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Chapter Text

My first conscious thought is that maybe my skull had cracked open. My head throbs in pain as I stir awake.

I groan and find myself lying on cold, sticky ground. Have I woken up in yet another pile of shit? I've had enough of the Powers That Be picking on me this way but at this point, I can't even distinguish between animal shit from orc stink.

No, not orcs.

I made the mistake of calling them that once.

"Let me go! Let me go, you stupid, oversized orc!" I screeched, kicking my captor the moment I came back to my senses, bile rising in my throat and anger boiling through my veins at the thought of Boromir, kneeling on the ground, his chest riddled with arrows and his fingers stretched out to mine.

We were running. Or rather, the orcs were. Me and the two hobbits were riding piggy-back, hands tied. I could never get used to the foul odor of orc, but there I was, gagging from both dizziness, guilt and the stench of the orcs.

No, not orcs.

"We are Uruk-Hai, and you better remember that next time, little whore."

"Can't tell the difference, honestly. You're all ugly me." Which was what earned me the split lip via head butt that now stung like a bitch and another concussion. The fact that my lips are chapped and dry and I keep biting it whenever the Uruk moves excessively does not help with the pain. Neither does the double vision I get from being exposed to even the smallest amount of light.

Add to that the fact that it had been a day and my shoulder is now swollen from the Uruk's bite during the ambush in Amon Hen. They didn't even bother to wrap it, just splashed water on me, clothes and all, and while I was still unconscious from my first blow to the head, so Pippin informed me. I woke up with a foul-smelling, brown paste slathered on the wound, which burnt first before it felt completely numb. At the time I woke up and found it, I thought that it was infected.

And now here I am, lying in mud. They deliberately left their hostages in the middle of a pile of mud. I'm too tired to even sit up. It was nearing night, and they had stopped for camp. Raised voices from the orcs and Uruk-Hai means that they're arguing. They never stop arguing, it seems, but I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm thankful for that. It means their focus is on their infighting rather than every little move their prisoners made.

"Ellie?" Pippin whispers beside me.

"Pip." I whisper back, sitting up. The effort to even sit up is too much. Every part of my body ached, my head is screaming in agony and my shoulder is throbbing. Not to mention my arms, legs and ankles are hopelessly tied with rope, basically cutting out the circulation to my wrists and feet.

I do not want to think about what I'd have to do when I need to pee, or worse, when my period starts. I don't want to think about it. At this rate, I don't even think I'll live long enough to have my next period. All I can think is, Thank God my period stopped before we reached Amon Hen. At least I have one more month before I have to worry about it.

"I need to..." Pippin squirms, uncomfortably.

"Can you hold it?" I ask, figuring out what was wrong immediately while Merry's head falls on his shoulder. Merry is either sleeping or unconscious. I scoot closer to them.

Pippin shakes his head, his desperation clear in his eyes.

"What are you two whispering about here?"

The hairs on my arm stand on end. The Uruk-Hai have terrifying voices. A mixture between an animalistic growl and a human voice. Their snarls invoke fear itself deep into my heart.

I decide to bite my tongue, though I have several choice words for this asshole. 'Fuck' and 'you' being the most important ones, in that order.

"What did you do to him?" I demand, motioning to Merry.

"The little rat couldn't keep his mouth shut. We shut him up." The Uruk-Hai is positively giddy. Its gnarled, ugly face contorts into what can only be a sneer as he exposes his row of yellow, razor-sharp teeth. These are the moments in which I fondly miss toothpaste.

"Here." It throws something hard at me, and then at Pippin. Whatever it is falls on my lap, a lump of white something. It looks like clay and smells like clay. I therefore conclude that it's clay.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I ask, genuinely stupefied as I take the clay. Is this supposed to be my new past-time when they're not dragging us around?

"You eat it."

Assuming I'd actually want to eat clay, I don't trust anything they tell us to put in our mouths. The diseases I could get just from an orc's touch already concerns me. I'm not putting anything that they've held in my mouth.

"You call this food?" I snap. The Uruk growls loudly, and it leans down to my face, making me yelp and lean back. Nothing could have prepared me for the stench of his breath, which is strongly reminiscent of dead rats.

"You eat it yourself, or I feed it to you. Along with various other things I can think of to stuff in your pretty little mouth to shut you up." It said, coldly, bits of spit spraying against my cheek and my blood runs cold. I draw away from it, instinctively, feeling violated.

I take in short gasps of air, but I force my expression to remain stony. The Uruk draws back to see the look on my face, and laughs harshly. He knows I'm terrified. He feeds off fear. As the only woman here, I know there's every possibility that they'll do what every woman is terrified of, and I know these vile creatures are capable of anything.

"You wouldn't dare. I will kill you myself, with my bare hands if need be. And if you decide to kill me instead, Saruman will punish you for bringing a girl's useless dead body to him." It's the only weapon I have against any of them, now that they've stripped me of my sword, throwing knives and bow. I assume the only reason I'm still alive is because they need me to be. They keep talking about 'the Wizard, Saruman', and how he needs me and the hobbits for information. I suspect that's the only reason they haven't done much other than push us around.

That I'm grateful that they only beat us up is a testament to how desperate our situation is. I would much rather the Uruk-Hai focus on me, the troublesome human girl with the big mouth, so they wouldn't notice the hobbits. Without the others, I'm bringing it upon myself to be responsible for Merry and Pippin's safety. I know what they're looking for. I know why they want Merry and Pippin, even though I suspect most of them don't know why they're keeping prisoners themselves, and hell would have to freeze over before I make it any easier for the Enemy to know anything about the Ring.

The Uruk grabs me by my hair and forces my head up so I could look him in the eye. "You are in no position to be making threats to me, bitch. One more word out of your mouth and I will--"

"Please." Pippin squeaks. The Uruk turns to his direction with a snarl and I gasp in pain as his hold on my hair tightens.

"I need to..." Pippin begged.

A look of malice spreads on the Uruk's features.

"Need to what? Say it, boy."

"I need to go to the woods."

The Uruk-Hai throws me aside to torment poor Pippin instead.

"Why go anywhere when you can do your business right there?" The Uruk sneers. Pippin gives me a look of desperation. My mind whirls. I don't know what to do. I could try to distract the Uruk but that would do nothing but only further anger the damn beast. If I delay, Pippin would have to hold it in, and that could lead to a far worse situation when he's no longer capable of holding it.

"What's going on here?" A deeper snarl.

The Uruk bullying Pippin looks up.

"The little rat needs to go to the woods."

"Then take him! I will not let them be infected with sickness and bring them to Saruman barely breathing. Or will you be their nurse?" The other snarls. The Uruk tormenting Pippin snarls as well.

"And take the other two as well. This will be their only rest stop for the night." The larger Uruk says. Gee, how considerate of them.

Before I can stop myself, I whimper. The Uruk in front of me cuts off the ropes on my legs and ankles, and another does the same to Pippin. One of them kicks Merry until he's roused from his sleep and we're dragged all the way to the edge of the creepy Forest we've been camping next to. Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?

There's nothing more undignified than having to pull my leggings down while five Uruks surrounded me, not even bothering to hide the fact that they're staring, indeed, are waiting for me to pull my leggings down.

I glare at them all stubbornly. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction. They're not going to bring me any lower. My fists clench together. God, if only I could punch one of them. Just once, for Boromir.

I find myself begging God to bring us a miracle, and all I can think about is where Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Frodo and Sam might be. The thought of my friends brings a surge of fire through my body. They had their journey. They had their challenges. Mine is here, as a woman, surrounded by enemies, protecting the people I care about. I will not show weakness. My expression hardens as I stare at the Uruks. I am not going to give them the pleasure of watching me humiliate myself by undressing in front of them. They can keep on dreaming.

Merry and Pippin, not missing a beat, forms a protective barrier around me. It was their own rebellion. Their brand of quiet bravery as they stand up for a friend. They are small, child-sized, but I'm thankful for their effort. The Uruks around us growl in annoyance, and I retreat into the shadow of a tree, grateful for any privacy as I do my business. Afterwards, we are dragged back to camp like we are merely sacks.

"We are not going to carry you around, so don't get used to it. Tomorrow, you will run, and you will regret you ever had legs." One of the Uruk-Hai says as it pulls tight at the rope it was tying around my legs and ankles.

I glare at it, making sure to inject as much hatred as I could into the glare. If only looks could kill. Or, better yet, if I could just get my hands on a sword...

I'm snapped back to reality by someone yanking my hair back and forcing a warm, foul-smelling, bitter liquid into my mouth. I choke and gag, spitting the liquid out.

"What? Are you not thirsty?" The Uruk taunts as it pulls away and I retch. Jesus, and I thought the ale in Bree was bad! It wakes me up immediately, though. The dizziness and blurred vision I've been experiencing vanish immediately. Whatever I drunk, it has the effect of brandy, heating my cheeks and belly, however much it churned. The texture is similar to pig's blood. All my time spent helping the Fellowship butcher animals for our meals during our travels made me all too aware of what animal blood looks like.

I didn't even want to think about what that was.

When the Uruk-Hai finally leave us alone by tying us together, Merry, Pippin and I assess the damage.

"I want to strangle them." Is the first thing I say as I lean back against the boulder were were unceremoniously dropped on.

"Merry?" Pippin turns to his cousin, and my expression softens as she I see Merry, his head already lolling to the side, weak and injured.

"I'm alright, Pip." He whispers, although I can see he's anything but. He's probably sick, or his concussion is even worse than hers. He caught my eye, and I know then that he's not okay. His face is pale, and he's shivering, despite being forced to drink the Uruk-Hai wine or brandy or whatever it was.

Merry silently pleads with me, begging with his eyes not to say anything to make Pippin worry further.

"I can manage." Merry said, looking directly at my eyes.

My eyebrows furrow in concern, but one glance at Pippin's wide eyes and I give in. He already looked so frightened. There was no need to burden him. I scoot closer to the two Hobbits, "Alright. Sleep, then." I say and Merry reaches out. His small hand rests in mine while his other hand held Pippin's. We are each other's rocks. We pull our strength from each other. And I'd be damned before I let anything harm the two gentle hobbits with me. They've known me almost as long as Aragorn did. They were with me from the beginning, and I've grown to care for them a lot. They're my family, now, and I never let anything harm my family.

"I wish Strider was here." Pippin says as he leans on Merry.

"So do I." I whisper. Aragorn would know what to do. But Aragorn isn't with us, although I hope he and the others are alive. Anything else is unthinkable. I can't bring myself to be pessimistic. Instead, I harden myself. I have to make Aragorn proud. I have to prove it wasn't a mistake to let me join the Fellowship. I might have needed him a few months ago, but now someone else needs me. I will not break down. Not when me and my friends are surrounded by foul creatures ready to cut us open or worse. No, the three of us will hold fast, stay together, be there for each other. I won't allow Saruman's minions to break us, even if it was our last days.

A ruckus grows louder nearby, and the three of us look up to see what's happening. One of the Uruk-Hai, Uglúk, is yelling at a smaller orc who calls himself Grishnákh, and weapons are being drawn. They're arguing about what to do with us and who the real leader is. Our guards, who had been taunting us before, are part of the group standing behind Uglúk. One of the orcs stumbles backwards and trips over Merry's leg, while another gets sliced down and falls on our laps. I kick the thing off with a disgusted grunt. And kick it again for good measure.

In the end, the Uruk-Hai wins the fight. We are to be taken to Isengard, and be at the Wizard Saruman's mercy. I don't know what's worse. To be tortured and die at the hands of these cruel orcs, or to be tortured and die at the hands of Saruman, the Wizard who has betrayed the people I respect most. Who betrayed Middle-earth itself. A man who would stoop that low was cruel and bitter, even for one who served the Enemy.

I know now that we're being taken to certain death. But I am a survivor. I have never been the one to go down without a fight. I'll show these creatures just how stubborn a New Yorker can be.

Until my last dying breath.

Chapter Text

I've been informed with a kick to my side that I moan in my sleep. The orcs use the names haunting my dreams against me. "Was Boromir that idiot we stuck with arrows?" The Uruk that woke ms up sneered.

"You don't even deserve to say his name. Boromir is ten times the man you will ever be."

"Why would I want to be a soft, weak Man? My flesh is iron."

I've killed enough orcs and Uruk-Hai to know that if I poke them with the pointy end of my sword, they would bleed out like any other creature in the world. I have half a mind to say this to my ugly friend, but I just defiantly glare at the Uruk and turn a deaf ear to his taunts. It's too early for me to play with them.

The Uruk I recognize as Uglúk, who I've taken to calling Ugly, has 'healed' Merry very quickly. He smeared some brown paste on the wound on Merry's head that Pippin pointed out was the same thing he applied to my shoulder, and by the end of it all, Merry was pale but was able to stand again. It was a huge improvement from last night. The three of us are once again forced to drink more of the motor oil orc drink and Merry gently pats my back as I retch and cough on my hands and knees. What I'd give for proper food and water. I'll even take on Aragorn's cooking. The effect of the liquor is, I hate to admit it, strengthening. The soreness in my muscles vanish, but the taste is terrible. It's like swallowing battery acid and the taste just sticks to the roof of my mouth.

The only thing I'm even remotely happy about is that they've untied our legs, but not without a warning. "Try and run away and I'll cut your ankles and bleed you out by hanging you upside down from a tree."

I fantasize about chopping Ugly's legs off with Gimli's axe. I'd have to remember to politely borrow his beloved ax from him to cut an orc's legs off. I'll get my chance someday.

And so we set off, early in the morning before the sun has even completely risen. And we continue running until the sun beat down on us mercilessly. When Ugly calls for a halt, Pippin swerves to one side and dashes off, in plain sight.

"Pip!" I hiss through my teeth while Ugly calls for attention. He sees Pippin run off, as well. I try to run after him, if only to shield him from Ugly's cruelty, but the three guards surrounding me are quick to pull me back by my hair. "You stay. And you watch." One of them growls in my ear. I elbow it but it only pulls at my hair tighter and forces my head to the direction Pippin had run off to.

Pippin's guard catches up to him, and its whip wraps around Pippin's leg and pulls the poor hobbit off his feet. I cry out, afraid of what they would do to him, but Ugly simply calls for the prisoners to be rounded up and for the group to continue running, and so we do. And they made sure to keep the three of us separated from each other so we wouldn't conspire anything. Not like there was anywhere for us to run to, anyway.

There's a short break, too short, where we're given yet another mouthful of liquor and clay bread before we continue running until dawn. If the three of us ever lagged behind or slowed the group down, we were punished with a shove, or a punch, or had to be physically dragged to keep up. Merry was whipped twice. I hear his screams and whispers in my head whenever we stop. They slather more brown paste on his back to treat his wounds, but I can feel the contempt and exhaustion from Merry everytime an Uruk or orc came close to him.

When we finally make camp, I'm so exhausted that I sleep almost immediately, not even bothering to spit insults at the Uruk-Hai. They had turned the three of us into nothing more than mere luggage, carried about and tossed, or made to run fast. My energy is dwindling, and I am only too happy for the delays and breaks.

The cycle continues for two more days, the Uruk-Hai only gaining speed as 'horse-riders' gain on us. We were running on the lands of Rohan, and Rohan is the land of horses. Bruised and tired as I am, looking behind me to see that a group of Rohirrim soldiers are indeed gaining on us brings strength to me. I could only hope they catch up soon.

They managed to catch up to the orcs at the back and they rounded the orcs up like cattle, keeping them together, preventing them from scattering. Their bowmen, skilled with firing on horseback, rained arrows down on those that straggled behind, before moving back into the forest, out of range of the orc archers. Some arrows fell on the Uruk-Hai, and I hope they noticed me among the group. I am, after all, the only human. Surely, they would recognize me as a prisoner and not enemy.

By night, several orcs had fallen, and Ugly calls for a stop. At this point, I'm sure I would have died out of exhaustion had Pippin not pulled out his secret weapon: lembas.

He's been saving it, knowing that watchful eyes would take the lembas away if they saw him with it. But we are desperate, and tired, and only had hard bread and the orc-liquor to sustain us for three days. He saw the expression on both mine and Merry's faces, and at last brought the lembas out to be shared.

What amazing things lembas did to the body! I've taken it for granted while I was with the Fellowship. I'll never do that again. Just one bite and I'm immediately filled with comfort, and my stomach stops churning. "We have to be careful with it but great job, Pip. You just saved our lives." I whisper as the three of us nibble on the last of the lembas before Pippin hides the precious few remaining away.

"I'm starving. We've had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!" One of the Uruks growl. Ha! I feel like we've just achieved victory. Merry, Pippin and I share knowing glances and we smile as we wipe the crumbs of lembas from our hands.

"Yeah. Why can't we have some meat?" One of the smaller orcs sneers. Merry and I exchange dark looks as Pippin catches the eye of the orc.

"What about them? They're fresh." The greed in the orc's voice freezes the three of us in place. There's a commotion as the Uruk-Hai pulls Merry, Pippin and I back, away from the orcs' reach.

"They are not for eating." Ugly snaps, pointing a threatening finger at the orcs.

"What about their legs? They don't need those." Grishnákh pipes in. Merry and Pippin glances down at their legs in fear, and my jaw drops at the thought of anything touching my legs. They can keep on dreaming!

"Ooh, they look tasty." Grishnákh steps forward, and I pull the hobbits back instinctively. Ugly intercepts him and pushes him away, "Get back, scum! The prisoners go to Saruman. Alive and unspoiled."

"Alive? Why? Do they give good sport? Does Saruman want a pretty little Dúnedan wife? Slaves? What is the pretty girl for? What are the two halflings good for? Aside from filling the stomach of hungry orcs." Grishnákh sneers.

"They have something. An Elvish weapon. And the girl has valuable information that can't be found elsewhere. The master wants them for the war." Ugly explains.

"They think we have the Ring..." Pippin whispers.

"And they still think I know what will happen in this war." I say, disgusted.

"Ssh. If they find out we don't have what they want, we're dead." Merry hisses.

I'm seething. This is why they attacked and imprisoned us? They went on a half-baked plan of catching hobbits and a girl without even a confirmation of what they were getting? Saruman may be Curunil the Skilled White Wizard but he sure isn't smart. He doesn't even know who has the Ring or that I can't predict the future. I feel like this is a victory for us. I take comfort in knowing that the Ring is still in Frodo's hands and that no matter what happens, Saruman won't be getting anything. Good wins again. This brings me hope. I think I might be smiling... until I feel something from behind us.

I hear the footsteps before I hear the raspy breath, "Just a mouthful. A bit off the flank..."

The Uruk-Hai turns in our direction and I, not knowing what else to do, kick the approaching orc's shin, making it cry out and fall to its knees. Ugly pushes the three of us aside, separating us between two groups of Uruk-Hai as he cuts off the offending orc's head.

And so a fight ensues between the orcs and the Uruk-Hai.

From behind a group of tall Uruk-Hai, I see Merry freeze as something hits him in the head. He grunts in pain and looks down at what had hit him.

It was an orc's head.

The same orc that had insisted on eating us.

"Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" Ugly announces and the other Uruk-Hai clamor towards the beheaded orc. I get pushed aside, forgotten on the ground as they devour their companion. I scramble backwards, looking around frantically for the hobbits.

"Merry! Pippin!" My shout is drowned out by the loud hooting and roaring that has erupted from our captors.

"Merry!" I dare raise my voice. The Uruk-Hai need to raise their security. The idiots are too damn busy playing tug of war with the orc's innards and arguing about who gets the heart. Their complete disregard for their own companion makes bile rise to my throat.

"Ellie!" Merry calls for help, but I can't find him through the chaos of orc limbs and blood.

I hear the hooves first, and then the arrows and spears whizz past my head.

I have my miracle.

At first, I'm too stunned to even react but as the horses come closer, I stumble to my feet, and hide behind a bolder as I try to find something on the ground to cut my bonds.

Pandemonium ensues, but I keep my focus on the ropes tied around my wrists. I kneel on the ground, finding a jagged rock jutting out of the ground that I use to cut my bonds off.

When the ropes fall off, I shake my hands to bring feeling back to them. I can hear Pippin yelling. My skin crawls at the thought of anything harming him or Merry.

"Pippin! Run! Get Merry and run! Don't worry about me!" I scream, hoping that Pippin's keen hearing would pick my voice up from the confusion of the fight. Riders come thundering towards the orc camp, armed with bows. They expertly weild their weapons on horseback as the orcs and Uruk-Hai, completely taken by surprise, get slaughtered. One of the riders falls off his horse as an orc, suicidal and predictable in its fighting style, jumps on him and they both crash to the ground. Just as it's about to cut the rider down, I move behind it and snap its neck. The rider throws the orc away from him and his eyes widen as he sees me.

Another rider comes forward as the one I just rescued gets to his feet, his eyes fixed on me.

"They took us captive." I say, right before the soldier on the horse aims his spear at me. Well, that's just nice! It's not like I just saved his friend's life!

"No, Aedelgar! She saved me!" The soldier on foot says. At least someone here has an ounce of common sense.

"Hildraed, she was with the orcs." It's definitely not him, though.

"Do you seriously believe I would willingly run away with these foul things?!" I've never been more insulted in my life!

"For what purpose?" Aedelgar asks, suspiciously. I'm very, very tempted to smack his horse's rear so he can just ride on away from me when I catch sight of an incoming orc. "Behind you!" I point.

Aedelgar quickly turns and throws his spear at the orc. He gives me a look and curses under his breath. "You're welcome, asshole." I snarl.

"We don't have time for this!" Aedelgar snaps as Hildraed brings out his sword to attack more orcs.

"Get her on a horse!" Hildraed yells as he pushes me out of the way of an incoming orc and runs his sword into its stomach.

"The next person who lays a hand on me gets their fingers bitten off, I swear to God!" I threaten. I've had enough man-handling. I don't care if they're rescuers, I'm not gonna be disrespected and pushed around anymore!

"Get the girl! Find the halflings!" Ugly roars to his remaining companions.

Aedelgar grunts in frustration as he holds out his hand. Oh, so now he trusts me enough to help. I grip his forearm and he pulls me up behind him.

"Hold on!" I hold on as though my life depends on it, which I'm sure it does.

I've heard about the skill of the Rohirrim with horses, how they are appropriately named horse-lords. They ride hard and fast, as Glorfindel once told me. Aedelgar certainly did not hold back on showing his ability to guide a horse. He and the horse are practically one in mind. I have no other choice but to hang on for dear life. My arms wrap tightly around Aedelgar's waist while he guides the horse with only one hand, a sword in another, swinging at nearby orcs.

"Get back here, little bitch!" One of the Uruk-Hai yells, grabbing my leg. I scream when I slip off the horse. Aedelgar throws his sword at the Uruk. I fall next to the dead creature, with Aedelgar's sword buried in its chest and he brings out a second sword--the twin of the one he just lost. Gasping for breath, I hold on to the hilt of the sword embedded in the Uruk beside me to push myself up. Planting my foot on the Uruk's shoulder, I yank the sword out of it and swing it around to check its balance.

With a sword in my hand, the old fire in me burns again. The old determination.

And anger such as I have never felt before.

Perhaps it had been the frustration, or the desperation, of being captured and tormented but something inside me finally snaps. I've been through hell, and the only thing that kept me going was the fantasy that one day, I'd be able to pay these orcs back tenfold. I live out my fantasies by beheading and slicing anything that comes my way. With every strike, my blood boils as I remember every moment of pain I had to suffer under these creatures.

I fight next to Hildraed, circling around fallen bodies, horses and their riders. The sword sings in my hands, and I slash mercilessly at my enemies. By the time the fighting dwindles down, Aedelgar finds me, hair a mess, eyes bright and wild, and arms drenched in blood and flesh. My entire body trembles in exhaustion and I feel so heavy.

Aedelgar approaches slowly, hands outstretched for his sword. I pant for breath. Why is he moving so slowly? Why is everything blurry? Ugh. My head hurts so much.

"Put the sword down..." Aedelgar says, gently, which only makes me hold on to the sword tighter. I've been through the pain and fear of being separated from a weapon. I never want to go through that again.

"They're gone. Your captors are dead. You're safe now." I look up at him, confused. His voice sounds so distant... And my headache is only getting worse. My last memory is the sword slipping from my grasp as my knees give in. I can no longer hold my body up. My vision goes dark, and I feel arms around my waist and the back of my head. And, as if from a tunnel or from underwater, I hear someone say, "Get Lord Éomer!"

But after that, there's nothing.

Chapter Text

When I come back to my senses, the overwhelming smell of orc makes my heart jump. I can hear the sound of a bonfire. The stench of burning orc is ten times worse than that of a living orc. And perhaps it was this that woke me up, gasping for air.

My initial thought is that I'm surrounded by orcs and Uruk-Hai again, as the stench overwhelms my senses, and it did not do well for me to have an unfamiliar face leaning down on me, with a brown sac inches from my lips.

I scream, sitting straight up and backing away, despite the pain I feel behind my eyes, and smacking away the sac by my face. I am done with strangers shoving an unknown liquid down my throat.

"Calm down. Ssh. It is just water. Just water." A familiar-looking man says gently, kneeling in front of me.

"No, no. Get away! Get away from me. Merry! Pip!" I gasp, wildly. It's only then that I realize my hands and feet are no longer bound. With one last glance at the stranger before me, I push myself to my feet, looking around frantically for the hobbits, but they are nowhere to be found.

When I move to stand up, my legs give beneath me as though they're made of jelly. The man catches me, and guides me to sit back down on the blankets which I have been lying down on. "You are safe now, dear girl. No harm shall come to you." He says. I try to gather my thoughts and clear my head. I realize he speaks Westron with a heavy accent. I push him away, wary of him.

It has to be a trick of the Enemy. Taunting me with a false sense of hope and safety only to bring me to sure death.

"It's me. You remember me? I was the Rider you rescued. I owe you my life. I will not hurt you." He says, hands outstretched in front of him. "Hildraed. Hildraed is my name."

I rescued someone? I look him in the eye, but I don't see malice in any of his features. I allow my body to slowly relax, letting myself feel safe for once. "Ellie."

"Drink, Ellie. It is only water. Nothing else, I swear." He says, offering me the sac once more. I take it with trembling hands. My eyes fall on the state of my arms, and I freeze halfway through taking the sac from Hildraed. Bruises and the marks of rope that had cut into my wrists stand out on pale skin. Dirt has gathered beneath my nails, and my hands are greasy and muddy. I gather myself and will my hands to be steady as I take the sac and drink, coughing but not letting one drop spill. The water is lukewarm but it's refreshing compared to what I had been forced to drink for days. I wish I could say I feel guilt for gulping all of the water down, but I don't.

I return the water sac to Hildraed, and he offers me a piece of meat, which looks like beef jerky. Completely famished, I take the meat and devour it. He hands me a piece of round bread, and it's soft for once. By the end of the small meal, I've regained some of my strength, and I observe my surroundings.

A large group of men, all tall, broad-shouldered and blonde, riding on horseback gather together. Some heave dead bodies around, orc and man alike. Some call out to their companions for help to carry the bodies, or announce that they have found someone's brother or father or son. In the end, after three hours, they've counted twelve of their men dead. Hildraed sits with me, feeding me, wrapping blankets around my shoulder, asking me if I needed anything. He sits with me in silence as we both look up at the smoke reaching towards the sky. I don't look at the dead bodies around me. All I know is that only orcs are being burnt, and they deserve to be treated with the least amount of respect. They are nothing more than garbage that needs to be disposed of quickly. None of them deserve burial rights. They have no souls, anyway.

It chills me that I can have such hateful thoughts. I shake my head to get the thoughts out. If I continue to think like this, I'll be no better than the orcs who disregard life easily.

"Come. I will take you to Lord Éomer, and after that you will be brought to safety." Hildraed says, making me jump. He mutters an apology and helps me get on my feet.

"Where are Merry and Pippin?" I whisper as he lets me hold on to his arm.

He stares at me in confusion. Fear makes my blood run cold. I do not want to think dark thoughts of what has happened to my friends. I don't think I'd be able to face the guilt if they died when they were a breath away from being rescued. "They're small. Child-sized. Curly hair, round faces. They look nothing like orcs. They were my companions. The Uruk-Hai took the three of us captive."

