Epilogue

Disclaimer: Middle Earth and its inhabitants belong to the great JRR Tolkien, not me!

Kâf thumped quietly into the great room of the Library sometime just before dawn, inhaling deeply of the tomes that grew in number every day, it seemed. Their king was indeed fond of his books, and it was something the old scribe really did appreciate about the lad—Erebor's Library was well on its way to becoming one of the more impressive in all of Middle Earth.

The young apprentice scholar who was currently in charge looked up as he approached. She looked surprised to see him, but bowed respectfully.

"Master Kâf. I did not expect to see you here today; are not classes suspended in honor of the Prince's wedding?"

"They are," the older dwarf answered with a smile. "But I have come on an errand. I was told there was a package left here yesterday?"

"Oh yes, Marin told me before he left last night. From the Royal Quarters, and addressed to you specifically," the lass drew a smallish square parcel from the locked cabinet behind the desk and held it out to him. Kâf smiled and took it, nodding his thanks.

He had wondered when this would come.

Reverently, he placed the package on a table in a secluded corner of the great room, untying the twine to get to the letter beneath. His smile widening, he unfolded it and read the familiar neat handwriting:

My dearest Master Kâf,

Please find enclosed the account of our journey to Fjallstadr and back last year. As I mentioned to you, Elof recorded several of his own thoughts during that quest and they were discovered among his things after we returned; I have included these throughout the record. I hope this is of an acceptable quality; I am many things, my friend, but a scholar is not one. I have, however, done my best, and wish to present this to the Library in honor of the lad who loved it so well, brief as his time with us was: Elof, Son of Maera, Child of Man and Heir of the Eiri.

I look forward to seeing you at the ceremony tomorrow afternoon.

Respectfully,

Lady Deorynn, Daughter of Haelric

Kâf brushed rough fingers over his cheek, unsurprised when they came away damp. "Blasted younglings," he muttered. "I'm too old to be dealing with such…empathy." Scholar the lass may not be—and her official duties as Princess in addition to her more informal position as a Captain amongst Erebor's warrior cadre would take up too much time for her to ever be properly apprenticed as one now—but she was still intelligent and literate, so the project he had requested of her was one he knew she could complete. She had been worried about doing Elof justice, but he had convinced her no one could honor the lad better than the ones who had loved him best. Thus persuaded, she had agreed, and he could not wait to see the results of her labor.

He unwrapped the parcel slowly, smiling when the skin fell away and the tome was revealed.

It was obvious the lass had worked hard on it. The cover was of tooled leather—a skill at which he knew she excelled—light and glossy. He was no leatherworker, but even he could recognize quality when he saw it; and this was of excellent quality. It was smooth beneath his fingers, and the runes tooled painstakingly across the front said simply, "Our Reader."

A fit title, he thought, opening the tome and settling down in one of the plush chairs. He was going to be here for a few hours.

Fíli opened his eyes, lazily noting that his foot was cold before slipping it back beneath the wools. Grinning, he snuggled up to his sleeping wife, wrapping his chilled limb around her warm one and sighing at the sensation. Sêla shifted with a small gasp and a "What in Mahal's name…?" Fíli couldn't hold back the snicker that escaped his lips, and the lass countered with an elbow to his ribs—and not a gentle one.

"Oof!" he grunted, rubbing the offended side petulantly. "Sêla!"

"Oh 'm so sorry," she mumbled, turning over to go back to sleep. "Di'n't know you were there."

Fíli snorted and scooted closer, wrapping an arm around her to draw her back against his chest. Sêla squeaked in protest. "Go 'way. I'm mad at you and your freezing feet." But she was smiling.

They lay like that for a moment, before Fíli smiled. "It's today," he murmured into his wife's shoulder, and he could practically feel her smile widen.

"Yes," she acknowledged. "I'll have to get up and help her get ready soon."

Fíli chuckled. "And I Kíli. Poor lad was a nervous wreck last night after that patrol briefing."

Sêla turned over at that, meeting his eyes in the dim light, chuckling. "So was Ryn when I saw her. I don't know why, it's simply a formalization of what is already there between them."

"Ryn isn't much for ceremonies."

"This is true."

"And Kíli is terrified he'll do something wrong and shame his wife-to-be."

She laughed then, full and rich. "I doubt that is even possible at this point. They've been through too much."

"Mmm."

Silence for a moment, before Sêla spoke again. "When did you realize, Fíli?"

The question made him grin again, knowing what she meant. "When we left her in Rivendell, Thorin told her to stay until we had finished our Quest and he could recognize her properly for her services to the family—you know the story."

Sêla nodded.

"Well, you also know Ryn, so you can imagine how well that particular order went over." His wife laughed, and he continued. "Kíli, of course, hated how we'd left her—a simple note as we slipped away in the night—so he'd been moping for four days. I was trying to cheer him up when we turned a corner and boom! there she was."

"Oh, Thorin must have been furious."

