Translation of Elvish: Melethen - my love. Melin chen - I love you. Nín anoriel - my sun-maiden. Cuilen - my life. Híren o Dhú a Geleb - my Lord of Night and Silver.

Chapter 21 - Days of Despair

The day was fading away. It was the sixth since the Commanders of the West had led their army towards Mordor. Hearts were heavy again; the last news had come four days ago. Morgul Vale had been cleared. But now ... nothing. Only hope, that slowly gave way to despair, and nothing to be done but waiting. Waiting for the end that would soon come upon them. The wrath of the Dark Lord. No one believed in the return of the King anymore. No one but those few who knew Aragorn.

The only thing that kept the people of Gondor from complete despair was the returning strength of their new Steward. Faramir had indeed survived and was now often to be seen in the gardens of the Houses of Healing. At times he was alone, at others the halfling, Meriadoc was with him. Peregrin had left Minas Tirith with the Hosts of the West, eager to prove himself in battle. Anxious to represent his people in this, maybe final, battle.

Faramir had met Frodo and Samwise in Ithilien and was now eager to learn more about the Shire and the hobbits. Meriadoc was doing his best, but he had never been known as a frequent visitor of Brandy Hall and its library. But more important was the news Faramir had given him. Frodo and Samwise had been accompanied by a creature that simply had to be Gollum. Gollum, who would do anything to get his precious back. Fear was growing in Meriadoc's mind. If that cursed creature was there, hope was in vain.

When Faramir wasn't alone or with the halfling, one of the elves would be his company. It wasn't the one they called Haldir, everyone knew by now that the proud Chief Guardian of Lórien would never leave the side of the Lady of Rohan. Those who had seen him carry her through the city on the day of the battle of the Pelennor were telling everyone who was interested, and those who weren't, how great the grief of the elf had been. He must love her dearly, they mused. But how was it possible? An elf and a human?

And indeed it was so. Ever since her brother had left, riding into an unknown future, Haldir had been with Éowyn. Her fear was about to consume her; he could see that. How he wished he could take the pain away from her. But he, too, was worried. His brothers were with him, safe for now. But they had told him of Orcish attacks on the borders of Lothlórien. So far these attacks had the aim of weakening those guarding the Golden Wood. But soon their enemies would try to take over his beloved home.

Orophin was with his brother and Éowyn most of the time, telling the Lady of the Riddermark more about Lothlórien. Haldir would smile to himself, relieved that his brothers had accepted his decision to be with the Shield-maiden. It was Rúmil who spent most of his days strolling around Minas Tirith; apparently oblivious of the danger they all were in. And it was also Rúmil, who was with Faramir should the Steward wish for company.

With every passing day, every day without any messengers, despair grew heavier in the hearts of all that were in Minas Tirith. Not even the three elves that walked amongst them could cheer them up anymore. Ever so often did the people raise their head, looking into the East where the dark of the Lord of Mordor was unbroken. The red glow of Mount Doom was the only light in the shadows. But it did nothing but increase their fears.

---

Éowyn stood by the window, watching the sunset. Haldir had no longer been able to prevent her from rising. So he had helped her, his arm wrapped around her waist as she struggled to her feet. Her broken arm was healing fast, thanks to the daily baths in athelas-water. The healers were amazed and soon Kingsfoil was no longer known as a weed but a miraculous healing plant.

Now the two lovers were alone again. Alone at last after a day that had been even worse than all those before. Something terrible had happened; the sky over Mordor was blood red... The elves had felt it even more than the mortals. A great power had been destroyed, yet no one dared to believe that it might be Sauron. Éowyn and Meriadoc had voiced their suspicion together. "Gandalf," they had exclaimed. Ever since then, they had been restless. Awaiting and dreading the news that they might receive.

Haldir's arms were wrapped around his beloved, her head resting on his shoulder. "Melethen," he whispered softly. "If this is the end, I am glad that I shall see it with you." His lips swiftly brushed her check, tasting the tears that welled from Éowyn's eyes. "Haldir, you could be save now. Save in Valinor." The elf turned her in his arms until their eyes met.

"I would have never left the Golden Wood. Not until the last ship set sail. Something in me knew that the thing I lacked was here, in Arda." His fingers gently touched her face, brushing the tears away. "Melin chen, nín anoriel, cuilen." She threw her arms around her beloved, clinging to him as if he was the only rock in a storm. "I'm so afraid of what's to come. So afraid that I might loose you now, when I only just found you."

Slowly she turned her head and kissed his cheek. "Híren o Dhú a Geleb, melin chen." Her lips were on his, kissing him desperately. 'If this is the end, then let me be with him. Let me die in his arms.' As if he could read her mind he swiftly lifted her from the ground, carrying her to the bed. He looked into her eyes; into those eyes that had tormented him from the moment he had first seen them. Those beautiful eyes that were now filled with love and warmth, and fear.

Her fear was mirrored by his own. He did not dare to hope, to even think that it had been Sauron who had perished. And if it had been Mithrandir, then surely his friends had followed the wizard in death. Then the Dark Lord would claim Arda, would cover all the lands in darkness. All that was good would die; fade away.

As he held her in his arms, caressing her body that responded to every touch, an idea formed in his head. 'If we should survive this, I will take you to Lórien. And there I will bind myself to you. No matter if this should doom me to live a mortal life. At least I shall be with you.'

---

The two lovers were oblivious of everything that went on outside. They did not see the messenger arriving at the gate, bearing the colours of Gondor, of the King. They did not hear the cries of joy when the news of what had happened was going up and down the city. Sauron had perished; his Master Weapon had been destroyed. The King would return to them, the rightful heir to the Throne of Gondor.

Faramir was with Rúmil as he received the messenger and once he was gone, the Steward turned to his companion with a relieved smile upon his lips. Before either of them knew what was happening, they embraced. No one saw, no one but for a chuckling halfling and a shocked elf.