"We have seen no other captive but you."

"No. You had to have seen them!" I say, looking around. It's impossible to tell where the two could have gone.

"We did not. I am sorry, Ellie. If we have not seen them, there is a chance that they have escaped the battle."

His words are drowned out as I fold into myself, my hands gripping my hair as I force myself not to cry. I told myself I would keep them safe. I promised to protect them so Boromir's sacrifice would not be in vain.

Even then, I failed.

Hildraed grips my shoulders to shake me back to my senses, "The others would have said something if they found someone that was not orc. Have faith, Ellie. They may yet live." He says. At this point, I'm devoid of any hope. My heart sinks as I look down and focus on Hildraed's shirt of mail.

Hope. Such little of it remains in my heart after all that has come to passed. But if I didn't have hope, then what else am I fighting for? Praying to God that my friends are safe, I nod. Hildraed lifts me to my feet and leads me towards the group of soldiers that have gathered at the edge of the forest. There's nothing I can do now. Merry and Pippin's fate are no longer tied to mine. I have to endure.

Alone. And that is what scares me the most. Because from the very beginning, I've always relied on someone. Now, it's just me looking out for myself.

Hildraed leads me towards his commander, who is in deep conversation with another soldier who also looks vaguely familiar to me. Hildraed motions for me to stay where I am as he catches his commander's attention. Lord Éomer's gaze flickers to me for a second before he nods at Hildraed, who joins him and his companion. They speak in hushed tones, but I shuffle closer to hear their conversation.

I have a vivid memory of scolding Aragorn and Legolas for eavesdropping, and I wince because they're rubbing off on me. I can't help myself. I know they're going to be talking about me.

And I'm right.

"She said she was captured. That was all I got from her." Hildraed says, joining the soldier by Éomer's side with a glance at my direction. I look away, into the distance, to some of the men petting their horses or cleaning their swords on the field, but my ears pick up what they say.

"The orcs were determined to keep her captive. Whoever she is, she must be important." The other soldier says.

"She does not look like a daughter of Rohan." Éomer says, and I feel a pin-prick at the back of my neck. I know he's looking at me, just to confirm for himself that I'm not one of the Rohirrim. Even I know I'm out of place. I stick out like a sore thumb here. Aside from my dark hair, my clothing of light grey and brown is a stark difference to their reds. Everything about me is different, right down to my boots, which for all the turmoil I've been through, are still sturdy and not at all worn down. Thank you, expert Galadhrim tanners.

"And she does not fight like the Rohirrim." Hildraed says. My head snaps to their direction, but the men seem so engrossed in the conversation that they don't even notice me at this point.

Éomer raises an eyebrow. "She fights?"

I fought? When?

"She fights, and fights well." Hildraed nods, "You should have seen her. She moved like water."

"If you saw water, I saw fire. She was destructive. And angry. Very angry." The other soldier says.

"She was imprisoned for who knows how long, the ropes that bound her wrists and ankles have cut into her skin. It is a miracle she is not ill, with the kind of conditions the orcs put her through." Hildraed says.

"We cannot keep her in this condition. Ride back to Edoras with her. If this girl was important enough to be taken and kept alive by Saruman's minions, we must keep her safe." Éomer says. Oh, so we're playing the Who's Gonna Babysit Ellie This Time Game, are we?

"If the Enemy wants her, would it not be wiser to keep her away from our people, and spare them of Saruman's wrath?" The other soldier says. Okay, now he's just being rude.

"What you suggest is to leave a young woman to die in these fields to avoid something that is already upon us. The day we abandon those whom we can save is the day we completely fall to evil." Éomer says.

The soldier bows low, "Forgive me, my lord. I only wanted to show caution. I will take her to my sister. Aedelind is a skilled healer."

Éomer nods in approval. "Very well. We shall speak about the route you will take. In the meantime..."

His gaze snaps to me so suddenly, I don't even have time to pretend to look away. "I do not see the point of keeping you there much longer when you have clearly heard every word."

Shame-faced, I try for a sheepish smile. His gaze is hard, but he motions for me to come towards him.

Whoops. Time to explain myself like a child who was found with her hand in the cookie jar.

Chapter Text

Lord Éomer is taller than the rest of his men, but kind and fair, despite his intimidating presence. When I bow and introduce myself, he tells me to rise and had only gentle words, despite his first interaction with me being that I eavesdropped on him. It brings me such comfort to hear hear not cruel words and threats, but promises of comfort and safety.

"You will be taken to Edoras. We have healers there who would nurse you back to health and treat your wounds. Allow yourself to recover." Éomer says to me.

"Do I go with the permission of your king? I do not want to sound ungrateful, my lord. It is only that... These are dark times. I would not wish to intrude." I say, still unable to believe that I'm truly out of danger. It all seemed too good to be true. There has to be a catch.

"You go as a guest to Aedelgar's home. He will provide you with shelter and keep you safe." And so the other soldier has a name, and he approaches with the reins of his horse in his hand. It's all so surreal. I've suffered under the Uruk-Hai and now I'm just a horse ride away from safety.

"Farewell, Lady Ellie. May you find comfort in Rohan." Lord Éomer says. If only he knew. My words of thanks seem to fall short for this act of kindness he has shown me and I bow low to express my gratitude, before joining Aedelgar, who has just finished securing his pack.

Hildraed gives me the water sac in his hand, the one I drank from. He had refilled it sometime during my conversation with Lord Éomer. "Keep it safe. I'll take it back when we see each other once more." He says, teasingly.

I take his hand in both of mine to show my gratitude. "You saved me, you know? Thank you. Len hannon." I say. When I pull back, he gives me a wide grin.

"Be safe." He says and he helps me up to join Aedelgar on his horse.

And so, we set off, with me sitting in front of Aedelgar, a man who is leaner than most of his fellow soldiers, and who guides his horse well.

The rough treatment of the orcs had clearly taken a toll on me. I try to be tough and bite down my nausea and dizziness, but my body protests. It's only been an hour of journey before I demand for a stop, and proceed to throw up the meager meal I was fed. I also sleep most of the way. He's a quiet man, but he makes sure that I'm as comfortable as possible, and he avoids rough terrain if he can.

When we stop to rest and eat, I feel his eyes on me as I greedily take in the food offered to me. The orcs had driven Merry, Pippin and I to the brink of starvation. It took an immense amount of strength and endurance for me to keep up with them. And now, I'm trying to make up for days of starvation and fitting it into one meal. I need to regain my strength quickly. The faster I recover, the faster I can look for Merry and Pippin.

"Slow down. You will only bring it up again once we ride." Aedelgar warns.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it. I've been starving for days." I sigh. I catch the look Aedelgar gives me before he could hide it.

"You shouldn't pity me. I've been looked at with greed and anger these past few days. I don't need pity, as well." I say, softly.

"I do not pity you--" Aedelgar starts, but I smile and cut him off.

"Don't lie. I can see it plain in your eyes."

"I only thought... You could not have journeyed so far, unarmed, by yourself in this land."

"That's true. I had companions. But we had no intention of coming to Rohan."

"Then where did you intend to go?"

Silence is my answer. Gandalf once said Saruman could use the trees and the birds as his spies. I don't trust anyone with the knowledge of the Fellowship's quest.

"It's not my place to say." I say, after a long pause. "I travelled with nine others. We were separated. The Uruk-Hai found me and two others and they took me here. That's all I dare say."

Aedelgar looks at me, curiously. "What did Saruman want from you? Those orcs must have been under orders not to kill you. They never keep their victims alive for long."

"Saruman made a mistake. He thought I was important. I suspect that's the only thing that kept me alive. If he knew that I couldn't give him what he wanted of me, I'd be dead before those orcs even came to your lands." I say.

"A mistake? What do--?"

"Please. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Aedelgar hesitates. I can tell there are still a lot of questions he wants to ask. But he keeps his questions to himself, thankfully.

"You fight with some skill, but I wager you have not been training for long." He says, trying to change the subject. I blink up at him. The events of last night has all been a blur. "You fought fiercely, but an experienced fighter would know how to rein in their anger instead of recklessly waving their sword about. Anger gets you killed. It was fortunate the orcs were more focused on killing us and taking you away."

I groan. Legolas once told me never to let my anger take control of me but the memories of last night blend into a mess of confusion and blood. I remember picking up a sword, but not much else. I don't remember fighting, although the dried blood on my hands tell me I did.

"I started training just a few months ago. I had skilled teachers who would be disappointed to know I let my emotions get the better of me." I say, looking down. I feel another pang of emotion as I remember Legolas. The days of training and teasing seemed to be from centuries ago. What I'd give to see Legolas' mischievous smile again, or Glorfindel's furrowed eyebrows as he fights not to laugh at what I say or do, regardless of whether it was my intention to be funny or not.

"That is a very short time indeed. You must have been trained well, if you were able to move like you did. Despite everything, you executed your attacks well and knew how to defend your blind spots. You must be a natural."

I don't like the idea that killing is anything I do naturally. I remember almost throwing up at the thought of eating deer. Now blood is on my hands. The black blood of orc, but blood nonetheless.

"It was necessary for me to learn how to defend myself." I say.

"You're right. These are dark times. And no matter how much Gríma Wormtongue insists that there is nothing to fear, war draws nearer. Saruman has been attacking Rohan's villages with impunity." There is anger in Aedelgar's words.

He shakes his head, trying to dismiss the flash of anger he felt. I'm just about to ask him who Gríma is, but he gets up before I can even open my mouth.

"Come. Edoras is not far. I warn you now, my sister can be quite strict."

"Oh. I can't say I'm not used to that." If I can handle Glorfindel, I can handle anything.

"She can also get impatient." Aedelgar continues.

"I'm assuming she does not have sons. I've heard several times before one needs an extraordinary amount of patience when raising sons." Glorfindel once told me this. Something about Lord Elrond running around Imladris to keep the twins in check when they were still young.

"I should hope not. She is only fourteen!"

I stop in my tracks. "A fourteen-year-old healer?" I say, pleasantly surprised as we get on the horse again.

"My mother's apprentice. She had been helping our mother with caring for the sick before our mother died last year, but the villagers still come to our home. They trust Aedelind." Aedelgar says, his chest swelling with pride.

"What a bright young girl. It would be an honor to meet her."

"You won't be saying that when she controls everything you do." Aedelgar chuckles as the horse speeds off again to Edoras. I look back at the road we had taken, hoping Merry and Pippin are as fortunate as me in their rescue.

I manage to keep my food down during the journey, but by the time we arrive at Aedelgar's cottage, a day has passed, and it's night when we finally get there. It seems we are not the only ones seeking Aedelind for help. A large group of people is there when we arrive: Elders, children and women alike. Some are sporting injuries and wounds and the smell of sickness is in the air. They look up at us mournfully when our horse approaches. Aedelgar freezes just as he helps me off the horse.

"There has been another attack." He says, placing a hand on my shoulder to steady me. When will my head stop hurting? "Aedelind!" He calls.

Moments later, the door bursts open and a tall, young girl comes out, wiping away the beads of sweat from her brows.

"Aedelgar!" She looks shocked that her brother is there, but runs to his arms nonetheless. "They said you were exiled! You can't be here! If the King finds out, they'll have you killed." She whispers, looking around frantically.

Aedelgar gently cups her cheeks. "Calm down, little sister. Lord Éomer is the only one exiled, unjust though it may be. The rest of us are free to go back to the Meduseld whenever we could. They need soldiers now, whether they admit it or not."

"Why did you come back? Are you finally getting married?" Aedelind says, her eyes falling on me. Oh, that's sweet. Aedelgar is engaged! I wonder who the lucky girl is and if she's here.

"Why does your betrothed look like you dragged her out of the woods? Is that the only way you can get a woman, brother?" Aedelind asks, making me step back in alarm.

"Whoa, kid! We just met. I'm not getting hitched anytime soon." I try to laugh it off as Aedelgar stammers.

"Be gentle. We rescued her. She had been captured by orcs."

Aedelind's eyes widens. "Forgive me. I did not know." She says, before her eyes scan me from head to foot. I've become so used to being looked at like that, I don't even fidget anymore. "She looks strange."

Oh, boy. There's that word again, held with suspicion and curiosity. I haven't heard that word in a long time. I thought I'd never have to hear it again.

"She is not from Edoras." Aedelgar explains.

"I'm Ellie."

"And she speaks strangely. What accent is that? It does not even sound Gondorian." Aedelind asks. I look up at Aedelgar, who begs with his eyes for pardon. Her curiosity is cute and all, but I'm getting judge-y vibes. I'm too tired to work out if she's just curious or if this is Aedelind's way of shooing me but she just waves her hand, "Well, it doesn't matter. Come. I must tend to the wounded. The other healers and I have got our hands full. The Dunlendings were cruel and spared no one. These people came from another village. They are all that's left."

The cottage itself is large, provided for by the king for Aedelgar and his family's loyal service, no doubt. But even then, it's packed inside with the sick and injured. I hear a woman wailing as she clutches the lifeless body of her child. I look away, but the agony in her sobs tears my heart in two.

"We could not save him. We tried to ease his pain, but we can only do so much." One of the other healers whispers to the woman. Aedelind leads me into another room, a kitchen as it seems, where some of the healthy refugees were cooking. "We have food. Stew, carrots and potatoes, and beer. Please. Sit. I will fetch you food to eat. You must be hungry." Aedelind says.

I am only too happy to oblige as a bowl of hot stew is placed before me. Aedelind leaves me to eat while she tends to the other wounded refugees. They had made makeshift beds and hammocks to lay the sick and wounded on, but the stench of stale urine and blood mixes in the air. It's so unlike the House of Healing in Imladris, where everything is crisp, clean and sanitized, much like modern hospitals. Here, people would treat one wounded person and jump to another. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about the germs and diseases being transferred from one immuno-compromised person to another.

Aedelind walks back in the kitchen and leads me to a bedroom.

"Come. You will need a bath. Has your cycle arrived?" Aedelind says as she stoops over a tub filled with warm water.

"It won't arrive until the twenty-eigth of this month, or twenty-fifth at the earliest."

"Expect it to be delayed. You have been through stress. It happens when a woman becomes sick." Aedelind says.

I feel a pinch of nostalgia as I remember Salabeth in Aedelind. "I know. I studied to be a healer as well."

Aedelind straightens and turns to me excitedly. "You did?"

"Well, an herbalist. But I was taught the basics of healing, as well. I could make tea or medicine from herbs, if you would allow me to help. It's the least I can do to thank you for helping me." I offer. I'm glad my college education, as well as the herbalism Salabeth taught me, would be of help to these people. It's the only thing I can offer for what Aedelind and Aedelgar has given me.

"Oh, that would be wonderful! Lady Éowyn sent a messenger a day ago, asking for new concoctions for the King's chest pain and to help her sleep. She has been restless lately, and understandably so. Her brother exiled, her cousin dead..." Aedelind says, then shakes her head. "Well, go on. Drop those clothes so I can get them washed."

Aedelind isn't impatient so much as she is energetic. Her smile is warm, and she gives them easily. I bet it brings comfort and warmth to the refugees she takes care of. Whatever difficulties the people of Rohan are going through, Aedelind seems only determined to show kindness and positivity. Nothing seems to dampen her spirit. I drop down on the bath after stripping off my clothes.

Mud and blood immediately wash off my body. Aedelind helps me wash my hair and scrapes the dirt off my back. She also inspects the wounds that the orcs left me while they kept me captive. Her hands trace the scars I got from being whipped, and the teeth mark on my shoulder.

"What did they do to you?" Aedelind whispers. I don't answer her. I don't ever want to think back on what I had to go through. It hurts my head to try and remember. All I can think of is pain, hopelessness and hunger. Aedelind accepts my silence and continues to help me bathe without asking any more questions. I usually don't need help for something as simple as a bath but Aedelind insists that I must relax my muscles. I did draw the line when Aedelind offered to shave my underarms for me.

"Please. Allow me. I can do it." I stammer. Aedelind rummages through the drawers on the table at the corner of the room and pulls out a cutthroat razor.

"Aedelgar used this when he was younger, but now he needs a larger razor. Why do you shave your hair there, anyways? It seems too much effort when no one will see it anyway."

"It's good hygiene. Makes you less smelly."

"Pigs smell worse. I doubt anyone would care what you smell like when they're too busy not smelling the pigs."

Okay, she has a point. But does she also not realize how itchy having underarm hair is? And mine is getting out of hand. They're practically braid-able at this point. Which only makes me insist on shaving myself. Aedelind relents and leaves the room. She comes back with a fresh set of clothes in her arms.

"This dress is yours now. Mother used to wear it." Aedelind's voice changes, until it's soft, and her age finally shows. At that moment, she is just a child simply missing her mother.

"It would look good on you." Aedelind says. I step out of the bath and dry myself with a flannel.

"Thank you." Again, it's becoming my most used sentence. The dress is different from anything I've ever worn. On top of the chemise I was given (which reaches all the way down to my knees), I also had to wear a plain white dress, which reaches the floor. The sleeves fit my arms and reaches my wrists, covering up the fading marks of rope. And on top of that is a green smock and brown belt to secure the fabrics together. The shoes I was given are loose at the ankles, but lacing it tightly keeps it from falling off. Aedelind also gathered my hair back with a braid.

"There. Good as new. This will be your room. How long will you be staying?"

The question throws me off-guard. I didn't plan on staying at all. I wanted to rest for a while and then go off to search for the missing hobbits after giving Aedelind a recipe for a chamomile tea for Lady Éowyn, as well as hawthorn powder for the King's chest pain. I don't expect to stay for more than a few hours.

"I need to look for my companions."

"You could barely stay on a horse for more than an hour. You're too weak to be going off on your own." Aedelind scolds.

"But my friends..."

"You're not going to be of any help to them if you lose consciousness in the wilds. You need to rest and regain your strength."

I bite my bottom lip, unable to meet the pleading eyes of the teenager before me. I don't want to leave Merry and Pippin alone a second longer, but Aedelind has a point. Already, I feel my body begging me for a rest.

"Alright. But only until tomorrow." I say and the young girl beams.

"Good, good. I'm glad Aedelgar is marrying you. You seem nice." Aedelind says before rushing off with my old clothes.

"I'm not actually marrying him!" Ellie calls but Aedelind didn't seem to hear as she waves at her brother, who just enters the room.

"She gave you my room, didn't she?" He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. I splutter and look around.

"I, uh. I guess so. Um. I could sleep on the couch if you..." Aedelgar raises an eyebrow. Right. Refugees outside. Rooms filled with people. No couch. Couches don't even exist yet. "Nevermind. I'll be leaving tomorrow, anyway."

Aedelgar chuckles, "My sister the matchmaker. She's been pushing me to get married lately. I think that's her way of distracting me from entertaining the men who are asking for her hand."

"Men? Marriage? At fourteen?" It's my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Well, yes. She is of age."

"When I was fourteen, I was crying over getting my braces..." I whisper in amazement.

Another confused stare from Aedelgar.

"Nevermind." I turn around, ready to head back outside. I forgot to warn Aedelind about the unsanitary practices going on outside. The wounded need to be taken care of.

"What are you doing?" Aedelgar says, standing between me and the door.

"I want to help."

"No. You rest. I am sure you're exhausted." Aedelgar says.

"I am but..." I say, looking down.

"But?"

There's a long silence as I fight to keep my voice steady. It's more than just wanting to help. I know I can't hide the real reason for wanting to leave quickly. There's a reason why I refuse to let go of a weapon. There's a reason I was so distrustful of Hildraed when I came around. There's a reason I don't want to get to the safety of a soft bed.

"I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid if I do, I'll wake up surrounded by those horrible creatures and know that this is just a dream." I finally whisper.

Aedelgar sighs, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, look at me." He says and my eyes meet his. "This is no dream. I promise you. You are safe now."

"Even if this is reality, that means that Merry and Pippin are out there. Alone. And while I sleep in a soft bed, they're out in unfamiliar lands, probably lost, hungry and confused."

"If it was the other way around... If it was you still out there and your friends are here with us, would it ease your heart to know that they are safe?"

"But they don't know I'm safe! They don't know where I am. For all I know, they've been dragged off to Isengard already and..." It's so frustrating to know that I've failed them. I feel like it's a betrayal to the hobbits if I stay here and let them fend for themselves.

"Listen to me. We have killed all the orcs. Every single one of them. They are not going to be imprisoned in Isengard, I promise you. You are safe. That is what matters. And you need to rest. Rest now so you can look for them tomorrow, if that is what you wish to do." Aedelgar says.

I shake my head, but I know he's right. It would help no one if I ride off and get lost in the state I am in. Besides, I don't even know where to look and I'm so, so tired. Aedelgar nods and moves to leave the room as I crawl to bed, kicking my shoes off.

"Sleep, Ellie. A new dawn shall shine tomorrow." He says as my eyes grow heavy. I hear the door close and I hate to admit it but I finally succumb to the comfort of a soft bed, a hot meal and clean clothes.

Chapter Text

It's early in the morning when I wake up. Aedelind has just placed my old clothes down on the bed. Mud and blood had been brushed off it. It looks like the same state it did when Salabeth first gave them to me. Either Aedelind is a really good washer or there's something in elf-made fabric that makes it easier to wash clothes.

"Good morning. I'm sorry if I woke you." Aedelind says.

"It's no trouble at all." I say, well-rested for once as I stretch my arms.

"No more headache? Do you feel weakness?" Aedelind asks.

"Nothing I can't manage." I say as I help Aedelind with the preparations. Aedelgar has gone off to fetch horses while Aedelind and I explore the garden that she had been tending to at the back of the cottage. In the end, I find the chamomile and the hawthorn for the infusions I'll be making for Lady Éowyn. Aedelind informs me there would likely be more herbs in the Meduseld, as it was the home of the King.

I'll have to go with her to the Meduseld. After I'm done helping with the herbs, I can search for Merry and Pippin. While waiting for Aedelgar and the horses, I help Aedelind tend to the wounded villagers.

"You need to clean your hands every time before you move on to the next patient." I inform her.

"Why? It's a waste of water and time. We need to tend to as many wounded as possible."

"There are diseases that can be carried from one person to another and would only worsen their condition, especially if they are already sick. Trust me, washing your hands before and after handling a patient will save many lives."

"I suppose... If you say so... Where did you say you studied about healing again?" Aedelind frowns.

"Elves taught me." I say. It's not entirely a lie. Salabeth did teach me a bit about first-aid, although most of my knowledge on diseases come from what I learned and have been taught in my own time.

"Elves? Seems you hit your head too hard, girl." One of the other healers say.

"Why would elves, if they even existed, waste their time on the likes of you?" Another one says.

Well! The bitchiness is uncalled for!

"Why do I have to explain myself to you? You can take my advice or not. Just don't blame me when children die of infection because you're too stubborn to listen." I snap.

"Let's not fight, please? I believe Ellie when she says she is learned about healing, and it would be foolish to reject advice that could save lives. From now on, we wash our hands before treating the wounded. Is that clear?" Aedelind says and what a sight to see full-grown adults bowing to this small teenager. It shows what kind of status Aedelind and her brother have in the village. I'm starting to believe they're from an important family.

When Aedelgar returns, we set off with a pack that contains my old clothes and new cloths for me to use during my period that Aedelind had torn off the night before. Aedelind herself carries a basket of all the things she would need to prepare concoctions.

I am only too aware of the whisperings as we ride into the village, overlooking the grand hall at the top of a hill, its white flag waving at me in the wind. People don't take kindly to unfamiliar faces. I can't say I blame them. Their country is under attack, the heir to the throne is on his deathbed from a mortal wound(People in the cottage were very clear that they did not think Prince Théodred would survive), and the king is sick. Still, I can't say it makes me comfortable when the villagers don't even make any effort to conceal their hostility.

"Strangers coming and going. Another dark-haired one, too. Looks Gondorian to me. Why would one of them be here? It's not natural." I overhear two women saying as we pass them. I look around, confused as to why they are all glaring at me. The village is quiet. Too quiet.

And also incredibly stinky. There's horse shit everywhere. What is it with me and horse shit? Why do the Valar like to curse me with animal poop? Is this their idea of a joke? They need to get a better sense of humor, or at least pick on someone else for once. Aedelind was right in saying that I am now too busy not smelling the horse and pig manure to care about my own body odor. How the villagers here could breathe with the overwhelming smell of the environment amazes me and I'm glad I can breathe clear air again as the horses take us up the hill, towards the Meduseld, where we are led in through the servants' entrance.

We are, however, stopped just as we're about to walk into the Great Hall itself.

"What is going on?" Aedelgar snaps. "This is my sister. We have been ordered by Lady Éowyn to come with healing salves."

"Aedelgar. I am sorry for doing this but Gríma Wormtongue has ordered that any man who rode off with Lord Éomer is to be banished from the Golden Hall." One of the guards say.

"Gríma Wormtongue does not command me. Only my king does, and currently, he needs the help that my family offers." Aedelgar's voice raises.

"What is the problem here?" A voice calls. I turn and see a woman, tall and fair, with golden hair that flows past her waist. Immediately, the soldiers retreat and bow, as do Aedelgar and Aedelind.

"My lady. We have brought medicine." Aedelind says, shyly.

"Aedelind? Yes, I sent for you. Thank you for bringing them so swiftly." Éowyn says, her eyes finding Aedelgar.

"Aedelgar. You rode with my brother, did you not? I saw you, before he left with the éored."

"Yes, my lady. He bid me to come back and to give you a message." Aedelgar says, offering Éowyn a roll of parchment. Éowyn takes it with a gracious nod.

"If he had just stayed like I told him..." Éowyn sighs, rubbing her temple, her exhaustion clear in her blue eyes.

She then turns to me and I bow.

"She is the one who will create the recipe for the king's pain." Aedelind says.

A small smile appears on Éowyn's face. "Then I must thank you, kind woman, for helping ease my uncle's pain in this time of grieving." Her words are thick with emotion. "If you could just bring it to the hall, I shall be with you shortly. I will just call for the servants to bring the king's meal. He does not feel well enough to stand and walk around much."

The three of us bow for the last time, and Éowyn sets off for the doors on the other side of the hallway, while Aedelgar, Aedelind and I walk in the Great Hall of Meduseld, where the throne sits.

The moment I walk in, though, my heart leaps to my throat. Because there, standing before the King, is an old man so familiar with his bushy eyebrows and grey cloak. A swell of emotion bursts in my chest as the old man speaks, "The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King."

Yes. That's Gandalf, alright. But it's impossible. He fell. I saw him fall, back in Moria. My eyes widen as I look around, unable to believe he really is here, unable to believe what I'm seeing. And just behind Gandalf...

My eyes meet the blue gaze of the elf.

Legolas' eyes widen. Neither of us can believe what we're seeing. "Ellie." He mouths, hesitating to step forward just as all hell breaks loose.

"I did not pass through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." Gandalf says, annoyance clear in his voice as he points his staff at the man standing next to the king, whose pale skin and black hair is a stark contrast to the golden hair and sun-kissed skin of the Rohirrim. He looks like nothing more than a snake. A man who, from one glance, I know cannot be trusted. This has to be Gríma.

Before I even have time to react, the man standing next to the king's throne slithers backwards, his back stooped as he looks at Gandalf's staff in terror.

"His staff. I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

Arms shove and push me aside. Strong arms. A bunch of men with long, straggly hair and dark clothes who look like they have no business in a King's Hall run in and unceremoniously shove me away. Of course they wouldn't notice me. I'm wearing the clothes of a simple villager. They probably mistook me for a servant, and nobody ever looks twice at a servant. Aedelgar tries to pull me away but I break free of his grasp as Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli fight with nothing more than their fists. Where are their weapons?

In the chaos, my eyes move to the king, sitting perfectly still on his throne, while Gríma backs away, towards me. My instincts kick in and I run forward, grab him by his cloak and throw him back to the middle of the hall, right at my dwarven friend's feet.

Gimli gives a cry when he realizes I'm several feet away from him. "Ellie!"

