Faril Nin [My Huntress] Epilogue
Title: Faril Nin My Huntress
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Rating:PG-13 - R (for graphic violence detail)
Characters: Orophin/OFC
Time: …Ends FA 250.
Chapter(s): Epilogue
Author: Codi Lyn a.k.a. iluvobiwan91
Author’s Note:Thank you everyone who’s invested their time in my story. This has been my best fan fiction, by far the most time consuming, and I appreciate every encouraging comment I’ve ever received for it. Enjoy the last of my story… Unless, of course, there’s more…
Epilogue
Daugion hunted through the vast gardens of Lórien in search of his elfling son, who’d once again gone missing. Verry would have his ears clipped if she found out the toddler had scampered out of his sight one more time. Thirteen years old and already skilled at hiding from his Ada, it was not a promising start, especially with another on the way. A deep murmuring and childish giggling reached the warden’s elven ears in a benched area of the naturally manicured garden and he silently made his way to it. Around a wall of ivy he let out a sigh and folded his arms in consternation.
“Nínuion, where are you supposed to be, my son?” His voice cut through the lad’s merry laughter and both Nínuion and the elf carrying him turned to see the chastising father, though one was less surprised than the other that they’d been caught. With a grin, Orophin lifted his grandson higher against his chest and glanced to the curly-headed elfling before addressing his son-in-law.
“Daugion, come now, he just wanted a bit of a story.” Nínuion puckered his lower lip out and hugged tighter to his doting grandfather.
“Orophin, please, my son knows the answer, let him speak it.” Daugion looked pointedly to the child as he was set down and walked before his father guiltily.
“Da, should been with you at les-le-…book time.” The warden could not restrain a small smirk from passing over his face and shared a wink with Orophin before kneeling.
“By the sound of it you are needing a new lesson, young one. But it is already getting late; you get on to your mother this instant. I want you there when I arrive.” His tone brooked no room for argument and the bright green-eyed elfling nodded furiously before running off out of the gardens as quick as his little legs would allow him. Daugion stood and smiled at the retreating frame of his firstborn, chuckling along with Orophin as he did.
“He never tires of the stories, my son, it is the reading he does not yet take pleasure in.” Both elves began their way to the talans and Daugion shook his head.
“Yes, well enjoy it or not, it must be learned. You are returned earlier from Imladris than we had thought. Is all well with our lord Celeborn?” Orophin nodded absently and hooked a thumb through his bow-strap.
“My Lord is well enough. The longing for our Lady is clear in his eyes and I think very soon he plans to sail.” The younger of the two let silence fall for several moments, but eventually noted the melancholy in his father-in-law’s countenance and inquired gently,
“And your brothers, there, how do they do in their father’s home?” Then the marchwarden grinned, happier times leaking through his expression at last.
“Still two of the most fool-hardy elves you will ever look for. Though Elrohir seemed to have an elleth in his sights, I saw no sign of slowing down for either of them. Elladan, I heard, has been making several trips to Ithillien for Eru knows what reason. He hasn’t let a word loose for anyone and seems quite proud of the secret he’s been keeping.” He paused to look about him and then turned his attention to Daugion.
“I haven’t asked you yet, how is my daughter? Does she yet have the twins I’ve been warning you of?” The edhel laughed out right and shook his head, clasping his hands behind his back.
“I can only hope you are wrong about the twins, Orophin. One at a time is fast enough for my liking. No doubt by the end of a century Véredhiel will have given me more sons than I can count on one hand. But she is a beautiful mother.” The widower draped an arm across his shoulders and smiled wistfully, looking ahead at something not quite there. With a quirk to his lips he looked sidelong at his son-in-law and pat him on the back.
“I think I will visit my children in Gondor in some weeks. They remind me so much of her, you know, the Dúnedain. Ostoher’s son has just had his second and his brother Elendur with his wife are expecting a child. Soon I will have grand and great grandchildren to fill all of Arnor.” They climbed the steps to Daugion’s talan and were welcomed by the warm aroma of a hot dinner. Véredhiel was a wonderful cook, especially when with child, for she always hungered for the heartier meals of Men. Entering the wooden flet, she recognized her husband’s footfalls and called behind her as she stirred a thick soup,
“Daugion, can you change Nínuion into some clean clothes? He got into Elbereth only knows what on his way home and I’m nearly finished with dinner.” With a wink, he went to tend his son and informed his wife fleetingly,
“My love, I brought someone for our even meal, I didn’t think you’d mind.” Turning to look behind her she smiled brightly as her father walked toward the kitchen. With a squeal of delight, she went to him and he wrapped his arms around his pregnant daughter as tight as he could.
“Ada! Oh, I thought you still in Rivendell! When did you arrive? I hope I made enough soup, I’m running low on potatoes but I could throw in a few more.” With a laugh he kissed her cheek and let his hands feel of the child within her.
“Calm, my love, there is enough food to feed all of my galadrim for a fortnight! You need not add more for myself alone.” She scoffed and put her hands over his on her pregnancy.
“Da, I don’t think you know how much this elleth eats when there’s a little one on the way.” She giggled and kissed his cheek sweetly as he grinned, leaning down to whisper in jest,
“Can you feel the twins yet? I told you not two months after you conceived there were two in your womb.” She smiled and looked around for her husband before murmuring in reply,
“At night when they won’t let me rest, I could swear I’ll feel more than two sets of feet kicking at me.” He shared a secret grin with her and let her return to cooking as Nínuion and Daugion came into the room. The little one went straight to his grandpa and was in his arms in no time as the warden came behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her and her full belly, kissing her neck with love. But suddenly she stiffened and the spoon fell as her hand went to her stomach.
“Oh.” Daugion turned to her and asked in concern,
“Verry? What is it?” She shut her eyes.
“Ow.” He put his hands on her belly and felt it clench. He glanced to Orophin and the elder nodded. It was time. The marchwarden took his grandson and ran quickly to fetch a healer, exciting the elfling with news that he’d soon be a big brother.
Many anxious hours later Orophin, Véredhiel, and Daugion each held a tiny little bundle with tightly shut eyes and gently pointed ears. Two girls and one boy with green eyes and faintly blonde hair.
Orophin could never bring himself to sail into Valinor and leave his family, leave her. Daugion and Verry stopped having children after twelve children and their seventh daughter, whom they gave the name Gwaeron.
Anameleth and Rúmil sailed to Valinor with the Lady Galadriel and left Orophin as the Marchwarden of Lothlorien. Meldiriel and Legolas were bound only a few weeks after Orophin and Gwaeron in Minas Tirith and lived in Ithillien for over a hundred years before Meldiriel’s longing for Lórien overcame her and she returned. But more of their tale is to be expanded upon in another story and not to be spoiled here.
Orophin stayed with his firstborn daughter in Lórien but throughout his life visited every one of his grandchildren and told them of their grandmother, their family, and their love that now spread throughout Middle Earth through their children.
Vethed [End]