A/N: To those of you who celebrate it, Merry Christmas! Allow me to add one more gift to the pile...

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

It was sometime in spring; Gúthwyn had stopped keeping track of the days. She stood alone in the place where she had fought with Théodred, a time that now seemed as distant to her as the Sea. The wind whistled around her and cut quick to the bone, a reminder that she had left her cloak inside. She had been doing that often lately, forgetting things—whether or not she had eaten, why she was standing in the middle of a room, when she had last been happy.

Yet she did not return to Meduseld, for that would mean dodging the servants' looks, avoiding Cwene's sharp inquiries about her health. Even Lothíriel now stared at her with something less like hatred and more like discomfort. Besides, Éomer would not notice her absence until later—he and Elfwine had gone to the training grounds, after another unsuccessful attempt at getting her to join them. They did not ask her often anymore.

She looked to the northeast, but still she did not know where Legolas was, nor what he might be doing. Sometimes at night, when the city was quiet, she snuck outside and gazed up at the stars, shivering in the cold. She liked to imagine that Legolas, too, was watching the sky, and perhaps thinking of her as she longed for him.

It was but a small measure of comfort. Weeks ago, she had found a map and worked out the distance between Rohan and Dorwinion—nearly a thousand miles as the crow flew, and that was assuming the cartographers had been accurate in their measurements, which Elfwine's tutor assured her was unlikely. She could not even imagine how far that was.

By the time he returns, it will be too late.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She had done the calculations; in the best-case scenario, even if Legolas chose not to extend his travels, her fertility would be all but lost before they had the chance to undo their mistakes. She could not afford to wait for him, and soon she would have to have a difficult conversation with Cobryn. He had been tellingly reluctant to discuss their suspended betrothal—almost evasive, she thought, although she had not tried to push him. Yet the time for prudence was running out, and she knew she would have to throw herself upon his mercy if she ever wanted to have children.

Today, however, she let the silence gather around her, and she closed her eyes when she could no longer bear to look east. The sun continued its descent, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth—not that it did much good. She supposed that Cobryn would eventually come searching for her, since it was almost dinnertime; he and Éomer seemed to be taking turns monitoring what she ate.

As if on cue, she heard a male voice. "Gúthwyn?"

Odd, she thought as she turned. That does not sound like Cobryn…

And then she froze. A gust of wind lifted her hair and blew it into her face, obscuring her view, but there was no mistaking that flash of gold, nor the tall and slender outline standing before her.

"L-Legolas?"

Through a swirl of dark strands, she saw him approach. His footsteps made no noise upon the ground; he almost seemed to be gliding, as if he did not belong to the world. Perhaps she had gone insane, perhaps she was hallucinating—Cobryn would find her out here, staring fixedly into thin air…

But the hand that smoothed away her hair was real, and as her vision cleared, she found herself gazing into a pair of blue eyes that were as familiar to her as her own. "I was a fool to leave," murmured Legolas, so close to her now that she had to tilt her head to look up at him.

No, this was definitely not in her imagination; against all the odds, he was standing before her, and at last they understood one another. She vaguely recalled that he had said something, but she could not remember what, and there were so many half-formed questions in her mind that she could not hear herself think. In the end, she silenced them both by lifting onto her tiptoes and kissing him.

It had been a decade since Tun's lips had quivered hopefully against hers, and this was something entirely different; this was the world disappearing as Legolas responded, a slow crescendo of heat building in her stomach. She had not known it was possible for a kiss to be so gentle, so undemanding. For a moment, she had a fleeting memory of fingers digging into her skin, but soon it passed, and she could still breathe. He was not restraining her. He was not hurting her.

They separated with bright eyes and flushed cheeks; she could not tell if she was trembling or he. "I-I had a speech," he began, his expression dazed. "I had so much to say, and now I cannot recall any of it…"

She took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers; so long as he was here, she did not need grand gestures. "How did you know to come back?"

He smiled, then laughed. "We are forever indebted to Elfwine," he said, pulling a letter from his pocket and give it to her. The parchment was creased and crumpled, but she could still make out her nephew's handwriting. With growing wonder, she read his pleading message to Tauriel, and felt her vision blur as she reached the end.

