elves led by Galadriel and her barely healed husband. They make a desperate attempt to reach Ezellohar with the Silmarils...

Sophia was charging headlong up the steep slope when she heard Brandon cry out from behind her, sending a strum of fear across her rib cage. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see he had fallen behind, and the advancing orcs were too close. His horse reared and went down, black fletched arrows sprouting from its flanks, and she quickly wheeled around. Feanor shouted after her, but she neither understood him nor cared what he said.

The sky was so dark it was hard to see, and Sophia wasn't sure exactly where Brandon had fallen, so she just charged down into the front line of the orcs. There was no sign of Elanordis, either, but Thranduil was there, astride his horse at the bottom of the hill. Even in the murky half-light, his swords flashed, and over the grunts and howls and high-pitched shrieks, she could hear the chunk of metal cleaving too solid flesh. The next time she glanced down at him, though, he was gone, or at least no longer on a horse.

Let him be alright, Sophia thought, not even sure who she was thinking about anymore, please God...Eru...whatever you're called, let him be alright.

"Brandon!" She shouted frantically, as she swung her blade at the orcs, who shrank from the purple nimbus streaming out around her from the Silmaril against her chest.

Almost as if in answer, a scream echoed against the mountain, and Sophia pressed her hands to her ears, nearly banging the sword pommel against her own skull. She knew it wasn't Brandon; in fact, she was pretty sure it sounded like Galadriel, which couldn't be a good sign. The ululating wail rose, parting in a sonic wave around Sophia and crashing onto the orcs, who fell to their knees, covering their ears. That left only her and Brandon standing in the immediate area, and she was surprised to see he was just a few arms-lengths away. As soon as their eyes met, he surged toward her, reaching up. Sophia grabbed his hand, and he leaped into the saddle behind her.

They had made it halfway up the hill, the orcs still writhing behind them, when the ground started to shake, sending the horse stumbling to its knees and both siblings tumbling down. A fiery whip licked up the hill, wrapping around Sophia's ankle, burning into her skin, and yanking her down to the dirt. As Brandon tried to steady himself and run after her, she hacked frantically at the rope, but her sword just melted where it made contact, dripping molten metal onto her skin. Sophia screamed and dropped what was left of her weapon.

Brandon finally found his feet and charged toward her, as the Balrog dragged her back down the hill. He grabbed her outstretched hands and pulled with all his strength, but barely slowed his sister's slide.

He almost fell over when the Balrog suddenly froze and the whip went slack. Flames crackled from its mouth as it roared and thrashed, a line of white etched down its chest. Then it stumbled back, the sliver rent in its sternum widening and light pouring through. In just seconds, its whole body was swirling, almost as though it had been reduced to electrons swooping around and escaping into the air, as its solid matter completely dissipated.

Standing there, behind where the fiery demon had loomed, was a man, bent with age and all in white, with a long beard and pointed hat. He had a giant staff in his hand, the top of it laser bright. Next to him was Earendil the Mariner, the starstone shining on his brow, and their comrade-in-arms, Valdeglerion.

"Gandalf!" Brandon exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Go!" He shouted, stabbing his staff at the hill. "Go now, the three of you!" With that, he whirled around and flew down the hill, plunging right into the thick of the battle and whacking at orcs furiously with his staff. Valdeglerion shot the siblings a quick smile and raised his sword in salute before racing after the old Maiar.

"Not much of a talker, your wizard, is he?" Sophia noted, and even though her foot was killing her, she had to smile. Her brother looked as though Gandalf might have whacked him in the head, too.

Earendil gestured to them to hurry up the hill, but the ground heaved violently before they could go anywhere, and they were all tossed apart and flung like driftwood in a cresting wave. The oxygen seemed to press out of the air around them, and they all gasped for breath, clutching their chests.

Across the field below them, the shadows splattered across the ground suddenly rushed together. This time, the darkness consolidated into a single point, which rose in a funnel into the air. Pinned to the ground, unable to move, Sophia watched in horror as the ebony column took shape, wisps of inky smoke elongating into shifting shapes of arms and legs and the top of the column rounding into a head, a face, eyes like dark tunnels.

