Chapter 18

"Then, just as all hope seemed lost, the Halfling Frodo Baggins saw Sauron's terrible Ring cast back into the rivers of fire that dwelt in the heart of Mount Doom, and it was no more. A great screaming roar rent the air, and the monstrous black tower of Barad-dûr crumbled and cracked, splintering into colossal shards of rock and metal as it fell crashing upon the plains of Gorgoroth, a great wind rushing over the land as the fiery eye of the Lord of Mordor winked out forever." Haleth's voice wove through the hall, casting its spell on children and grown men alike. Hilde could only listen quietly, a small smile on her lips. It pleased her more than she could say that her brother, now a young man grown, had inherited their father's gift for telling the great tales of their land.

On his lap Hilde's eldest daughter, Éodwyn, who was almost five now, was cuddled up against her uncle. Her green eyes were wide with fascination as Haleth told the tale of the War of the Ring, as it was now known. At Hilde's side, her three-year old son Éodain gasped loudly, his small hands holding tight to her fingers with every ounce of strength he could muster. In her lap the baby made a soft sound, oblivious to the excitement of the story as she slept nestled in Hilde's arms. Haleth smiled over at his nephew.

"Then the field began to shake, the ground cracking and falling from beneath the feet of the Dark Lord's hoards, swallowing Black Gate and any orcs who could not flee fast enough into the earth, while in the distance the sides of the dark mountain burst forth with rushing gouts of fiery molten rock. King Elessar and our own Éomer King looked on in joy as they realized it was all over, that now, at last, our lands could have peace." Éodwyn's mouth parted in awe as Haleth's voice went silent, his story over. Then, turning so quickly she inadvertently elbowed her uncle in the ribs, she looked to Hilde. Haleth grunted with discomfort, though his warm brown eyes laughed at his niece's enthusiasm. It brought a smile to Hilde's face.

From the very first Éodwyn had decided that Haleth was to be her dearest friend and kindred spirit. As soon as she could walk she had tried to follow him everywhere, often scaring Hilde soundly when she found her way into the stables. Like her uncle, now the King's Stablemaster, the little girl had inherited the same particular understanding of horses that ran in her mother's family. More than that she had never questioned that he had only one arm while she and everyone else had two, and that blind acceptance had done more to helping Haleth make peace with his loss than anything else.

"Were you there, Mama? Was it really like that?" Hilde had to fight from tightening her grip on Ellda, the baby mewling in her sleep as her mother shifted. It was still painful to remember those days, even sitting here in the Great Hall of Meduseld surrounded by her family. Haleth looked over at her, a trace of concern flitting over his features. In that moment he looked so much like their father; the same set to his mouth, his brow creasing with worry the same way as Háma's had. Hilde managed to pull a smile to her face.

"No. I didn't ride to the Black Gates. I stayed in the White City. But I saw it nonetheless," she hesitated, the memory clear and insistent in her thoughts.

"The eastern sky was so dark. But the instant the Ring returned to the fires of the dark mountain the skies over Mordor seemed to glow red; an evil, pulsing light that seeped over the mountains that border those lands. The clouds roiled and churned and even in the White City I swear the ground beneath our feet trembled. The very earth seemed to know the great evil of our world had been banished. Moreover, we knew it in our hearts; it was like a great weight had been lifted that none had realized pressed down on us. Then the sky began to clear and the sun shone with warmth again."

She had been standing with Éowyn in the courtyard of the Houses of Healing, overlooking the scarred plains of Pelennor when it had happened, both knowing that off in the far distance, the final battle was being fought. Faramir had stood with Éowyn, his arm draped lightly about her shoulders. When the ground beneath their feet trembled Hilde had to reach out for the column she'd stood beside for reassurance. Next to her Éowyn's hands had flown to cover her mouth, her lips parted in disbelief as tears had begun streaming down her cheeks. It had taken a moment for Hilde to process what had just happened, her own face damp as comprehension came crashing in on her. She had started laughing then, and soon she and Éowyn were clinging to each other, each all but sobbing with relief and joy at the realization that it was all—finally—over.

In her lap, Ellda had woken as Hilde spoke, her dark brown eyes looking up at her mother as her small, pudgy fingers grabbed and tugged at Hilde's hair. It was enough to remind Hilde that those dark days were now only memories.

"Then what happened?" Hilde looked up, meeting her elder daughter's insistent green gaze. Hilde laughed a little.