"I had no idea he had even overheard me," she marveled, swallowing the lump in her throat—if she started weeping for joy now, she did not think she would stop. "I cannot believe he and Éomer kept this a secret for so long… And Cobryn, of course he must have known—no wonder—" She checked herself, looking anxiously at Legolas. Even though Elfwine's letter had revealed the truth behind her betrothal to Cobryn, she still felt the need to explain, to provide assurances. "We were only going to marry so we could have children, I never—I mean, he never, either—"

"I know," Legolas said softly. "He was the one who told me where you were when I arrived."

"H-He did?" What had that cost her friend, if anything? Would he harbor any regrets, carefully hidden from her, or had his welcome to Legolas been sincere? Whatever was about to happen between her and Legolas, she could not allow herself to get so caught up in it that she neglected Cobryn; at some point, they would have to sift through the remains of their betrothal.

But not now, not when Legolas's lips were brushing against her knuckles, punctuating words with kisses. "Aye, he did. He said he would let Éomer know, so that we would not be disturbed."

The next few hours seemed to unfurl before her, shimmering with possibility. There was so much to discuss, so much to resolve—and, she thought, her lips still tingling with heat, so much time to make up for.

"I cannot believe I came so close to losing you," Legolas murmured, his eyes still shadowed with memory. "Fleeing to Dorwinion was a mistake—I thought of you every hour, it was a constant torture—"

"I was miserable, too," she confessed. "I kept trying to distract myself, but nothing helped."

"Let us promise to never allow such miscommunication between us again," he said fervently. "When I think of how much time we have lost—we must vow to always be open with each other from this day forward."

Without thinking, she agreed, and swore herself to honesty. "So much of this could have been avoided, if only…"

Legolas nodded, his features lined with regret. "I also owe you an apology."

Gúthwyn gaped at him. "But you have done nothing wrong! It was I who entangled us in this mess."

"Nay, that is not what I was referring to, although I will not allow you to assume all of the blame—I must take my share of that." He ran his thumb over her fingers, which she found excessively distracting. "I mean to apologize to you for my father's actions."

"Oh." She bit her lip. While Thranduil's schemes had very nearly achieved their purpose, she did not wish to be the cause of a rift between Legolas and his father. "That is not necessary, truly. It is enough that we are together now."

Legolas shook his head. "I know you wish to forgive him for my sake, and I am grateful, but he does not deserve your clemency. Whenever I think of the horrible things he said to you, I burn with shame. Rest assured that none of them are true—he was speaking out of spite and fear, and his words were only intended to hurt you."

"I-It would not be so terrible if you agreed with him," Gúthwyn said, trying to conceal the relief she felt upon hearing him so adamantly deny his father's claims. "I am mortal, after all, a-and the time I am here will seem like nothing to you—"

"It is not nothing," Legolas vowed, and she shivered beneath the intensity of his stare—albeit not in fear. "It is more valuable than any Silmaril, and all the more precious because of its brevity. I do not want to waste another minute, let alone a year, of what remains to us."

"But what about when that time is over? What will you do then?"

He heard the worry in her voice, and he gave her a sad smile. "That bridge I will have to cross alone. You need not trouble yourself, least of all now."

"But—"

"Please." He did not raise his voice—indeed, it was nearly a whisper—but she caught the urgency within it. "I promise you, we can discuss it later, but I do not wish to mar our reunion with thoughts of our final parting. Please."

His words formed a lump in her throat, and she understood why he was so eager to move on. "Yes, of course. We shall speak of happier things."

Relief washed over his features, and he kissed her once more; she wondered if this was what it was like to learn how to fly. Yet all too soon, he pulled back, bringing an abrupt end to the sensation.

"What is it?" she asked, seeing his alarm.

"I just realized," he said with breathless astonishment—"I just realized I have been kissing you, and I have not even asked you…"

She felt the world grow still around her; a horde of dragons could have appeared in the skies and she would not have noticed.

"Gúthwyn," he began in this silence, just like in her dreams, "for almost as long as I have known you I have loved you, and there is no greater honor I can imagine than that of being your husband. But"—she had opened her mouth—"what I am about to ask you is not a simple question, and there are some things you must hear first before you give your answer.

"I am the prince of Eryn Lasgalen, and if… if you were to marry me, you would be its princess. Long have I managed my duties without a wife, and while you would always be welcome in my counsels, I have no desire to place upon you any burdens which would make you miserable, and which would ultimately serve little purpose. But while I would not ask you to attend meetings, or to spend your nights poring over sheaves of parchment, I would ask you to learn the language and customs of the Sindar, and to show my people the same loyalty that you show to the men and women of Rohan.