"No," Earendil moaned from where he lay pressed to the earth.

The battle continued all down the hill and across the field, but it was as if someone had put the fighting on mute. All Sophia could hear was a deep thrumming from the black column.

The smoke continued to swirl over the gigantic dark shape, finally merging into a more human-looking form. The face of the monolith seemed made of obsidian, sharp and yet smooth, perfectly midnight and yet glinting white as the figure moved. The creature was entirely naked - and very clearly male. He is perfect...Sophia thought, muddy and vague, as if she were half-asleep...as perfect as a Michelangelo carving. Even more beautiful than the elves.

Suddenly, the giant smiled, his diamond teeth glittering.

"Of course I am more beautiful, child," his voice buzzed at the base of her skull, and she was not sure if she was the only one hearing him, or if everyone left in the world was hearing him. "I am Melkor. I am God. They are nothing." He flicked his fingers, and Earendil cried out, writhing across the hill, blood streaming from his nose and eyes.

"Make him stop talking," Sophia whimpered, pressing her temples, which ached from the pressure of the giant's voice.

"Stop talking?" Brandon gasped. "Who?"

"He cannot hear me, little one," the voice echoed in her mind, more softly this time, and the intense pressure relented slightly. "Only you can hear me." The shining god stared at her, still smiling.

"Your rage," he crooned, "it calls to me... Anger...Grief... A lifetime of resentment for a father who left and a mother who never loved you... Ah," he took in a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes. "I had forgotten the power of human emotion. So primitive... So raw... So...intoxicating."

Melkor spread toward them like an oil slick. Sophia pulled against the gravity holding her down and managed to crawl, crablike, backward up the slope for a few inches, every fiber of her vibrating with fear.

"You have no need to be afraid," the voice now rippled across her mind, soothing, gentle, and Sophia stopped struggling and lay still on the hillside. She could see his eyes better now, no longer dark holes, but an improbable deep, Caribbean blue.

He's almost human, she thought. More so than the elves. With their true faces, at any rate.

"That is correct," he purred in her mind. "They do not trust you to see what they really look like, do they? They will not be able to manipulate you as easily if you fear them." He laughed softly.

Probably fair, Sophia conceded, remembering how Thranduil had dropped his illusions when he wanted to goad her into fighting. She shuddered at the memory of his skull and sinew showing through his skin. The predatory light in his alien eyes.

"I promise you," Melkor whispered, "this is my true face, as I was at my creation."

Suddenly, Sophia felt fingers wrapping around her ankle, pressing into the rope burn the Balrog had left on her skin. She gasped at the pain and looked down. Down? When had she stood up?

"Soph," Brandon gurgled at her. He was bent sideways against the ground, but had somehow managed to get a hand free. "Soph," he repeated, "stay with me!"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said testily, shaking his hand off her foot, "and you're hurting me."

"You were walking toward Melkor," he wheezed, "with this weird, blank look on your face."

"I was?" She said, shaking her head, which felt muffled, as though she were wearing a six-inch thick hood.

You must close your mind to him! Melian's voice suddenly urged her. Remember how to do it? When you were angry at Legolas? You must do that now. Close your mind!

Sophia winced and thought that Melian needn't shout at her quite so loud, but she did as the Maiar urged her, anyway. Why had she been so angry at Legolas? She couldn't even remember anymore.

"No," Brandon muttered, somewhere off to her side, "oh, oh no." Sophia followed his horrified stare to see Melian hovering in the air between them and Melkor, surrounded by elven knights. No, not elves, at least not all of them. It was Braichon and his changelings.

Melkor laughed again, though it would be difficult to imagine a less joyous sound. "Little Maiar," he rumbled, "the least of your kind. Do you really think you can stop me? Even Eru himself could not stop me - and this is your army?" Melian froze in midair, motionless.

"My great-grandmother stopped you," Elrond announced calmly, emerging from the midst of the changelings and charging at Melkor. He thrust his sword right into the Valar's foot.