Which makes Aragorn look around. "Ellie?" He calls before he dodges a punch aimed at his head and swings an upper-cut at his opponent. Gimli, recovering quickly, steps on the back of Gríma's cloak and grabs him by his collar.

"I would stay still if I were you." Gimli growls and God how I missed his deep voice, the mere sound of which comforted me and brought terror to our enemies.

I hear Aedelgar call my name and I turn to see him running towards me. Legolas, who doesn't know Aedelgar simply wants to get me out of the middle of a fist fight, punches him square in the face and he falls to the floor with a groan.

"Aedelgar!" I gasp, kneeling in front of Aedelgar while Aedelind, held back by a guard, furiously scratches her way to her brother's side to inspect his broken nose.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf barks. At once, the entire Hall turns, focused on the wizard and their fragile king. "I release you from the spell."

The Hall goes eerily quiet, and a rumble of cruel laughter bubbles up from the king. It's impossible for such a frail, ancient body to release that kind of hair-raising laughter, full of spite. It sends chills down my spine. "You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey." He sneers.

Aedelgar, still groaning, raises his head just as Gandalf throws his cloak back. I shoot to my feet in alarm. Gandalf is dressed from head to foot in white. It's Gandalf, but not the Gandalf I remember. Not the kind, old man wearing grey.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf says and there Is power in his words as he aims his staff at the king, who is thrown back in his throne.

Éowyn, hearing the commotion, runs forward to stop Gandalf, but Aragorn holds her back and whispers for her to wait, while her eyes remain focused on her uncle.

"If I go, Théoden dies." The old king says. Okay. Creepy. Talking about oneself in third person feels too much like that girl in The Exorcist. Wait, is that what Gandalf is doing?

"You did not kill me." Gandalf replies, "You will not kill him."

Yeah, he's exorcising the damn king. I'm expecting turning heads, projectile vomit and backwards crawling. Instead, the king slams back against the throne once more, and he fights against invisible restraints as he leans forward and hisses, "Rohan is mine."

Gandalf steps forward, "Be gone."

Théoden--or rather, Saruman--fights against Gandalf's power, and with one last great effort, throws himself towards the Wizard. Gandalf raises his staff and Théoden falls back to his chair.

Éowyn breaks free from Aragorn's grasp and runs to her uncle's side. Slowly, King Théoden's appearance changes. The lines of age that wrinkled his face disappears, and his crown rests upon golden hair again.

"I know your face." Are his first words, and he spoke in a voice that commanded respect, so unlike the wheeze and hiss that he had spoken in moments ago. "Éowyn."

Éowyn throws her arms around her uncle. Next to me, Aedelgar gets to his feet, staring at his king with an open mouth.

"Impossible." He whispers. His nose is bleeding profusely but he doesn't seem to care. He gapes at his king and the Wizard.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better. If they grasped your sword." Gandalf says, as one of the soldiers who did not join the fray comes up, offering the hilt of a sword engraved with gems. Théoden reaches out and pulls the sword from its scabbard. At that moment, I see a powerful man, a warrior and a leader in battle. Life burns bright in his eyes, and anger.

Gríma, sensing that things are about to grow hairy for him, tries to crawl away. Aedelind kicks him and Gimli yanks him back by his cloak.

The king's eyes slowly turn to his servant, who whimpers pathetically as the king charges at him. Gimli is only too happy to release Gríma in the king's hand.

"How dare you?" Théoden whispers as he looks down at Gríma. "Open up the gates. Get this worm out of my halls."

The men scrambled to unlock the doors, and I feel someone step behind me.

"Ellie."

My heart jumps to my throat. Why does my name sound so different when he says it? Why is his voice the sound that makes me relax? Tension leaves my shoulders. I turn away from the sight of two soldiers dragging Gríma to his feet, while Éowyn tries to calm her angry uncle down.

"Hi. I realize this is an awkward moment to meet again." I say, looking up at Legolas. If he only knew how relieved I am to see him again. Words fall short. He's still immaculate as ever, still tall and beautiful. He leans forward, as if to place his hands on my shoulder, but I jump away at the sound of a struggle going on behind us. Gríma is still trying to escape.

"It really is you?" Gimli gasps behind us. I give his shoulder a firm clap and he smiles. He looks tired, like he's barely gotten any sleep. But his eyes shine, keen and bright. Our attention is taken by Gríma moaning as Éowyn lands a kick between his legs. Théoden looks at his niece with glowing pride. Aragorn jogs towards us and he pulls me in for a hug, welcoming me as a sister, a daughter, a good friend.

"Meril. We thought you had..." Aragorn says.

"Died? Me? In unfamiliar territory? Ah, but don't you remember? Unfamiliar territory is where I'm most at home."

"Ai, it really is you." Aragorn chuckles just as the doors swing open.

Our reunion is cut abruptly. Théoden throws Gríma out the door, with Gandalf right at his heels. Aedelgar and Aedelind run forward to see what's happening, and Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I follow behind them.

"I've only ever served you, my lord!" Gríma cries, crawling away. It would have been a pitiful sight had Gríma been anything but a liar.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" There is barely contained rage in Théoden's voice.

"Send me not from your sight!" Gríma pleads but Théoden is hearing none of it. He raises his sword to strike, but Aragorn runs forward and stays Théoden's hand.

"No, my lord!" Aragorn cries. "No, my lord. Enough blood has been spilled on his account." Ah, ever so chivalrous Aragorn. God, how I missed him.

Théoden seems to battle with himself, but his body relaxes and he loweres his sword. Aragorn then offers his hand to help Gríma to his feet, and the snake only hesitates for a second before spitting right at Aragorn's palm. I wish Aragorn let Théoden run him through.

"Spineless little shit." I mutter under my breath as Aragorn pulls back and shakes his hand in disgust. Gríma takes that time to stand up and flee from the terrace, where a large crowd had gathered to look at the spectacle. Gríma roughly pushes people out of the way, and I notice I am not the only person who curses at him, until he disappears in the crowd. He probably stole a horse and took off, because that's the kind of rat he is.

"Hail, Théoden King!" Aragorn announces to the crowd. Every person in the vicinity kneels before their king. It is a small victory, to know their king is back. I like to believe it gives them hope.

Théoden turns back to the Meduseld, a frown forming upon his features.

"Where is Théodred?" He asks, "Where is my son?"

There is a pause before Éowyn's shaky voice rises from the silence. "My lord. He is dead."

Everything and everyone seems to have frozen that second, especially King Théoden. Without a word, he walks back into the Golden Hall, as though confused, his back stiff.

Éowyn is the first to rise and she follows her uncle back inside. One by one, those kneeling got to their feet, looking down, sorrow on their faces as they mourned for the loss of the king's son.

Chapter Text

Aedelind inspects her brother's broken nose as Aedelgar holds a rag to stop the flow of blood. The king has disappeared into his chamber, and Lady Éowyn is busy organizing Théodred's funeral. I guess being busy is Éowyn's way of dealing with her grief, and though there are servants who are taking care of the funeral arrangements, they let Éowyn question them and take the reins.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I were led to the Great Hall, where we were offered food and drink. Aedelgar and Aedelind had joined us and currently, Aedelgar is sitting on the bench next to me. We are both sitting with our backs to the table as servants prepare the food. Gimli sits on the bench on the other side of the table, ready for the food to be served, while Aragorn sits on my right and Legolas stands next to Aedelind, inspecting the damage he did to Aedelgar.

"Your friend broke my brother's nose." Aedelind says, glaring up at Legolas.

"Forgive me, my lady." Legolas says, bowing, "I thought he was charging at my... friend." His eyes flicker to meet my gaze at the last word, while I suppress a grin.

"Ah, leave it, Aedelind. I've had worse." Aedelgar says as he lowers the rag and pushes his sister's hand away.

"He throws a hard punch but he has manners, at least. I have never been addressed as 'my lady' before." Aedelind says, a grin spreading on her face. Legolas takes that as her accepting his apology, and he smiles at her. And what a radiant smile it is.

Aedelind fumbles with her basket, blushing madly. I remember my reaction when I first saw an elf. Compared to my open-mouthed, unblinking reaction when I first met Arwen, Aedelind handled it better than I did.

"I am glad you brought Ellie to safety. My companions and I are grateful to you for keeping her safe. We can never repay you for bringing her back to us." Aragorn says.

"Aedelgar pulled me from hell." I say. "He was part of Lord Éomer's éored."

"We encountered Éomer and his men. They'd hunted down the Uruk-Hai that had taken you."

"You put us through quite a fright, lassie." Gimli says.

"We thought you had died." Legolas says, softly, his eyes only on me. I can't believe we were so close to each other. I can't believe they were willing to seperate themselves from Frodo so they could save Merry, Pippin and me. They never abandoned us, not for one second. Hearing the relief in their voices floods me with emotion. Seeing the look on Legolas' face... I just want to reach out and hold him and make sure he's real. Make sure I'm not seeing things. I want to assure him that I'm here and never leaving again.

"I'm here now. That's what matters, right? And we have important things to discuss, not least of which is Merry and Pippin's safety. I was going to go back to the forest where we were separated to look for them. Perhaps they escaped there and--"

"Merry and Pippin are in good hands, Ellie. Don't worry about them." Gimli interrupts. I give him a confused look. "You found them?"

"Gandalf did. They're with... Well..."

"What? Who are they with, Gimli?"

"Would you believe me if I said they are being accompanied by a talking tree?"

Aedelgar, Aedelind and I all stare.

Aedelind breaks the silence with a giggle, "Don't be silly. Trees don't talk."

"These ones do. The Forest of Fangorn have ancient power in them. The trees are alive, and angry." Legolas says.

"Talking trees... Why am I not even surprised anymore?" I sigh. Of course. Leave it to Merry and Pippin to be rescued by nature. I'll have to remember to ask them what the hell they were doing in the forest.

"We had always felt a strange power over Fangorn. It had always felt very old but talking trees..." Aedelgar says, leaning back.

"So, we've got talking trees, gothic Voldemort who forgot his eyebrows running away and Gandalf's got a makeover." I say. "Where is Gandalf, by the way? He hasn't even looked at me. I don't think I can ever believe he's back."

"You know Gandalf the Grey?" Aedelgar asks, gaping at me.

"He's not Grey now..." I mutter.

"You continue to surprise me." Aedelgar says.

"And she has quite a few surprises yet." A deep voice behind Gimli says. The group turns and there stood Gandalf the White.

I stand up immediately and circle around the table until I am standing right in front of him. His clothes are different, but beneath his bushy eyebrows, his eyes remain keen and familiar. I am dumb-struck. I don't know if I should hug him. He doesn't seem to me like the same grey, old man anymore. He feels more powerful, more distant. So, I stand there, gaping at him until Gandalf breaks the silence between us.

"It is just clothes, my dear. I had thought you would like my new outfit." He says, his eyes twinkling.

That is the voice that makes emotion rise from my chest. That is the voice I'm used to, kind and quiet but still strong. That is the voice that reminded me so much of Gramps, the voice that gave me comfort through my doubts, the voice that helped me truly accept my fate.

"Gandalf."

I thought I could use humor to mask the confusion and disbelief I felt. Up until that moment, I don't think I ever believed it was him. And yet, now that he's standing before me... All I want to do is hold his hand, to make sure he is real. "I saw you fell."

"As did they." Gandalf motions to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, who had all distracted Aedelgar and Aedelind with conversation.

"You died." My voice cracks.

"As did you."

That did it. The relief of everything, of being taken to safety, of being reunited with my closest companions and knowing Merry and Pippin are safe, and of seeing Gandalf again, came over me.

I told myself I would never cry in front of anyone again, but this situation is different. This isn't just anyone, this is Gandalf! Gandalf smiles and opens his arms, and I throw my arms around his neck. The people in the hall momentarily stop, shocked that what they probably think is a common servant would show such informality to an honored guest. My laughter is thick with tears, but for once the tears are of joy, mingling with the deep rumble of Gandalf's chuckle.

"We have much to discuss, my dear girl." Gandalf says as I pull back, wiping the tears away. "Perhaps it is best if we talk now. Somewhere more private, and bring these three with you. The king will be burying Théodred's body today, and the preparations are already on their way. We do not have much time. I believe it is time for your friends to know who you are." Gandalf says.

"Of course." I nod. I'm not afraid to share my past anymore. Legolas and Gimli deserve to know. And if Gandalf says it's the time for them to know, then I believe him.

"We shall take this as our dismissal." Aedelgar says, getting to his feet as Gandalf approaches Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli.

"I have more recipes for you, Aedelind. We will meet again, I'm sure of it." I say to the brave, young girl holding her basket.

"I should hope so. I like you." Aedelind smiles, and I giggle.

"I like you, too."

I then turn to Aedelgar. "It is good to hear your laughter, for once. You have a beautiful smile. May you always share it with the world, every day. It was an honor meeting you, Lady Ellie." He says, bowing low and taking my hand to kiss it. I'm starting to wonder just why he isn't married yet when he knows how to flatter a girl.

I hold on to his hand as he moves to let go, "You were my miracle, you know?" I say, quietly. "I had almost lost hope. I thought I would die in the hands of those monsters. But then you and Hildraed came. Words can never express how thankful I am to you."

"Seeing you safe and reunited with those you love is enough." Aedelgar smiles. "And we will meet again, I am sure."

I beam and with that, Aedelgar places a hand on his sister's shoulder and leads her out of the hall.

When I turn back to my old companions, their faces are set.

And my walls tumble down. It's easy to keep my head held high, but Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli all know who I am, know how my mind works. There are no more pretenses. It's time I tell them everything. Even the pain and suffering. Because if there is anyone in this world that could understand me, it's them. Gandalf leads us to a private room, away from prying eyes and ears and Gimli opens up the discussion.

"How are you, Ellie? Truly."

Gandalf has always been able to tell what was in my mind, even when he was the Grey. What more now that he is Gandalf the White? I turn to him and he nods in assurance.

"I'm tired. And relieved. And angry." I say, slowly.

"Merry, Pippin and I... They dragged us around. They threatened our lives and tortured us. They killed Boromir, right before my eyes. I was right there. I was right there and I couldn't save him."

"He died valiantly, Ellie. It was not your fault." Gandalf says.

"I should have helped him. I'm alive only because Saruman thinks I can predict the outcome of this War, but the truth is, I'm a mistake. I'm here out of pure luck. I'm alive despite everything but Boromir is dead and that's not fair."

"Boromir died defending you, Merry and Pippin. It would pain him to see you blame yourself like this." Aragorn says.

"Now hold on, lassie. What did you just say? About Saruman?"

I exchange looks with Aragorn and Gandalf. This is the moment I tell them everything.

"Before I say anything, for the record, I'd like to put it out there that Gandalf and Aragorn already know what I'm about to tell you. And I think Glorfindel has suspicions. Lady Galadriel also knows, and Lord Elrond."

"Which is? Go on, lassie, now you've really piqued my interest."

"It's going to sound insane but I assure you, I'm... I'm not lying. I'm telling you the truth."

"Ellie." Okay, Gimli's using my name. Things are getting serious. "What. Are. You saying?"

I bite my bottom lip and turn to Legolas. He's just staring at me, imploringly, confused. I hate it when he goes quiet like this. It's his judgement face. It's the face he makes when he's trying to figure something out. The narrowed eyes, the furrowed eyebrows... Here goes nothing.

"I'm from the future."

Dead silence follows my words.

"Is she having a laugh at us?" Gimli mutters. "You have an odd sense of humor and sometimes I don't understand it, lassie, but this is very confusing, even for you. How hard did they hit your head?"

"I assure you, that's as simple as I can make it." I say.

"Ellie, let's be serious here."

"I am serious, Gimli, oh my God. Gandalf. Back me up."

"Why would he make you step backwards?"

"Help." I turn to Aragorn and Gandalf.

"You believe this?" Legolas speaks for the first time and it's that voice of doubt that sends shards through my heart. I didn't think I'd ever hear that in his voice again.

Together, Gandalf, Aragorn and I explain my situation. Where I come from, who I am. I start with New York, my family, and my death. I describe the land of lights in trees and the skyscrapers. I tell them about my connection to Aragorn. I tell them what I heard from the Uruk-Hai, about Saruman knowing who I am and where I'm from, about the reason why they needed me alive.

"Glorfindel most likely knew about her situation because he has gone through the same thing as we have. He is a powerful Elf, and must have sensed it in Ellie. He has been sent back, as well. Like I was. Like Ellie here." Gandalf says.

"But... You said it yourself, you were just an ordinary girl. So, why you?" Gimli says.

"I ask myself that every time but I think... My death brought about the change my family needed. We were broken and hopeless. When I died, my brother reunited with my grandfather. Perhaps my death is just one of those moments that leads to something bigger and better. Perhaps I need to be dead there, and I am more useful alive here. Maybe that's why I've been sent back. I don't know. What I do know is I've been given a chance to secure a good future for my family. I have as much cause to see the Ring's destruction as any of you. If we lose this war--and yes, I am part of this war--that means everyone we know would die at the hands of Sauron, and if that happens, the future as I know it will be lost." I say.

"She is here as a symbol of hope. She is proof that Sauron will fall. Is that not enough for us to keep pushing ourselves to fight for everything we love?" Aragorn says.

Gimli and Legolas gape at us.

"Estelien." Legolas whispers. I relax. He believes me. I see it in his eyes. Daughter of hope. That's what 'Estelien' means, and that is all the reassurance I need from him.

Aragorn nods. "She is."

"I have doubted you before and my doubts were mistaken. It is not my place to question the will of those whose powers and wisdom are beyond any of us. If the Creator believes you belong here, then here is the place for you." Legolas says.

"I don't know about the Creator, but if Aragorn, Lord Elrond, Lady Galadriel and Gandalf all believe your story, then that is all the proof I need." Gimli says. A huge weight lifts from my shoulder. It is an enormous relief to have their support. To know that people undestand my situation helps eases the fear in my heart. I can never thank them enough.

"Is it too much to ask for a group hug because you're all awesome and I couldn't ask for better friends?" I squeak, my voice overflowing with emotion. Gimli chuckles and he lets me pull him, Gandalf, Aragorn and Legolas in for a hug.

And they envelop me in warmth and support. I left a family in New York, but these people are my family, too. And it brings me such relief that they consider me family as well.

Lady Galadriel said that time would heal my wounds. But I don't think there's a better cure as the friendship and trust I feel from these people around me.

Chapter Text

It feels unfair that I would be filled with such happiness and relief when the rest of Rohan is in mourning. Lady Éowyn and a company of other women and soldiers pass me by without even noticing me. They feel the loss of Théodred deeply. I try to stay out of the way as much as possible, but one of the soldiers tell me I'm going to be part of the funeral march, which takes me by surprise.

"You are an honored guest. You are the companion of Gandalf. It will be an honor to have you march with us." He says.

"I have nothing appropriate to wear." I stammer.

"Your presence is all that is needed, my lady. Lords Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are already waiting for you." He says, with a bow.

And so I find myself walking behind Legolas and Aragorn, next to Gimli as some of the soldiers--Aedelgar included--carries Théodred's bier down from the Meduseld to the burial mounds. The place is beautiful and secluded, overlooking the mountains, with white flowers covering the ground. That something so breath-taking can be filled with such sorrow brings me sadness. But, I think, there is no place more fitting for Kings to rest.

As the bier carrying Théodred's body is brought closer and closer to a mound, I look down. I can't imagine what King Théoden and Lady Éowyn are going through. I do not even feel even a breath of the pain that they feel now. The rest of the procession stands side by side and the crowd goes very still as we let Éowyn's song wash over us. It was like every word was being wrenched out of her heart. By the end of her singing, she stands still, her arms visibly shaking with sobs but she keeps her head held high. And then, we pay our respects to Théodred, son of Théoden, for the last time.

It takes hours, but the grieving townspeople disperse, until only the King, Gandalf and Éowyn remain behind. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I all retreat back to the Meduseld. Aragorn turns one last time before we go through the doors and the rest of us follows his gaze. My heart breaks at what I see. Théoden is kneeling in front of his son's tomb, while Gandalf stands over him. Éowyn is closer to us, talking with some of the soldiers that had carried Théodred's bier. Aedelgar had gone back to the village the moment the mound closed. I don't think he could stand another moment being there. He barely looked my way when he tried to find Aedelind in the crowd and left.

As Gandalf stands with the King, Aragorn glances at me. "Let him mourn." He says and we turn to go back.

"Wait." Legolas says. He's looking at something near Gandalf and Théoden. I squint at the distance but I can't pick up what he's seeing.

"What?" I ask.

"Children from the village." He says, just as Éowyn and the soldiers notice, as well. Théoden looks up and Gandalf is already striding towards whatever it is. Éowyn runs towards it as well and the soldiers help as the King stands to his feet and moves towards the commotion. He appears to be giving out orders, and the soldiers obey. Two of the soldiers bring a horse forward by its reins into my line of sight and take it away.

"The children rode hard to get here." Legolas says as another soldier walks up to the Meduseld, carrying a small body in his arms.

"Oh, my God." I gasp. Aragorn and Gimli run forward to check the damage done. Legolas turns back to the great doors of the Meduseld, "Open the doors. There are two children in need of attention and Lady Éowyn is already on her way to take care of them. When did you last see Aedelind?" He asks and I'm struck by this side of him. We talk so casually that I almost forgot he's a prince who's no stranger to giving orders to soldiers.

"She had already left to go back to the village, along with her brother." One of the soldiers say.

"I'll help Éowyn with the children." I say immediately and Legolas nods at me as the soldiers push the doors open. Éowyn, the guards, Gandalf and the King reach the top of the stairs, where Aragorn and Gimli wait for them. There's a small young girl clutching Éowyn's hand tightly. A boy, who looks a lot like the little girl, is being carried in the arms of one of the soldiers.

"Hey, little guy." I say as I fall into step next to the soldier. He stirs and looks up at me, his entire body shaking with exhaustion. "We need a blanket and soup. We can't feed them anything solid for now. They might just throw it up." I say, and the soldier nods at me.

When we arrive at the Great Hall, Éowyn calls for some of the servants. "Soup and soft blankets."

"And water. Clean, boiled water with honey." I say. They need to replenish their electrolytes. Both children look weak and hungry.

Éowyn, who is holding the little girl's hand, listens patiently as she tells them what happened.

"The Dunlendings came so quickly. Mama made Éothain ride Garulf, even when papa said he should not ride Garulf yet. They killed everyone in the village. Mama said we should ride towards Aedelind's house but Éothain said we should warn the king. The Dunlendings burned our houses. I saw the woman who lived next to our house get stabbed..."

"You are safe with us now, little one." Aragorn says.

"The servants are already on their way for the food. Please, rest and eat. Thank you for all you have done." Éowyn says as she takes the children to sit on another table. We take that as our dismissal.

Gandalf and the King sit side by side at the end of the Hall, in deep conversation as the King, looking tired, rests his elbow on the armrest and covers his face.

The servants had already brought meals for us and laid them on the table. Gimli and I are quick to take our seats. I'm starving. I haven't eaten since last night, so Gimli and I feast on the food before us. I'm so thankful for the roast pork. There's some strange, grey gravy that tastes funky but I eat it anyway. Legolas takes a seat next to me and pulls up his own plate, looking at the pork with suspicion.

He takes a pinch of the skin, frowning at the grease that coats his fingers and tries a taste. His frown deepens. In fact, he looks mildly disgusted. Elves and their pickiness. I don't recall that look on his face during our travels because most of what I cooked was either soup or stew. If we could afford an open flame and if we had enough meat, we used sticks to hold the meat and cook them over the fire. Our food was what everyone was used to during travel, tasteless but good enough for sustenance. The food in Rohan is entirely new to us and boy, did Legolas' taste buds reject them.

Aragorn sees the look on his face and drinks from his goblet to cover his laughter. Legolas looks around for something to wipe his fingers on, pushing his plate away.

"Are you okay, Your Highness?" I tease.

"Never before have I seen or tasted something so...so..." He's trying to find a diplomatic word.

"Greasy? You should try the burgers in New York." I snort and he resorts to wiping his hands on the end of his tunic, looking more like he's spreading orc blood on himself.

The hall goes quiet as Gandalf and the King continue to speak, and Aragorn helps Éowyn take care of the boy until the boy is able to sit up on his own. Éowyn coaxes the honey-water to the boy's lips, and Aragorn supports him by gently holding his back. When the servants arrive with bowls of soups, the children devour the meal. They probably haven't eaten in days.

Aragorn sits back on our table and lights a pipe. The meal goes on while Éowyn continues to say gentle words to the children. Legolas, who looks like he just lost his appetite, stands and leans against a pillar, arms crossed. Someone needs to bring him a royal salad, pronto.

The botomless pit that is Gimli's stomach managed to consume more than half of the roast pork, and I sit on the other side of the table, closer to the kids to make sure they're okay. They ask for seconds, and the boy regains enough of his energy to pick up a spoon and feed himself.

"They had no warning. They were unarmed. Now, the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go." Éowyn says, to get her uncle's attention. "Rick, cot and tree."

The girl looks up at her, "Where is mama?" She asks.

"Ssh." Éowyn lays a blanket around her shoulder. The king is back to covering his face.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash. All the more potent for he is driven mad by fear of Sauron." Gandalf says, his hand gripping Théoden's armrest. "Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak. Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their King." Aragorn says.

"Aedelgar returned without hesitation. He said so himself, he serves only you. The rest of Éomer's men will tell you the same, King Théoden." I speak up.

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now!" Théoden barks, rising to his feet to pace the room. He turns to Gandalf, who also rises to his feet, maybe to convince the King that a direct fight would be the best course of action. "I know what it is you want from me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

"Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not." Aragorn says. The King turns to him with a cold glare and everyone feels it. Even Legolas stands in attention at the look on his face, and Éowyn gives Aragorn a look that said "You're in for it now.". King Théoden can be really scary if he wanted to be.

"When last I looked, Théoden not Aragorn, was King of Rohan." He says through clenched teeth. Aragorn stiffens but he doesn't talk back. Gimli gives a loud burp. I kick his leg under the table.

"Then what is the King's decision?" Gandalf asks.

Théoden turns his back on us, and Aragorn and I exchange looks. We both know what his decision is before he even says it.

"Hama. Call for messengers throughout the village. Send word that the people of Edoras must make for Helm's Deep. Tell them to travel light and take only necessary provisions." Théoden says to one of the guards standing by the doors.

I quirk my eyebrow. "What's Helm's Deep?"

I don't want to go underground again, if I can help it. Why does Helm's Deep sound like a second Mines of Moria?

"A safe place for our people. Éowyn, I charge you with the protection of the villagers and their provisions." Théoden tells his niece, who bows obediently.

The guards move around to tell the servants of the Meduseld. Activity picks up around us, and I pull Gimli away from the table so we can prepare. I find Éowyn coaxing the boy and girl to their feet. "Come, little ones. We have to go."

"But mama says she will find us here!" The little girl cries.

"You will find your mother in Helm's Deep. Everyone in the village will be there. Your mother waits for you in the Deeping Wall." Éowyn says.

"Hey." I say softly as I approach them. Éowyn sighs in relief when she looks up at me. I give the little girl a smile and kneel in front of her.

"The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find your mama." I tell her.

"What if she never got out?" The boy mumbles. Éowyn strokes his hair, "Ssh. Now, don't say that. She is waiting for you." She says.

"How do you know that?" The boy looks up at us.

"I know it in my heart. Trust me, we will find your mother." Éowyn says. The little girl's shoulder shakes.

"Hey, hey. What's your name?" I say, trying to get her to think of something else.

"I'm--I... Freda." She stutters.

"Freda. What a beautiful name. And you?" I turn to the boy.

"Éothain." He says.

"Freda and Éothain. There will be kids joining us on our travel to Helm's Deep. You should make friends with them. And we can play a game when you find everyone else. How does that sound?" I beam.

Freda sniffs. "A...A game?"

"Yes, a game." Éowyn says, joining in with my idea, relieved that I am presenting a distraction.

"We could play lots of games! We could play tag and hide-and-seek. Maybe even hopscotch, when we reach Helm's Deep."

Freda's eyes light up in excitement, her fear giving way to childish curiosity. "Hopscotch?" She echoes.

