This is the last chapter and I wanted to thank all the readers who kindly wrote a review to this story. I answered all, but the site's settings doesn't allow me to reply to anonymous reviews from guests. It's very frustrating, because I prefer to thank people directly, or to explain something that they got wrong. Too bad this isn't possible!

And now, the conclusion...

OOOOO

Chapter LXIII: Into the West

Lindir entered into Elrond's office, where the Lord of Rivendell was talking with Nerwen and Gandalf about their leaving, which was drawing closer.

"A message from King Thranduil, Sire," he said, handing him a rolled up parchment.

"Thank you, Lindir," Elrond answered, taking it; with a bow, the Palace Administrator left the room.

"Thranduil? How is he?" Gandalf asked. The king of the Silvan Elves of the Woodland Realm was his good friend, even if they had had their differences during the Battle of the Five Armies, in front of Erebor.

"He's fine," Elrond answered, unrolling the parchment and reading it quickly, "I told him about our departure, and he's informing me he wants to come and say goodbye to us. His son Legolas will come, too."

"I'm glad having the chance to see them before leaving," the Wizard commented.

For the time being, indeed, the king and his son looked like they didn't want to leave. Eventually, they would decide heading for the Grey Havens, but they couldn't know how long it would be until then; and anyway, there was always the off-chance they would rather stay in Middle-earth.

"I'm looking forward to meet King Thranduil," Nerwen declared, "and his son, too; both have done much, in the fight against Sauron."

Indeed, Legolas had been a member of the Fellowship of the Ring, and Thranduil had victoriously led his army in the battles against the Orcs of Gundabad, which had taken place at the same time of the attack of Mordor against Gondor, and afterwards he had helped Celeborn and Galadriel wiping off Dol Guldur.

OOO

On the twelfth day of May, the guests they were waiting for arrived. Adequately escorted, they came from the High Pass, after transiting through the land of the Beornings, located between the Woodland Realm and the eastern slopes of Hithaeglir. Nerwen and Aryon met them on the evening, when they went for dinner.

"Thranduil, let me introduce to you my relative Nerwen the Green," Elrond said, "and her husband, Prince Aryon Morvacor of the Avari. Nerwen, Aryon, meet Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm."

Nerwen and Aryon performed the bow and curtsy due to a monarch and Thranduil responded with a courteous nod; he looked at them in a composed way, but his ice-blue eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"A colleague to Mithrandir, then?" he asked, gazing at the Maia, who nodded in confirmation, "and an Avar… It has been a long time since I last met one of your kin, Lord Aryon."

For once, Aryon had to raise his head to look into his interlocutor's eyes, because Thranduil's stature surpassed even Galadriel's and Celeborn's.

"Actually, it's too a long time we haven't contacts with the Woodland Realm," he admitted, "but now things have changed. I cannot speak for my sister the Queen Eliénna, but I tell you what I already told to the Lord and Lady of Lórien and to Lord Elrond: if you send ambassadors to Eryn Rhûn, they'll be welcomed."

"I did already," Elrond revealed, "and the answer was positive."

"I'll do so, too," Thranduil declared.

At that moment, Elrohir and Elladan joined them; the twins greeted Thranduil cordially.

They were chatting pleasantly, when a blond Elf with ice-blue eyes joined them; he looked very alike Thranduil.

" This is my son Legolas," the king introduced him with apparent fatherly pride.

"I'm honoured to meet you," the prince of the Woodland Realm declared, smiling, "My friend Gimli told me he had met you, last September."

That an Elf would describe a Dwarf as his friend was unique, these days; but Gimli had told Nerwen and Aryon about the special bond that had arisen between him and Legolas during the long months of their mission as members of the Fellowship of the Ring, therefore they didn't wonder at his statement.

After dinner, they headed for the Hall of Fire for the usual evening entertainment. Bilbo had decided to join them to meet the newcomers, and was happy to see Thranduil again; even if, during his adventure 80 years before, they had their disagreements, things had smoothed out between them in the end, and now both respected one another.

