“But how do they know it happened this way?” Eldarion demanded of his father.

            Aragorn Elessar shrugged.  “I cannot say for certain, but I suspect that during their return to the Shire from Minas Tirith that Merry got the full tale of it from Gandalf.  Merry was as eager to learn the rest of the story as Frodo used to be.  I doubt, however, Frodo would have asked.  He was still too wounded from his own bearing of the Ring, and had little desire to know more of the evils Sauron and his creatures had committed on others.”

            The two children exchanged meaningful looks.

            Again, Eldarion turned the page.

L

Light of stars lay across the shore of the great inland lake known as Cuiviénen, limning as if with fire the waves that lapped gently and languidly at the shore, and giving outline to the forms that lay in pairs there along the shoreline, where soon the Firstborn would awaken.

Lids twitched; lashes fluttered.  At last eyes opened, and the nascent Elves lay upon their backs, looking up at the glory strewn across the dark sky above them.  Laughing, they lifted themselves up and embraced one another, already in love with this world in which they found themselves and the ones they’d been laid by.

            “Ooh, I like this one,” Melian declared.  “Short and lovely and so sweet!”

            Eldarion looked back at their father, rolling his eyes meaningfully and mouthing, “Girls!”