"I would not expect this to happen overnight—I know it would take time, and that you have not had the advantage of being trained in this role since birth. Furthermore, you would be far away from your home, and you would have to make a place for yourself in mine. I cannot promise you that it would be easy, that it would not require patience and adjustment and even sacrifice.

"What I can promise you is that you would not have to do this alone, for I would be with you every step of the way. I can promise you that I would do everything in my power to help you grow accustomed to your new life. Hammel and Haiweth would have my protection, and their own bedrooms at the colony. There would also be a room for Cobryn, and a place in my household for him if he should wish it. Your family would always be welcome, and their parents willing Elfwine and Elboron would be our guests whenever they desired. I can also promise you, with Éomer's permission, that from the day of our marriage you would never go another year without at least one visit to Rohan."

"Legolas—" She was far too choked up to continue, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. There was nothing more she could have wanted; he had accounted for everything, even Cobryn. Cobryn, whom only a few weeks before he must have loathed with jealousy! And to provide so generously for Hammel and Haiweth, when they had shown him nothing but scorn and distrust! (She could not allow herself to think about anything else regarding the children.) To be able to see her family so often, and to visit Rohan every year—it was all she could do not to break down sobbing then and there.

He cupped her cheek, catching a few stray tears that slipped through. "There is nothing I would not do to make you happy; in truth, you have unknowingly commanded my actions for the better part of a decade. Will you be my wife, Gúthwyn of Rohan? Shall we bind our fates together for as long as the world allows it?"

From the moment of his return, she had known her answer, and she whispered it through her tears.

"Y-Yes?" Legolas repeated, as if he did not dare to believe that he had heard her correctly.

She took his hand and squeezed a promise of her own into his palm. "Yes. I will be your wife."

As if a long winter were passing, and the sun returning to thawing lands, there appeared such light in Legolas's expression that she was amazed she herself had been its cause. She kissed him again, long and slow beneath the stars, and when at last they broke apart they were both grinning like fools.

"I suppose we should tell your family," Legolas said after a moment, his breathing uneven. "They must be wondering what is taking me so long."

Gúthwyn giggled, then felt her heart skip several beats at the prospect of informing Elfwine that Legolas was to be his uncle. Out of idle curiosity, she asked, "What did my brother say when you asked for his permission?"

All the color drained from Legolas's face. "I was supposed to ask his permission?"

"Well—" Gúthwyn burst out laughing at his horrorstruck expression. "I do not think it matters at this point," she remarked, trying to catch her breath. "Usually it is expected, but I am over thirty now, and Éomer has had plenty of time to object to you."

Legolas still looked upset. "But if this is a mortal custom, and I have caused offense—"

Gúthwyn hastened to assure him that no one's honor had been injured, and that Éomer would be delighted to learn of their union. "Do Elves not ask one another's parents for permission to marry?"

"We do ask for their blessing," Legolas answered, bemused, "but we are considered capable of making our own decisions—do you mean to say that you would have to ask my father for permission to marry me?"

Gúthwyn shuddered at the thought. "No, it is the man who petitions the woman's father. Or her brother, if the father is not alive—or the uncle…" Legolas was frowning as he listened to her, and she realized they were in for a lifetime of discovering differences between their peoples. "Did you get your father's blessing, then?" she inquired, without expectation.

To her surprise, Legolas did not immediately say no. "He asked me to see him before I came here, and while I do not believe he will ever approve of my choice, he did give me one of my mother's rings for the ceremony."

Her eyes widened. "It cannot have been easy for him to part with one of her belongings," she said, and he shook his head. "But… What ceremony do you mean? The betrothal ceremony?"

Legolas gave her a wary look. "For both the betrothal and the wedding… do mortals not use rings?"

"Gondorians do," she informed him, "but in Rohan the couple simply announces their betrothal—well, usually a relative does it—and they join hands in front of witnesses. Then the wedding is a meal or a feast, and the two families exchange gifts. Although I suppose those gifts could be rings," she added, reminding herself to see if Éomer could choose one from the treasures of their house. This was all beginning to get rather complicated!

For a moment, Legolas seemed positively stymied. At last, with a rueful grin, he said, "It appears we have much to learn about one another's wedding customs. Maybe we should leave tonight for celebrating, and tomorrow for planning?"

Gúthwyn gladly assented, for she was eager to share the news with her family. "Shall we go back, then?"

"Perhaps in just a moment," Legolas suggested, bending down with a smile.