"Dwarves in barrels!" Bilbo grinned, arousing Nerwen's curiosity; the old Hobbit was more than glad to grasp the opportunity to narrate, to her and Aryon, as well as to a small group of other people, this particular event: his escape with his thirteen Dwarven companions from Thranduil's underground palace, where they were being kept prisoners, hiding into a number of empty barrels, propelled down the Forest River to Laketown. Bilbo had caught a huge cold because of this.

"In the end, I was able to sbeak in a barely indelligible way," the Hobbit concluded with his usual humour.

Then, it was time for music and dance; Nerwen and Aryon danced gladly, as well as Elrohir, and Elladan with Gaerwen. Legolas, too, joined the dances and, as he was an excellent dancer, he was highly sought-after by the ladies.

OOO

The day after, Nerwen took a stroll in the garden with Annadiel and Túdhin, as Aryon was busy fencing with Glorfindel. The baby was now just over six months old and had started to teeth, with the subsequent illnesses, such as swelled and aching gums, a slight fever, disturbed sleep and irritability. To ease her discomfort, Nerwen used light touches of thaumaturgy, at least to have her rest in the night, and massaged her gums with olive oil infused with chamomile and nightshade.

The Aini sat on a bench, humming a lullaby; the wolf lied down next to her feet.

Shortly after, Annadiel was blissfully sleeping in her mother's arms, one thumb into her mouth, her long black eyelashes shadowing her chubby and rosy cheeks.

Nerwen hummed on; shortly after, she saw Legolas coming. Catching sight of her in turn, he drew near.

"What a nice baby!" he cried, looking at Annadiel. The Maia laughed softly, as to not awake her daughter.

"Thanks," she said under her breath, "Her name's Annadiel."

"Oh!" he said, "What a beautiful name. How old is she?"

"Six months… Would you like to sit with us, Lord Legolas?"

"Gladly," he accepted, sitting down, "And who's this?" he enquired, looking at the wolf, who was staring at him, intrigued.

"He's Túdhin," Nerwen introduced him, "and I think he likes you."

So it is, the predator admitted.

"I like him, too," Legolas declared, "I always liked dogs… but wait…" he watched him closer, "He's no dog, is he?"

"Actually, he's a wolf, very polite and loyal," the Istar confirmed, "He has proved a great friend, not only in this life, but also in his previous one."

"It's rare meeting again someone you met in the past," Legolas pondered, "It never occurred to me."

"This was my first time, too."

"So, you'll leave with Mithrandir and the others, won't you?" the prince of the Woodland Realm asked.

"Yes, I will," Nerwen answered; Legolas was silent for a moment, then went on:

"They say that eventually, all the Elves will leave Middle-earth; but my father and I, for the moment being, have no intention to leave. I'm sorry to see Mithrandir and Elrond go, and possibly Galadriel, too; but all of them have strong reasons to do so."

"True," Nerwen confirmed, "Mithrandir will find himself again, Elrond will see again his wife, and Galadriel her daughter, and her parents, too. However, you're right: eventually, all the Elves will leave Middle-earth and sail for the Blessed Realm," she paused, "The time of the Elves is almost over," she concluded in a low voice.

"So assert Elrond and Mithrandir, too," Legolas commented, in such a sad tone, that the Maia felt sorry, "Are therefore beauty and grace leaving these lands?"

"Part of them will stay forever," Nerwen affirmed quietly, "Even if mayhap darker times come, similar to Sauron's domination that we have narrowly escaped, a sparkle of light, however small, will still shine. After all, this is the work of the Valar," she reminded him, pointing all around, "the realisation of the Ainulindalë by the permission of Ilúvatar, and as such, even if corrupted by the Evil Melkor introduced in it at the beginning of Time, it cannot lose all of the grace they infused in it. There will be always persons who will perceive and keep it, in times to come, until the Dagor Dagorath."

Legolas pondered her words and finally he nodded.

"Thank you, Lady Nerwen," he said, "So, do you think that my father and I will take a ship, in the end?"

"Yes," Nerwen nodded, "When you'll feel that the light of the world has dimmed to an intolerable level, surely you, too, will head for Mithlond; I cannot say when this will happen, if in a few years or in many centuries, but it's inevitable. Otherwise, you'll become rustic woodland spirits."