"You'll find out when we get to Helm's Deep." I beam.

"That sounds delightful!" Éowyn says, turning back to Freda and Éothain.

"Come. I will take you to one of the women in the village I know so you can meet some of the children. You could make friends with them and we can play Lady Ellie's game." Éowyn says. Freda gives a small smile and nods.

"Thank you for your help, Lady Ellie." Éowyn says.

"It's no problem at all, I love children. And I do expect you to play with us!" I laugh. She smiles, "Of course." She says and leads the children away while Freda holds tightly to her gown.

I turn around as Gandalf and Aragorn find a secluded spot for them to talk in private. The King had probably retired to his room. Legolas and Gimli wait for me by the table and I join them. Aragorn and Gandalf seem deep in conversation and I don't want to interrupt.

"Come. We will have to arm ourselves. Travelling with such a large amount of people during days of war is dangerous. They will need every soldier who knows how to fight protecting the villagers." Gimli says.

"What a mess. I can't believe we're running away." I say.

"Théoden is only looking out for the people of Edoras. He has too few soldiers to defend such a large, open country. With Éomer are some of his best cavalry. It was the right decision for him." Legolas says, fairly.

"Still. I do not feel comfort taking many people to travel. It was different for us. We can easily conceal ourselves during our journey. I feel Saruman will know of our plans, and I do not think he will just sit by without doing anything. There will be attacks, that I assure you." Gimli says.

"Can't be avoided." I sigh. My heart beats quickly. Open war. It's really happening now. Somehow, I'm still alive and I will be fighting not just for my life now, but for the lives of the people of Rohan. I'm terrified of the responsibility it entails. But I have to keep reminding myself that who I am now is a survivor. I survived death itself. I can survive for these people. I can survive for the Quest.

Frodo never leaves my thoughts. The least the rest of us in the Fellowship can do is bide our times. Hope is all we have that he is still on his way to fulfill a Quest. He has Sam with him. They can do this. We have our own challenges to face here.

"Well, lassie. I hope you still remember how to weild a sword." Gimli says.

Oh, I'm sure I still do.

Chapter Text

I am sitting just at the edge of the terrace of the Meduseld, overlooking the rest of the village. My feet hang over the edge where the terrace ends. There is the bustle of activity, of terrified villagers who have just lost the heir to the throne and are now going through the fear of losing their home as well.

Gandalf and Aragorn are somewhere inside. I assume they're eating. Those two have been doing so much that they've forgotten to take care of themselves. I think that was the first time either of them had anything to eat the whole day.

Someone sits next to me and their legs cross at the ankles as they, too, hang their legs over the edge.

"I forgot to give you something." Legolas says. I turn to see him holding a familiar, square pack in his hands.

"My daggers!" I gasp, taking the pack from him and looking inside. All fifteen of my daggers are there, cleaned and still sharp.

"I found some of the daggers on a pile surrounding the orcs you and Boromir defeated. Gimli waits for you in the stables. He found your sword, and he is taking care of sharpening the edge himself." He says.

"Len hannon. Len hannon so much. This means a lot to me, truly." I say, strapping the pack to the belt at my waist. I will never forget the fear I felt when I was separated from my weapons. I will never let that happen again. These weapons were gifts from Lady Galadriel herself, and have saved my life. Mine, but not Boromir's. The guilt makes me look at my lap in shame.

"I wish I could have done more, you know? I wish I could have weilded these daggers better to save Boromir." I whisper as my gaze turns back to the village.

"What did you do to his body?" My voice cracks.

"We laid him on one of the boats with the weapons of the enemy he had slain, and we let the river carry him home." Legolas says. I feel tears blur my vision, but I blink them away.

"He deserved better. He deserved life. He deserved to go back to his family, make his people proud, marry the woman he loved."

Loved. Past tense. Somewhere in Gondor, a woman waits for him. Somewhere in Gondor, his father and his brother are expecting his safe return. Do they know that he will never come back alive? Do they know that his body is floating on the Anduin at this moment? Probably rotting away from the water getting on his corpse. Sometimes, I wish I could forget my medical education from the modern world. It makes me more pessimistic. I'm sure it was as much of an honor as they could give him, but I can't help but think that his body is decomposing somewhere in the Anduin, with no one to even mourn his loss except for seven people--Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin and I. A hero such as Boromir deserved so much more. At the very least, he deserved a funeral, a tomb, his loved ones saying goodbye to him for the last time.

"Mortal life passes too swiftly. The Gift of Men can come at any moment. Boromir and Théodred have gone on their own journeys--one we cannot follow." Legolas says, seeing the look on my face. I sigh. Boromir, Théodred. It's so painful to think about them both dying without saying their farewells to their family. I've been there. I'm living that journey they can't follow. I never got to say goodbye to my family and that is more painful than a sword through my heart.

"Death is merciless. Rohan has already suffered enough. For the king to gain freedom of his own body again only to lose his son and now to be driven off his own land to hide in a fortress... I can't imagine what that must feel like." I say.

"Death is not merciless. Death is simply death. It comes when it must. The King still has his niece. He still has soldiers loyal to him. He is not alone."

"Yeah, but... When my parents died, I was inconsolable. Imagine how great his pain is now. Losing his only son will leave a deep scar. Parents should never have to outlive their children." I say.

"That is what mortality is. The possibility of death makes mortals treasure those around them more. It lets them see the beauty in the world and take it all in as though it would be their last day, and it might just be that. But that means the pain of losing that which they treasure will also be taken hard, and the fear of losing what they love--of losing everything--is also there. That is why mortals have such elaborate funerals. They want to delay the inevitable. They are afraid of being forgotten. They have to do so many things just for them to accept this gift given to them by the Creator and to move on."

"We fear death. There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with wanting to stay alive for those you love. I've also come to realize that death is just another chapter in our story. Mine didn't end with my death in New York, that's for sure. In fact, my death there signaled a new life here. I just wish... I just wish we had one last goodbye, you know? I mean, what if I died here and never got to say--"

"Don't." Legolas' voice is strained. "Don't say such things."

"Goheno nín. It would not do well to keep talking about this." I say, shaking my head. There is silence for a moment before Legolas speaks.

"I thought I lost you. When Éomer spoke of the attack on the orc camp, I thought you were caught in the middle of it all." He bursts out.

"Legolas..." I say.

"I had always thought mortals took the gift of mortality for granted. I thought mortality was supposed to open your eyes to the beauty of every day given to you. But did you know, at that moment, I could understand why mortals feared death so much. I have told you before that you are one of the people it would hurt to say goodbye to but now I know you are more than that. Your loss would be a wound I will never recover from." He says. My heart is pounding in my chest. I don't think anyone has ever admitted to me before how much I mean to them like this. I look away from the village to look him in the eye at his last sentence.

To hear those words from him--from cool, immortal Legolas, who once told me loneliness is better than being impulsive and emotional--throws me off-guard. A fearless elf, admitting weakness. He'd shown vulnerability before but never anything like this.

"I swear, I don't plan on dying anytime soon." I say to him, our fingers lacing together. He breaks our eye contact by shaking his head.

"That is a promise you will have to break someday." Legolas says, his grip on my hand tightening.

I give him a small smile. "Take it day by day, mellonenín."

I hear him sigh and he stands and helps me on my feet. "Well. Today, we have to prepare to leave for Helm's Deep. Gimli waits for you. You know how impatient he can get."

"True. His temper's as short as he is." I snort and Legolas chuckles.

"Don't tell him I said that. I don't really want to get fucked up with an ax. It's a gruesome way to go."

"We really have to work on your un-ladylike language."

"That's work that will never progress, sadly." I say, my hand finding its place on the crook of his arm.

Legolas leads me to the stables, where Gimli waits by the door, diligently sharpening a sword very familiar to me with a whetstone.

"Ah, there you two are. Look what I have for you, lassie." Gimli says, presenting the hilt of the sword to me. My hand wraps around it and I hold it up. The balance, the weight, the feel of the hilt when I grip it are all familiar. It's my sword, and being able to hold it again fills me with relief.

"Thank you." I say, giving Gimli a hug with one arm.

"It was nothing." Gimli waves his hand breezily, handing me the scabbard for my sword and the straps so I can secure it to my waist on my left while my pack of daggers is on my right. Legolas smiles at the look on my face and opens the stable door, stepping aside to let me through.

No sooner had we come in that Gandalf, riding the most beautiful white horse I've ever seen, charges right at our path. Gimli jumps back and Legolas and I fling ourselves out of the way.

"Have a safe trip! Thanks for almost trampling us!" I shout after Gandalf, who gallops away without so much as a backwards glance.

"He looked grumpy." I mutter as we approach Aragorn who, like us, was left to eat Gandalf's dust.

"He's even grumpier than when he was the Grey." Gimli says.

"Where is he going?" I ask Aragorn.

"He did not say. He only said that we should look to the east at dawn on the fifth day." He shrugs.

"The fifth day of what?"

Again, he shrugs.

"Fantastic. He leaves just when we might need him the most." I say in a falsely cheerful voice.

"He knows what he is doing. I trust him to return." Aragorn says.

"I'd feel better if he was with us. Have you seen the villagers? It's like they're walking to the gallows, not a safe refuge." I say as we look out at the open door of the stables.

"Welcome to war, lassie." Gimli says and that hits me. There's nothing cheerful about war, I know that. I guess I just didn't want to see what I was already seeing. War affects everyone, and there are people who will be the helpless targets of enemy soldiers. Villagers would be slaughtered and homes will be burned down. They've already seen it happen. I've already experienced the cruelty of the orcs. I do not want these people to feel the same fear and helplessness as I did.

"War is not pretty, Ellie. You will see Middle-earth in a way you have never seen it before. You have only ever seen its beauty." Legolas says.

"There's nothing beautiful about being captured by orcs." I say. "I know what they can do."

"We will make sure the people of Rohan never sees it." Aragorn says. I'm here to make sure nobody else has to see and experience it. The lives of the people of Middle-earth rests on Frodo's shoulders. All the rest of us can do now is pray for the best, and minimize suffering if we can help it.

"For now, we're here to get them to safety. Let's focus on that first." I say, resolutely.

Aragorn smiles, "If you insist. But you will need to find a horse."

I give him a stunned look.

"I don't know how to ride a horse."

Some of the soldiers who hear my statement turn around, sharply. I squint my eyes at them. "I had no use for horses where I came from. You'd sooner find me wearing a hotdog costume than see a horse in New York."

Those who overheard murmur in confusion, and I hear someone whisper, "What in the world is a hat-dug costume?"

"I am once again struck by your ability to keep yourself alive when you do not even know how to ride a horse." Aragorn chuckles.

"I've been hitching a ride with Aedelgar! Don't give me that look!" I say, defensively, making Aragorn and Legolas laugh.

"You forget I have been riding behind you, as well, Elfling." Gimli growls at Legolas.

"Gimli, let's leave these two horrible people." I say, dramatically as I pretend to angrily stomp away while I hear the two of them laughing louder.

"Oh, Ellie, come now." Aragorn calls.

"Can't hear you! Making my dramatic exit!" I call back, before stopping just in front of a pretty, brown and white horse. I freeze in place as it stares right at me.

It's looking into my soul. It's sucking up my soul. It's devouring what little soul I have left. I step back in alarm. Gimli has enough sense to stay out of its reach but I'm face to face with the thing.

"Do not be afraid. He is a gentle one, I assure you." Lady Éowyn says from behind me. I'll assume she just walked in to find me in a staring contest with the horse.

"I think it wants to eat me." I say and she laughs.

"He's trying to see if you are a threat. Go on, it is alright to touch him. You can establish trust that way." She says, which only makes me step back again.

"It's going to bite my hand off."

"Move slowly. Here." She steps forward and holds out her own hand and the horse nuzzles to her. She scratches its nose and smiles as she runs her hand through its mane.

"Go on. He is well-trained. He will not harm you." She says.

"Gimli..."

"It's looking at you, not me, lass."

"Thanks for throwing me under the bus there, dude. Glad to know you always have my back."

"Some things we must face ourselves."

I wish I could glare at him but instead I hold out a shaky hand. The horse teeters, backing away for a bit and I freeze.

"Ssh." Éowyn whispers to the horse. When it calms down, I try again and hesitate until its nose nudges my hand. My entire body relaxes, and I stroke its nose with a laugh.

"I'm willing to admit. It's not half bad." I say, scratching the horse and Éowyn smiles.

"Horses are powerful and yet also very loyal and gentle. They have more honor than some humans, sometimes." She says.

"True. At least when a horse is trying to trample someone, they're sincere about their feelings." I say which makes Éowyn laugh.

"You may ride him to Helm's Deep, of course. He is one of my horses. Déorwine is his name." Éowyn says.

"That is... wow..." I gasp. I know how important horses are to the Rohirrim. It's their honored animal. And a horse is expensive. That's like, 'My parents are divorced so I have to live in the Upper East Side with my mom most of the time and move to the Hamptons during break to spend time with my dad and play polo' expensive. I don't know if horses cost as much here in Middle-earth as they do in my time but they're still this time's version of cars so to be given one--by a Rohirric noblewoman, no less--is a huge honor. All I can do is stutter my amazed 'thank you's to her and she gives me this small smile that makes her entire face light up before she moves to take care of another horse.

I'm still gazing up at Déorwine in amazement when Legolas comes up to me with a white horse in tow.

"It appears we will be having another lesson." He says with a small smile.

"Are you going to make fun of me again? I can sic this horse on you if I wanted." I narrow my eyes at him, lifting Déorwine's reins in warning. He takes the reins from me so he can guide both horses out of the stables.

"He'll make good friends with Arod, I suppose." Gimli says, next to me.

"Who's he?"

"This is Arod." Legolas says, motioning to the white horse.

"Right menace, that horse is, I tell you. Doesn't listen to me at all." Gimli mutters and the white horse snorts.

Outside, the villagers have already lined the streets with their provisions. The food carts are near the rear, with a group of soldiers behind them to protect the supplies. While waiting for Aragorn, Legolas teaches me the very basics of horse-riding which mainly include not sliding off the other end when getting on without help and how to guide the horse to a walk and how to make it stop.

Once I managed that, Lady Éowyn exits the stables with a wave at me. "See? Making good friends already!" She calls before speeding off back to the Meduseld. She is eternally busy. I don't even know how she manages her time. Aragorn follows her out a few moments later, holding the reins of a brown horse before taking a startled step back.

"What are you doing?" He asks, eyes wide.

"Learning how to ride. Although I don't know why I'm the only one being taught when some dwarf in my nearby vicinity doesn't know how to, either." I say the last part loudly. Gimli ignores me. Little jerk.

"I cannot believe it was that easy to get you on a horse."

"Legolas has special powers of persuasian that's very effective on me. He makes me do things I'd rather not do without question." I joke, even though it's kind of true. Legolas just has a way of nudging me to try new things. Throw knives, climb a tree, ride a horse. Things I never thought I would do in a million years and yet would come to enjoy after all.

"I am flattered I have such an effect on you." Legolas says, slyly.

"Don't push it, pretty boy." I warn, making him giggle. You know, Legolas has this cute, little laugh he makes when he tries to hold his laughter back and fails. It's like when a kid knows he shouldn't be laughing and he's trying not to but he does, anyway. I think he's starting to like the 'pretty boy' title I gave him.

"Well, you will have to learn quickly, then. At the end of this journey, you would have to decide if you despise walking or riding a horse more." Aragorn says.

"Is there time for me to change into my tunic and leggings before that happens?" I ask.

"We will be heading out soon. But you do not have to change. Helm's Deep is a day's travel away, if we have this many people. Have you packed everything?" Aragorn asks and I find myself smiling. Good, ol' fatherly Aragorn.

"I think I left my pack in the Hall. The one I brought when I arrived with Aedelgar and Aedelind." I say, struggling to get off the horse.

"Come. We shall accompany you." He says.

"Perhaps we can squeeze in a bit more food in our bellies." Gimli adds.

"I have not eaten anything at all." Legolas grumbles.

"If you were not so picky, you'd be able to enjoy the cooking here."

"You would eat anything."

"What does that have to do with your pickiness?"

"I would rather like to know what I put in my mouth is not just animal fat."

"Animal fat is delicious, what are you complaining about?"

"Carrots are delicious as well, and much healthier."

Gimli's bursts out laughing. Legolas scowls. Aragorn and I exchange amused looks as we walk back to the Meduseld, the reins of our horses in hand, guiding the creatures, while Legolas and Gimli bicker away about what the definition of good food was.

When we arrive, the Meduseld is almost deserted. There are packs that have been left all over the place. Bags of apples, bags of clothes, weapons are all placed either on top of tables or on the ground, propped against walls. "Fantastic." I drawl because everything looks the same. If I had my backpack, I'd be able to pick it out easily. As such, I'm left to check each pack one by one without having to open it. It's harder than it looks because packs here involve rolling everything inside either a cloth or your own sleeping bag and securing all of that with straps that you then later have to tie and sling over your shoulders.

I hope no one thinks I'm trying to nick their stuff while I go about touching their things. I'd like to keep all of my fingers for now. I do remember that my pack contained my old clothes, so it should be pretty light-weight. Elven clothing is especially light, too, so compared to a lot of the bulky items around here, it should be distinctive. Legolas helps me look for my pack while Gimli coerces one of the remaining servants for soft bread.

"I have it here." Legolas says from the other table.

"Toss it." I say. He throws it and I catch it as easily as catching a ball. With my pack strapped to my back, I look around for Aragorn just in time to see him talking to Éowyn.

"What do you fear, my lady?" Aragorn asks her and I turn to Legolas with furrowed eyebrows. How the hell did they get to that conversation? Legolas shrugs. Gimli is too busy profusely thanking a servant for the entire loaf of bread he was given.

"A cage." Éowyn says, softly. "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valor has gone beyond recall or desire."

Aragorn shakes his head, "You are a daughter of Kings. A shield maiden of Rohan." He says, gently, "I do not think that is your fate."

Maybe now's not the right time to intrude, but I can't look away. Because Éowyn's face lights up, and her expression is so familiar to me because I know... I've once looked at Aragorn that way. With overwhelming admiration at everything about him. From his words to his deeds. Aragorn is an easy man to love and I don't know if love at first sight exists, but Éowyn just looks so taken by him at that moment.

Arwen's face and voice and laughter echoes through the back of my mind. Oh, boy. Someone has to tell Éowyn that Aragorn's taken before she really falls for him.

"Hey, dude. We gotta go." I call out. Aragorn's head moves to the direction of my voice. He gives Éowyn a little bow and walks back towards us.

"Now. What was that about hating walking or riding?" I ask and he chuckles as I link my arm through his and we go back down the steps, to where our horses wait for us.

As it turns out, I would find myself hating both.

Chapter Text

Legolas has abandoned me.

He was teaching me how to ride Déorwine on my own. How I should sit straight, how my legs should be positioned correctly, how to encourage the horse to move. Emphasis on the past tense. He's left me to fend for myself after someone called his name. That was three minutes ago. I'm stuck trying to make Déorwine turn and I'm doing a shitty job at it. I didn't think controlling a horse would be this hard.

"Don't do this to me, dude. Just go. Forward." I snarl. Déorwine neighs and promptly stops moving.

"You're serious? Are you serious? You're doing this to me." I lean down to whisper to his ear as the crowd passes me by.

"Ellie?" I almost slide off the saddle in surprise. Instead, I snap straight back up and give Aedelgar what I hope is a casual grin. I may have looked like a maniac.

He gives me a hesitant, confused smile back.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he effortlessly rides his horse towards me and takes Déorwine's reins. He makes a clicking noise and the traitor follows him obediently.

"How do you do that?" I demand as he pulls Déorwine along.

"Horses will only listen to you if you do not fear them. He feels your fear and it makes him uneasy."

"I'm not scared of him. I'm scared of making a wrong move and hurting both of us."

"Pulling on the reins too much and too often hurts the horse. Maybe that is why he does not listen to you. Relax your grip. Sit up straight and straighten your legs."

"I know how to sit on a horse. I know how to make a horse move. I'm just bad at actually doing it." I say, which makes Aedelgar smile.

"This is the first time I'm getting on a horse without someone else holding the reins, you know." I say, defensively and he chuckles.

"I am impressed that you are learning, then. There is no better horse to train with than one bred in Rohan." He says, proudly. "Now, where are your companions? I'd have thought they'd be the ones teaching you how to ride." He asks.

"Oh. Gandalf's...away. Aragorn is riding with the King. Gimli is talking to Lady Éowyn somewhere at the back. I can't really find Legolas. He was the one teaching me how to control the horse before someone called him over."

"Ah. I...ah... think that was Aedelind." Aedelgar says, nervously.

"Really, now? Why did she call for him?"

"She may have taken a small liking--a childish crush--Do not mind her. She has never seen an elf before. Well, neither have I but the point is--"

"Calm down, Aedelgar." I laugh, "It's fine. I understand why she'd like him. He's an easy guy to like. A bit broody but he's cute."

"I know the two of you are very close. I thought you and him were... Nevermind." He trails off his first sentence and shakes his head.

"What? You thought we were what?" I demand but I don't get my answer because I see just where, exactly, Legolas is.

He's surrounded by children. There's a small child in his arms and another one sitting on his shoulders, tugging at his hair while other kids circle around him. Aedelgar stops, and my horse stops as well to find Aedelind chasing after other kids who are running around.

"Get him!" Aedelind calls as the kid on Legolas' shoulder shrieks with delight. Aedelind reaches up and pulls the kid away. I am reminded of how tall the people around me are again.

"I have you now!" She laughs as the kid kicks and giggles.

"What have we here?" Aedelgar chuckles as Legolas, looking petrified of all the tiny people surrounding him but still enjoying their company, turns to see me hiding my smile behind my hand. He's holding a kid who's very fascinated with the small braid at the side of his hair. That and his pointy ears.

"Oh, hello. I am sorry for what the children are doing to your friend. They thought they could escape getting tagged by climbing a tall elf, did you not?" Aedelind laughs, tickling the child still in her arms.

"I am truly sorry for that, my lord." She says to Legolas.

"It is no trouble at all. We have not had elflings in Eryn Galen for fifty years. It is good to be around little ones again." He says as he puts the child in his arms down.

"I would expect they would be scared of you at first. You are very different from what we see in Rohan." Aedelgar says.

"It's the hair. Gives them a sense of familiarity." I say, and Legolas laughs that ridiculous giggle of his.

"Still going on about my hair, Helen?"

"Don't call me that. It makes me feel like an old woman."

"I rather like the name."

"I am seriously thinking of shaving half your hair off right now."

"Can you even reach that high?"

"I'll give you two seconds to run, pretty boy." I say as I struggle to get off Déorwine.

"Get her!" Legolas points at me and the children shriek and run towards me. Aedelgar laughs as I, too, shriek and run away from the gremlins trying to grab me. Some of the women passing me by shoot me dirty looks but I'm too busy running away from the kids to pay much attention to them. I'm no match for any of them, and soon I'm overrun by tiny children. They pull me by my dress towards Legolas. "No. Get her away from me. Away." He says, shaking his hands and shooing them away, backing off.

"Hey, kids. Wanna know what an elf looks like with half his head shaved?" I raise my eyebrows at the children who gleefully cheer. Legolas is being pushed by other children towards me and Aedelind is giggling at the sight of him. Legolas has a look of that who has been betrayed on his face.

The kids pull me towards him and he steadies me by holding my shoulders while my hands grip his forearm. Past his head, I see a few of the older women clucking and shaking their heads, looking disapprovingly at me. I don't know what their problem is, so I just turn my focus back on Legolas. Amid the struggle, strands of his hair have clung to his cheek and I brush them off.

"I'm not actually going to shave it off. I know it's insured for at least half a million gold coins and your father would have my head." I tell him. Legolas chuckles and shakes his head at me.

"Awww..." The kids cry in unison and I pull away from him to look at them. "Sorry, kids. Perhaps we can dye his hair brown instead." I tell them in a stage whisper, making the kids giggle.

"I can hear you, you know." Are Legolas' amused words.

"Pretend you can't." I say over my shoulder as one of the kids wrap their arms around my neck and I carry her in my arms.

"I told you so." Aedelgar says, raising an amused eyebrow at his sister and stretching his hand toward her, palm up.

"Damn." Aedelind mutters, tossing Aedelgar a gold coin.

"What was that about?" I ask.

"Nothing, do not mind us." Aedelind says, breezily, waving a hand. I narrow my eyes at her.

"What--"

"The refugees have all been taken care of, by the way. You were, I think, right with the hand washing. Less fevers had broken out and some of the sick got well enough to travel. We isolated those who could not walk in carts but I believe they will all reach Helm's Deep safely." She says, abruptly.

I beam at her. "That is good to know. You are wonderful with what you do to help them." I tell her. She shrugs but beams proudly.

"Mother would be happy to hear that. Thank you." She says.

One of the women in the group who has stopped to watch us calls for the child in my arms, and I let the kid go and watch her run to her mother. The woman pulls her child away, shooting a nasty look at me.

"You should have more control of yourself. That is no way to behave around an elf lord."

I don't know if she's talking to me or to her child but I now feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, I don't have to think too much on it, though, because something cuts through the suddenly tense silence in the air.

"It's true you don't see many dwarf women..." Legolas and I turn to the direction of the voice. We'd delayed so much that those at the rear have now caught up with us. The crowd is still passing us by, and Gimli, sitting atop Arod, is having a conversation with Lady Éowyn, who guides Arod by holding the reins in her hands while she walks next to him. "...And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance that they’re often mistaken for Dwarf men."

Aedelgar, Aedelind and I all turn in Gimli's direction. Éowyn turns around and I follow her gaze just in time to see Aragorn motioning with his hands about a beard.

"Dwarf women have beards?" Aedelgar mutters as I get back on Déorwine and Legolas takes the horse's reins in his hand while he walks beside me, speaking to the horse in a soft voice.

"Let's go. We don't want to be left behind." I say, smiling at the look of confusion on Aedelgar's face. Aedelind sits behind Aedelgar and our two horses join the procession, where Gimli's voice pierces through the silence of the crowd.

"This, in turn, has given rise to the belief that there are no Dwarf women." He says, making Lady Éowyn smile. It's good to see her finally smiling. All she has been is stressed and sad this whole time, I'm glad she finally found a reason to smile, and I'm glad Gimli is helping her by entertaining her with stories. "And that dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Gimli continues, spreading his arms and leaning back. Éowyn bursts out laughing and Gimli joins in her laughter.

"Oh. He shouldn't have done that." Aedelind mutters beside me. Done what? I give her a confused look, but I see the answer for myself two seconds later.

"Which is, of course, ridiculous." Gimli says right before Arod nickers and gallops forward, his reins slipping away from Éowyn's grasp. Aedelgar, being the closest, leads his horse to gallop after Arod.

Legolas and I freeze, and we watch as Gimli falls off the horse. The two of us take a moment to blink at the sight before we, too, burst into a fit of laughter. Lady Éowyn kneels next to Gimli, barely able to contain her laughter while she helps brush dirt off him. Gimli is trying to save face by announcing, "It's alright! Nobody panic. It was deliberate. That was deliberate."

Which only makes me and Legolas laugh harder. He turns to the two of us with a glare.

"What kind and loyal friends I have." He says, drily and Legolas and I try to hold in our laughter, though my shoulders are still shaking. Legolas, who is better at hiding his emotions than I am, pulls at Déorwine's reins until we stop right next to Gimli and Lady Éowyn.

We have a moment where we all just freeze before I snort at the sight of grass clinging to Gimli's helmet and the three of them join my laughter.

"Sorry. God. Okay. I'll stop laughing soon." I giggle while Éowyn helps him to his feet. He grumbles but accepts the help. And just beside me, I see Éowyn turn towards Théoden and Aragorn.

"You don't see me laughing when your horse refuses to listen to you." Gimli mutters, and Déorwine responds by snorting, the traitor! I knew this horse is out to get me!

"Déorwine is a bit stubborn. I could help with your training, if you like." Éowyn suggests.

"Ah, thank you, my lady, but you have already been doing so much. You need to rest, I am sure." I say.