Gúthwyn, too, was grinning as their lips met. She still could not believe how gentle his kisses were, when she knew how much strength he possessed. And he seemed content to just stand there, holding her hands; he had not suggested that they sit down, and slowly put more pressure on her until she was lying on her back…

But no, she would not think of that. Just to be safe, however, she pulled back and said, "Truly, we ought to go in before my brother sends a search party."

She was relieved to see no hint of irritation in his voice or eyes as he agreed. Together, they left the clearing and began the hike back to the front of Meduseld. She sensed Legolas behind her the whole time, ready to catch her if she slipped on the rocks, but he did not take advantage of the ample excuses to touch her. She wondered if she wanted him to.

Just before they came into view of the main road, she stopped. "There is just one thing," she said quietly.

Alerted by her seriousness, Legolas halted beside her. "What is it?"

"Hammel and Haiweth," she told him, and understanding swept across his features.

"They are here with you?"

"Haiweth begged to stay at Emyn Arnen," she said. "Hammel did come back with me, but now he is at Helm's Deep with Gimli." The invitation had been received, and accepted, only a few weeks ago; she had seen little reason to refuse, since it was not as if she ever saw Hammel even when they were under the same roof.

Legolas looked surprised. "I had not realized they were well-acquainted."

"They spoke together at your feast," Gúthwyn explained, her eyes locking with his—neither of them had trouble remembering that night. "Gimli knows Hammel is interested in blacksmithing, and now that the first Dwarves are established at the Glittering Caves he invited him to spend a couple of months with them. Both he and Haiweth are returning in June—Éowyn and Faramir are going to be visiting, and Éomer has planned a feast for mine and Elfwine's birthdays."

Legolas nodded. "You would like to wait until then to announce our betrothal?"

"If that would not be too much of an imposition," Gúthwyn said anxiously. "I know it is a delay, but—"

He laughed at that, not seeming offended in the slightest. "Compared with the past year, what are a mere two months? I am happy to wait—of course they should be present. And meanwhile, I shall get to spend that time with you."

"You will stay in Rohan?" she asked hopefully.

"There is nowhere else I would rather be," he assured her.

She felt a warm glow of pleasure in her stomach, which almost distracted her from the rest of what she had intended to say. Recollecting herself, she continued, "It is only that… I want to tell Hammel and Haiweth in person, and I do not wish for them to learn of it from someone else…"

Although she trailed off, too ashamed of what she was asking to form the words, Legolas grasped her meaning at once. "You wish for us to be discreet, so that no one outside of our families will know."

"Yes," she admitted, flushing. "I am so sorry—it is not that you are an ignoble secret I must keep, but if Aldeth were to see us holding hands and then she wrote to Hammel—or if someone were to mention it when they came to Rohan, before I had the chance to tell them…"

"You need not explain yourself," Legolas said. "I know how important Hammel and Haiweth are to you, and I know that it will not be easy for them to accept me. If there is anything else I can do to help, you have only to ask."

"Th-Thank you," she breathed. It pained her to see how considerate Legolas was being to the children, when in all likelihood they would show him nothing but resentment. If only she had not done such a horrible job of addressing their fears of him when they were younger…

"Will you tell them on your own, or would it be better if I am with you?" Legolas asked.

"I think I ought to do it on my own," she answered. "They might need time to accept the idea before they see us together." She did not want to imagine what would happen if they never did.

Legolas assented, yet he looked uneasy. "If that is your will."

"Would you rather we told them together?"

"It is not that I distrust your judgment," he replied, "yet I am concerned about how Hammel will react. I have seen him look at you in a way that troubles me."

She could not help it; she shivered, imagining how the hatred she so often glimpsed in Hammel's eyes might manifest itself in action. "He will be very angry," she allowed, "but it will only be worse if you are there. Do not worry for me—I do not fear him."

"I will respect your wishes," Legolas said heavily, "though my heart councils me otherwise."

Gúthwyn had a feeling that he was right, yet she could see no way around it—Hammel would have to be told, and Legolas's presence would only aggravate him further. "I will let you know if I change my mind," she offered, but it was plain that neither of them believed she would.

The rest of the walk they undertook in silence; they did not hold hands again, for the guards were posted at the stairs. Gúthwyn saw Ceorl give her a queer look as she appeared with Legolas, but she smiled at him as if nothing were amiss, and he did not ask any questions. When they reached the top of the steps, Eanwulf bowed and opened the door.