Again, they were silent for some time.

"Do you think the other races will miss us?" Legolas asked, in a low and sad tone.

Nerwen mused.

"Yes, they will," she answered at length, "Oh, not all of them, and not in the same way. And not forevermore. When the Elves are gone, slowly the memory of their existence will fade: with the passing of centuries and millennia, they will become legend, and then myth. However, there will always be especially sensitive souls who, through their dreams, will catch reminiscences in their ancestral memory and know that, once upon a time, the world was more beautiful, and they will feel wistful. And thanks to these souls, the grace of the Valar will never completely disappear from the world."

OOO

Spring ripened and became summer; the big valley of Elrond's realm cloaked itself in the thousand colours of flowers and the thousand nuances of green of meadows and woods. The air was warm and full of the scents of fruits growing on the trees and of flowers swaying into the breeze, and the sound of the waters falling into the Bruinen was musical as never before.

Thranduil and Legolas returned to Mirkwood, now renamed Eryn Lasgalen, or Wood of Greenleaves.

In early July, a messenger came from Lothlórien: Galadriel had at last decided for leaving and she planned to join them in Rivendell by the first half of the next month. And so it was that, on the tenth day of August, the Lady of the Galadhrim arrived with her escort, and she was welcomed by Elrond and Gandalf.

The Three Keepers of the Elven Rings had gathered

OOO

Two weeks later, after a great farewell feast, Nerwen and Aryon left Imladris following Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf. With them came Bilbo Baggins, too: to all the Ring-bearers, may they be the Keepers of the Elven Rings or those who had carried the One, a passage into the West had been granted, now or later.

Aryon and Nerwen took their leave from Allakos and Kerra: they preferred leaving them in Rivendell instead of having them making the long journey to Mithlond and then sending them back again. It wasn't easy saying farewell to the two faithful kelvar, whom in time they had come to love, and therefore they were sad.

"You'll get along well with Glorfindel," the Avar prince said to Allakos, who he had given to the noble Vanya, and stroked his neck, "Don't worry for me, I'm going to a wonderful place."

Nerwen translated to the horse, who didn't protest, but snorted, resigned; he, too, was sad because of the parting.

Kerra was deeply distressed; she had never shown a particular affection for Nerwen or Aryon, however it wasn't because of lack of love, but for her reserved character, and now she was sorry she had to part with them.

We cannot take you with us, Nerwen explained softly to her, but don't worry: you'll stay here in Imladris with the Elves. They'll treat you well.

I know this, the mule said, but it won't be like staying with you. I'll miss you.

Thank you… we'll miss you, too, the Maia declared, caressing her one last time.

Túdhin instead would escort Nerwen, Aryon and Annadiel, but only as far as the Grey Havens: there was no place for him, on the ship sailing for Valinor, as much as there wasn't for Allakos or Kerra, nor any other horse, Elven or not; only to Thilgiloth the passage was granted, because she was a Chargeress of Aman.

The day of departure, all the inhabitants of the realm were there to bid their farewells to those who were leaving, beginning from Elladan and Gaerwen, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Lindir and Gloriel, down to the last subject. The crowd stood for a long stretch on both sides of the path that, from the bridge over the Bruinen, went down to the ford.

Besides Elrond's family, many others were weeping; the parting could even be temporary, but it was anyway painful.

OOO

A few days later, Gandalf took his leave, because he wanted to go ahead them and announce their arrival to Círdan the Shipwright.

"I'll see you soon," he told Nerwen with a reassuring smile, then he urged Shadowfax on with one word; the horse sprang forward and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

The journey continued with no hindrances; the company rode peacefully along the Great East Road from the Ford of Bruinen, crossing the Last Bridge, passing by Weathertop where the ruins of a large sighting tower still stood, to Bree and beyond, coming at last to the Brandywine Bridge and thus, the border of the Shire. Here, they left the road and took a detour to the south-west, entering the Woody End. Bilbo was staring around him avidly, his tired eyes sparkling because of the joy he was feeling in seeing again his land. In the months that had passed since Nerwen and Aryon had arrived in Imladris, one year earlier, he had aged much and had become very senile: he didn't remember things well and he didn't seem to fully understand the reason he was journeying. However, he insisted on riding, at least for a few miles each day, except later going on in a waggon that the Elves drove in turn, where he dozed, comfortably laying on the many pillows that cushioned it.