Melkor lowered his head and stared at Elrond, ignoring the blade, a growl rising from his guts. "She," he spit out, "did not stop me. She seduced me and then betrayed me. The fault was mine, the choice was mine, to want her." Elrond hesitated, clearly startled by the giant's words.

Melkor smiled a slow, crocodile grin. "That's right, Elrond half-elven. Are you so sure the difference in you, the darkness in your heart, is your human heritage? Can this pallid excuse of divinity," he pointed at Melian, still suspended in front of him, "truly explain all the power you have? Are you certain you know who fathered your line?"

Elrond staggered backwards.

"Besides," Melkor shrugged nonchalantly, "she is not even dust on the wind now, and I am still here." He flung his hand out toward Elrond, his massive fingers pointed like claws, and Elrond crumpled into a ball, moaning.

"You lie!" Melian shrieked, breaking free and blasting the ancient creature with a torrent of ice, which he lazily flicked away with little blooms of flame, scattering the hobbit warriors in an eruption of shrieks. Then he lunged out, closing his hand around Melian's throat. He was laughing as she scrabbled helplessly at his fingers, until he suddenly staggered forward.

"What is this?" Melkor roared, twisting to see behind him, never loosening his hold on the unfortunate Maiar, now limp in his massive hand.

"For my husband," Galadriel cried, her bright form winking in and out as she dashed around the shining god, slashing again and again as the pint-sized warriors rallied around her.

The ground shook with Melkor's fury as he tried to strike out at Galadriel, who was radiant with an angry light. She successfully managed to evade him, striking him again and again, until finally, he caught her, pinning her under a massive foot.

"Now," he thundered, "I have you..."

"No," came a shout. "You will not harm her!" Feanor charged onto the field in front of Melkor, his black hair streaming around him.

"Really," Melkor sighed. "Are you going to keep attacking me one at a time?" Melkor cocked his head to the side. "Wait, did I not kill you already?" He raised his eyebrows at Feanor, shaking black dust off his hand.

"Morgoth! You were too cowardly to face me before," Feanor shouted, shaking his spear. "But not today. Today, I will have vengeance for my father, for my children, you demon!"

"I think not, dead son of a dead king. Come, let me kill you again." Melkor strode toward the blazing elf, leaving Galadriel ground into the dirt in his wake. "Tell your father I send my greetings."

Feanor struck at Melkor with the massive spear he wielded with both hands, and Sophia was shocked to see the giant's skin tear, golden ichor leaking down his side. Galadriel was soon back up on her feet, too, standing beside her uncle, with Elrond joining the fight. The mountain trembled as Melkor screamed his rage.

"Sophia," Brandon hissed urgently, "Sophia!" Brandon, she realized, was crawling toward her, no longer pinned to the ground.

"We have to get to Earendil," he whispered urgently. "It's our only hope."

"I don't think I can," she whispered back. She was on her feet, but her entire body felt limp and heavy.

"We have to," Brandon said, finally pushing himself up off the ground at her side and grabbing her shoulder. She felt warmth where his fingers touched her, and as he slid his hand down her arm, taking her hand, the warmth spread from her arm to her chest.

"Where's Elanordis?" She said, looking past him. Brandon closed his eyes briefly and shook his head.

"Okay," she said quickly, voice husky. "Okay. Okay. Let's go," she nodded across the hill, where they could see the blond mariner, lying in a heap.

They both ducked down low and skittered across the mountain, against the boom and clash of the great battle, the sparks and flash of metal on metal. Earendil was face down in the scrubby grasses, and when they managed to turn him over, his body was still and his face covered in blood.

"No pulse," Brandon said quietly, his fingertips light against Earendil's neck.

"Oh no," Sophia moaned. "What do we do now? What do we do?"

Brandon suddenly grabbed her arm and shook it. "Look," he commanded softly.

