Rising Star, Falling Darkness: Epilogue
by Camilla Sandman
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Down.

Down fell the One Ring, until the flames swallowed it. The gold melted, and as the power in it was unmade, there was a great cry.

Sauron cried out, but even as he cried, his shape became unsubstantial. Powerless.

Lifting her hand, Galadriel looked directly at the once great spirit, who had become so dark and evil. There was nothing of worth there; it was empty. Empty and beaten at last.

The mountain shook, and a wind swept through, taking the shape of Sauron with it.

Her eyes fell on Gimli and Legolas, and her heart had no time to feel any relief or triumph.

“Legolas!” Gimli urged. He stared at all the blood with greater terror on his face than he had shown on seeing Sauron. “Legolas!”

Galadriel sank down beside the dwarf, staring at the blood. Not Legolas too.

The earth shook violently, and she nearly lost her footing.

“Frodo! Sam!” she called, and the halflings ran to her side. Frodo looked dazed, but he did help them lift up the unconscious elf. As hurriedly as they dared, they exited and began the long descent.

They had barely started when there was a great cry from Sam.

“The eagles!”

******

A great wave seemed to pass through Middle-earth. Not of water, but of foul air. From Mordor it washed out over Middle-earth – and vanished.

And all the races looked to the sky and wondered if it was a sign. Some dared hope, but most just waited.

Strange fear befell the orcs and they fled, spirit abandoning them. Hope crept into the hearts of men, elves and hobbits and they waited.

Waited for morning.

*******

Minas Tirith stood silent, smoke still rising from fires dying out.

In one of the houses standing unscathed, Galadriel walked through the quiet hallway.

It was over now. And yet not.

Galadriel slipped into the room at the end of the hallway, getting no reactions from those already there. Frodo had fallen asleep, as well as Sam, but Gimli sat awake by the bed. The Dwarf did not even look up at her, his whole attention on his friend.

Legolas looked pale, deadly pale, but his chest rose and fell. He lived yet, but for how long no one could tell.

She walked quietly over to Frodo, putting a hand on his head. He seemed peaceful now, but the wounds were still there. They would always be there. Her heart bled for him, and she slipped quietly into his mind, reassuring herself that he was sleeping peacefully. There was little she could give him, but this was something.

She patted Sam quietly before walking over to where the Dwarf sat.

“He will awaken,” Gimli said quietly, but there was a hint of command in his voice.

“He must will it so,” she answered sadly, reaching over to take the Silvan elf's hand.

Legolas, awaken!

There was no reaction, no change in the breathing. For a moment she feared her powers were already fading, and that she would lose another elf. Her heart could not bear it.

Legolas, awaken! Your friends await you.

His hand felt so lifeless in hers, and she lifted it to her forehead. Suddenly, tears were trickling down her face.

She cried for Lóthlorien, for Gondor, for Frodo and his pain, for Legolas, for all those fallen. And most of all she cried for Celeborn.

A soft hand wiped away her tears, and she looked down to see Legolas's eyes open.

*******

The wind carried strange tidings all the way to Rivendell and the sea, to Mirkwood and Bree. And to the small camp where survivors had gathered outside of Minas Tirith.

They all looked at Gandalf, waiting for him to speak.

Gandalf stood silent, but there was a strange look on his face. It could almost be a smile. The halflings had walked up to him, but the men kept their distance.

“Gandalf?” asked Pippin. The wizard did not answer, did not even blink.

Silence stretched on forever, and Éowyn found herself leaning on Faramir as they waited. She had the strangest feeling that doom had indeed come – but yet, they still lived.

And finally, Gandalf spoke. His voice was filled with great sadness and great joy, so mixed together it was hard to say which was most prominent.

“Sauron is defeated.”

There were no cheers, no laughter. No one embraced. There was simply a long exhale, and they kept on waiting. Waiting for darkness to pass.

******

The sky was still dark as Galadriel helped Legolas out on the small balcony. They stood quietly by the rail for a while, looking towards Mordor.

“Sauron is defeated,” she said after a while, speaking to the wind.

He leaned on her, smiling ever so softly. He felt faint, but his legs somehow carried him still.

“Frodo was hope, and hope won.”

“Yes,” she smiled, even though her smiled carried great sadness. “But hope could not have prevailed without courage and spirit. You did well, Legolas of Mirkwood.”

She leaned forward and kissed him, as softly as autumn rain.

As she broke the kiss, the halflings came trotting out with Gimli in tow. They looked expectantly on the sky, which was still as dark with stormy clouds.

Stepping away from them, Galadriel looked out over Middle-earth, wondering if it could ever rise from this. But it had to. She had to believe that.

“Flee, darkness! Morning has come,” she said quietly and lifted her arms.

The light shone through her. And behold! the morning star gleamed in answer and grey crawled over the horizon. Grey becoming faintly yellow and orange and finally red.

The people of Middle-earth cried out in wonder, all eyes fixed on the horizon.

The sun rose.

Morning had come.

Fini

Author's Final Note: Thanks to my wonderful beta-reader, Dot! Kiss-kiss.

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