On the evening of September 22nd, they met two Hobbits, sitting in the soft shadows of dusk, with their ponies grazing at a short distance. Elrond pulled his horse's reins and the whole company halted.

"Hail to you, friends," he said in a solemn tone, "I'm very glad to see you."

The two Hobbits stood up and responded with a bow. Galadriel, who was riding next to Elrond, smiled at them:

"Well, Master Samwise, I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shire shall now be more than ever blessed and beloved."

The younger and fleshier Hobbit took another, lower bow, but didn't answer, in an obvious state of emotion and awe in front of the glimmering beauty of the Lady of Lórien.

Nerwen, who has riding next to Bilbo's small, calm grey pony, saw the old, half-sleeping Hobbit opening his eyes.

"Hullo, Frodo!" the elder Hobbit greeted him, "Well, I have surpassed the Old Took today! So that's settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?"

"Yes, I am coming," Frodo answered in a grave tone, "The Ring-bearers should go together."

"Where are you going, Master?" Sam cried; Frodo answered and the younger Hobbit began to weep, "But I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done."

"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. If must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them."

The great wisdom contained in these few sentences struck Nerwen greatly; she already admired this little Hobbit: with incredible courage, greater than the greatest heroes of the past, who had been warriors or kings, with his servant and friend he had accomplished the impossible mission to destroy the One Ring in the very heart of the Enemy's land; and now, her admiration grew even more.

Frodo kept talking:

"But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. And you also have Rose, and Elanor; and Frodo-lad will come, and Rosie-lass, and Merry, and Goldilocks, and Pippin; and perhaps more that I cannot see. Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of an age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on. Come now, ride with me!"

With these words, he mounted on his pony, and a few moments later, Sam did the same; then, Elrond and Galadriel resumed their ride, and after them came Nerwen and Aryon with Bilbo, and all the other ones.

The Third Age was coming to an end.

OOO

At the slow pace they were going, they needed a few days to get to Mithlond. They left the Shire, crossed the White Downs, the Far Downs and the Tower Hills, while the new moon waxed night after night as Tilion steered it.

At last, they came upon the gate enclosing the Grey Haven, where Círdan the Shipwright welcomed them, evidently warned about their arrival; beside him was Lady Eärwen.

His eyes shining like stars, Círdan looked at them and bowed, while his wife curtseyed.

"All is ready," he simply said.

They dismounted and entrusted their horses to the grooms; the mounts would spend the winter at Mithlond, and then someone would take them back to Imladris in spring: Círdan would see to this. Túdhin instead had other plans, as he had told Nerwen.

Passing through the gates, Nerwen cast a smile at Círdan and Eärwen and they returned it.

"It's nice to see you again, Nerwen Laiheri," Eärwen greeted her, walking next to her with her husband, "I see you have news," she went on, hinting to Annadiel, who the Aini was carrying in her arms; the baby was staring at her and Círdan, intrigued.

"This is my daughter Annadiel," Nerwen introduced her, "and this is my husband, Lord Aryon of the Avari of Eryn Rhûn."

Aryon bowed slightly, never stopping his pace, and the Lord and Lady of Mithlond returned it.

"And this," the Maia went on, pointing to the wolf, "is Túdhin, an old friend who wanted to escort us so far."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes, heading for the piers.

"And so, the Third Age is ending," Círdan commented slowly, "The time of Elves is over and the time of Men begins. How will it be?"

"Only Eru knows," Nerwen answered softly; then, suddenly as usual, her Second Sight came to her and she caught a sight of a far, far future. Struck, she stopped abruptly; as with Aryon, Círdan and Eärwen she was at the head of the group, along with Galadriel and Elrond, also all the other ones stopped, looking at her in surprise.