"I teach her as well as I could, my lady." Legolas says as Éowyn approached Déorwine. The horse nudges Éowyn's hand when she reaches up to pat him.

"I want to get busy. I want to focus on tasks so I..." Éowyn trails off. She catches my eye and I nod in understanding.

"So you will not have to focus on your grief. I understand." I say. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Éowyn tries to hold it in, and I admire how strong and composed she is after everything. There has to be something I can do to distract her.

"Tell you what, when we stop for camp, perhaps we can help each other with preparing meals." I say with a smile.

She blinks the tears away from her eyes. "That would be lovely!" She says, with a grateful smile.

"My lady! I have the horse." Aedelgar calls, as he approaches us, while Aedelind rides Arod close behind him. Gimli gives the horse the stink eye and grunts.

"He was just confused. He is alright now." Aedelind says, getting off the saddle and handing Arod's reins to Gimli.

"Confused... He did that on purpose, the beast." Gimli said.

"Oh, come now. He is your friend!" Aedelind says, protectively, and her hand comes up to pat the horse's neck.

"Yes, yes. Well. I should be used to friends who like to make life harder for me." Gimli says.

"Hey!" Legolas and I protest in unison.

"I did not even mention either of you. But my father used to say to me: If the helmet fits..."

"You shove it up your ass?"

Legolas shakes his head with a smile at my demure statement. Gimli lets out a bark of laughter.

"That's not very lady-like of you, lassie. You are in the presence of a noblewoman."

"I grew up with Éomer and Théodred. I have heard, and said, worse." Éowyn says as she helps Gimli back up on Arod. "I think it best we got back to the procession. Come, Arod."

With that, she clicks her tongue and the horse bears Gimli away and Aedelgar, with Aedelind riding on his horse behind him, nods at Legolas and me and follows Éowyn and Gimli back to the crowd.

"The sun is going down." We hear a voice call, and we know exactly who it is. Aragorn's wide grin greets us, riding his own horse towards us. "How goes the riding lessons?"

"Not as well as I would like. It's good exercise, though. Who knew horseback-riding required so much abdominal support?" I say, reaching forward to pat Déorwine's neck. He snorts and shakes his tail. Legolas takes his reins and gently pats the horse's nose and head.

"By the end of this day, I would have you riding circles around Gimli." Legolas teases.

"I'd be happy just to get him to move forward when I want him to."

To be perfectly honest, I'm already sore from horseback-riding. My thighs are on fire and if it was possible to break one's crotch, that's likely happened to me already. Ugh. This is even more brutal than Glorfindel's sit-up-pedal combo.

The rest of the day goes by with Legolas encouraging both me and the horse and I learn how to control the horse better. I've managed to get the hang of making him stop and go with commands. Éowyn later helps by telling me Déorwine also responds to two clicking noises. When we finally make camp, I slide off Déorwine's back gratefully, exhausted.

"No more horseriding tomorrow." I say. Legolas takes Déorwine to be tethered with the other horses.

"Ugh. Are my legs even still attached to my body?" I groan. I sit on the blanket near the fire that Aragorn is setting up and lie down, looking up at the sky painted a pale orange and pink.

"Your body still has not fully recovered from the exhaustion you have been through. You must not exert yourself too much tomorrow." He tells me when the fire crackles to life.

"I'm fine. Really." I lie. I've been through rigorous training with Glorfindel and Legolas. I've been tired like this before, usually after I've ran a few laps. I sit up just as Gimli finishes setting up four tents.

"I set up the tents for you and your elven princeling as well." He says, sitting next to me.

"Aw, you didn't have to do that, Gimli." I say with a wide grin.

"I could disentangle it all." He replies, with a sly smirk.

The smile vanishes from my face. "Gimli, please..."

"While you were sleeping, too." His smirk widens.

"You wouldn't dare."

"And I could watch you flap about in your ruined tent."

"Gimli!"

"But I wouldn't. For that is childish and not at all how a young lady should be treated."

"Thank you, master Dwarf."

"Can't promise the same to your elf."

He chuckles, and Aragorn shakes his head, but there's a smile on his lips.

"Ellie!" I look up to find Lady Éowyn carrying a pot in one arm, waving me towards her.

"See you boys later." I say, getting up to move towards Lady Éowyn. When I come up to her, she's staring at something behind me with a smile. I turn to see what she's looking at and realize Aragorn is smiling back at her. Oh, sweet Jesus. Aragorn needs to tone that down. I know he doesn't mean to look hot but the guy can charm the pants off anyone without even trying.

"My lady." I say to get her attention. She turns to me as though seeing me for the first time.

"Some of the women have volunteered to cook for the camp. I was wondering if you could help me. After all you did say we could prepare meals together." She says with a sheepish smile, "It is just... I wanted to do something. My uncle has forbidden me from doing more work but I want to..."

"Say no more. Cooking is probably my only talent." I say, taking the pot from her arm. "Time for some girl bonding." I say as I link my arm through hers. She looks down at our entwined arms, confused.

"Why would we bond girls?" She says.

"It's a figure of speech from where I come from."

"Where do you come from?" She says.

"Uh... Anyway."

So, we go to a larger camp where some of the women had makeshift tables from their disentangled carts, chopping away at tomatoes and prepared meat stored in either salt baths or vinegar. Pickles were apparently the specialty of Rohan. They have pickled eggs, pickled cabbages, picked olives. I set up with what I can find. I make chicken soup, because some of the women have slaughtered the chickens and gave them to me fresh and washed. There is also what I can tell is pork, which I help Éowyn make into a stew.

Éowyn is very hands-on. She refuses to let me hold the spoon and insists I should just give her instructions. Everything from washing the meat to cutting up the vegetables and the spices she also included were all from her hand. I wouldn't be so worried if she hadn't dunked in the vinegar where the meat was stored before I could stop her.

That wasn't going to leave a good taste. "Um... Perhaps add a bit of pepper and salt." I suggest.

"Oh, the salt has run out." She says, motioning at the jar where the salt used to be stored. "But I think it tastes well enough without salt." She says. I bend down to check on her stew. The vinegar is way too strong, and there's a mix of something else. It's the same kind of smell you get when you've stored meat for too long in the fridge and it starts to go rancid, despite the natural preservative of the vinegar. The people of Rohan didn't exactly practice the same level of hygiene that I'm used to. They handled meat and their sick with unwashed hands. All kinds of bacteria have probably gone into the meat even before they decided to preserve it with vinegar.

When I look back up at Éowyn, she smiles at me hopefully.

"Is this the first time you've cooked?" I ask, delicately.

She nods.

I crack a smile. "It looks good." I lie. Her smile widens and her body relaxes.

I don't have the heart to tell her the truth. She worked so hard on the stew. It's the thought that counts, after all. All the bacteria would have died from the boiling water but it is going to leave a bad aftertaste. Who am I kidding? Vinegar with pork doesn't taste good at all. I try to salvage it by pouring more water to tone down the taste of the vinegar while Éowyn goes off to get more bowls. It ends up looking like a runny mess. "Shit." I groan, covering the stew. If it boils long enough, the water will evaporate.

I go back to my chicken soup.

Éowyn returns and we ladle my soup in one pot and her soup in another. "Come, Ellie." Éowyn says, excitedly as she makes for the camp with her deadly weapon.

I turn back to the women who were left behind. I think even they could smell Éowyn's cooking and they are gathering to see if they could still salvage it.

I follow behind Éowyn as she hands out her stew to the men. Some had enough sense to smell the contents of the bowl first. Some would take the bowl and take a big gulp before realizing their mistake. They would then pretend that the coughing fit they had was due to the fact that the stew was still hot and not because of the taste. I smile apologetically and hand them bowls of my soup too, which they take with caution.

Éowyn is making a beeline towards Aragorn.

Oh, boy.

I jog after her but it's hard when I have a pot of soup in one hand and bowls in the other. Gimli sees me from where he's sitting and he stands and approaches me. Éowyn stops him by offering him her stew. I shake my head vigorously behind Éowyn. Gimli leans down to smell the stew and quickly backs away.

"Oh, no. I couldn't. I really couldn't." He says, and moves toward me.

"Give me some of that. I need to wash down that awful smell." He says, taking a bowl from me. I ladle the soup I made in his bowl.

"Don't be mean. She worked hard on that. She was just... a bit enthusiastic. And it's her first time cooking."

"Say what you will but I prefer your cooking, thank you." He says. It takes him three gulps to finish the whole bowl.

"Ah, yes!" He says, appreciatively. "Thank you for that, lassie. Aragorn does not put as much care in his stews and soups as you do, I am afraid. Good lad, really. Honorable, brave but a terrible cook. I'm sure the elf would agree. Where is Legolas?" He mumbles the last part.

I giggle as he continues walking forward, probably to look for Legolas.

I turn just in time to see Aragorn sitting, completely frozen, with a bowl to his lips. I try to hold in my laughter as he looks up at Éowyn, nodding his head. Éowyn doesn't see what I see: He's wincing, and looks ready to barf.

"Really?" She gasps, turning back. The moment she isn't looking, he dumps the stew.

"My uncle told me a strange thing..." Éowyn turns back. And with the quick reflexes of a veteran warrior, he steadies the bowl. A look of pain crosses his face as some of the hot stew spills on to his hand. Okay, now I'm worried.

I approach the two. Éowyn continues to speak, "He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

Aragorn nods. "King Théoden has a good memory. He was only a small child at the time."

A small child? What the hell?

I furrow my eyebrows. He has to be joking. Théoden looks older than him! How could he know Théoden as a kid?

"Then you must be at least sixty." Holy shit. If he is, he definitely aged well. Aragorn shakes his head slightly. "Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!"

No. No, he really can't. He looks like he's in his late-thirties, maybe his forties. He can't be that old.

"Eighty-seven."

"Seriously?" I release a breath of laughter but both him and Éowyn look serious.

"I thought you were his sister." She turns to me.

"He's my grandfather, apparently." I say and Aragorn and I exchange knowing looks. If Éowyn only knew. She turns back to Aragorn.

"But then... You are one of the Dúnedain. A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life." She says, her eyes widening. "It was said that your race had passed into legend."

Aragorn looks down. "There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago." He says. His race is dying. His people are all but extinct. I feel terrible that he has this task of claiming the throne of Gondor. I know he once told me that he was a hunted man, but I had no idea that the damage the servants of Mordor had made was this deep.

"I am sorry." Éowyn says. "Please. Eat."

Aragorn turns to me, helplessly. I shrug, because Éowyn is looking at him expectedly. There's nothing that can save him now except divine intervention.

"What is that smell?" Legolas approaches with Gimli beside him. I widen my eyes at him in warning.

"It smells delicious." He recovers, quickly.

"I saved a bowl for you." I say, before Éowyn can offer him the stew. Legolas isn't as good at hiding his distaste for bad cooking as Aragorn. He pushed the food at the Meduseld away. He might throw up on the spot if he gets a whiff of Éowyn's stew. What with his elvish sensibilities and all...

Éowyn turns to us, momentarily distracted and Aragorn quickly dumps the rest of the stew, then places the empty bowl back to his lips, pretending he has just finished.

"Ah. Yes. That was good. Thank you, my lady." He says.

Éowyn beams. "Oh. Oh, of course. Lady Ellie helped me, of course. You should thank her as well. I will take this to be washed now. Enjoy your night." She says, holding up the empty pot in her hands. The four of us grin at her as she waves goodbye and heads back to her own camp.

"Give me that." Aragorn takes a bowl from me and scoops the soup from my pot and drinks.

"Why..." He groans, "...did you let her do that?"

"At least now you know the taste of your cooking." Legolas says. Aragorn looks at him, mournfully. Legolas and Gimli bursts into laughter.

"Stick to hunting." I say and we share the rest of the soup.

It's a nice way to end the day, teasing each other and being able to relax for once. We end up not using the tents, because it was a beautiful night. The four of us just gathered around the fire until the night deepened and the stars shone above us.

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until a familiar voice whispers, "Losto vae, El." and I feel something soft covering me--a blanket of some sort, as I sleep beneath the watchful eyes of the stars and my companions. I haven't had such a deep and comfortable sleep in a long time.

Chapter Text

The next morning wasn't as relaxing as the night before. There's something about sleeping beneath an open sky again, and the smell of smoke and fire, and the sound of many people waking up and activity going on around me that reminds me too much of the orc camp. So, when Gimli tries to shake me awake, I shout, thinking for a second that orcs are grabbing me again, ready to drag me behind them.

"Ellie, Ellie!" Gimli tries to calm me down by placing his hands on my shoulders. Gimli has rough, calloused hands. It all feels too familiar.

"No!" I protest, pushing him away. He lets go and I sit up, before realizing where I am. Aragorn is stopping some of the guards who had heard me shout from drawing their swords and alerting more people. Legolas is striding towards Gimli and me, with a look of concern on his features. The moment I calm down and come to my senses, I sigh and drag my hands over my face, trying to slow my breathing.

"El." I hear Legolas say when he reaches me. I feel someone kneel beside me and gently touch my shoulder. I lean forward and his arms wrap around my shoulders. I bury myself in the familiar scent of him.

I take deep breaths, and let the rhythm of Legolas' heart calm mine. I remind myself that he's here, and he's holding me and I'm safe. I'm safe as long as I'm in his arms.

"I keep thinking...Sometimes, I still..." I try to explain. There are no tears, but there is fear. Every memory of the orcs dragging me, whipping my back, forcing their liquor down my throat all come together in a blur until all I remember is the pain and the terror.

"I know, I know. You have been through a lot. Some scars do not heal as quickly as others. Give yourself time." He says, pulling away from me. His hands cup my cheeks. I'm vaguely aware of Gimli and Aragorn hovering behind Legolas, but my eyes are only for him. My hand comes up to hold his forearm.

"Goheno nin."

"There is nothing to forgive. You have the heart of a warrior, but every warrior has scars." He says, his eyes finding mine. He brushes my hair back behind my ears.

I nod, still gripping his forearm tightly. "I can handle it." I say. I don't know who I'm trying to convince--him or me. But he lets go and turns. He gives a slight nod to Aragorn, who then goes back to talking to the soldiers.

I give Gimli an apologetic look, but he shakes his head before I even open my mouth. "I understand, Ellie. More than you know." He says, and he gets up as well.

The afternoon after that, I end up sandwiched between Aragorn and Gimli. Neither of the two refuse to leave me alone. Legolas has gone ahead to scout only because he volunteered to be on guard duty and it's his turn today. I bet if he wasn't on duty, he'd be trying to distract me, too. The effort is appreciated, but I'm so embarrassed that they're making a big deal out of what happened this morning. I want to forget it. They're not making that any easier. I'm thankful that I have three good friends looking out for me but I can manage, I can adjust like I've always done.

"Don't think I don't notice what you're trying to do." I say to Aragorn and Gimli.

"I assure you, I am innocent." Gimli raises a hand.

"You do not even talk to me anymore as much as you used to. I simply want to spend time with you, Meril." Aragorn says. I shake my head and purse my lips to stop myself from smiling.

"You and Legolas are getting quite familiar with each other." He continues.

"Oh, don't even start." I narrow my eyes.

"It's true. Just yesterday, one of the soldiers that was riding with me and the King was asking about you. Some still believe you are my sister."

"Why would they be asking about me?"

"You are a young woman, and a good candidate for marriage. Some believe your association with both Gandalf and myself is an indication that you are from a higher class. Some ambitious soldiers marry into power, after all, and some are interested in asking for your hand."

I laugh, "Me? Marriage? At twenty-three? No, thanks. I still have a lot of time left before I have to settle down."

"Most women would be married and with children at that age." Gimli exclaims.

"Women can carry children until their late thirties. I'm in no hurry." I say. "Besides, if they wanted to ask me out, they should have asked me first. Why did he have to ask you?"

Aragorn smiles, "I told him to ask you himself and that your marrital status was not mine to divulge."

You see, this is why I love Aragorn. He knows how to treat a girl right. He knows what respect is.

"Bless your soul. Some men even in my own time cannot comprehend that women do not owe them their womb." I say, giving him an appreciative clap on the back.

"I thought you were supposed to come from a more advanced civilization?" Gimli says, "In dwarven culture, the male and female have equal rights to marriage. A male dwarf cannot marry a female dwarf if she does not want the marriage, regardless of whether or not her parents have given their blessings. Female dwarves choose only one man to marry, and even if a female dwarf wanted to be a warrior and not marry, she would be treated with respect and even be honored."

"The technologies where I come from have advanced. Sadly, some people's morals have not." I say. I turn to Aragorn, "Anyway, we're changing the subject. Why did the soldier not ask me himself?"

A small smirk appears on his lips.

"He saw you with Legolas."

Ah. That's how we derailed.

"What about it? I hang out with Legolas all the time."

"That is exactly 'it'. Some people are under the belief that Legolas is courting you, thus your closeness to us."

"Oh, that's great." I drawl, "So my supposed higher status is only because I'm being associated with a man? Fantastic."

"Well, technically, he's an elf."

"I'm going to smack you, Gimli."

"I tried to tell them you two are only good friends but sometimes I do wonder..." Aragorn's last words trail away.

"Wonder what? Hey!" I say, giving him a slight push when he chuckles.

"Ai, Ellie. Do not think I am blind. I have seen your face when you look at him."

"And more importantly, I see his face when he looks at you. Can't wipe the smile off his face if I tried." Gimli adds.

My head goes back and forth to give the two amused looks. They have to be pulling my leg. I burst out laughing, "Oh, you're joking." I giggle. The two just give me smug smirks. My laughter fades.

"He's a prince. He's an elven prince. He's beyond my league. We can only be friends. I can't bring myself to hope for anything more." I say.

"Being an elven noble did not stop Arwen from loving me." Aragorn says.

"You're Isildur's Heir, a descendant of Númenor. You're destined to be the King of Men. You are more than worthy of her. I'm...I'm just Ellie. I don't have a higher destiny, I'm not a skilled warrior. Five months ago, I didn't even exist here. I don't have the land or the titles to deserve him."

"Land and titles do not determine whether you deserve someone's love or not, lassie."

"When it comes to him, it does. I shouldn't be in love with him."

"Shouldn't?"

I stop walking, and so do Aragorn and Gimli. I know they mean well but getting my hopes up like this...It breaks my heart. Why do I have to keep falling for the guys way out of my league? I shouldn't love Legolas. We're friends. We're just friends. We're good as friends.

And yet...

I can't help myself. I crave his touch and his company. And he understands me so well. He's gentle and he's kind and he's making it very difficult for me not to have feelings for him. Feelings that have gone beyond the crush I had on Aragorn. No, this is different. And that's what scares me, is that it's gone beyond a mere crush now.

"I shouldn't." I insist. Aragorn and Gimli's expressions sober. You could hear the three of us breathing. The silence only brings more thoughts of Legolas in my mind. It's dangerous to think of him, it's dangerous for me to realize just how deep my affection for him is. I can't bring myself to fall for him completely. I shake myself out of these thoughts and focus on something else. Like the fact that I'm hungry.

"I want to eat." I announce. "Think we can charm the lady with apples at the back to give us some?" I point my thumb over my shoulder and Gimli nods appreciatively.

"Aye, she's a nice, old woman. I think we can coerce her into giving us a bite."

"Want some apples?" I ask Aragorn but he shakes his head.

"Okay. Be right back." I wave at him goodbye.

Gimli and I find the nice old lady with the apples, and it doesn't take much to win an apple from her for both of us. Helping their king was enough reason for her.

"You know, lassie, for the record," Gimli says as I take a bite of my apple to keep my mouth shut, "I do not think Legolas gives any thought about land or titles. It has not stopped him from caring deeply about you, after all."

I look down, "That doesn't mean I should start hoping for nothing."

"Who says you will be hoping for nothing?" Gimli mutters.

I remain silent.

"But perhaps you are right. It is dangerous to fall in love at such dark times. Pain comes too easily." He says, taking a bite off the apple. We find our way back to Aragorn, who is talking to Éowyn, once again.

We haven't even had time to greet each other when a commotion happens ahead of us.

"Wargs!" One of the soldiers, Gamling, shouts. As if a ripple that has disturbed water, the shout of alarm causes the villagers to panic.

Gimli and I look at each other. He tosses the remainder of his apple to me and I hand our apples to the nearest child before we both move for the commotion. Aragorn runs forward and I run after him, picking up the skirt of my dress. Damn this dress, it's so hard to move in. And on such uneven ground, too.

Aragorn reaches the front first, where Legolas shouts, "A scout!"

I practically run into Aragorn when he strides back towards the group, with King Théoden riding to the front to see what has happened.

"What is it? What do you see?" He asks.

"Wargs! We're under attack!" He shouts. I turn back to the soldiers as the women around us scream.

"Get them out of here! Now!" I shout. Aragorn grabs my shoulders and turns me around to make me face him.

"You will go with them."

"What?!" I gasp, angrily.

"You are not dressed for battle. You cannot ride a horse into battle and you still need to rest."

"But--"

"Now, Ellie! Please, for once, can you just listen to me? Stay with the villagers. Keep them safe. They need you." He says, in a hurried tone. I give him a pleading look but he lets go of my shoulders and runs off to find his horse.

"Please be careful!" I shout after him.

"I will see you in Helm's Deep." He calls back.

"All riders to the head of the column!" King Théoden shouts, and the Rohirrim obey, their horses thundering past.

I don't have a good feeling about this at all but some of the women around me are in too much of a panic to keep their heads.

"Move!" I say, taking control and motioning for them to get away from the field of battle. I even spot Gimli riding forward. Okay, now that's not fair. I'm better on a horse than Gimli so why does he get to fight and I have to stay behind?

"Make for the lower ground!" Lady Éowyn shouts to the crowd. I shake my head and just accept it. These people need me, too. If this is my task, then I'm going to make sure each of these villagers are safe.

"Get the children! Keep them close!" I shout to the women. I hear the wails of terrified toddlers and I wade through the crowd to make sure no one has lost their family in the chaos. I turn back to the battle just in time to see Legolas swinging effortlessly on Arod, taking the reins from Gimli as the fighters charge at the enemies. I hear the growl and roar of awful creatures. I wrench my eyes away and find Lady Éowyn.

"The food carts. They must be protected." She says to me and I nod and run to the back of the crowd. I curse under my breath at the realization that the only weapons I have are my daggers. My sword and bow are strapped to Deorwine, and in the chaos I don't know where he has been taken.

Shit, I have to find that horse.

"Go! Move!" I shout to those manning the carts, keeping my eye out for the teenagers who are currently trying to calm the horses.

Aedelind is helping the wounded and sick to move. She alone looks unfazed. If it wasn't for her wide eyes and shaky breath, I would have thought she was calm. She is staying strong for her patients. If this fourteen-year-old girl can be brave for these people while her only family is left behind to fight, then I can do this, too.

"Listen. We will get there safely. All of us." I say to her with a nod, as my hands hold either side of her head so she can focus on me and not the sound of battle behind her. She nods and takes deep, steadying breaths.

I find Déorwine eventually, being pulled forward by a young boy. I thank the boy and quickly take my belt and tie it around my waist, and strap my sword on. I keep my bow ready in my hand in case anything gets past the battlefield and I stay at the back of the crowd, urging them forward while Éowyn leads them at the front and Aedelind comforts those who are weak and sickly. But I did not have to worry about enemies getting through. The Rohirrim are thorough and skilled. This is their land and they know how to move here.

Soon, the sound of metal clanking against metal and the dying screams of both the enemies and the Rohirrim fade until all that can be heard is hurried breathing, some children whimpering ang people telling each other to hurry up.

When we see the sight of Helm's Deep, I slow down. It was imposing, to say the least. An enormous structure that looks impenetrable, set on a coomb with a gorge opening up into the hills. The coomb is steep and narrow, and seems to be folded inwards, protecting those inside, and it rose like great towers. Stone towers and walls surround the Deeping Wall. It's large, cold and intimidating. I can see why the refugees are suddenly relieved to see it. It is a safe place, albeit a bit frightening.

The villagers practically run towards the Gate, where some soldiers who were probably stationed there shout orders at each other to open the gates.

"Helm's Deep, at last!" I hear one of the women say, and the others take a collective sigh of relief. The others run in, thankful to find shelter at last.

Some settle and find their own places to rest, while I help Éowyn and the others set up the provisions we have. Once everything has calmed down, I take another glance behind me. The battle is lost from view, and my heart is in my throat. I feel like I just swallowed rocks. I'm wringing my hands again. It doesn't feel right, not fighting alongside Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. Damn it, I'm never wearing a dress again, and the next thing I'll do when I have the time is learn how to properly ride a horse. I hate waiting. My hands itch to hold my sword and to charge at the Orcs that ambushed us.

Éowyn distracts me by letting me help with the women, children and horses. I hand Deorwine's reins to a boy, who takes him to the stables and I pick up the supplies to be given back to the people. At least no one is stealing anything from their neighbors. I give a small smile to a child who looks like he's on the brink of tears, and he smiles back, grateful to see a friendly face. Éowyn and I busy ourselves with the distribution of resources. When the sound of approaching horses come at last and the gates open, I twist around and hold up the skirt of my dress so I can run.

I slip through the crowd in the narrow alleys until I'm standing next to Éowyn, watching the riders as they unmount their horses. Aedelgar slides off his horse, panting, covered in sweat and blood but alive. He does not look my way.

"So few," Éowyn says, "so few of you have returned."

I'm looking around and immediately spot Legolas and Gimli and I beam. They're okay! I wave at them to catch their attention.

"Our people are safe." King Theoden says, unmounting his own horse. "We have paid for it with many lives." He walks in the Keep, handing the reins of his horse to his squire.

I look around. Something doesn't feel right. I lower my hand when I catch Legolas and Gimli's attention. Their eyes find mine and my heart sinks like a stone.

Those are not the faces of warriors who have won a battle. They look defeated. Gimli moves toward Éowyn and me, looking more tired than after the fight in Moria. "My lady." Gimli's voice cracks, and my heart constricts. I know, before Éowyn even asks, "Lord Aragorn. Where is he?"

I know before the uncharacteristically quiet Gimli takes too long to respond and my eyes find Legolas as he holds the reins of his horse, standing rooted to the ground.

I know because there's no one in the crowd calling out, "Meril." to me.

"He fell." I feel as though Gimli's voice is coming from a tunnel or a well. It doesn't seem real. Legolas drops his gaze and I push other soldiers out of the way to get to him, my ears ringing with Gimli's words.

"Goheno nin." Is what Legolas first says to me, keeping his eyes on the ground. My shaking hands find his, and I gently pry his hand from the tight grip he has on the reins.

"What happened?" I whisper, because I don't want to believe it. I refuse to believe he's gone.

He holds out a shining jewel in his hand, the Evenstar that Aragorn never took off, in his other hand. "He...fell off a cliff." His voice is hoarse and I think I've stopped breathing. My hands grip on to his tightly, as though his hand is my life line.

"No." I whisper.

Legolas jerks at the sound of my voice. "No. No, no." My entire body shakes. He pulls me close to him and his arms are strong around my trembling shoulders. I wrap my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest, muffling out the rough gasps coming from my throat. His chin rests at the top of my head, and he whispers words in Sindarin into my hair. I hear words of apology and comfort, but nothing takes away the cold that has gripped my entire being. All I can think of is that it can't be real, it's not possible. My brain refuses to admit it.

"Ellie." Gimli's voice comes from somewhere to my right and I turn to him. There are tears, actual tears, glistening at the corner of his dark eyes.

I pull away from Legolas as Gimli holds out his hands. I reach out for him and he covers my hand with both of his. "He can't be dead. That's impossible. I should have been there." I say to him.

"I know, lassie, I know." He says, comfortingly.

"I need...I need..." Aragorn. Alive and well and teasing me for missing a good battle. Gimli understands the distress I feel. He nods and steps aside to let me pass. I think I hear Legolas call my name, but I'm not sure.

I walk aimlessly around Helm's Deep for a long time. It may have been half an hour, it may have been two hours. I don't know anymore and I don't care. The chill I feel deep in my bones has little to do with the cold, hard stone surrounding me. It's the loss of him.