"Your father came back to me, and together we returned here to Edoras, bringing Théoden King home to rest beside his son," her voice choked a little at the memory, the sadness of the last King's death and the death of his son still lingering in Hilde even as she knew it lingered in her husband, "And then your Father was crowned King of the Mark. Not long after that your Aunt Éowyn returned to Gondor to marry Lord Faramir, something your Father and I returned to Minas Tirith for."

That had been a happy day. Éomer had grumbled a little that his little sister was to live in Ithilien, though Hilde remembered fondly that it was only out of brotherly protectiveness and the realization that Éowyn would no longer be by his side the way she had their entire lives. Éowyn had positively glowed she had been so overjoyed and her new husband hadn't been able to take his eyes from her.

"And King Elessar too took up his throne," Haleth added. Hilde nodded. Not long after Éowyn had wed, Aragorn had been crowned himself, taking his place as the King of Gondor. Hilde had stood by her husband's side that day, across from Éowyn and Faramir before the Great Hall of the Citadel and the Tower of Ecthelion. The air had been warm and the sun bright while blossoms from the White Tree danced in the breeze. She remembered the feeling of joy that seemed to float through the air, with smiling faces all around her. Aragorn had also been reunited with his lady love, the elf-maid Arwen, that day and not long after the coronation—on Midsummer's Day, if Hilde remembered right—they too had been married; news had even come not too long ago that the Gondorian King and Queen were anticipating the arrival of another child come spring.

"Yes, Aragorn was crowned King while we were there. And then we came home," Hilde confirmed.

"And then?" Hilde truly did laugh this time. Every time she could convince Haleth to tell the story of the One Ring, Éodwyn always did this as the story ended. Hilde knew exactly what the flame-haired girl was after.

"And not long after your Father and I returned to Meduseld we discovered you were going to be born. Then later, your brother after you," she responded patiently. Éodwyn smiled, satisfied.

"Then Ellda," Éodain finished with an authoritative nod. Hilde wrapped her free arm around her golden-haired boy, placing a kiss on the crown of his head. He squirmed.

"Yes, then Ellda," she confirmed; three of the most precious things in her life.

Across the Hall the main doors opened, the warm glow of sunset visible in the sky as the King's party returned home. With a squeal Éodwyn leapt from her uncle's lap and was racing across the dim space, weaving between the adults who had gathered to hear Haleth telling the story. Before Hilde could grab him, Éodain was off too, trailing after his sister. Hilde only sighed with affectionate exasperation, shaking her head as she tickled Ellda's tummy, drawing delighted laughs from the baby. A moment later and the crowd parted, allowing the King through, carrying his laughing son under his arm while their eldest child clung to his hand, her father's helmet clutched tight in her slim arm as she all but dragged him over to where Hilde and Haleth sat in the centre of the small gathered crowd.

With a wide smile, Éomer deposited the squirming boy on the bench next to Hilde before reaching over to greet the baby with a tender touch on the cheek. Ellda burbled happily, capturing her father's gloved fingers in her own before determinedly trying to put them in her mouth. Leaning down, Éomer placed a quick kiss on Hilde's hairline, the fingers of his free hand tangling themselves briefly in her red-gold hair as he smiled down at her.

Yes, Hilde couldn't help but think, the dark days truly were no more than memory.

"Welcome home," she murmured, catching his fingers in hers.

Lying next to her husband that night, Hilde realized she had never been more content. They were not alone. As they had been preparing to retire, the door to their chambers had inched open, a little face peering around it before their son had dashed across the room and wiggled his way into bed between them. Éodain had wrapped his arms around Hilde's neck, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before snuggling into Éomer's side, his small blond head resting on his father's shoulder. At the foot of their bed, Hilde could hear the soft, slow breaths of their youngest baby. Ellda would be a year old before the winter came, so soon—in theory—Hilde and Éomer would soon have the chamber to themselves again.

It was strange how quickly she had accepted the King's chambers as theirs. She could still remember the first night she and Éomer had spent in them together. It had just been the two of them then. They had just returned from Gondor and, though Éomer had not yet been crowned, and it was their first night in the Chambers of the King. Then it had seemed strange to think of the rooms as theirs; for as long as Hilde had memory, the King's Rooms had been Théoden's. They had both been completely overwhelmed in those days by the conflicting emotions that came following the end of the War.

Now, as Hilde lay curled around their son at her husband's side, her fingers brushing the boy's soft curls from his face, nothing felt more normal. Eventually, the little boy's breaths slowed, evening out as sleep and dreams took him. Leaning over and placing a light kiss on her son's temple, she nodded silently to her husband, unable to help the grin on her face. With a small smile that still made Hilde's heart flutter, Éomer sat, careful not to disturb their son from where he clung to his side.