"Men will achieve great things," Nerwen announced in a strangely sonorous voice, almost amplified, "Wonderful and terrible things; they will raise to unimaginable levels of science and technology, but won't always know how to use them wisely, because wisdom won't grow in step with their power. They will accomplish extraordinary deeds, but often they won't be able to distinguish between Good and Evil and they will constantly walk the wire…"

The vision ceased and Nerwen returned to the present moment. She blinked and looked around, noticing that all the stares were on her.

"What a strange destiny," she commented, confused, "There will be more light in the world, but at the same time, also more darkness… I don't understand," she concluded, shaking her head. Everybody kept a perplexed silence, until Annadiel uttered a puzzled cry, as if asking why all were still, this way breaking the spell that had bound them.

"No use in wondering about the reason," Galadriel observed serenely, "Ilúvatar's wisdom goes beyond our ability to understand."

"You're right," Nerwen admitted. As they resumed walking, Aryon relieved Nerwen in holding Annadiel.

They finally reached the pier, where a large white ship was waiting; and on the jetty, there was a white horse and a cloaked figure, equally white. When the figure turned and moved towards them, they saw it was Gandalf.

Frodo and Sam ran to him and he squatted to hug them. The Elves began to go on board the ship, led by Elrond and Galadriel, but Nerwen and Aryon lingered on the jetty with Gandalf and the two Hobbits, and Bilbo joined them.

"I'm very sad, Master," Sam was saying to Frodo, his eyes full of tears, "The parting feels very bitter to me, and more grievous still the road home."

Exactly at this moment, they heard the sound of galloping horses; and here there came two ponies with very tall Hobbits upon them.

"Merry! Pippin!" Frodo shouted, happily surprised.

The two newcomers jumped down and ran to him.

"You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo," said the younger, Pippin, laughing amid tears, "This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!"

Frodo looked at the Wizard, in wonder.

"Yes," the latter admitted, "for it will be better to ride back three together than one alone."

"You're absolutely right," Merry confirmed, slipping his arm around Sam.

The five Hobbits surrounded Gandalf; their faces, usually cheerful and carefree, were grave, and tears sparkled in everyone's eyes, and on the cheeks of some. The Wizard caressed them all, one by one.

"Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say do not weep, for not all tears are an evil."

Bilbo hugged them all; on his wrinkled face, his eyes were shining again, lively as Nerwen recalled them from the first time they had met, in the inn called The Green Dragon.

Then it was Frodo's turn to hug them all; he kissed Merry's and Pippin's brow, and at last Sam, too, with whom he shared a longer embrace. Finally, he wrought his arm around his old uncle and, escorted by Gandalf, they moved to go on the ship. Shadowfax followed them: as his race came from Nahar, Oromë's mount, and by virtue of his services and his friendship to the Wizard, the Valar had granted him exceptionally the passage into the West.

Eventually, it was time also for Nerwen and Aryon to take leave from their friend the wolf; the Istar crouched and looked into his yellow eyes.

"Farewell once more, my old, old friend," she said softly, "You've been faithful and brave, and you helped us more times one could count, or repay."

Friends don't owe one another, Túdhin commented, with his simple but deep wolf-wisdom, My task at your side is over. I'm sorry to see you go, but this is your destiny.

Nerwen hugged him.

"Go with my blessing," she told him, "May you always find enough prey to feed and wide plains to run free," she received another vision, even if this time only a flash, "Go and find you partner for life," she smiled at him, even if tears were blurring her sight, "You'll be the chieftain of a great pack founded by you and her."

The wolf licked her face, in his race's equivalent of an affectionate kiss. Then Nerwen stood up and took Annadiel from Aryon's arms; it was the prince's turn to crouch.

"Thank you for your friendship, Túdhin," he said, "Rarely I had a companion as loyal as you have been. Be happy."

Thank you, you too, the wolf reciprocated, and Nerwen voiced it for her husband, who nodded and then hugged the predator; Aryon, too, received a lick in the face.

At this point, Túdhin turned to Thilgiloth.

Farewell, Flash-of-Light, he said, using the name he had given her when their first met, during the First Age, I was glad to meet you again.