Sophia followed his gaze to Earendil's face. On his brow, the starstone was shimmering, a flickering white light, almost like it had a heartbeat of its own. Brandon glanced up at her, and her eyes widened. All three silmarils were shining and pulsing in time now, the blue and purple light streaming out of the grill in her armor, and a sunset orange glow dancing around her brother. Sophia pushed at the stone in her breastplate, struggling to pop it back out of its metal case, finally dislodging it. Brandon clutched the firestone in his hand, and together, they touched their stones gently to the starstone on Earendil's forehead. They crouched there, staring at the joined stones for what seemed like hours.

"Nothing happened," Sophia finally said, her voice flat.

"We don't know that," Brandon cut her off fiercely. "Give it time."

"We don't have time," she snapped standing up and grabbing Earendil's discarded sword off the ground. She nodded toward the battle below them.

Down in the field, Feanor continued to charge at Melkor, but it was obvious now that the valar was only toying with the reborn elf, stepping easily out of the way and occasionally giving Feanor a smack with the flat of his jagged, black-bladed sword and laughing. They could no longer see Galadriel and Elrond. Meanwhile, orcs and machine beasts were now flooding toward the slope the siblings stood on, with only Braichon and his warriors standing in the way.

"Let's go," Brandon said grimly. "We can't leave them to die alone down there."

"No need," a guttural voice rasped from behind them. "You can die right here."

Sophia and Brandon tensed, but before they could move, a knifing sensation shot through their lungs, and they both fell, suffocating and insensible.

Sophia couldn't see, her vision clouded in a haze of pain, and she panted, tasting charcoal and blood on her tongue.

"Miss me? Hmmm?" Came the voice, much closer this time. There was a dull green glow against her eyelids, and she realized that Acharnor had found them.

"What do you want?" Brandon gasped, and Sophia opened her eyes a slit to see the massive Uruk Hai, his skin a pitted brownish gray, his nose smashed sideways and his eyes glaring red. The only hint that he had ever been an elf was his pointed ears, and even those sagged away from his head, as though the flesh were rotting.

"Nothing," Acharnor leered. "Well, only what I've always wanted: to end you. To end you all, filthy humans."

The Ellessarum flared, and it suddenly felt as though ants were under Sophia's skin, crawling and scuttling across her entire body, jabbing her with poisoned mandibles.

"No, no, no!" She screamed, scratching bloody trails on her skin. "Get them out! Get them out!"

"Iluvatar's favorite? Then where is he now?" Achanor crowed. "Only Melkor's favor matters, and that makes me your master. Burn! I will burn you all!"

The biting, crawling feeling subsided, and Sophia began feeling a flush of prickling heat rising in its place, bracing herself for what would come next. She was only dimly aware of a whistling sound and a solid thunk over her head, when the fiery heat racing through her synapses suddenly cooled and subsided.

"What? What?" Brandon wheezed. "What just happened?"

"I am here," Braichon said calmly, standing over Acharnor where he had fallen, a long dagger protruding from his left eye socket. "He will never hurt us again." He braced the body with his boot and yanked the serrated blade out of the corrupted elf's skull in a spurt of aqueous blood.

"Favorite knife," he said apologetically.

Sophia gave him a watery smile, sitting up with her elbows on her knees, trying to breathe normally. Braichon rubbed her back, looking down the slope warily. Andi and the hobbits, with Valdeglerion and a few other elves, were holding the orcs at bay for now, while Feanor continued to battle Melkor.

Suddenly, Sophia's scalp and fingers started to tingle, and she looked around uneasily, freezing as she looked past Braichon up the hill.

"Oh, shit," she whispered, her voice raspy from screaming. "Shit," she said more loudly "They're everywhere! There are orcs up on top of the slope! They're coming at us from both directions!" She tried to struggle to her feet, but was unable to get up.

Brandon felt his guts lurch, squinting against the iron sky at the line of shadows popping up above them. He clenched his teeth and closed his fist around his sword.

"Well, let's take as many as we can with us," he told his sister, reaching out for Braichon to get a hand up while Sophia finally pushed herself up off the ground, groaning.

"Not orcs," rasped a voice. They all whirled around to see Earnedil, eyes shining white and emerald green in a face dark with blood and dust.

"Not orcs," he repeated, and then, improbably, the elf smiled at them, his teeth gleaming. "Quendi."