Aragorn.

And just thinking of his name sends a tremor through my body until I'm so cold that I'm numb. The defeated look of the people of Rohan does nothing to lift my spirit. By the time I'm even aware of my surroundings, the news has spread. Aragorn has fallen. The scouts have come back and have reported the casualties. They passed by me on the way to the King, going over their reports and the names of those who have died, and I glare at their backs. They never found his body. It's so unfair. Everything he did, all the courageous deeds, the rallying words, only to die with no body to bury. I turn in the opposite direction because I don't want to hear them talk anymore.

I can hear a woman sobbing. I look for her, because I know how isolated she must feel right now. I find her holding the reins of a horse, stroking the horse's face and running her fingers through its mane. She buries her face in the animal's neck.

I place a hand on her shoulder and she sobs harder.

"My father. This was his horse." Her voice comes out hoarse and her eyes are puffy, her face stained with tears.

Her hands reach out for mine, and I offer her my arms. She sobs into my shoulder, and I hold her. It's a dark day indeed if the only comfort she can find is in a stranger.

"I had no one else but him." She whispers.

"You'll be okay. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but you will get through this." I promise her. She pulls away as soon as her sobs reside.

"Thank you, miss. You were a blessing when you set foot to Edoras. You and your companions, you have saved us. You brought the King back from his sickness and were it not for the sacrifice of Lord Aragorn, many more would have lost their sons, fathers and husbands." His name drives an icicle into my heart.

I smile weakly. "Come on. Let's get you inside, with the others." I say. She takes her father's horse and we enter the keep, with the other women and children. Sorrow and loss is evident in their faces, but the women of Rohan are strong. They grieve, and afterwards, they raise their fair heads and straighten their backs and say, "We can get through this."

I draw my strength from them. I would be crumbling to pieces right now if they were not here to tell me to stay strong. Still, I can't help but blame myself.

I should have never left his side. Every time I do, something horrible happens. And now, he's gone. I watch a soldier from the battle run into the arms of a woman, most likely his wife and I choke on the sobs lodged in my throat. I see Aedelind crying out and charging towards her older brother, who embraces her and lifts her off her feet as they cling to each other. A few other women gasp in joy as their men return to their arms, while those who have lost their sons, husbands or fathers turn away. I can't look away, though. Despite myself, I still grasp at blind hope. God, if you're real, bring him back. I'd give everything to see him alive right now.

"Meril."

I wrench my eyes from the happy reunions in front of me. I think I'm hallucinating. I can hear his voice. I lean against the nearest wall, my knees buckling. It feels as if a sword is lodged in my throat and I fight for breath, forcing my tears back. I try to keep it together and I flash back to the time I was hyperventilating in the Prancing Pony and he was holding my shoulders, urging me to breathe. I can see his grey eyes--those intense grey eyes--and I clutch at my chest because it's too painful to breathe now.

I feel rough, calloused hands on my shoulder, and the hands are warm. I'm trembling. The hands urge me to turn around and my heart and the dam behind my eyes shatter.

His hair is tangled and wet, and blood has caked to his head and the side of his face. He's filthy, and wounded, and shaking from exhaustion himself. But it's him. It's definitely him.

Aragorn.

The Evenstar gleams on his chest and my eyes soak him up. My shaking fingers reach out to touch his face. I'm expecting my hand to go through him, because he has to be a figment of my imagination but my fingers find the warmth of his skin and his stubble tickles my hand.

"You're here." I choke out. I'm still having trouble breathing. His grip tightens.

"Breathe, Meril." He says.

I look into his eyes. God, they're intense. And alive. So, so alive. "You...look like you...fell off a cliff." My voice cracks as my poor attempt at humor is drowned out by relief and I gasp for breath, trying to steady my pounding heart.

"But you're here." I can't help but repeat those words, to confirm it for myself.

"I'm here. Breathe." He demonstates slow breathing to me, the same way he did when he first saw me hyperventilating. I watch his chest rise and fall slowly, and I copy him, until my breathing goes back to normal. I'm just thankful he can breathe.

And I burst into tears.

He pulls me into his arms and strokes my hair, and my hands grip his tunic. He feels real. He feels warm. I think I'd be on the ground right now if he wasn't holding me up. He has always held me up. He has always been my strength.

His hand rubs my back, until the tears stop flowing and my breathing goes back to normal. I pull back and touch his cheek again.

"It's you. You're alive. You're okay." I say and he takes my hand in his.

"I told you I would see you here. And besides, if I had died you would cease to exist. You are my descendant, after all. How can I make descendants if I had fallen? Do not worry."

Don't worry? I'm a mess! He tries to rationalize it for me to calm me down, but that was the most terrifying experience I've ever had, and that's saying a lot considering everything I've been through! Now, it makes sense. Now, he tells me I should not have worried. But I've already lost so many people. I don't know what I'd do if I lost the man who has been with me from the beginning, who has been like a father to me.

"You are never getting out of my sight again." I squeeze his hand. "Swear to me, whatever happens next, whatever battle we face, we will fight together." I say, vehemently.

"I swear it." He says and lets go of my hand to cup my face. He kisses my forehead, "I have to warn the King."

He has to what now?

Before I can protest, he's running off, injuries and all, towards the Great Hall where the King and his men have gathered a meeting. My gaze follows him, and I look around just in time to see Legolas and Gimli, fire burning back in their eyes as they jog after Aragorn. They pass by me, and Gimli's laughter fills me with fire. The ice around my limbs thaw and I feel my arms tingling back to life. We're like children who found out that Santa is real. That's what it feels like for me, anyway. I pick up the train of my dress and run after them.

I skid to a halt by the door, almost running into Gamling, who holds my shoulder to steady me.

"A great host you say?" Theoden asks, his back turned towards Aragorn.

"All of Isengard has emptied." Aragorn replies.

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong, at least."

The entire room freezes in place, except for Theoden, who turns to Aragorn, his eyes wide with shock, "Ten thousand?" He repeats.

"It is an army bred for a single purpose. To destroy the world of Men." Aragorn says, and I share horrified expressions with Gamling. Saruman plans to wipe out the entire population of Rohan. That is the only reason he'd be marching towards Edoras with such a large number of Orcs and Uruk-Hai.

"They will be here by nightfall." Aragorn continues and some of the hardened soldiers behind me gasp in disbelief.

But King Theoden walks out, his back straight and proud, "Let them come." And shit, if he wasn't a badass.

I turn to Legolas and nod. No way in hell am I missing this battle. He nods back, "I'm going to prepare. Tell Aragorn not to start a fight without me, will you?"

I run back to where the women and children retreat, further into the Keep, so I can look for my pack. The news of the incoming army has spread fear among the population. Everyone is desperate to get safely into the caves. I find Éowyn taking stock of the provisions, distributing food and water to the women.

"There is not enough water, my lady. Some families will have less than others." One of the women says.

"We will make do. Just make sure that everyone receives something." Éowyn responds. She looks up at me when she sees me rummaging through my pack to bring out my tunic, leggings and the Galadhrim boots. I haven't worn these for too long and I'm going to need sturdy, comfortable shoes tonight.

"What's happening? Will you not join us in the caves later?"

"Me? Hiding? I'd be restless in two seconds." I say, checking my weapons. I'd have to clean and sharpen them before the sun sets.

"You will be fighting?" She gasps. I look up at her, my eyebrows furrowed. I'm a bit cautious about whether or not she's going to make me hide in the caves with the rest of the women and children.

"Yes?" My voice hitches up to a question, because I also want to ask if I'm going to have to go in the caves as well.

But her expression hardens. "I see." Éowyn says. She forces out a smile.

"If you will excuse me." She says, and I continue to stare after her as she walks out of the hall.

I don't know what just happened but I don't question her. I don't even have enough time to call for her before she disappears into another part of the Keep.

I change into the shirt, leather vest and leggings before I join Legolas and Aragorn to check the perimeter, and to go over the battle strategy one last time. My bow is strapped to my back and my sword and throwing knives are hanging on my belt. It's a mass of people fighting to get to the caves in time, and soldiers recruiting more men to the army because there's just not enough soldiers to defend Helm's Deep. I have to physically push people out of my way just to be able to keep up with Aragorn and Legolas. It amazes me that Aragorn is still on his feet. He's barely had time to catch his breath and has eaten next to nothing.

"We'll place the reserves along the wall. They can support the archers from above the gate." Aragorn says. Legolas and I both look at him with concern.

Legolas speaks up first, "Aragorn. You must rest. You're no use to us half-alive."

"You need to sleep. You need to eat." I pipe in. He ignores us both.

"My lord! Aragorn!"

Aragorn looks around for the source of the voice as Èowyn pushes against the crowd towards him.

"I'm to be sent with the women into the caves."

Legolas and I step back to give them privacy.

"Has he actually eaten anything? Did he even get to sit?" I say, crossing my arms and avoiding those evacuating to the caves.

Legolas shakes his head, both in frustration and in concern.

"Could you convince him to sit still for a moment? He doesn't listen to me." Legolas says.

"I feel like he thinks if he sits still, he'd realize how tired he is and sleep through the battle."

We both watch Èowyn and Aragorn from a distance, and I wince as Èowyn exclaims, "But what about Ellie?" Èowyn motions to me, which makes Aragorm's eyes flicker to me for a second and I mouth, "Leave me out of that." to him as Èowyn continues.

"You do not command the others to stay! They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you."

Ah, shit. I think I know where this is going. Legolas looks down and I kick the dirt, but we both hear her next words, anyway. "Because they love you."

I blink several times to process what she just said. Legolas gives me a meaningful look when I turn to him, to clarify if I heard correctly. His eyebrows rise in confirmation.

"Don't give me that look. I doubt he even knows that I used to like him that way." I hiss, defensively. There's a pregnant pause while Aragorn, as stunned as we are, gapes at her.

"I’m sorry." Èowyn whispers and hurries away. When she leaves, Aragorn heaves a long, heavy sigh and rubs his forehead. I approach him and pat his back.

"You okay there, big guy? Want to eat?" I say. He lowers his hand and frowns.

"I do want to eat now." He admits.

Legolas and I share secret smiles.

It's a small victory, at least.

Chapter Text

The sun is setting, and now I want to throw up. Aragorn barely got any sleep but he wolfed down the food offered to him, so at least he won't be hungry. He's still filthy, but given the fact that we're about to get drenched in orc blood anyway, it doesn't bother anyone.

The soldiers have scraped every last man and young boy for the army, but even I know their numbers are too few. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I go up to the armory to check our gear one last time, but we end up staying to assess the men and their weapons.

I've strapped my knife pack to my waist. I sit by a bench, sharpening my sword with a whetstone but Aragorn frowns as he checks the weapons and the men surrounding us.

I spend as little time as I can looking at them. It's making me even more nervous when I see the petrified looks on their faces.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys." Aragorn says, looking around. "These are no soldiers."

Gimli eyes move from man to man, "Most have seen too many winters."

"Or too few."

I stop sharpening my sword to look up at Legolas. I know that look on his face. He's annoyed. He doesn't like what's happening.

"Look at them, they are frightened."

I don't want to admit it, but I'm frightened, too. Looking at the men will just pull out every last drop of courage that I have, so I look back down at my sword as Legolas paces.

And then he starts talking in Sindarin, which means he's really pissed. It's a testament to how good of a teacher he is, along with Arwen's own lessons as well, that I manage to understand his words, "They should be. Three hundred against ten thousand?" Numbers were basic Sindarin that he taught me before we even left Rivendell.

"They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras." Aragorn replies in Sindarin, and there's an edge to his voice. I get on my feet, ready to stop them from arguing.

But Legolas heatedly says, "Aragorn, they cannot win this fight! They are going to die!"

That's comforting, seeing as I'm gonna be one of those fighting tonight. Legolas seems to have forgotten he'd be part of the three hundred or so that would be fighting tonight, as well.

I jump when Aragorn raises his voice, "Then I shall die as one of them!"

The men around us have gone silent and I put my sword back in its sheath as Aragorn storms out.

Legolas steps forward, as though to follow him, but Gimli stops him.

"Let him go, lad." Gimli says, "Let him be."

I strap my sword to my waist, ready to go after Aragorn but Gimli stops me as well. "You too, lassie." He steps back so he can clean his axe, and it's just Legolas and I standing there now.

Legolas is seething. He's looking at the ground. I try to catch his eye but he just sighs in frustration and I stare at the spot where I last saw Aragorn before he vanished in the crowd.

"What did you just do?" I burst out, shaking Legolas out of his angered stillness. His expression morphs into a mixture of guilt and concern.

"Your hands..." Legolas whispers as he gently places a hand on top of mine to stop me from wringing them together. "You do that whenever you are distressed."

Well, how the fuck does he expect me to not get distressed over what just happened? Right before a battle, the two of them fight and now I don't even know who to comfort first because on the one hand, I agree with Legolas about most of us dying and on the other... I don't want to die. I want to live and make sure that Merry and Pippin are safe. I need to see this quest fulfilled. But how can I do that when two of the best fighters I know are losing hope?

"You're doing that thing where you doubt people again." I say, making Legolas jerk back.

I wince and take his hand. "Goheno nín. I didn't mean it."

"No," he says, "you're right. I should not have said those words to him."

I know him. He doesn't say words he doesn't mean. He does believe it will be a massacre, and because I've always been the kind to look at the worst case scenario, I have the same thoughts.

"We're all thinking it, Legolas. You, me, Gimli, even Aragorn. We all know this could be our last night. He just wants to save as many people as he can." I reach out for his cheek, and he closes his eyes as my hand finds the warmth of his skin.

"We all do." I whisper and he steps closer. He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine, his hand reaching up to touch my hand that's on his cheek. He finds my wrist and squeezes, gently.

"I need you to fight hard tonight." He whispers and I nod, causing our noses to bump against each other.

"If you get hurt... If you... If you die..." He's frantic now, and I'm shaking my head. Our breaths are mingling. We're so close. So close. If I tilt my head up ever so slightly, our lips would touch.

"I won't. I promise." I say. "But you have to promise not to get yourself killed as well."

He releases a breath of laughter.

"I would never think of it."

"Good."

"Good."

Just tilt your head up.

"Lady Ellie."

I pull away from Legolas to look at the man who just addressed me. I forgot we weren't alone. I forgot we're in a room with men who may never see their wives, mothers and sisters again. It's selfish of me to want to get as close as possible to Legolas. My expression softens with one look at the man. The battle hasn't even started and he already looks so tired.

"All the women will have to stay in the caves."

"No." I answer before he even finishes his sentence.

"But, miss--"

"I'm fighting. Lord Aragorn is the one who commands me, and he said I could fight."

"I only wanted to say that if you will be fighting, you would need more armor." He says. I blink at him.

"Oh. Oh. Of course. I prefer speed over armor, however." I say and he leads me to find some chainmail that would fit me.

"No shield or helmet, then? Are you sure? Blows to the head are quite damaging."

He doesn't have to tell me that. I assure him I'll be fine, and he leads me away. I find myself getting in line for the blacksmith, with Legolas and Gimli for company.

"A chain mail would be the best option for you, lassie. Protects you from getting pierced by a blade. Can't stop a blunt attack, however, but you move fast. You have more chances of evading attacks than orcs or Uruk-Hai wearing heavier armor that would slow them down." Gimli says. "And, in any case... A bruised rib is better than your guts spilling out."

"Wonderful. Just what I needed to give me some courage." I say as I take a waist-length chain mail and unlace my vest. Legolas and Gimli make startled noises and quickly look away.

"Calm down. I have a shirt beneath." I roll my eyes as I shrug the leather vest off and wear the chain mail over my tunic. It's heavier than I'm used to, but if I can carry three college textbooks on my back, I can handle this. I put the vest back on and secure my belt and weapons to my waist.

"You can look now." I say and the two hesitate and turn around slowly.

"This reminds me. I need to get this chain mail patched up. I think an orc from this morning unlinked some of the chain." Gimli says, checking his own armor.

"Go. We will look for Aragorn." Legolas says.

I raise an eyebrow, "We will?"

"Yes, we will." He says as Gimli goes off to talk to the blacksmith.

Legolas and I navigate the Keep to locate our missing Ranger. We find Aragorn eventually, after some soldiers point us to his location. We didn't have to look far because he's also in the armory, putting on new armor.

Legolas quietly slips inside the room where Aragorn is preparing and I stand just outside to give them privacy. Legolas takes the sword from the table and offers it to Aragorn. He pauses and looks over at Legolas.

"We have trusted you this far and you have not led us astray." Legolas says, "Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn doesn't even hesitate. He takes the sword in one hand and claps Legolas' shoulder with the other, and Legolas breathes a sigh of relief, also clutching Aragorn's shoulder.

"Ú-moe edaved, Legolas." Aragorn says. I breathe a sigh of relief, too. "Oh, thank God. I don't like it when you two fight." I say, slipping inside the room as well.

"Meril, you are sure you want to continue this? There is still time for you to go to the caves." Aragorn says.

"Oh, not you too. I'm not some weak little girl that needs protection. I want to be here." I snap.

"It is not your strength or courage that I question. War leaves a lasting memory on every soldier, none of them good. You still dream about the moments of your capture. I would not want you to have more terrible memories."

"Those orcs out there. Those Uruk-Hai... I've felt the fear they bring. I felt the pain. I do not want the villagers of Rohan to feel the same fear. I would lay my life down if it meant protecting them, damn my memories. I will not let my experience define my decisions for me. I cannot live in fear of them." I say, heatedly.

"I can handle it." I insist. Aragorn nods, looking concerned but also proud. "Sometimes, I think you are too brave for your own good." He says.

"She is of your blood, after all." Legolas smiles.

"Takes after Arwen's side, truthfully."

"Hey, who knows. Before this war ends, maybe I'll end up going blonde instead." I mutter, thinking of Éowyn.

"What?" Aragorn asks.

"What?" I repeat, just to confuse him. He opens his mouth to clarify but Gimli walks in at just the right moment. He's dragging a chain armor along with him, muttering, "If we had time, I'd get this adjusted."

The chain mail drops to the ground. The three of us stare at him, "It's a little tight across the chest." He explains. Aragorn raises an eyebrow as Legolas and I try to hold back our laughter.

"I knew I should have left it alone. Why do I never listen to myself?" Gimli mutters, picking up the parts of the chainmail he had removed.

A horn blasts in the distance. My heart leaps to my throat for a second as we all turn towards the source of the noise.

"That is no orc horn." Legolas says. Immediately, him and Aragorn spring forward. Gimli yanks his tunic over his head and I find his helmet and shove it over his ears while he secures his belt.

"Careful!" He says. We both jog to catch up with our two long-legged companions but slow down at the sight that greets us when we reach the gate.

Elves.

An entire army of elves march through the doors. Each elf bears the clasp shaped into a leaf from a mallorn on their breasts, securing their cloak. As one, the army marches in place and halts. From the top of the stairs, I can see a blonde elf step forward and bow to the king. The closer we get, the more I realize that I know who he is.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell: An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago, we fought and died together." The elf says.

"Am I dreaming?" I ask Gimli, but his mouth is hanging open as well. He's just as susprised as I am. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I run down the stairs and the elf's keen eyes find us.

"We have come to honor that allegience." He says with a smile.

"Mae g'ovannen, Haldir." Aragorn greets when we reach the bottom of the stairs. There's a moment's hesitation before Aragorn pulls Haldir in for a hug. Haldir freezes, before returning the hug as well.

Aragorn pulls away, "You are most welcome." He says. He steps aside so Legolas can greet his kin and I step forward, as well.

"Lady Ellie. I see you are doing well." Haldir says with a bow.

"I'm feeling much better now that you're here." I say, breathlessly. If only he knew how relieved I am to see him. Elven archers are great assets. I've never known warriors like them with the practice of centuries using their weapons to miss their target. It brings a renewed hope, not just to me, but to every soldier of Rohan.

The elven army move as if their minds are one, and they turn so they are facing the king.

"We are proud to fight alongside Men once more." Haldir says.

King Théoden's face lights up. There is fire in his eyes now, and I see the gears turn in his head.

"Come. We have strategies to discuss." He motions for Haldir. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, King Théoden, Gamling and I retreat back inside to talk about battle plans. With a new army to help us, the Rohirrim won't be as scattered. They can focus their best weapons and soldiers at the right positions without compromising their numbers and worrying about being too spread out. As was planned before, the causeway was to be protected by skilled archers.

Except this time, we'll be on the front lines. Elven archers would be positioned along the walls. Haldir has given command of the army to Aragorn, which was a great task indeed. I've only ever seen Aragorn command our Fellowship. Now, I will see him as the true, veteran commander that he is.

The Rohirrim would be deeper within the Keep, defending our blind spot and positioned higher. The men make their plans, and I stand back simply to listen, my hands wringing together anxiously.

Legolas moves next to me and quietly slips his hand between mine, lacing his fingers through one of my hands to steady me. My other hand goes on top of his.

"This is it." I say.

"Always remember to exhale when you release. Your arm must not be too far back when you throw a knife or your arm will overstretch. And aim to kill." He tells me.

I nod, vigorously.

"El." He says, making me look up so our eyes meet. "Whatever happens, stay close to me."

"I will. I'll have your back, pretty boy, don't worry." I say. His hand squeezes mine and we pull away as he goes back to talk strategy.

"All this talk... Give me a row of orc necks so that I may hew them with my ax, already. Plans are more likely to fail than be followed through, anyways." Gimli mutters next to me.

I just want it to be over with. The agony of waiting is unbearable. I'd rather face my enemies than let my imagination run wild on what we might face.

And, a small part of me is guilty for admitting it, I am ready to take my revenge. It's time I got back to the Uruk-Hai for what they did to me, to Merry and Pippin and to Boromir.

Yes. Give me a row of orc necks. I'm ready to cut them all open.

Chapter Text

Gimli failed to realize until it's too late that the parapet of the Wall is taller than he is. I failed to realize how cold and dark it would be. Just beyond the darkness, however, a sea of flames approaches us, ever so slowly.

"You could have picked a better spot." I don't know if Gimli is addressing me or Legolas. All I know is that his passing comment makes me crack a smile, despite how my heart pounds in my chest. The Uruk-Hai army is massive. Even with the addition of the elven army, they far outnumber us.

Gimli stands between me and Legolas, and he keeps jumping up, trying to see what's going on. I feel Aragorn move next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. I didn't realize I've been shaking.

"Deep breaths, Meril." He whispers. I take shaky, deep breaths to calm my nerves. Gimli leans forward, resting his hands on his ax.

"Well, lad. Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night." He says, and Aragorn leans closer to the parapet to see the incoming army.

How the hell did they get here so quickly with an army that large, anyway?

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn." Legolas says. I grip my bow tighter in my hands.

"Let's hope they last the night." Gimli says.

"We will." I say, firmly. The thought of anything else is more frightening than the army before us now.

"It seems a storm is coming. It will be hard to aim with the rain. You will have to make every arrow count." Aragorn tells us. Legolas nods, confidently. I don't even have time to process what he just said before a roar of thunder cracks above our head. Oh. So. On top of the darkness, there's rain we'll have to worry about, too. As if my aim wasn't bad enough as it is.

"This is an advantage for us." Legolas says.

"How the hell is restricted vision an advantage?" I ask.

"The orcs' visions are restricted as well, and from our position, we block the light of the moon. It will be harder for them to find their marks. You are surrounded by elven archers of Lóthlorien. A few drops of rain from the sky will not alter their vision at all."

Elves have it easy. The last time I tried to shoot an arrow from this far, I missed most of my targets.

The orc army draws closer and closer. So close, I can now hear their taunting growls and angry screeches. I can hear them shouting in Black Speech. The first drops of rain comes down at us, and the cold numbs me. I flex my fingers and I get in position.

It's time.

Aragorn walks away from us to address the elven army in Sindarin, "A eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas."

Show them no mercy, for we shall receive no mercy.

I don't plan on doing that. The creatures below us have no souls. They don't deserve the least bit of respect. A fire sparks inside my chest, warming my entire body and steadying my hand.

The orc army stops, right at the edge of the walls.

There is a cold, deadly silence. I can hear nothing but the patter of rain on armor and stone. And then it starts. A growl, and then several others, joining in until there is a hair-raising chorus of shrieks, growls and spears and weapons pounding on the ground.

The Elven and Rohirric armies are silent. We all feel fear, but we keep our head held high. We show them that our fear will fuel us, not paralyze us.

"What's happening out there?" Gimli says, jumping up to see above the wall.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas says, with carefree confidence.

He turns to look at Gimli, and I tear my eyes away from the orc army to look at Legolas. Despite the large army below us just waiting to tear our limbs off, he has a smile on his face.

"Or would you like me to find you a box?" He teases. Gimli's laughter shatters the silence of the elven army.

I can't help but smile as well.

We have each other's backs. I'm facing the enemy with my friends. Nothing brings me more confidence than knowing I am not alone, and that they are here, fighting beside me.

Legolas' eyes meet mine and he nods. I nod back.

Show no fear. Show no mercy.

The ruckus that the orc army was making abruptly stops. My head snaps back to see what's going on, and I see an Uruk at the front line drop to the ground.

"Dartho!" Aragorn yells. But the shot didn't come from the army he was commanding. The elves are too disciplined for that.

Another growl joins another, and this time the orcs and Uruk-Hai are angry.

"Tangado i chui!" Aragorn shouts. As one, the elven army snaps into motion. We reach for arrows and nock. The feeling of drawing the bowstring back is familiar. I imagine a bubble around me. I imagine myself in just another lesson, with Legolas beside me. I block out the noise.

I wonder what Aedelgar is doing at that moment.

I wonder how Aedelind, Éowyn and the other women and children are dealing with hearing the sound of the orcs screaming for war.

I am all too aware of the breaths I take, the breaths I release, the cloud that escapes my mouth. The bow resists, but my hands and arms are steady.

"Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc." Legolas says, softly, as though simply to remind himself. Their armor is weak at the neck and beneath the arm.

But I know he's telling me, like he always does during our lessons, speaking in calming Sindarin: Watch your aim. Make every arrow count.

We wait, patiently, until...

"Hado i philinn!" The buzz of thousands of arrows being released makes my ears ring. I keep my eye on the arrow I shot, and feel a swell of pride as it lands directly at an Uruk's face.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli shouts, gripping his ax in anticipation. I'm too focused on shooting arrows to answer him. What I lack in speed, I make up for with precision. While the elves move fluidly, I make sure my aim is just right.

The pained screeches of the orcs, Uruk-Hai and even Dunlendings below us echo against the walls. But they're fighting back, too. Uruk-Hai with crossbows move to the front lines, and despite some of their shots missing, we still have our first casualties.

I don't think I'll ever forget the terrified scream of someone falling to his death, or the crunch that echoes through the stones of Helm's Deep as his body finds the ground. The others fight back with speed. I aim for orcs carrying long-ranged weapons. But keeping my eyes fixed on the distance makes me blind to something that Aragorn is only too aware of:

"Pendraith!"

As if on cue, a ladder comes up a few feet to my left. Elves near it work to push the ladder off, but more ladders come up to replace the ones being kicked off.

"Good!" Gimli growls in anticipation. I make the risky decision of leaning forward so I can shoot the orcs below us who carry the ladders. One orc falls, and the ladder he and another orc are holding topples and crushes some of them beneath. I lean back to get another arrow and I feel something whiz past my head. Had I not moved away at that moment, I would be dead with an arrow to my face right now.

"Swords!" Aragorn bellows, "Swords!"

I quickly swing my bow over my shoulder, keeping it on my back, and I unclasp my pack of daggers. I unsheath one and throw it at the Uruk whose head pops up from behind the ladder it's climbing.

I hit my target and I smirk, "Just like riding a bike." I say. Shame about the dagger. I wish I could retrieve it, but I have no time to think about that as more Uruk-Hai and orcs start to climb over the wall. I bring my sword out and make my first swing. Block, slice. I make a note to myself not to attempt to stab unless I'm aiming for necks or faces. I use every tactic I have at my disposal, whether it's kicking an orc's legs out from beneath it or ducking beneath arms so I can move to their back to push them off the walls. There is so much blood, so much screaming. I've never had to face a battle with such a large number of people, and their blood covers the ground, and gets washed away by the rain. It's harder to focus with the sound of battle around me. The sound of terrified, dying people...