Nerwen voiced it to the Chargeress, who bowed her proud neck and patted Túdhin with her muzzle on his side.

Farewell, friend wolf, she answered, May you have a long and prosper life.

Túdhin rubbed himself against one of Thilgiloth's legs as a leave-taking sign; eventually, he turned and went back, with the swift and soft trot of his race, and vanished into the evening shadows, he himself a Shadow-of-the-Evening.

Annadiel seemed to feel her mother's distress and put her small arms around her neck, as if she wanted to comfort her. Moved, Nerwen held her tighter; a few moments later, Aryon joined the embrace and they stayed like this for a long minute.

Finally, they noticed they were the last ones and that the other ones were waiting for them. With one last nod to Círdan, Eärwen and the Hobbits, they hurried down the quay, followed by Thilgiloth, and got aboard.

T he sails were set, the wind blew and slowly the ship glided away down the long grey estuary.

Standing on the deck, Nerwen and Aryon looked at the shore withdrawing from them; beside them were Galadriel, Elrond, Gandalf and other Elves, as well as Bilbo and Frodo. The shapes of the Lord and Lady of Mithlond and of the three Hobbits became smaller and smaller. Then, Frodo took something from his pocket and held it high; it was a phial of finely carved glass, containing a liquid that flared up in white light, similar to the star Eärendil. It gave out a flash, as if a last goodbye; and then the twilight swallowed the shore, by now far away, and with it, Middle-earth.

OOO

Navigation proceeded peacefully, except one night when a storm suddenly came, which as much suddenly stilled; Gandalf and Nerwen presumed that Ossë, vassal to Ulmo Lord of the Waters, had unleashed it whimsically, and Uinen his spouse had intervened to calm him, as she often did.

And then, in a sunny day, the white Elven ship found the Straight Road and left the Curved World, heading for the Blessed Realm in full sail.

Often, Frodo stood at the prow, alone; Bilbo was always tired and sleepy, and hence, for the better part of the journey, he stayed in their cabin and slept. Sometimes, Gandalf kept him company, but more often, the Wizard conferred with Elrond and Galadriel. Therefore, Nerwen and Aryon were together with the younger Hobbit. At first, he was very brooding, then, as the journey continued, his mood improved, also thanks to Annadiel and her irresistible little grimaces and vocalisations. The baby had been a little seasick, at the beginning, but Nerwen's thaumaturgy had cured her; and so, she could be the cure to Frodo's melancholy.

Little by little, as he got to know his interlocutors, the Hobbit began to tell them his own part in the War of the Ring, as people had named it. Much had already been told them by Gandalf, but hearing it first-hand gave to Frodo's and Sam's incredible deeds a heroic dimension worthy of the most epic tales of Middle-earth: two small Hobbits had accomplished a task that would made weep in fear the most valiant warrior and the most powerful king. Nerwen didn't wonder anymore that the Valar had granted Frodo the grace – so far unheard-of – to go to Valinor, and with him Bilbo as the first Ring-bearer; and in the end, the Aini suspected, this grace would be granted to Samwise Gamgee, too, who even for a brief time, had been a Ring-bearer.

OOO

One rainy night, just before dawn, Nerwen woke up full of joyous anxiety. She got up, trying not to disturb Aryon, but the prince had the light sleep of warriors and heard her.

"Where are you going, sweetheart? Annadiel…?" he asked her under his breath.

"Annadiel sleeps peacefully," she assured him, "I think we're very near… I feel it in my bones…"

She found her boots in the darkness and slipped them on; realising her intentions, Aryon, too, got up.

"I come with you," he said, lighting a lantern, "I think we can leave Annadiel alone for a few minutes: she's safe in her cradle..."

Nerwen cast a glance to the baby who was sleeping peacefully, one thumb into her mouth. There was a special bond between them that, since she was in her bosom, allowed Nerwen to know how she was in every moment, even when she was in another room; they would actually be just a few metres away, as their cabin was located on the prow and she was planning to go precisely there.

"Very well," she accepted. They donned their rain capes, then exited quietly from the cabin and climbed the ladder to reach the deck. It was raining, but not too hard, and the sea was calm; the eastern horizon was just beginning to pale in the imminence of dawn.