Brandon and Sophia stared at their ancestor in astonishment, and then turned to look again at the shimmering forms now streaming down the hill.

"Elves," Earendil clarified, propping himself up on an elbow and using the hem of his undertunic to wipe the blood from his eyes.

Sophia had a sudden intense telescoping feeling, like a rush to the head, and swayed dizzily. The tingling on her scalp and fingers intensified, all pins and needles, as if she had lost the feeling in her limbs and it was now surging back. Her heart pounded. She cried out, while Brandon staggered toward her, his hands pressed to his chest.

"What is it?" Braichon cried, swinging around to look at Acharnor suspiciously, but the body had not moved, and the Elessarum was a lightless glassy jewel, hanging off to the side.

Sophia stared up at the hill. A tall, dark-haired elf with a thin, silver band around his brow, clad head to toe in gold-shot mithril, was striding toward them, flanked by two equally tall elves, one with silver hair and the other shining blond. Dozens of elves surrounded them in a triangular formation.

Earendil rose unsteadily to one knee, bowing his head, but the dark-haired elf raised Earendil up by the shoulders and used his own cloak to wipe the rest of his face, and then he embraced the Mariner. Sophia couldn't tell what they were saying to each other.

Finwe is telling Earendil that he should not kneel, that Earendil is the blood of his body.

"Legolas!" Sophia cried out, looking around frantically.

"I am here," he murmured, and suddenly his arms were around her, his hands cradling the back of her head, and she could feel his heart beating against hers.

"Here!" She gasped. "Here! You're here!"

He leaned back and smiled at her, pushing her hair out of her face. His pale skin was luminous in the darkness, his long silvery blond hair gleaming. He was not hiding his nature, with his pointed ears and moonshot gaze.

How could she have ever thought for a moment Melkor was more beautiful?

Legolas's eyes widened.

Before he could say anything, though, the three tall elves turned to look at Sophia and Brandon, who was close behind her, Elanordis pressed to his side. The three elves bowed, and the dark-haired one spoke.

"Your forefathers, Finwe, the high king," Legolas translated, "and his brothers Elwe and Olwe, thank you on behalf of all the Eldar, for restoring them to the world. But he thinks you should go to the altar right now with Earendil and he should save his son."

"Your majesty," Brandon panted, bowing his head, but Finwe had already turned away and was loping down the hillside toward Feanor, his fair-haired brothers hard on his heels. An unending stream of elves, female and male, some in armor, some in soft, mossy green robes, flowed down the hill behind them.

"Come," Earendil beckoned to Sophia and Brandon. "Come!"

The river of elves parted around them as they climbed their way up, slipping in the ashy dirt as they moved higher toward the crater.

I missed you so much, Sophia finally thought to Legolas, flushing at the inadequacy of her words.

I know, he responded promptly. I'm sorry.

Again, she struggled with how to express her feelings. Feanor said elves can only die once...

I will not die again, her reassured her. I promise. I did not much enjoy it.

Sophia shot him a sour look, and then glanced down the hill. She could still see the shining god, and she could certainly hear his furious roars, but he was surrounded on all sides by elves now.

"Did you see what happened to Melian?" Sophia asked Brandon, panting as they scrambled up.

"Melkor...scattered her," Legolas interjected. "He couldn't actually kill her - her essence cannot be destroyed. But he scattered her atoms across Valinor. It will take some time for her to reconstitute."

"Oh." Sophia answered. Brandon said nothing, but he clenched Elanordis by the hand, his knuckles shining white.

"Ow!" She said good naturedly. "Ease up, there!" Death seemed to have wiped the slate clean for Elanordis; she was not longer the diminished elf they had found more dead than alive in Tirion.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

Earendil, who had gone ahead, shouted at them.

"He says to hurry," Legolas noted.

They finally reached the flattened crest of the mountain, Braichon, Andi, and the hobbits following behind. There, in the vast, scooped out peak, a massive flat stone, like a Stonehenge monolith fallen on its side, sat perched right in the center of the crater. Earendil beckoned to them and they rushed up to him. They held the silmarils out, looking at each other, before placing them all together on the altar, where their light swirled and merged, illuminating the crater in a silver and gold sheen.