An orc yanks me back by my hair. I hate these things. Why do they always have to grab my hair? Cursing myself for getting caught off-guard, I take another dagger and slice at the hand holding me.

"Get off!" I grunt as I turn and drive the dagger right at its ugly face. Blood drenches my hand as I yank the dagger out and push it away from me. I see an Uruk making a beeline towards Aragorn, and I throw the dagger, hitting it right at the back of its neck. Aragorn turns just in time to see the Uruk fall to the ground. He places his foot on the Uruk's head and yanks out the dagger embedded in its neck.

He throws it at my direction, and I move my head just in time for it to hit an orc approaching me from behind right at its face. I grab hold of the hilt with my left hand and kick the orc away while I block incoming attacks with the sword in my right. I use the dagger to deliver my killing blows.

Somewhere behind me, Gimli shouts, "Legolas! Ellie! Two already!"

"I'm still alive, thanks for asking!" I shout back, grunting as I kick another orc away from me.

"I'm on seventeen!" Legolas yells, as he fights to keep Uruk and orc alike from getting over the walls.

Gimli yells indignantly, "I'll have no pointy ears outscoring me!"

He growls ferociously as he swings with his ax. Unbelievable. They're over there counting kills, I'm over here pleading for God to watch over me. I think I've killed ten, maybe thirteen if all my arrows found its mark before. Amidst the fighting, I lose another dagger when I throw it at an Uruk who thought it was a good idea to charge at Legolas while he's shooting those coming up from the ladders with arrows.

"Nineteen!" Legolas shouts. I didn't think he noticed the Uruk who was a foot away from slicing him down until I see him look down at it as it falls off the edge of the walls.

"Look out!" I hear an elf yell to my right and I turn and duck just in time. An Uruk's blade whizzes above my head. But its foot comes up to kick my stomach, and I double over at the pain. I get pushed to the ground and I pant, and sweep my legs at the ground until I hear the Uruk crash next to me and I roll on top of it and embed my sword in its neck.

I struggle to my feet, feeling the tender spot just below my ribs. I move backwards, towards where Legolas is. He's brought his knives out and is slashing away with them.

"They're bringing more ladders up." I tell him as I look over the edge.

He mutters a curse in Sindarin under his breath. I intercept the Uruk he's in combat with and push it away. before slicing it with my sword. "I have your back. Shoot them off!" I tell him.

We work seamlessly. I make sure I'm close to him, although our fight takes us farther and farther from our original position. Eventually, the two of us are separated from Aragorn and Gimli.

The walls are quiet again.

There's a break in the melee as both sides recover. The ladders have all been kicked off.

"You are doing well." He says as I sit on the ground, gasping for breath. I'm drenched from head to toe. The adrenaline rush I had from the fight has been flushed out of my system. I'm shivering in my drenched clothes.

No movie I've ever seen ever shows how gruesome a war can be. Dead bodies litter the ground, and the rain washes off a river of blood. Elves who have fallen in battle lie on the ground, broken and no longer beautiful. The Uruk-Hai and orcs had no respect for the dead. Some faces will never be recognized again.

"I might throw up." I say, trying to look away. But there is nowhere to look at. At every angle, there is blood and the signs of battle. Legolas goes off to salvage some arrows. An elf hands me a whetstone for my blade. The rain has washed off some of the gore and blood from my blade, but thick, black blood stains my sleeves and nails.

"Sy telir!" An elf shouts.

Our break is over too soon, and we're back to fighting. I take my bow as a new set of ladders are carried over the walls. The elves stationed near the walls aim their arrows downwards. It's not as easy as they make it look. Pulling a bowstring from this angle is much more difficult than when standing straight. When the first Uruk-Hai and orcs jump over the walls, the cycle repeats itself. Only now, there are bodies I try to avoid stepping on. The enemy has no mercy, though. They crush the fallen bodies beneath their feet, and it fills me with more hatred for them.

"Causeway! Na fennas!" Amidst the chaos, Aragorn's voice rises.

Legolas and I run to get a better view of the causeway, where a part of the army had broken off to form a protected march on the gates. The orcs have shields covering their heads but they were exposed at the sides. I can't take my chances and waste my arrows here, so I step back and keep my sword in hand.

"I'll fight the ones coming up instead." I tell Legolas as I charge for the enemies thinking they can flank the archers.

Haldir fights next to me to drive away those that have gone over the wall.

"Move!" Haldir grunts, pulling me towards him as he drives his sword at an Uruk behind me. I return the favor by taking a dagger and circling behind him, stabbing an orc trying to get to him.

"So," I shout over my shoulder as I kick the orc away, "do you come here often?"

I hear Haldir chuckle behind me.

"I regret coming here at all."

"Oh, come on. That's going to break hearts. Some of these fine ladies came just to see you. They can't get enough of such breath-taking elven beauty." I tease as I slice enemies down.

"I am afraid I will have to reject their advances. My wife will not appreciate it if I entertained other women--especially the vile, ugly ones."

"Your what?!" I whip around to see him duck beneath an Uruk's arm. The corner of his mouth twitches upward as he drives his sword into a Dunlending's stomach.

"To your left." He says. I impatiently turn to fight off a rather feeble attack from an orc.

"I don't know what I'm more shocked by, that there are orc women or that you have a wife."

"Are you saying I do not look like I can get an elleth''s attention?" Haldir sounds offended.

"I'm not even going to--"

I am thrown off my feet by the ground shaking beneath us. There's a deafening explosion as a part of the walls crumbles, so close to where we are. Stone debris shower over us, and pebbles rain on my cheek and head. The next thing I know, my ears are ringing and my head is swimming in dizziness and pain.

Haldir is quicker on his feet than I am, and he pulls me up as I look at the gigantic, gaping hole in our defenses.

And then it hits me.

"Shit!" I hiss. Haldir lets go of me to get back into battle. Legolas fights his way towards me, and I fight my way towards him, slicing and pushing the enemy in my way. When we reach each other, I gasp for breath.

"Aragorn... Gimli! They were--they--"

The last we saw of them, they were fighting near where that explosion went off.

"I know! I tried to shoot the Uruk down but it was determined--"

"Oh, God--" I shout as I push him out of the way to drive my sword into an incoming orc, its sword poised to strike Legolas from behind.

"Aragorn and Gimli?"

"I do not know, but I believe they survived. They have to be alive."

No, I'm sure Aragorn is alive, at least. He said so himself: As his descendant, I'd be the first to know if he's dead.

We turn in the direction of the explosion. The Uruk-Hai are now trying to get through the gates. I can imagine the flurry of activity as the Rohirrim try to hold them back.

The remaining elves near the fallen walls are rallying and forming ranks. Legolas and I both sigh in relief.

"They rally to their commander. Aragorn is alive." He says.

"You're losing your touch, pretty boy." I say, turning around to slice at a particularly heavy-footed Dunlending.

"You are yet to even reach my count, I see." He teases back as he pulls out an arrow and nocks. I duck beneath his arm as he shoots and I drive my sword into an enemy approaching us.

"I'm at twenty-five, at least."

"That is because I taught you well."

"You did not just try to claim credit on my kills!"

It's amazing how, amidst all this death and violence, I can still keep this up. Laughing, teasing. It's like I've detached myself from my fear. Like I'm a new person, or a machine, just doing what it can to stay alive and making light of something just so I wouldn't have to focus on the heaviness of death.

How did I become like this?

When, exactly, did killing become easy for me? So easy, I can now laugh while taking someone's life.

Snap out of it. No mercy, remember? A small voice in my head tells me. I harden myself and turn around, expecting to see Legolas still behind me. Instead, I see him yanking a shield from an Uruk's grasp and pushing it off the wall. And then he takes the shield, throws it down the stairs and proceeds to own the battlefield by showing some serious moves that only elvish agility can accomplish. He shoots arrows at orcs while surfing down the stairs. I lean down and see him drive the shield right at an Uruk's throat and jump down as if he was just doing the hopscotch, whipping out his knives for close combat.

"Show off!" I yell.

Me, I'm stuck running down the stairs the old-fashioned way. The rest of us that was farther from the blast have now met with the army Aragorn had rallied. There are body parts floating in the water, and elf and orc bodies buried beneath stone. We're all fighting to keep the enemy from completely taking over the wall.

I have no idea how I'm still alive. I have cuts, bruises and a split lip. Aragorn looks like he's had much worse, but his features relax the moment he sees me.That doesn't last long, however. The Uruk-Hai come in waves.

"Aragorn! Fall back to the Keep! Get your men out of there!" King Théoden bellows.

We've officially lost the wall and we're close enough now to the Rohirric army that we're within earshot. I knew things were going bad, but I didn't think things were this bad. Aragorn nods to acknowledge that he heard.

"Go back in the Keep, Meril." He says.

"You want me to leave you here?" I protest.

"Go! I will be right with you. Nan barad!" He shouts, motioning for the rest of the army.

"The last time we got separated, you fell off a cliff. Just minutes ago, you were caught in an explosion!" I say, but I do as he says, anyway, and move back to the stairs.

"What are you doing? What are you stopping for?!" Gimli growls as Legolas and another elf drag him away from the fight and back up the stairs. Elves are running, abandoning their positions and jumping over the fallen bodies of their comrades, to retreat.

"Haldir! Nan barad!" I hear Aragorn shout. I look up. I'm almost to the stairs and Haldir is ordering the rest of the elves still left behind. He nods at me when he sees me and turns to fight an incoming Uruk.

That's when I see another Uruk about to stab him in the back.

I hear him cry out in pain and look at his arm. He must have been cut during his fight. He doesn't seem to notice the Uruk coming closer and closer behind him. It raises its arm to strike.

I move quickly to unsheath another dagger from my pack and throw it as hard as I can. Haldir turns and freezes as the Uruk halts, with my dagger embedded in its neck. Haldir pulls the dagger out and steps back.

He was so close, so close to death. I think even he realizes how close a call that was as I run up the stairs.

"Thank you." He says, presenting the hilt of my dagger.

"Plenty of time for you to pay me back later." I say as we both run back, deeper into the Keep. There, Legolas meets us again.

"Where's Aragorn?" I ask, looking around frantically.

"I thought he was coming with you." Legolas says.

"Well. Obviously not." I hiss, trying to find Aragorn among the flurry.

"I saw them run into the Keep, towards the king's army." Haldir says. He has brought his bow out and, like the remaining elves, are shooting orcs, Uruk-Hai and Dunlendings off their ladders. Legolas has his bow out as well. I guard his back, until his posture relaxes and he calls for me.

"Ellie!" There's amusement in his voice. And there are few enough enemies left on our side of the wall that I let myself get distracted for a second. "He just tossed the Dwarf."

"Oh, man, you really need to straighten your priorities out." I say, rolling my eyes to get back in the fight.

"Wait." I go back to where Legolas is. How did he see Aragorn toss Gimli? Why would he even need to toss Gimli? I look over the parapet to see what Legolas is looking at.

I almost have a heart attack right on the spot.The idiots have gone and decided to meet the Uruk-Hai army trying to get through the gate via the causeway. The two of them against hundreds of Uruk-Hai. I have never seen anything more dangerous and reckless than that. There's a gaping hole in the gates. Apparently, the Uruk-Hai were successful in breaking through. The Rohirrim are trying to fortify the gate, while Aragorn and Gimli fight the Uruk-Hai off, most likely to give the Rohirrim time to shore up the gate.

"I'm gonna kill him." I mutter, dangerously.

"Who?" Legolas asks.

"Both of them, all of them." I say as we turn our attention to the Uruk-Hai trying to go over the walls. I feel someone yank me back just as Legolas jumps away from the edge of the walls.

A second later, a grappling hook attaches itself to the walls, right where I was just moments ago. I turn to see my rescuer. Haldir nods at me.

"We're even." I say, patting his shoulder. We both lean down to see orcs and Uruk-Hai climbing the rope attached to the grappling hook, and more ladders coming up.

"Effort, much? It's not like they're running out of ladders." I mutter as I attempt to push back the ladders that are still getting erected. Haldir looks around, "They will outnumber us."

"Haven't they already?" I let out a hallow laugh.

Haldir shakes his head. "We will have to go into the Keep."

"Aragorn! Get out of there!" I hear Théoden shout. They must have finished doing what they can to fix the gate.

"Give me a break." I huff. I watch Legolas slice off a rope from one of the hooks and pull. I run towards him while he works on the rope until he reaches the length he wants. He then stands over the wall, towards the causeway.

"Aragorn!" He shouts, throwing the rope down.

"Pull back!" Haldir shouts, motioning to me.

"They've broken through!" I hear someone else shout.

"Go!" I say. I stay right where I am, waiting for Aragorn and Gimli to get pulled up by Legolas. How Legolas even managed to pull them both up is a testament to his strength. I help pull Gimli up and finally, the four of us are reunited. We run back inside the Keep.

Our defenses are collapsing. It's only going to get worse before it gets better and it's only now that my fear bubbles up in me again.

We may not live long enough to see the sunrise.

Chapter Text

We reach the halls inside the Keep, with me panting and clutching the stitch forming on my side. They shut the gates behind us, and the Rohirrim inside barricade the door.

Aedelgar runs up to me, with a jar in hand. There's a cut along his cheek and there's blood caked to his hands but he doesn't seem to mind. "How in Arda are you still alive?" He gasps when he sees me.

"You people underestimate me so much." I say as he opens the jar and offers it to me. "It is for the cuts, so they will not get infected. Aedelind made it. Here." He says. I take the jar from him and cover my wounds with the paste. "Have you given some to Haldir? His arm was cut earlier."

Aedelgar shrugged, "He did not want to use it. He said I should keep it to myself or give it to other humans. Elves have a higher pain threshold than Men, or so he tells me."

"Of course they do."

I give him back the jar and stop to look around. What I see alarms me, to say the least. Men and elves, injured, tired. There were some elves who had been shot in the back as they were retreating. Their companions drag their dead bodies to the far side of the halls, where those who have been fatally wounded and were moaning in pain lay, dying. There is so much blood. I can smell it, smell the rain, smell the sweat. My senses are suddenly all too aware of every detail I see, every ache and pain, every breath I draw in.

We stay in the Keep for longer than I care to count. We tend to our injuries, we say farewell to those dying, and we sharpen our swords with whetstone, all the while fear builds up in us with every thunderous crash against the final gate.

I've been here before.

In this dark feeling of being cornered, where all hope starts to fade.

"There's so few of us left." I whisper as what's left of our armies tries to barricade the doors.

"The fortress is taken. It is over." Théoden said. I cover my face with my hands, trying to hold in my anger and fear. My hands are shaking. The King has all but given up.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it!" Aragorn snaps, heatedly. "They still defend it! They have died defending it!"

He's right, as he always is. Giving up now would be an insult to all the people who have died to protect the women and children of Rohan. Aedelgar had gone off to help barricade the doors. There's a continuous, thundering crash at the entrance as the orcs relentlessly try to break through.

I am not going to die at the hands of the orcs behind those doors with men who have given up. I will not allow the people of Rohan to die without a chance of saving themselves.

"Aragorn." I grab his arm to get his attention. "We need to get the women and children out of here. We can't leave them to suffer. If we're to fight to our death, then so be it but the women and children must live."

He nods at me and turns to Gamling, "Is there no other way to get the women and children out of the cave?" He asks. Gamling looks at his King but Théoden remains frozen, like the passive old man sitting on the throne under Saruman's power.

"Is there no other way?" Aragorn says, with more force.

"There is one passage. It leads into the mountains." Gamling says, "But they will not get far. The Uruk-Hai are too many."

"Thank you, Debby Downer." I snap. Aragorn takes my hand, "Tell the women and children to make way for the mountain pass." He tells me. I nod. At least someone still has enough sense to order their troops around.

"And barricade the entrance!" He tells the rest of the Rohirrim. As I'm just about to make my way towards Haldir, who motions for me to follow him, Théoden finally comes out of his trance.

"So much death..." Théoden says. "What can Men do against such reckless hate?" His voice is dead. There is no hope left in him. I look around at the terrified soldiers around me. As their King loses hope, so do they.

Aragorn freezes, and so do I. Is this it? Are we really giving up? I look at Aragorn, imploringly.

"Ride out and meet them." Aragorn says.

Everyone who heard turns to him in amazement. He spoke so softly, but we heard him, alright.

"Ride out and meet them, head on."

"For death and glory." Life seeps back into Théoden.

"For Rohan." Aragorn says, "For your people."

Shit, they're really going to do it. They really plan on taking their horses and charging at the enemy lines.

"The sun is rising." Gimli says and points out the window.

We lasted the night, after all. We did get to see the sunrise.

"Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep. One last time." Théoden says as a new flurry of activity comes up. The elves assemble and salvage what arrows they can. The Rohirrim, Aedelgar included, retreat down a passage that leads to where they have tethered most of the horses.

"Yes!" Gimli exclaims, glad that the Rohirrim have found their spirit once more. He runs up towards another passage.

"What about the women and children?" I ask Aragorn.

"Take some of the elves with you. Guide the women to the mountain pass and protect them as they cross. Haldir, does your commander still live?" Aragorn says over my shoulder.

"Right here, my lord." Haldir replies, turning to his commander to translate what Aragorn was saying.

"Good. Take Ellie and a hundred elves with you and guide the women to the caves." Aragorn says. I take his hand.

"You better be alive when I get back, Aragorn."

"I always come back, Meril." He says as the clip-clop of the horses echo through the Keep.

The horses are handed out to what I assume are the elite warriors of the Rohirrim. Aedelgar himself gives me a nod as he gets on his horse.

"Take care of Aedelind. Tell her not to come charging at any orc if I fall on this day."

"Shut up, you're going to live." I say as I step backwards.

I look for Legolas in the crowd and find him taking a longsword from one of the fallen elves.

"I will see you later, yes?" He says to me, getting on Arod.

"You will. When you get back, we will have a final count." I say. The Rohirrim not on horseback are positioned behind the cavalry. The elven army that will not be going down the caves with Haldir and I protect the other entrance.

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together." Théoden exclaims as the cavalry line up.

"Fell deeds, awake! Now for wrath. Now for ruin. And a red dawn!" He shouts. A great horn echoes through the entire Keep.

I look back one last time as I hear the gates crash open.

"Ellie. Now!" Haldir shouts. We charge towards a passage going downwards, towards the caves.

"Forth Eorlingas!" Théoden's voice echoes even down the passage. The army above us shouts. The rest of the elven army that isn't with us would be charging to retake the walls and support the cavalry, who will be charging at the causeway, while the rest of the Rohirrim not on horseback will be fighting to support the cavalry.

As we get lower and lower, the battle above us fades until there is only the sound of our breathing and the great Horn of Hammerhand blasting once more.

I have no idea what's happening upstairs, but finally we find the caves.

"Éowyn!" I shout. I hear some of the women gasp in alarm.

"They've broken through! They're here!"

"Draw your swords!" I shout as I take two daggers out, one in each hand. I can hear children shrieking, and women sobbing.

"Move back to the Keep!" I hear Éowyn shout.

"No! Make for the mountains!"

"Ellie?" She gasps as she sees me, with Haldir and a hundred other elves in tow. She weilds her own sword, already wet with blood.

The Uruk have just started to pour in. Women are pulling their children back, but already there are some lying dead on the ground.

"To the mountains! Go! Move!" I yell, pushing the women out of the way.

They run past me, towards another passageway. I throw my dagger at an orc who almost strikes a little girl shaking her grandmother. Another woman picks her up and runs. Haldir takes command of the elven army with us, while I guide the women to safety. Arrows whiz past my head from behind me, hitting the orcs pouring in from the entrance.

Éowyn and I fight beside each other, and I don't know how long we've been fighting but the bodies around us pile up. The elves' arrows run out so that we all fight in the caves with our swords. The clang of metal against metal echoes deafeningly through my ears. The caves are grand, and very spacious with gems glittering off the walls but with a hundred other elves and Uruk-Hai, it feels too much like the Mines of Moria again. I've been fighting with very little breaks and my exhaustion is getting the better of me. I start to slow down, get punched and dragged and kicked but I fight back just as fiercely, because to give in to the pain would be like offering the back of my neck to these orcs. I get thrown to the ground, but I slice my sword upwards before my opponent could deliver its final blow. I struggle to get back up on my feet, surrounded by fallen bodies of elves, women and orcs. I freeze when I notice something.

Aedelind is on the ground. Her eyes are open, staring at the ceiling of the caves.

"No." I whisper, shooting to my feet and running, stepping on the orcs on the ground just to get to her. The sound of metal against metal echoes through the caves but it all feels distant.

Aedelind is on the ground.

Aedelgar is out there fighting for her safety.

But Aedelind is on the ground. There is blood pouring from a cut in her stomach. Her hand is on top of it. A healer until the very end, she knew that applying pressure could stem the blood flow. I try to move her hand out of the way to see how deep the wound is.

She resists.

"Aedelind!" I gasp. She's still staring at the caves, taking shallow breaths but at least she's breathing.

"Aedelind! Oh, God." I say as my shaking hands move on top of hers and I help her apply pressure. She whimpers in pain but she's alive.

Tears blur my vision, "Boe enni nestron!" I shout over my shoulder. Thank God for Legolas' Sindarin lessons.

"Aedelgar." Aedelind whispers.

"He's fine. He's alive. You have to fight, Aedelind. You can't die. Not now." I swallow the lump forming in my throat. An elf kneels next to me to check the wound. He has a small pouch tied to his waist and he pulls out some crushed leaves and applies it directly on her wound.

Aedelind gasps in pain, holding tightly to my hand as the elf starts whispering in Sindarin.

"What is that, what are you doing?" I say to the elf.

"It will stem the flow of blood." He says.

"You'll be fine." I say to Aedelind as she groans and shuts her eyes. There are tears pouring from her eyes.

"Don't you dare close your eyes." I snap.

"You try...having someone...jab through your stab wound." She gasps, a bit of her spirit coming back. Something between a sob and a laugh escapes my mouth.

"It's quiet." Aedelind says. I'm terrified that these would be her dying words but it finally sinks in.

There are no more Uruk-Hai coming through. There is only the sound of several tired warriors trying to catch their breath.

"The last Uruk died when I came to you. We have sent a scout to see if there will be more arriving." The elf beside me says as he finishes his ministrations on Aedelind. "I have done what I can for her but the wound must be cleaned--"

An elf runs back inside the caves, his sword gleaming in the air, "The Uruk-Hai are retreating!" He announces.

There's a chorus of shouts and cheers. I feel someone touch my shoulder and I look up to see Haldir, smiling broadly at me. I look up at him with disbelief.

"We won?" I gasp, still unable to believe it. Aedelind squeezes my hand and when I turn to her, there's a weak smile on her face, "We won." She whispers.

There are more shouts of joy, and the women of Rohan come running back to announce what has happened.

Gandalf is back.

And he brought with him the combined army of Éomer and Erkenbrand. Together with the King's company, they had driven away Saruman's army.

We are saved.

It didn't matter if we were all strangers, everyone hugged each other. I drop my sword and get tackled in a mass of hugs by various women who are grateful for the new dawn.

Éowyn finds her way to me, and like excited children, we hug each other tightly, unable to believe what just happened but with smiles on our faces.

The dead and wounded are carried back up to the Keep to be tended to by healers.

The rest of us greet the remaining army at the ruined gates. From where we stand, we see the view of Fangorn Forest, where the Uruk-Hai are running to.

The forest comes to life. Some of the women cry out in fear, but the elves look on with awe. It's so quiet. It's like watching a movie with the volume too low. We watch as the trees of the forest move and swallow up what remains of Saruman's army. And in the horizon, we see the silhouette of the brave warriors of Rohan approaching us on their horses. As their faces come to view, those of us waiting for them erupt in cheers.

They look exhausted, but the smiles on their faces are infectious. Gamling waves the flag of Rohan in the air. The cavalry unmount their horses to greet us. Women run forward to meet their husbands, brothers and sons.

I make a run for Legolas and there's a fierce look in his eyes. He's smiling broadly and I crash into him, throwing my arms around his neck as we both laugh. Aragorn unmounts his own horse and I pull him in for a hug as well.

And all the wounds, the cuts, the bruises, the pain... They don't matter anymore. Because it's over, and we lived to see another day. Despite how tired we are, despite how badly we all smell and how sticky we are from the dirt and blood, despite our bodies shaking in exhaustion, relief floods through our systems.

I see Gandalf unmounting Shadowfax, and as he always has done, he opens his arms to let me hug him.

"Do all wizards arrive right when they're needed? Or is that just you?" I say to him, pulling back as he touches my head.

He chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder as he leads me inside.

"It is good to see you, my dear."

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Gandalf." I say, positively giddy with our victory. I freeze as I remember something.

"Oh! Legolas and I have to find Gimli!" I gasp, pulling away from Gandalf.

"Whatever for?" He calls as I run for Legolas and take his hand, leading him back inside the Keep.

"Counting!" I call back.

We find Gimli sitting on top of an Uruk, smoking a pipe as if it was just another day in Rivendell. Soldiers are dragging the bodies of the enemies away and throwing them into a pile.

Legolas, who still has his bow in his hand, strokes it lovingly, a smug look on his face.

"Final count: Forty-two." He says.

"Forty-two? That's not bad for a pointy-eared Elvish princeling." There's fake wonder in Gimli's voice and I try to hold in my laughter. Gimli winks in my direction, while Legolas' eyes narrow in suspicion.

"I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three." Gimli continues.

There's a moment where Legolas is perfectly still, as though still processing what he just heard. The next thing I know, he's shooting an arrow right between Gimli's legs at the Uruk he is sitting on.

"Forty-three." Legolas' smug grin is back on his face.

"He was already dead." Gimli deadpans.

Legolas looks back down at the Uruk, "It was twitching."

"It was twitching," Gimli says, as he grips the handle of his axe still stuck inside the orc, moving it back and forth, resulting in the orc's body to jerk around, "because he's got my ax embedded in his nervous system!"

How the hell do they already know about the nervous system? How far into science are these people? I take one look at Legolas as a frown sets on his forehead and I start laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" Gimli asks me, suspiciously.

"Oh, boys, boys." I say, waving a hand in front of my face as I place my other hand on my waist.

"What?" Legolas demands.

"And here I thought you were supposed to be experienced warriors." I sigh before turning my back on them and walking back inside, a huge grin on my face.

"Ellie?" Legolas asks, and I know he and Gimli are staring at me in confusion.

"Hold on there, lassie!" Gimli shouts. I ignore them both.

I'm faking it, of course. My final count is at forty. But they don't have to know that. I just enjoy watching their egos deflate. God knows they need it.

Chapter Text

The euphoria of victory ends all too quickly. When I get back in the Keep, there are too few of us left. There are women sobbing over their dead husbands, sons or brothers. There are men still dying, begging their friends to end their suffering. There are men who would lose an arm because of infection, men who have lost fingers and ears. Men whose faces are so scarred that their own family could no longer recognize them. There are some men whose bodies have been so ruined that there is nothing left to bring back to their families.

The elves stay to help with the healing, but resources are running low. Haldir is trying his best to facilitate the recovery of bodies that have fallen in the battlefield, but it's laborious work, and would take a great portion of the day, after which, the elves would face a great decision of whether to leave their dead and have them be buried here in Helm's Deep or to take the bodies they can back to Lothlórien, at the cost of speed and being more vulnerable to attacks. The battle has been won but at great cost. And there are still Uruk-Hai that are scattered in Rohan that would need to be hunted down.

I see Aedelgar kneeling next to Aedelind, her small hand in his as he places her knuckles against his lips. A familiar friend stands just behind him.

"Hildraed." I say. My voice is hoarse from all the screaming, but he recognizes me right away and he gives me a small smile.

"I am glad to see you again, Ellie."

"I'm glad to see you, too. I'm glad Lord Éomer came when he did. We had almost lost hope." I tell him.

"How is Aedelind?" I ask, motioning at her body.