As he disappeared out the door with the boy in his arms, Hilde couldn't help but think with amusement that the sight of the King, barefoot in only a shirt and breeches, wandering the halls of Meduseld had to be becoming a common sight to the people of the Golden Hall. One of their two older children, sometimes both, always seemed to be sneaking out of their room, necessitating being returned to their own beds, and even though she was almost old enough to be moved in with her siblings, Éomer would still sometimes walk Ellda around if she fussed to lull her off to sleep.

Hilde only sighed with happy exasperation as she lay back, brushing her hair from her face as she thought about their children's antics. Then her thoughts turned back to the Dark Days of the War, as she had come to think of them. Haleth's storytelling earlier that evening had gotten her thinking on it again, and she was suddenly determined to pick out the good memories from the bad. Her wedding had been good, one of the happiest days of her life really. Éowyn's wedding had also been a happy day. Éomer's Coronation. Aragorn's Coronation. Her brother's miraculous recovery. Her country and her people had made it through, perhaps worse for wear, but they were rebuilding.

Her husband had survived, as had she, and her brother and Éowyn when so many others hadn't made it through the darkness, like Théodred, Théoden, and her Father.

A memory came back to her then, springing to mind with all the vivid intensity of a summer sunrise. She had been in the Houses of Healing with Éowyn, taking a break from the duties left to her while safeguarding the city, when the host that had marched on Mordor had returned. Far below, as they rode through the shattered gates of the City, horns had sounded, signalling their victorious return. Hilde had frozen mid-sentence when she heard the familiar sound, anxiety and hope fluttering in her chest like a bird struggling to break free. In an instant she was on her feet, Éowyn following close behind as they dashed out of the place of healing.

She closed her eyes, basking in the memory.

She had made it to the Citadel as the riders emerged from the level below. She didn't even see who else had returned, for she'd had eyes only for one, her gaze desperately searching the milling riders for the one she frantically longed to find.

Then she had seen him, sitting proud and grinning atop Firefoot, the dappled horse prancing in the overwhelming excitement that filled the air. He'd caught her gaze almost the same moment she saw him. With a sharp intake of breath she was dashing forward, nearly tripping over her borrowed rough-spun skirts.

In an instant she had been in his arms, laughing and weeping and kissing him with immeasurable relief and joy as he caught her up, spinning her around as he laughed with her, kissing her back with equal fervour. She hadn't wanted to ever let go, never wanting that moment to end.

The quiet sounds of the door closing and Éomer crossing the room to their bed drew her back to their chambers. Her eyes opening and fixing on her husband, Hilde held out her arms to him. He complied immediately, settling beside her and drawing her close, his fingers tracing up her ribcage and across her back as her own arms circled his waist. A faint curious frown creased his brow as he looked down at her. One of his hands moved to cup her face, his thumb caressing her cheek and smiling lips.

"Why do you smile like that," his said quietly, conscious not to wake the baby, "with your eyes so far away?" She leaned forward, kissing him lightly.

"I was remembering."

"Remembering what?" His fingers were now trailing along her collarbone, bringing a warm flush to her skin.

"When you came back to me," she replied simply. His lips quirked up in a mischievous smile, though the expression in his eyes was perfectly earnest.

"I always come back to you," he murmured before kissing her back.

A/N: Well folks, this is it. This story is, both sadly and happily, complete. :')

I honestly don't have the words to describe just how grateful and flattered I am for everyone who read my little bit of fun, especially those who were with me from the beginning. It's unbelievable, the support and encouragement I have received over the course of posting this story. It never ceases to amaze me how you all come out to leave your thoughts and favourite and follow it!

So, I want to send out a huge, all encompassing hug and thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story. Your support is immensely humbling, really. This has been a truly fantastic ride!

If you liked this fic, I highly (and selfishly-teehee) encourage you to check out some of my other fics if you haven't already. My other Stories Daughter of Mirkwood, and The Shieldmaiden and the Horselord (Rated M) are linked with this story; one, Shieldmaiden, is a deleted scene from this one while the other is another entry in my Daughters of Middle Earth Series, and is a Haldir/OC-centric story. I also have another couple fics lounging about in my hardrive and my brain, just waiting to be written. So keep an eye out!

Once again, Thank You from the bottom of my heart if you've made it this far, whether you have been avidly following from the first chapter or just happened to find it while perusing through LotR fics. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And to end this rather long note….

I sincerely hope you have all enjoyed this, and I hope our (virtual) paths cross again.

Happy Reading,

DarkLadyAthara