"Now what?" Sophia shouted over the loud humming noise generated by the reunited stones.

"We have to break them!" Legolas shouted back.

"How do we do that?" Brandon asked. Earendil and Legolas looked at each other, and both shrugged. Sophia almost laughed, but it wasn't really a funny situation, so she bit her lip instead.

They tried everything. A sword hilt. A boot. A fist. Braichon even tried his head, which left him groaning and rubbing his forehead. But nothing worked, and the stones were unchanged, a small tornado of radiance swirling around them.

"Well," Sophia said, scratching her head, "maybe if the elves defeat Melkor, it won't matter?"

"They can't win," Elanordis told her. "Elves cannot kill a god; only another god can do that. They can slow him down and even restrain him, but not forever."

Just then, a wild cry sounded from the lip of the crater, and orcs began pouring into the bowl toward them. There was a Balrog among them, his huge fire-limned form looming over the edge of the hill.

Earendil's face was grim, and he pointed at the sword in Sophia's hand. She hesitated, and then handed it to him.

Stay with the Silmarils, Legolas thought, you must not let the orcs disturb them.

Don't leave me again, she responded fiercely.

I will not. I promise! He called to her, as he charged into the line of advancing orcs with Earendil and the changelings.

Sophia's heart was thumping, and she clutched her hands together as she watched them fight. Elanordis was shooting arrows into the advancing mob, and Brandon stood vigil, guarding the stones and his sister, unarmed but for the knife up her sleeve.

Now the great stocky machines were up on top of the hill, too, and they could hear the whine of the drones. Sophia and Brandon threw out a ringshield, which shorted out some of the animals, but only slowed others. They hung in place, swinging their heads from side to side and stomping their giant stumpy legs. Drones crashed into the ground and buzzed off into space, as though confused.

This would be a good time to help us out, Sophia thought, hoping that Eru, the valar, or whatever would come soon. But there was no sign of divine intervention, only more orcs. Earendil and Legolas continued to cut through them, apparently without effort, stopping the advancing beasts and piling the bodies like a gruesome wall. Occasionally one of the orcs would make it past the shining blades, but they did not seem able to pierce the radiance of the stones and fell to the ground, insensible, where they were easy prey for the hobbits.

Something at the far end of the crater caught Sophia's eyes and she looked up sharply. It was Feanor, charging toward them, his spear in one hand and a sword in the other. There were other elves with him, and Feanor pointed one of them, who had long, bright red hair, toward Legolas and Earendil. With a jolt of recognition, she realized that Elladan, Elrohir, and Liriel were with the red-haired elf.

Feanor, however, ignored the fight and sprinted straight for the altar, his feet hardly seeming to touch the ground. He leapt forward beside Sophia and Brandon and swept the siblings into his arms, murmuring in Quenya and kissing them both on the brow. He looked to be bleeding from a thousand cuts, but his eyes were afire with the reflected light of the Silmarils and he was smiling. He dropped his weapons and reached into a pouch at his waist, pulling out a small rock hammer.

"I don't think that's gong to work..." Sophia started, but Feanor beckoned to her to stand back, and she and Brandon hastily took a couple of steps away, bumping into Elanordis, who watched Feanor with wide eyes.

His dark hair streaming around him, Feanor raised the hammer, and tapped it down almost gently on the gems. There was a loud cracking and the low hum of the stones became louder and higher pitched. Feanor struck again, and the gems exploded in waves of red and orange, indigo and violet, gold and silver, so bright that they all had to close their eyes and put their hands over their faces. The humming sound began to ebb and flow, like a church organ playing the opening chords of a hymn.

Finally, Sophia slitted her eyes open, squinting at the altar. Feanor was on his knees, his head bowed, in front of an enormous figure of a woman with a crown of flowers in her hair. She was shimmering, as if through the heat off a candle flame.

Sing! The goddess's voice boomed across the mountain. You must sing now, or die with your world!

