The Story of When War Ended

         “Why, Elanor, my wuv,” Sam remarked mildly, “What are you still doing up?”

         Elanor Gardner was only seventeen and some months, but she was Samwise and Rose Cotton Gamgee’s first-born, and her cares carried some importance in the household. Six siblings suddenly had grown to eight. Not a curved hallway passage, nor several layers of larder shelves within Bag End, would shelter her from the cries of her new twin siblings, Daisy and Primrose.

         “The babies are awake! You hear ‘em can’t you, Da?”

         “Oh, that sweet music?” Sam chuckled. “Come now, the ol' toads at the window are louder than that this time of year.”

         “I think the toads are scared to death,” Elanor declared with arms crossed for emphasis.

         “Oh, well, it’s a troubling time, to be sure, my love….” Samwise gathered his daughter close, as if she were still the only one. “I suppose you’ll want a story?”

         Elanor smiled brightly, with little sign of sleepiness, and nodded slyly.

         “I swore to your mother I’d not tell of the war deeds of cousins Pippin and Merry to you at night.”

         “No, no, Da…I won’t ask you to break your word on that, of course!” Elanor looked away from Sam so that the dimple in her cheek might not betray her. “Um, tell me about King Aragorn’s wedding?”

         “Well, what have I forgotten to tell you about him and that day?!” Sam states in mock surprise, but then launches into a well-rehearsed beginning. “Over his long years, I don’t know how many names he might have gone by, but the men in the tavern whispered to me that this shadowy, hooded figure was Strider. As a young man, Aragorn lived by the grace of the Elvish lands and their lords. His good mother having sought refuge for him with them. But in keeping to himself, while he was among the townspeople of Bree, you couldn't be sure if he was a peaceful pilgrim or a highwayman.

         "Strider, he did not know that he’d have a wedding day. Much like myself, things wouldn’t be right in the world again without reconnecting to where one’s heart calls home.” Samwise Gamgee mused a long moment before continuing. “And although the folk in Bree knew him, and the people of many races would sit in counsel with him, I think as soon as the land of Gondor had a prince of the royal bloodline crowned, some elvish magic made haste across the mountains and plains to bring him the one connection he thought he’d lost.”

         “What had he lost, Da? Did an orc warrior on a warg knock down an heirloom blade from his hand? And the shattered pieces had to be brought back together by a Lady of Lothlorien?” Elanor gushed.

         “Well that’s a story I’ve only heard in part,” Sam interjected. “Plus, you’re mixing in some lore from another Age altogether…” He cleared his throat. “Many of the great lords and ladies of Rivendell and Lothlorien had made passage to the West during that whole end of Middle Earth’s Third Age. And that was my point. For Aragorn believed that his true love had made passage already to the West. Arwen was the fair young daughter of the Lord of Rivendell, and granddaughter of Lady Galadriel. And it was Arwen’s father, Elrond, who agreed that Aragorn should leave Arwen behind in facing a destiny against the Dark Lord, Sauron.

         Elanor softly laid her head against Sam’s shoulder. Sam shifted his approach slightly. “I remember Pippin wrote some lines in honor of what Aragorn faced:

         The land is under the shadow of war
         Elrond has stood in counsel to kings before
         Elves hold powers that perplex me to this day,
         But the Men, like Aragorn, do more than cope.
         The Race of Men, accustomed heirs to fragile lives
         Stand out in one remarkable way:
         Protecting others and resurrecting hope

         But the loveliest day of all was the day that a surprise entourage of Elven folk was welcomed at the white city. It was many months after the battle scars had been mended. I was there with Mr. Frodo, ai, listen to me, dear Frodo…Pip, Merry and even Gandalf. When King Aragorn came forth from the great hall out into the courtyard of the White Tree, all he could see at first among his adopted brethren were beautiful white-threaded tree emblems greatly emblazoned on long, silver banners. Legolas escorted Lord Elrond to greet the new King. Elrond then turned back toward us and led King Aragorn into the large company that had traveled so long to make this grand presentation.

         When Aragorn made a polite comment to ask whose hands had the skill to prepare all the beautiful banners, the usually solemn Elrond smiled. It was either pride or elven mischievousness on his face, for Elrond then produced from the crowd of those bearing banners, the fair hand of Lady Arwen. I would’ve dropped dead-away if someone had played that on me. King Aragorn was like a silent ranger named Strider for a beat, and then he was a different man altogether.

         “Well…did he kiss her? And ask her to marry him, right there?”

         “Such grown-up questions, Elanor the First!” Sam quipped. “Truth is, wuv, I know that discussion had to be in private, for matters like those, to a man like Aragorn, are personal. After that one day, it was neither wedding nor coronation made him King -- not from battles fought or titles given…. Coming home made him the man he was meant to be."