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The Brides' New Homes

For Wilwarin and Rhapsody for their birthdays--enjoy! Beta by RiverOtter.


The Brides’ New Homes


They were alive, she and her mortal husband; and this time she would be allowed to follow him fully, past the boundaries that ordinarily would hold the daughter of an Elf and Maia within Arda until the unmaking of the world. She looked uncertainly, but with growing delight, into Beren’s eyes.

“And this place has been granted us?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yea, to us and our family, or so they tell me.”

“And once again within Endorë?”

Again he nodded.

“A time to know the fullness of our love, then,” she whispered.

“A time and a place,” he assured her.


She alighted for the first time as Elrond’s wife within the vale of Imladris, looking about her in interest. “And this is our home now?” she asked, assuring herself this was real.

“You are free to do whatever you wish, to order building or removal of structures, however you wish so as to make it as much your home as mine,” her husband explained.

She looked about. No golden mellyrn here, raising their silver limbs toward the blue of the heavens. But the singing of the waters--that was heartening. “I shall love it here, I believe,” she announced, smiling broadly.


She awoke, feeling strange, lying next to her new husband. No singing water outside to welcome her into a new day; no golden trees to ward her about. The stone chamber seemed somehow--heavy. She felt heavier as well. For the first time she knew that she’d abandoned the Life of the Eldar, and that the Gift of Iluvatar was hers. Vaguely she wondered what that would feel like to accept at the last.

Arwen stirred, and he awoke; she turned to look into his eyes, seeing the startled delight, knowing that from now on neither should ever truly awake alone.


She slipped off his saddlebow--he’d begged to carry her so to the site of their future home, and at last she’d relented. It was a beautiful place. True, there were ruins here, but what of that? They would be incorporated into the home she and Faramir should share.

She looked about, seeing the great mount of stone on which the castle of Emyn Arnen had once stood and where it would soon stand again. The trees should have left her feeling strange, cutting off her view as they did, but they didn’t. She smiled. Pointing, “The garden there, I think.”


Rosie was embarrassed by the treatment given her by the wife of Saradas Brandybuck. Sam stood by her, his face stiff with fury, his arm about her protectively. But it was Master Frodo who faced down the Hobbitess.

“I will have you know, Dirna, that Rosie is the Mistress of this hole, and is not to be treated as a servant.”

Dirna Brandybuck looked, wide-eyed, from Frodo to Sam and back. “You mean, you share her?”

Master Frodo’s face went stark white, and for the moment she saw in him the majesty of Lord Iorhael, as Sam told her he was known in Gondor. “You would think that of my brother’s wife?” he said, his voice dangerous. “For know this--Samwise Gamgee is my adopted brother, and not merely my gardener. He sought to give his life for me and for all of Middle Earth. There is nothing I would not do to honor him--and his family--as he deserves. And I suggest that if you question the propriety of me sharing my hole with the brother of my heart and his family, that you write to the King Elessar himself. I am certain he would be glad to set you straight.”


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