Sophia looked at her brother, startled. "What do we sing?" She shouted.

He shook his head helplessly, and they both looked at Elanordis, but she didn't seem to know, either.

Then they heard it. A few, melodic notes rising from a single baritone voice; quiet and hesitant at first, but quickly filling the crater with sound. Sophia looked around and realized with shock that it was Braichon, his eyes closed and his face tilted to the sky. Soon, voices all across the mountain were weaving a complex descant into Braichon's song, or raising his melody up with gorgeous harmony.

"It's the hobbits," Elanordis crowed, laughing delightedly. "The hobbits!"

"Yes," the goddess said, from behind the altar. "Yes. A song of redemption. Only the souls who have suffered and been saved can sing the creation of a new world from the destruction of the old."

"New world?" Sophia asked, shielding her eyes.

"This tormented planet has run its course. Even now, the ground is shaking and cracking in Middle Earth; the cities are burning and the seas are rising. Soon, there will be nothing left alive in this place."

"But what about all the people?" Brandon asked. "What happened to them?"

"Eru's most beloved children... Even now, they stand in judgment. The unworthy will share the fate of Ea and fall to fire. Those found worthy will join the ranks of the changelings in the world to come. A few will be invited to dwell in Mandos for eternity."

"Wait, what?" Sophia choked out. "I have to die or become a hobbit?"

Yavanna's laughter chimed like bells. "No, brave one," she reassured Sophia, gesturing behind them.

They turned around to see another massive, shining being, who was watching them, a slight smile on his face. He shimmered black and white, looking very much like Melkor.

"Manwe," Legolas breathed, falling to his knees. Sophia, Brandon, Elanordis, and all the other elves on the mountaintop followed suit.

"Thank you for restoring light and song to this dark and bereft land," his sibilant voice whispered on the breeze, weaving into the cadence of the hobbit song. "The new world shall belong to the redeemed, and to their children. It will be the Age of Hobbits there, a place for simplicity and joy. A world of plenty, but none of the material fruits of this land that divided you and made you so destructive."

He gazed across the field at the thousands of rehoused elves, all kneeling to him now.

"Firstborn, your suffering is finally at an end. You, too, have a choice: you may stay with us in the Halls of Mandos forever, or you may travel to the new world, eternal guardians watching over the changelings. The Valar will not be present in that world, and so in some ways, you will play our part. Better, I hope, than we did ourselves. Dunedain, you shall have the choice of your forbears: mortality or immortality, and Mandos or a new life in a new land."

"What about Melkor?" Brandon asked.

"We will take care of him," the goddess smiled, gesturing to the edge of the crater. "Tulkas already has him on his knees. Again. Only this time, Tulkas will take our brother to face the creator himself, and he will find that even the ainur can be extinguished."

The song of the hobbits began to swell, and Sophia could feel it vibrating up through her feet. They stood, letting the sound wrap around them as prisms of light swirled through the crater.

"It is time, my children!" Yavanna cried, and the light of the Silmarils, of the trees that had died and come back to life on this spot, began to spin in the air, forming a bright circle. The circle whirled and whirled, until it was nearly 30 feet across and the center flared white. Sophia gasped and turned away.

Legolas pulled her into his arms. "Shall we go into this new world, you and I?" He whispered

She nodded, tears shining in her eyes.

Two tall, flaxen-haired elves emerged from the crowd, moving toward them, and Sophia recognized Thranduil immediately. The elf next to him, shorter but resembling the woodland king, could only be his father. She flushed at the sudden memory of what Glorfindel has said to her about Legolas's grandfather.

What did he say? Legolas asked curiously.

"Nothing," she muttered.

"Ah, well, I shall soon be able to ask him," Legolas smiled brightly, dipping his head toward the edge of the crater, where the knight of the golden flower stood, a dark-haired elleth next to him, along with two youths. He waved his hand frantically at them, then he clutched his fists together over his head and smiled broadly, and Sophia felt tears again rising in her eyes as she waved back to him.

A touch landed lightly on Sophia's back, and she turned to see Feanor, Galadriel, and Elrond.