To their surprise, they found Frodo standing at the prow; the Hobbit heard them approaching and turned. Recognising them in spite of their hoods, he nodded to them in greeting and resumed looking ahead.

Aryon and Nerwen halted behind him, staring at the horizon that was slowly becoming brighter; in the air, they felt a fresh fragrance, and they began to hear singing coming from beyond the waves. The first rays of Anar surpassed the rim of the World and the grey curtain of rain seemed to change into silver glass, then opened up, and revealed white shores and a green land under a swift dawn.

Frodo's face lightened up in joy and marvel; and Aryon was entranced and in awe. Nerwen filled her eyes with this wondrous sight, tight throat, bated breath.

She had come back home.

OOOOO

Author's corner (VERY long this time, but I hope you'll forgive me, as it is in closure of the entire story):

And so, after 63 chapters and about 320.000 words, I got to the end…

In the book, it is implicitly affirmed that Gandalf comes unexpectedly at the Grey Havens; but there's a bond of great friendship and respect among the Three Keepers of the Elven Rings, so it looked more plausible to me that they had all agreed on leaving Middle-earth together and therefore he had just gone ahead of them. I apologize for the change, one of the truly very rare I have consciously brought to Tolkien's invaluable masterpiece.

The meeting of the Elves with Frodo and Sam, and later of all of them with Gandalf on the pier of the Grey Havens, the following arrival of Merry and Pippin, and Frodo's arrival at Valinor are copied straight off the book (with the obvious differences given by the presence of my original characters).

I intentionally based Thilgiloth's farewell to Túdhin on the famous Vulcan greeting in the Star Trek universe, my other great passion.

The writing of this fan fiction took me over two years and a half, not to mention the time to translate – as best as I could – in English. Never would I imagine it would result in such a long story! But I got carried away, or better, I let myself be carried away, and allowed it to take me so far, through good and less good moments of my life, representing sometimes a lifeline, a breath of air away from the stifling daily responsibilities, a support in hard moments. The thought I must let it go saddens me greatly but, as Chaucer says, "all good things must come to an end", and so this story, too, in which I infused all my love for Middle-earth, created (or, perhaps, recalled) by Tolkien's genius, which I wrote with the highest respect for the original work, with the sole intention to have fun and make have fun those who read – or at least, so I hope. It never was my ambition to write a new "Lord of the Rings", nor to come near, not even in the least, to the masterpiece of the Oxfordian Professor. It's just a fan fiction! XD

I tried my best to translate in an enough correct English, sometimes a bit archaic to give an "antique" tone to the story (given its setting), and to describe things in the most exact way I could; nevertheless, I surely made some mistakes: grammar, syntax, orthography, even concepts, but I don't expect to be infallible or omniscient, and therefore I ask for your clemency (and please, point out my mistakes, as someone has already done, thanks!). So, I hope that my effort is appreciable, even if the result is not even in the least perfect; and it cannot be, as I'm not Tolkien, and not even a professional writer. My only ambition was to have you spending a few pleasant hours, and I hope I succeeded.

If you have any question or perplexity, that is, if I explained badly or in an insufficient manner facts or situations, or if you think that something isn't plausible (taking account of the fantasy setting) or inconsequential, please tell me, so I can correct.

I learned a lot writing, both from my – almost obsessive – researches, which I did to be as faithful as possible to the canon plot and descriptions, and from translating into English – I surely improved much in this language, even if I won't ever be perfect.

If you liked my story, I'd be very glad to learn about it, so please write to me, just a few words to tell me. Thank you in advance!

I thank greatly all those who supported and encouraged me in this unlikely endeavour. And above all, I thank you: you who passed on to me your love for reading when I was a child, who introduced me to science fiction and fantasy, who gave me my first copy of "The Lord of the Rings" as a birthday gift when I was sixteen, and who have always been my first and most passionate fan, since when I first began to write – now many years ago – until, sadly, you passed away in 2012. I know you would have liked this story very much. With all my love, I dedicate it to you, mum.

Lady Angel