"He was," Fíli grinned. "He was shouting and red-faced and in rare form. It was beautiful. But Kíli ran to her so fast I barely had time to register his absence, and I think that's when I first knew."

Sêla snuggled against his chest. "Did it bother you?"

"Only when they couldn't seem to make up their minds if they were going to commit or not," he sighed. "But I always liked her for him; bloodline aside, she's everything I ever hoped for Kíli."

"I can see why."

They lay for another few minutes before Fíli sighed and kissed Sêla's brow. "We'd best get moving before our respective guests of honor go crazy with nerves." She giggled and nodded, kissing him deeply before tossing the covers off and climbing out of bed.

It was a strange thing, Ryn reflected as she sipped at a tankard of Erebor's best ale, the things a person didn't know about themselves until they were tested. Eyeing the revelers with a smile, she searched for—and found—her beloved, her husband now, stomping and whirling with Anora, his laughing face once again open and expressive.

Kíli's recovery, once Melkor was dealt with, had been swift. Much swifter than hers; for it seemed the use of the Umräd had drained her in every possible way—including her ability to resist infection and disease—and she had been plagued by both for months after the Battle. The healers had done everything they could, but Ryn had known the only real answer was just to rest and recover. And, she had to admit, after so many months devoted entirely to trying to save Kíli's life and sanity—first via research and then via travelling and fighting and encounters with Valar—it was nice to just be taken care of for a while, first by the healers and then by a very insistent Lady Dis.

"You are family now, lass, now hush and let me help."

But tonight, on the one-year anniversary of their victory over the Dark Vala, Ryn and Kíli were both healthy and strong. Tonight they had united in marriage under a canopy of stars, while the elves and crickets sang together in celebration. Tonight the struggles of the last three years faded away in the glow of joy as she danced until her legs ached and her chest stung through gasps of joyful laughter.

So she had sat, fanning her flushed face and accepting something Lady Dis offered.

"Time for water, lassie," Dis laughed. Ryn smiled, knowing she'd not want to be dealing with ale sickness the morning after her wedding night. She raised the mug in a salute to the Lady and drank deeply.

"Thanks, Ma," she said. Dis smiled wider at the title and squeezed Ryn's shoulder.

The revelry lasted well past dawn—dwarves, men, and elves were alike in the way they loved to celebrate for any and all reasons—but Ryn and Kíli retired just past midnight. It had been a long and busy day for them both.

She stood in their room quietly while he finished up in the attached washing room. Her calloused fingers ran slowly over the contours of a face Ori had drawn the night before she left for Fjallstadr over a year ago. She and her brother were featured in the drawing, but it wasn't their figures she studied just now. Instead, the face of the young Man who grinned up at her held her eyes.

"What is it, amrâmilê?" Kíli asked, his warm hands closing around her upper arms as he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. She held the drawing up so he could see.

"I wish he'd been here," she murmured. "He and all the others."

Kíli rubbed her arms and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Like your parents?" he asked gently. Ryn nodded, blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes.

"And Aran."

"Uncle Thorin. He would've been thrilled for us. We might've even gotten a smile out of him."

Ryn giggled at that, and Kíli pressed his lips to the warm skin where her shoulder met her neck. She sighed, leaning back into him and allowing a couple of tears to fall for those they had lost on the journey to this place—this place where Melkor was defeated, Kíli healthy, Erebor ruled by an Heir of Durin and his beautiful queen….

Where a rogue half-dwarf warrior was now a Princess.

Placing the drawing back at its honored place on the mantle, Ryn turned to face her Prince with a smile.

"Big day," she whispered. It was, in more than one way. The idea of being a Princess still gave her pause.

"Are you afraid?" he whispered. She smiled, recognizing the question that had first opened them to one another, nearly three years prior. She leaned in, lips hovering over his.

"Not this time."

A/N: THERE IT IS! That's a wrap, ladies and gentlemen! Hope it lived up to expectations, and if I haven't thanked you all enough-once more, THANK YOU for reading, following, PM-ing, reviewing, and enjoying! I appreciate every single one of you, more than I can say.

Special thanks to summerald for her assistance with this Epilogue. To quote the writers of Supernatural, "Endings are hard. Any chapped-ass monkey with a keyboard can poop out a beginning, but endings are impossible. You try to tie up every loose end, but you never can...And since it's the ending, it's all supposed to add up to something. I'm telling you, they're a raging pain in the ass." Truer words have never been spoken, and I agonized over this ending for too many days before it finally came out right, and Summer's help was literally invaluable. Thanks, girl!

What is that saying about the end of one journey being the beginning of another? I'm definitely not finished writing-next on the docket is converting this into an original work, finishing my co-writing project with Summer (you can find it under the title Wayfarers, written by summerandblue), and embarking on an all new multi-chapter AU for the tv show "Supernatural" called Livin' On A Prayer. Please do check out either of those if they pique your interest!

Thanks again, y'all! Blessings!

Blue