"They want to say goodbye," Legolas translated for Feanor, as Brandon came up next to her, putting an arm around her waist. "They have decided to stay in Mandos."

"No," Sophia cried, tugging at Feanor's hand, meeting Galadriel's wise eyes, and then throwing herself into Elrond's arms. "You have to come with us!"

Feanor shook his head and patted Sophia on the back, while Elrond kissed her on the brow, murmuring gently. Galadriel embraced Brandon.

"My soul is weary," she said softly, "from ten millennia and more of ceaseless battle. I will rest, with my husband - and Elrond will finally be reunited with my daughter and his own Evenstar, but only if he stays in Mandos." Then she actually smiled at her uncle. "For him, this is a second chance, and he thanks you for giving him back his honor and his family,"

"Watch over my sons and my grandchildren," Elrond said sadly, pressing his lips one last time to Sophia's brow and squeezing Brandon's arm. "I am so proud of you both."

Sophia drew in a breath to begin arguing with the ancient elves, but before she could get any words out, they were gone.

"It was the right thing for them," Thranduil said softly, wiping tears from Sophia's cheek.

The spinning gate began to hum more loudly.

"There will be an eternity for reunions on the other side!" Yavanna cried. "You must go now, or the portal will close before everyone can get through!"

Legolas pulled Sophia forward, gesturing to his father and grandfather, who followed close behind. Brandon, Elanordis, and her family came just after. Sophia took a deep breath at the circle's edge and looked up at Legolas, who nodded, and then she turned back and stared at her brother.

"Together?" He asked.

"Together," she agreed, taking his hand and stepping with him into the circle of light.

No one noticed, as the crowd surged forward, that an Uruk Hai had crawled toward the gateway, gore caked over one sightless eye. As the light began to shrink and contract and the last of the hobbits dived hurriedly through into waiting arms on the other side, the dying orc hurled something after them.

As the circle collapsed inward and the light died, his mocking laughter was one of the last sounds ever heard in Ea.

EPILOGUE

"No, no, Claribel," a young hobbit clucked his tongue at his companion. "We've never been to this spot before, I promise you."

"Oh, Sanka," the girl giggled, "yes we have, a thousand times. This cannot be where the great gateway stood."

"Well," the boy answered, scratching his head as he looked around, "I'm pretty sure this is just as grandfather described it to me. Waterfall, check. Blue flowers, check. Eight green hills, check."

The girl rolled her eyes. "There are waterfalls, flowers, and hills everywhere, silly,"

The boy spun in a circle comically, and then flung himself to the ground, sticking his feet in the stream that gurgled past. "But not this waterfall, not these flowers, and not those hills," he said happily.

The girl laughed and plopped down next to him, dangling her feet in the cool water, too.

"Maybe this is the place," she finally conceded.

The two hobbits lay on the grassy bank, starting up at the sky and making up stories about the clouds.

"That one looks like a golden flower," the boy claimed, pointing upward.

"Well, that one looks like Miss Sophia," the girl declared. "She was just in our village last month, you know."

"Really?" The boy turned on his side and regarded his friend with interest. "Was Legolas with her?"

The girl shook her head. "She just came with her little girl this time."

The boy sighed. "I love it when they come to check up on us. Hey," he said, sitting up, "what's that?"

The boy crawled forward and reached under a rock, scrabbling his fingers around. Finally, he pulled his hand out and opened his fist.

"Wow," the girl said, sitting up. "It's so pretty."

"Yes it is," the boy said softly, examining the necklace in his hand. The chain was corroded with age and moisture, but the stone suspended from it was clear and unblemished, and a small spark suddenly lit in its depths. Soon, the stone was glowing bright green.

"Can I see that?" The girl asked.

"It's mine," the boy snapped at her, closing his fist around the stone and glaring at his companion.

"I wasn't going to take it," she said, sulking.

"Well, fine," he said, still suspicious, and tucked the stone into his pocket. "But you better not tell anyone else about it."

"I won't," the girl said sullenly. "I want to go home."

Soon, the two young hobbits set off toward their village, though only one of them would ever make it back...