~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ The Epilogue ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The Canary carefully took hold of the top of the fence and placed one foot on a slat halfway up. Pulling herself up, she held the position just long enough to kiss the Swan on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded as she stepped back down onto the ground. The Canary was dressed not in her customary yellow but in a gown of white. Still, it was adorned with feathers – a subtle hint to those who might just have a clue, for her face was not masked and no lute did she carry tonight.
“Please don’t be upset,” she finally said, looking up at him upon his perch. The Swan looked down over his shoulder and smiled.
“I’m not upset. Not at all,” he assured her as he stretched his leg down, testing the distance between his foot and the grass below. Darkness had settled over the lawn, and those who were still enjoying the festivities were doing so inside, out of the chill of the evening. Keeping his balance, he lowered his harp in the Canary’s direction, and she took hold of the splendid instrument as the Swan reached behind his head and untied the ribbon that held the feathered mask in place before retaking the harp from his former partner. “I’m happy for you.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, honestly, now stop pouting. Here,” he said once he reached the ground on the other side of the fence. The Swan slid the mask through and into the Canary’s hands. “You should have this.”
“What if you want to use it again?” she asked, her fingers brushing the downy feathers.
“I won’t need it anymore. I’m going home,” he said in a quiet voice, pushing the mask toward her insistently. “Visit me in Lothlorien?” He hadn’t meant it to be a question, but it only made sense that now he had to ask and could not simply expect it. “Both of you,” he added.
The Canary smiled back as her fingers curled around the feathered mask. “Of course.”
