Several months later
Snow had dusted the plains of Rohan, soft as silk and quiet as moonlight. Winter held the land in its gentle grip, and yet life within Meduseld glowed warm as a hearth-fire.
In a chamber lit by golden lanterns and evergreen boughs, Arwen rested upon fine cushions, her hair loose and glowing like river-starlight. Her breaths were slow, steady, tired. Outside, soft singing drifted through the hallways, elven lullabies mingled with Rohirrim cradle-chants, worlds woven into harmony.
And in her arms lay a child.
Their child.
A small Elven babe, yet swaddled in the colors of Rohan, soft greens and warm woolen white, with a tiny horse stitched in silver thread near his heart. His eyes, when they opened, were deep grey, glimmering with ancient light yet curious as dawn.
Edwen stood beside them, his face awash in awe and reverent disbelief.A warrior, a king, a survivor, and now, a father.
He knelt beside the bed, brushing a gentle hand along Arwen's cheek. "You were radiant before," he murmured, voice roughened by emotion, "but now… I think the stars envy you."
She laughed softly, the sound pale but full of joy. "You exaggerate, my king."
"I understated," he answered.
The babe stirred, small fingers curling around one of his. That tiny grasp, so soft, so impossibly strong, it undid him. Tears stung his lashes and fell without shame.
"For all my years," he whispered, "I thought I knew the weight of a future. But I never imagined it could rest in my hands like this."
Arwen leaned her head against his shoulder. "He will have both our worlds," she said softly. "The grace of the Eldar, the courage of the Rohirrim. And a father who will guide him with both strength and tenderness."
Edwen pressed a kiss to the child's brow, then to Arwen's hand."I swear," he vowed quietly, "no shadow, no war, no sorrow will reach him if I still draw breath."
Arwen's eyes softened."Love will find him, too," she whispered. "As it found us."
He smiled, tired and full. "Then I hope it finds him slower. I'd prefer he stay small… forever."
The elves tending the room exchanged smiles of gentle amusement; parents always said such things.
Time passed in peaceful breaths, the crackle of the hearth, the soft coo of their newborn, Arwen's slow drifting into well-earned rest.
Edwen did not sleep that night.
He sat in a nearby chair, arms folded, gaze never leaving wife nor child.Outside, he heard the wind across the plains and the distant training fields where young warriors still practiced even in winter dawn. His kingdom lived, breathed, and thrived.
Peace, warm and precious, settled around him like a cloak.
He did not know how long he stayed like that, only that when dawn came, golden and bright through the long windows, he felt… whole.
Three weeks later, early spring thaws began to kiss the land.Birdsong returned to the roofs of Edoras.
Edwen walked the palace gardens with his son in his arms, wrapped in a small fur cloak. The baby had begun to smile, now little almost-laughing when Edwen lifted him high into the breeze.
"You'll fly someday," Edwen told him softly. "Not with wings but with spirit."
A horse whinnied in alarm at the base of the hill. The guards stiffened.
A cloaked figure approached up the stone path, leaning on a staff, hat tipped low. The wind tugged at his beard long, white, stubborn as mountain snow.
Edwen chuckled under his breath. "Of course."
Gandalf the Grey reached the top of the stairs and eyed the bundle in Edwen's arms before anything else. His old face softened, lines easing with a rare and genuine delight.
"So it is true," he murmured. "A new star has shone in the House of Eorl… and of Elrond."
He bowed not to the king, but to the child.
"A blessing on this little one. May the world greet him kindly."
Edwen nodded with quiet gratitude. "Gandalf. You honor us."
"Hardly," the wizard said with a wink. "I simply wished to meet the child who will no doubt grow to lecture me someday on the failings of ancient wizards."
Edwen snorted. "He will get it from his mother."
"And his father," came Arwen's amused voice as she approached, shawl wrapped around her shoulders, taking her son into her arms. Her steps were slower than before, but her spirit shone bright.
Gandalf's smile warmed. "Lady Arwen."
"Gandalf," she replied, bowing her head. "You do not come without reason."
"No," he agreed, eyes twinkling as they turned serious. "Peace lies here, but it does not sleep everywhere. Trouble stirs in the north. A quest, most unusual… and dwarven."
Edwen lifted a brow. "This wouldn't happen to involve a certain stubborn leader and a mountain full of gold, would it?"
Gandalf chuckled. "Thorin Oakenshield does have a way of… inspiring participation."
"And causing headaches," Edwen muttered.
The wizard leaned upon his staff, posture grave now."I will soon gather a company. Your friendship and counsel would be… invaluable."
Edwen looked at his wife. She held their child close, eyes soft but steady. No fear. No hesitation, only shared understanding.
She nodded once.
"You will go," she said quietly. "Your path lies with theirs for a time."
Edwen released a slow breath. "Then I will ride. When they call, I will come."
Gandalf's smile returned, deep and genuine. "I expected no less."
The great wizard turned his gaze toward the horizon, where storm clouds hinted over distant mountains.
"Dark days are never gone forever," he murmured. "But brighter ones… are worth every battle bought for them."
Edwen looked to his family, his world, and felt the truth of that settle deep into his bones.
Peace was not the end of the journey.It was the reason to make the journey at all.