Inside the great hall, a single fire was burning low, and only half the candles were lit—they had plainly missed dinner, and most of the servants had returned to their homes. Yet no sooner had the door closed behind them than they heard a gasp, followed by, "Papa! They are back!"

It was all the warning they had before a small figure darted out from one of the tables shrouded in shadow. "Auntie Gúthwyn!" Elfwine cried. "Are you and Leggy married yet?"

In response, Gúthwyn swept her nephew into as tight a hug as she dared. "Oh, little one," she murmured, kissing his brow. "I am so grateful to you—Legolas would never have known to come back if it were not for you—" Overwhelmed with joy and appreciation, she began to cry once more.

Elfwine patted her shoulder, tolerating the breakdown. "Is Leggy my uncle now?"

"Not yet," she managed through her tears, "but he will be."

Éomer's booming voice sounded above her. "Congratulations, baby sister."

As Elfwine gave them room ("Uncle Leggy! Do you want your bow back now?"), Éomer pulled Gúthwyn into a crushing embrace. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you happy once more," he whispered.

Gúthwyn sobbed even harder. "H-H-How on Middle-earth did you get the letter to him? T-To Tauriel?"

"We had a fine stroke of luck," Éomer explained. "When Faramir went to the colony, Faelon was there—we had thought he had gone with Legolas, but he only went as far as Eryn Lasgalen to visit his family. Once he had the letter, it was just a matter of waiting to see if Tauriel could find Legolas. And she did. I am sorry we did not tell you sooner, but we were afraid that if nothing came of it, it would be even worse than saying nothing…"

"You are quite forgiven," she assured him, reminding herself to thank Faelon and Tauriel when she next met them. By the Valar, she could be friends with Tauriel now! She could not help but laugh at her good fortune.

When she and Éomer separated, she wiped at her eyes and saw that, including Legolas and Elfwine, the four of them were the only ones in the hall. She was a little surprised that Cobryn was not there also—had he wanted to give her and Legolas privacy, or was there another reason he had not waited for their return?

While she pondered the meaning of his absence, Éomer was clasping Legolas's arm and welcoming him to the family. "This calls for nothing short of a feast—whenever you are ready—"

"Oh, Éomer, wait—" Gúthwyn hastily explained the situation with Hammel and Haiweth. Éomer's jaw flexed at the mention of Hammel, but he promised her that he would hold off on announcing the good news.

"Did you hear that, Elfwine?" he asked. "You must keep a secret for a couple months more. Which means that you cannot go around calling Legolas your uncle."

Elfwine deflated. "But—"

"It is not so long, little one," Gúthwyn quickly interjected. "And when it is just you and Legolas by yourselves, you can call him your uncle. But not in front of anyone else, all right?"

With the sigh of someone grievously wronged, Elfwine at last agreed. "But you and Leggy need to hurry," he told her, "because you have already taken forever."

"They have plenty of time ahead of them now," Éomer admonished his son, winking at Gúthwyn. "Tonight, let us toast to their future."

She had not noticed earlier, but there was a jar of wine on the table where he and Elfwine had been waiting, along with four goblets. Éomer filled three of them, and put a tiny splash in Elfwine's. Once the drinks were distributed, Éomer raised his and said, "To my baby sister, whose smile I hope to see for the rest of her days; and to Prince Legolas, whom I am honored to call my brother. May your union be a reminder to us all that, no matter how many detours it may take, love will always find its way to open hearts."

With Legolas's hand clasped in hers, and Elfwine beaming at her side, Gúthwyn thought she could very well drink to that.

The End

A/N: Almost thirteen years ago, I started this story with the intention of pairing Gúthwyn and Legolas together. Several stages of my life and a couple of thousand pages later, here we are at last! I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with me (some of you have been around for years!). It's amazing to see how Gúthwyn's story has engrossed so many, and your wonderful comments have put a smile on my face time and time again.

As you can probably tell, while "The Lady's War and the Gentleman's Engagement" has come to an end, the Rohan Pride Chronicles are not yet over. Sometime in the new year I will begin posting chapters to a new story, which I anticipate will bring us to the end of Gúthwyn and Legolas's tale (although it wouldn't be the first time I've underestimated how much I'm going to write). The old posting schedule will resume - as wonderful as it's been to give you all new chapters every other day, it's unfortunately not sustainable for me!

In the meantime, I hope you all enjoy the holidays and have a wonderful new year. See you in 2016!

- anolinde