"The wound has been cleaned but..." He shakes his head, "There is nothing else we can do but wait. She has her own battle to fight now. If she can live until tomorrow, then she will have survived the worst of it. Only time can tell now."

"Aedelgar." I say, approaching him and giving his arm a squeeze. He doesn't even react. I kneel on the ground next to him and a racking sob tears itself out of him.

Hildraed is by his side immediately, pulling him into his arms, soothing him with gentle words.

"She will get through this. She is strong. Aedelind will fight this." Hildraed says as Aedelgar leans into Hildraed's arms.

This feels private, something between just them, so I straighten back up but Aedelgar stops me by holding my hand.

"You saved her. She told me you were by her side." His eyes are red-rimmed.

"She saved me, too. It was the very least I can do." I say, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Lady Ellie, the King and Lord Aragorn are waiting for you." Gamling says from the doorway.

"I'll be right there." I call over my shoulder. Aedelgar's hand slips from mine and I lean down to give his shoulder another squeeze.

"He needs someone to help him be strong, now more than ever." I say to Hildraed. He holds Aedelgar tightly.

"I know." Is all he says before I follow Gamling back out, where King Théoden, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Éomer and another Rohirrim that I haven't seen before wait for me.

"Come, Lady Ellie. We have much to discuss." King Théoden says. I don't dare question why they suddenly believe I am important enough to take part in their discussions.

"She is but a girl." The unfamiliar Rohirrim soldier says, though more in wonder than condescension. "She fought off the Uruk-Hai in the caves?"

"Actually, there was also a hundred other elves, yes." I say, slightly amazed that a veteran warrior would even know about me.

"It is an honor to meet you, my lady. I have been told of how you came to be in Rohan. Glad I am of the day you have come to these lands. Had it not been for your bravery, I would not have had a family to come home to." He says, approaching me and kissing my hand. I beam. I like this guy. He knows how to flatter a girl. "I am known as Erkenbrand." He says.

"Well, my lord," I clear my throat, "you give me far too much credit. I was only a soldier who fought where I was needed. The victory belongs to both the King and to Aragorn."

"There is no victory for a commander without the sacrifice of his soldiers." King Théoden says with a smile.

"The trees helped too." I say, motioning at the Forest of Fangorn.

"You saw that, then?" Éomer says, turning to the Forest.

"I saw the Uruk-Hai running for the forest. I think I saw the forest move, but perhaps it's just my exhaustion getting the better of me. Unless..." I turn to Gandalf with a raised eyebrow.

"What the forest has done is beyond my counsel, for there is power far older and more powerful than I." He says. "Before elves sang or hammer rang, before iron was found or tree was hewn. When the mountains were still young under the moon, the power in the forest was already alive."

"And what power is this?" Théoden asks.

"You will find the answer in Isengard."

Everyone let out incredulous gasps. "Isengard?" Théoden repeats.

"I plan to go to Isengard and those who choose to come with me may do so."

"We've just been through hell here. The dead have not even been all accounted for." I say.

"Even if we were healed of all wounds and weariness, there is not enough soldiers in Rohan to storm Saruman's fortress." Théoden says.

"Nevertheless, to Isengard I go. I have business with my old friend Saruman. I will not stay long. I shall return in Edoras before the waning of the moon." Gandalf says, moving to go.

"Wait!" Théoden calls, making Gandalf halt.

"I have doubted you before, I will not do so now. I will take some of my best men with me, and we will go to Isengard, if that is your counsel." Théoden says.

"Saruman has done you a great error. It is only fitting you speak to him yourself. How soon can you ride?" Gandalf asks.

"My men are still weary from the battle. There are wounds that must be treated. We have fought in battle twice in one day alone. And my old age is doing nothing for my stamina." Théoden says.

"Then let all those who would ride with me tomorrow rest now. We will ride in the evening. But do not command too many men to go with you, Théoden. We go to a parley, not war." Gandalf says.

"Very well. Gamling, take some of our swiftest riders and send them out to all the corners of the realm. Let them know of our victory and that their King needs every able-bodied man and strong lad who can bear arms to go Edoras." Théoden turns to Gamling, who bows and steps out of the room.

"I will take Éomer and twenty others from my household to ride with us to Isengard." Théoden says. Éomer bows as the King takes him away, and Erkenbrand follows after them, listing off the names of who would be going with us.

Gandalf already knows Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I will be going with him. "If all has gone well, we may find two young hobbits waiting for us." He says.

"Are you sure you are ready to face Saruman, lassie?" Gimli asks me.

"Why wouldn't I be? Because he ordered for me to be captured? Because he's still deluded into thinking I know what's gonna happen in this war?" I say, vehemently, "On the contrary, I'd love to see his face as I tell him how much of a gigantic waste of time that was and that the only thing he'll be getting from me is a kick, if I ever get my hands on him."

"Have I ever told you that you have a terrifying temper? Remind me not to get on your bad side." Gimli chuckles, walking out to get some rest. I feel someone's arms around my shoulder and I lean my head on their chest. I already know who it is before he speaks.

"Come. It is time to rest." Legolas says, and he leads me out, leaving Gandalf and Aragorn behind.

"Did you get a chance to go in the caves, Gimli?" I ask, feeling tired right to my bones. Gimli, however, never seems to run out of energy. The mere mention of the caves makes him excited.

"Men, I tell you! They have here a marvel from the Northern World, right beneath their feet and what do they do? They call them caves! Holes to hide in during times of war and holes to store fodder in! And when there is no need, it lies there, forgotten and unexplored. All that beauty, gone to waste!" Gimli exclaims. "Did you not see it, Ellie? The tinkle of the everlasting music of water as it drips into the pools."

"You have started an avalanche, I am afraid..." Legolas leans down to whisper in my ear, his breath fanning my hair. I nudge him and try to hold back a giggle as Gimli continues.

"Gems and crystals and precious ore lining the polished stone and marble, where the light glows through. And the diamonds form constellations of their own on the grand ceilings, where spikes and spears are formed into palaces above our heads. Ah, Ellie. How could you not have appreciated beauty such that even Durin himself could never have imagined?" Gimli sighs.

"I was too busy not getting my head chopped off." I say.

"You were there longer than I was and you did not even stop to admire the beauty?"

"If I had stopped at all, I would have been a clear target for an arrow or a spear."

"Alright, alright. I understand, you are new to battle and must put all your concentration into a fight. But, we shall speak of the Glittering Caves again! Tell Legolas here how truly wonderous they are." Gimli calls as he goes off to find a place to rest.

Legolas removes his arm from my shoulder. I move to go to the hall where the women have laid cots and blankets down, but he stops me by holding my hand.

"I am glad you are alive, El." He says, and slowly, he brings my hand up to kiss it. I feel the warmth of his lips radiate from that spot to my entire body. And it's nothing like the formal kiss Erkenbrand did. Legolas' movements are slow, gentle, even shy.

"Losto vae." He says, straightening up.

My mouth hangs slightly open. My heart flutters in my chest. "Right. Yeah. Sleep. You, too." I say, stumbling backwards. There's a small smile I see on his lips before he turns and follows Gimli into another hall.

Éowyn had ordered some of the women to set up a bath for me. I've never had so many people pay this much attention to me before. The moment I close the door behind me, I barely have time to catch my breath when they start telling me that I needed rest and how proud they were of me for being the only woman in the battle and still being able to hold out just as well as the men did.

Their acceptance is a stark difference from when I first came to Edoras and they looked at me with suspicion. Now they welcome me with open arms and it is one of the most humbling experiences I've ever had. It's surreal that I'm a hero to these people. All my life, I've only been a hero to Rory, and although I didn't think I deserved to be the person he looked up to, that was all that I needed. So to have all these people doing these things to show their appreciation...

It was overwhelming and touching. I've become the hero Rory would be proud of. The hero my parents and Gramps would have been proud of. I wish they were here now to see me no longer shrinking back to be invisible, content with just taking care of them and letting opportunities pass me by. I wish they could see me doing something great with my life, even if it is my second one.

I try to tell the women I can bathe myself, and later that I can dress myself and brush my own hair but they wave me off, "You have taken care of us when we were in grave peril. Let us take care of you now." They would tell me.

I sleep deeply that day. Another battle could have started and I would have slept through it all. I would have slept through the Horn of Hammerhand even if it was sitting right next to me.

Chapter Text

Those of us going to Isengard are called by the King sometime during the afternoon. The ten hours of sleep I had was still not enough. And when I wake up I can barely move without some part of my body aching. The bruise on my abdomen is tender, and the women wrap my torso with a bandage drenched in oil of wintergreen to help with the aches. It does help a bit, but now I can't help but be conscious of the pungent, minty odor of the oil.

The afternoon was full of activity, so I've been told. When I go back out, three mounds had been formed near the walls, where the men of Rohan and the elves of Lothlórien would be buried. Aragorn had made the decision that the elves must go back to Lothlórien with haste. With this victory, the enemy would seek vengeance. Lórien would be vulnerable. It was the best decision for what remains of the elven army here that they go back home swiftly to tell their lord and lady the news so that they might fortify their defenses and prepare for battle.

So, they prepare to depart as they grieve for the comrades they would leave behind. It's a great blow for them. The Elves of Lórien belong in the woods, but the dead would never again hear the rush of Nimrodel or hear the golden leaves of the mellyrn rustle in the wind.

"Lady Ellie." Haldir bows to me. The elves are saying their farewells and this might be the last chance I'll ever see him again.

"It was an honor to fight alongside you." I tell him.

"You have saved my life and for that I will always be grateful. You have friends in Lórien. I look forward to seeing you visit us again before the time comes when we must make our journey for the Sea." Haldir says.

"Of course. When all this is over. And it will be over." I assure him. I hesitate before I pull him in for a hug but he hugs me back warmly. "Please be safe." I say to him.

The elves march out fifteen minutes later after they had paid their respects to the dead. And then it was just the men of Rohan left. Helm's Deep feels cold once more. I've been informed that the wild men of Dunland had been given pardon by the King, and would be helping in the repairs of the keep. Those of us going to Isengard mount horses and leave before the sun sets. Éowyn had given me Déorwine as a gift, and I spend a little bit of time with Legolas to train with her before our departure. I can ride her well enough if I use verbal commands, and while I don't have the skill to ride her into battle yet, I'm confident enough that I can travel with her.

As we look on into the horizon, the shadow in Mordor grows more menacing than ever. Dark clouds are forming in the east.

"Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift." Gandalf says as we observe the menacing, dark sky of the east. "The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle-earth is about to begin. All our hope now lie with two little hobbits somewhere in the wilderness."

"No pressure on them at all." I say and we continue the journey onwards. As we move out of the Keep, the women see us off and they sing of our victory with clear voices while the rest of us make for the Forest of Fangorn. After everything we've seen, I don't blame the Rohirrim in our company when they hesitate to go through. I thought I've been doing a good job with Déorwine until he stops moving and refuses to go forward in the shadow of the forest. I don't blame him at all. We've all seen what this forest can do. We've all seen it come to life and swallow up Saruman's army. Even the orcs who had kept me captive were afraid of the forest, with its grey, menacing trees and roots sticking out of the ground. It was all too malevolent.

It's Gandalf that leads us forward, and as he comes closer, the trees seem to make way for him until there is a clear path and the boughs of the trees above us form an arched passage. Déorwine listens to my command again, and we pass through Fangorn Forest slowly.

The first thing I notice is the lack of orc bodies. The second thing I notice is the heat. Legolas comments on the heat.

"It is hot in here. I feel a great wrath about me. Do you not feel the air throb around us?" He says to Gandalf.

"Is no one going to mention that more than a thousand orcs had taken refuge here only to get eaten by cannibalistic trees? And yet, there are no bodies to be found."

"All the better." Éomer says, riding beside me. " I would rather not find out for myself what has become of them." He keeps his eyes forward, afraid to even stare too long at the trees.

Legolas, however, looks around him with wonder. He alone looks fascinated with what he sees. It's quite cute, actually. Two thousand years, he's been on Middle-earth and he still looks at trees with wonder in his eyes. I think he would even stop to take a closer look if Gimli, riding behind him, didn't urge him to keep going forward. Unlike Legolas, Gimli couldn't get out of the forest soon enough. He's restless and looks around with suspicion.

"These are the strangest trees that I have ever seen. I wish we could stop and walk among them. The trees have voices and in time, I might come to understand their thoughts." Legolas says. The boughs of the trees groan above our heads.

"No, no! Do not stop! Leave them be! I know their thought already: they have a hatred for all those who walk on two legs. The sooner we are out of here, the better. I am grateful for the part they played but who can say they won't want us for seconds? You look at this forest with wonder, but the true beauty is the one we had left behind."

"Oh, here we go again." I mutter. As expected, Gimli goes off about the caves again.

"My good Legolas, the caverns of Helm's Deep are vast and beautiful! There would be an endless pilgrimage of dwarves, if only to gaze at them. Indeed, some would even pay gold simply for a glance!" Gimli announces.

"I would pay gold to be excused, and double to be let out if ever I strayed in." Legolas says.

"Ellie! Would you believe this elf?" Gimli turns to me but he doesn't even wait for me to respond.

"You think those halls where you dwell beneath the hills in Mirkwood are fair but the dwarves who had helped with their making long ago would agree with me that it is merely a hovel compared to the caverns beneath Helm's Deep." Gimli says, "All those immeasurable halls, and torches kindled as footsteps against the sandy floor echo through the domes! And the columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, that take up dream-like forms and meet with the ceilings, where still lakes mirror them and they glitter as the water reflects off the shining walls, stretching far beyond until the very darkest recesses of the caverns."

How long was he in there? He says I've been there longer than he has but he sounds as if he'd been spelunking there for years. Do all dwarves notice everything about caves with loving detail or have I really just been so focused on the fight and had not looked around me enough? Perhaps it was simply because I had no opportunity to explore.

The passageway from the Keep had a direct path towards where the women of Rohan were hiding, and I guess it was designed that way so that they wouldn't get lost or separated when they needed to hide. I do remember the caves being high and grand. There was a hundred of us down there, not including the women and children as well, and yet we had enough room to use bows and arrows and fight enemies off without so much as touching elbows.

"There is chamber after chamber, hall opening up to another hall, stair beyond stair and still the winding path leads on into the mountain's heart! Imagine the torches lining the walls, bringing to light the magnificence of those caverns! It makes me weep to leave them."

"Gimli might act tough, but he's actually a teddy bear who cries over beautiful things." I say, making Legolas chuckle.

"I have no shame in it." Gimli says.

"And there is no shame in it. You move me with your words, Gimli. I hope you come back safe from war so that you may once again see the caverns beneath Helm's Deep." Legolas says. "But do not tell your kindred. A family of dwarves mining the caves will do more harm than good, I believe."

"No, no! You do not understand! No dwarf will be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race will dare mine those rocks, not even for precious gems or diamonds. You do not cut down blossoming trees in springtime." Gimli says.

"You almost make me regret not going down there myself. I shall make a bet with you." Legolas announces, "If we both come out of this war alive, we will journey together. You will visit Fangorn with me, and I will visit the Glittering Caves with you."

"That is not how I would choose to go back. But I shall endure Fangorn, if I have your promise you will explore the caverns of Helm's Deep with me." Gimli says.

"I give you my word." Legolas says.

They are too engrossed in their conversation so I don't feel right interrupting but a childish voice inside my head asks, What about me?

It's brought back something I've been constantly worried about. When all this is over and I survive, I'll have nowhere to go. I'll have no place to call home.

"How far are we from Isengard?" I ask no one in particular. I just want a distraction.

"Fifteen leagues, as Saruman's crows fly. But we will not be riding all the way tonight." Gandalf says, just as we finally come out from beneath the trees of Fangorn.

From there, we make our way for the Fords of Isen. When we stop to rest, we sleep almost immediately. Those who have come were still a bit weary from battle but we take turns guarding during the night.

We set off again after a quick meal of bread and make for the looming tower ahead of us.

I wasn't prepared for the guards who would greet us by the gates of Orthanc. Two small figures sit upon a large chunk of stone from a ruined wall, surrounded by a mess of wood and stone. On the other side of the wall, the lands are flooded and in the middle of that flood is a lone, dark tower--Orthanc. It looks like something had happened here, but my focus is on the two figures.

I'd recognize those curly heads anywhere. And when we come to view, I hear their infectious laughter and my heart soars. I can't help but beam as we approach them.

Merry and Pippin.

Safe, alive and, judging from the pipe in their hands and the plates and mugs at their sides, well-fed. Merry stands upon the chunk of wall they're sitting on and stretches his arms open. "Welcome, my lords and lady, to Isengard!" He announces.

"That's it? No, 'Hey, Ellie, good to see you after being separated during an attack.'?" I feign annoyance. "Looks like I got the short end of the stick when it happened, too."

"Ellie! We feared you dead!" Merry says.

"He did. I knew you'd find safety. I had complete and utter faith in you." Pippin says.

"Liar!" I tease, "Bring Saruman out here. I need to have a word with him about how his servants treated us."

"Ah. He is, at the moment, quite busy being imprisoned in his own tower with one Gríma Wormtongue, or doubtless he would want to talk to you himself." Merry says.

"Oh, really? And was it under his orders that you be given half a feast?" I quirk an eyebrow.

"I am afraid the matter escaped him. We're under orders from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard. He bid us to welcome the Lord of Rohan."

"And what about us? Your companions?" Gimli burst out, unable to contain himself. Aragorn turns to me, and we share grins at the sight of Gimli's indignance while Merry and Pippin positively looked smug. "You young rascals! A merry hunt you've led us on! Two hundred leagues, at the least, and now we find you feasting and smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains?!"

"Where did you get the wine, is what I would like to ask?" Legolas pipes in, also with an amused smile on his face.

"One thing you have not found in your hunting and that's brighter wits. We are sitting on a field of victory and you ask us how we came about enjoying a few well-earned comforts?" Pippin says. I hear Aragorn chuckling beside me.

"Well-earned? Get down here and tell that to my face and my bruised spleen." I say, attempting to sound affronted but unable to keep the amusement from my voice.

Merry and Pippin give me sly smiles.

"The salted pork is particularly good." Pippin gives me a significant look.

I blink at him. I cannot believe I worried about these two starving to death when they've been pampered with salted pork and I'm here with cuts and bruises and an empty stomach. If I wasn't so happy and relieved to see them alive, I would have smashed their heads together myself.

"Salted pork?" Gimli echoes, and I know that tone. He, too, has forgiven Merry and Pippin for their mischievousness if it meant getting a piece of pork himself.

Gandalf, unfortunately, does not seem too pleased. He shakes his head in disgust and mutters, "Hobbits."

The Riders of Rohan are laughing. "It seems we witness the reunion of dear friends." Théoden smiles. "So, these were the lost ones of your Company, Gandalf? It seems the day is to be filled with marvels. Before us stands what I first thought were people of legend. These Halflings, or some would call Holbytlan?"

"Hobbits, sir, if you please." Merry says.

"Ah, hobbits. I have not heard very much about your kind. All we know from legend is that there are halflings in a far-away land that dwell in holes." Théoden says. "It was said that hobbits have no great deeds for they do very little, hiding from the sight of men and changing their voices to imitate birds. It seems, however, that more could be said."

"Indeed, there could." Pippin replies.

"For one thing, I have not heard they could spout smoke from their mouths."

"Ah, it is an art which we have only practiced for more than a few generations. It was Tobold Hornblower, of Longbottom in Southfarting, who first grew the pipeweed in his garden. How Old Toby came by the plant..."

"You do not know your danger, Théoden." Gandalf interrupts, "These hobbits will sit on the edge of ruin and talk about the pleasures of the table and the deeds of their fathers and ninth cousins for days if encouraged. Where is Treebeard, Merry?"

"Away on the north side, I believe, to get a clean drink of water. Some of the other Ents are with him still doing work over there." He waved his hand at the general direction of the north, where a great rattling can be heard. A deep, rumbling noise could be heard from far away. "Quickbeam is left to guard Orthanc."

"It is late and we have not eaten at all since early morning but I wish to speak with Treebeard. Has he left no message for me or has the pleasures of smoke and food driven it from your mind?" Gandalf says, still the grumpy old man we know.

"Indeed, he has. The Lord of the Mark and Gandalf may find Treebeard if they rode north and he would welcome them." Merry says.

"And I may add, you would also find food there, discovered and selected by your humble servants." Pippin bows.

"That is better!" Gandalf laughs, "Well, Théoden, will you ride with me to meet Treebeard? You will learn much from him, for he is Fangorn. You will hear the speech of the oldest of all living things."

"I will go with you." Théoden says. Before the Riders set off he bids Merry and Pippin a small farewell, "Farewell, good hobbits! May we meet again in my house! There, you shall sit by my side and speak your heart's desire out of all your grandsires and of Old Tobold's herb-lore."

The hobbits bow at the same time, and the Riders of Rohan and Gandalf set off. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I, however, stay behind. The moment the Riders are out of earshot, Pippin remarks, "So, that was the king of Rohan. Very polite fellow, he was."

I unmount Déorwine and run for them. They jump off their ruined wall and welcome my hug. "I hate you both." I almost cry with relief as I pull them both in.

"Ow!" Merry cries, because I'm holding them both tightly but Pippin laughs. "You smell funny. I remember you used to smell like that when we were still in Rivendell."

I smack the back of his head when I pull away.

"Ow!" He yelps.

"That's because I've had to fight only ten thousand orcs." I snap. "The oil helps with the pain in my muscles."

"Could do without the smell." Pippin mutters.

"It is good to see you alive, Ellie. We had dark thoughts before that perhaps you have been killed in the melee of Rohirrim and orcs." Merry says.

"Me? I thought some orcs had escaped and have taken you here! It seems I didn't have to worry, though. You're in Isengard but it looks like you can handle things around here." I say.

Relief floods through my entire being, making me forget about the aches of my body and the tiredness in my bones. The three of us could have been here under worse circumstances. We could have been tortured here. Fate has been kind to us. And all the worry I've felt for them now seem unneeded. They were able to take care of themselves. They didn't need me to rescue them. From that attack on the orc camp, to Aedelgar's home to Helm's Deep and finally, here--it was all worth it, seeing Merry and Pippin safe. To see them well. To see smiles on their faces after everything they've been through. They'll be good. And that helps me, in a way, to accept everything that has happened. If these brave hobbits can still smile after everything, then so can I.

Aragorn unmounts his horse first and stands beside me with a wide grin. "Well, well." He starts, "The hunt is over and we meet again at last. In Isengard, of all places."

"And now the hunters have questions of their own. Perhaps now, you can give us answers to our own little riddles." Legolas says, standing by my other side.

"Can it wait? I have a sore head and you truants have yet to make amends. Where did you get the food?" Gimli asks after a moment of his struggle to get down from the horse himself.

"Over there by the guard-house. We had to picnic out here to keep an eye on the road." Pippin points to a small structure.

"An eye, indeed!" Gimli huffs under his breath, "I will go to no orc house and touch no meat that any orc has mauled."

"We wouldn't ask you to. We've had enough of orcs to last us a lifetime, as well." Pippin says, his eyes flickering to me for a moment and the meaning of his words resonate with me. The three of us have similar scars, both physical and invisible--neither of which have completely healed yet. And I don't think we ever will recover from those days with the orcs. "Saruman favored the Dunlendings. It was Men that guarded the gates of Isengard and got good provisions."

"What about pipe-weed?" Gimli asks.

Merry laughs, "No pipe-weed there, unfortunately. How we came about this one is another story."

And so we're led back to the stone house at the top of some stairs, and there we ate our meal. Gimli got his salted pork, and Merry--who knows me well--serves me bacon. Five, juicy strips of bacon which I devoured. Aragorn and Legolas particularly enjoy the wine and bread.

The hobbits then make full amends with Gimli by offering him, as well as Aragorn and Legolas, pouches of tobacco, or Longbottom leaf, from Saruman's very own stores. "Ugh. Men." I roll my eyes as they look at the contents of the pouch with appreciation. Leave me alone with my bacon and wine. I'm content with this.

"There's a thing called lung cancer waiting for you people." I say as Pippin gives Gimli an unused pipe, making the dwarf laugh in appreciation.

After our meal, we go back outside, so the boys can smoke their pipe-weed. I keep my distance and sit next to Legolas, who has opted not to light a pipe.

"So, here we are, at the edge of a ruin to talk, as Gandalf puts it. Let us take our ease here for a while. I have not felt such weariness in my life." Aragorn says as he wraps his cloak around his shoulder and stretches his legs out in front of him, watching our horses graze with smoke issuing from his pipe.

"Strider the Ranger has come back to us!" Pippin jokes.

"I never left. I am still Dúnedan. I belong to Gondor just as much as I belong to the North."

"Come on, then, you still have much to tell us." I say. "I've already told them about my own adventure after we had separated. But there are things you need to tell us."

And so they do. They tell me first of what they had done during the orc camp, running right into Fangorn, being followed by Grishnákh, that ugly orc, and how they were rescued by Treebeard and was presented to Gandalf. After that, they tell us of what they've been doing during the Battle of Helm's Deep. The Ents had marched against Saruman and had broken the dam, causing a great flood as the river was released. What I had first assumed was a lake towards the way of the tower was, in fact, the river. At the end of it all, we got the story of Saruman running like a rat back in its hole and that is why he's imprisoned in his own tower--because he's too much of a coward to accept the consequences of his actions.

"There's no tower high enough for him to hide in. I have a dagger with Saruman's name on it, ready for his heart. I still have to pay him back for what his servants did to Boromir. To us." I hiss, gazing up at the black tower in the distance.

"You will have to get in line behind the Ents, Quickbeam in particular." Merry says, "He is a gentle creature, but that only makes him hate Saruman even more. Many of his friends were brought down by the orcs' axes. The anger of Ents was a frightening sight to behold. No weapon could stop them, and even Saruman's wizardy with liquid fire only drove them to fury."

"What in the hell are Ents? I keep hearing about them but I've never actually seem one. Were those the cannibalistic trees back in Fangorn?" I ask.

Merry laughs, "No, no. Those are the Huorns. They are similar to Ents, in a way, but they are closer to trees. They have their own voices and they, too, are angry at what the orcs of Isengard had done to the forest."

"If you'd like to see an Ent for yourself, then we should follow Gandalf and the King to Orthanc." Legolas says.

We get up from the ruins we sit upon and head for our horses, with Pippin sitting behind Aragorn and Merry sharing a horse with me.

"Are you quite sure you can ride this horse well?" He asks me.

"Well enough but you should hold on, just in case." I shrug.

"Ai. I have gone through a battle of Ents against Isengard and find I might meet my demise by cracking my head from falling off a poorly guided horse." He sighs, mournfully.

"Such faith. Who knows, maybe you'll survive only paralyzed from the waist down."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

I laugh and we set off to join Gandalf and the Riders of Rohan, the tower of Orthanc standing, alone and abandoned in the middle of destruction.

Save for one old man I would very much like to get my hands on.

Chapter Text

I know what an Ent is now.

I am terrified of Ents.

I have to bite back a scream when I first see the gigantic fucking tree with arms and legs and eyes walking towards our group when we've rejoined Gandalf and King Théoden's company.

I also now know what the rumbling noise was that we heard earlier. Ents have the strangest voices. It's the sound of thunder rolling in the skies, or rocks falling down a mountain. It sounds old, and the rumble as they speak is felt even through the ground, like the earth itself was talking.

"Young Master Gandalf." The Ent they call Treebeard says as our Company meets him. This creature must be really old if they'd consider Gandalf young. Maybe that's why Gandalf loves them so much. Makes him feel young and everything. I think even Legolas feels young in the presence of the Ents.

"I'm glad you've come." Treebeard continues. He speaks slowly, as though we had all the time in the world simply to talk, "But there is a Wizard to manage here. Locked in his tower."

He blinks his eyes at us and I think Merry knows I'm scared because he tugs at my cloak. My entire body is tense. I've been scared stiff just by Treebeard blinking at us.

"You'll get used to it." Merry whispers.

Nope. No. I don't think so.

"Show yourself." I hear Aragorn mutter beside me.

"Be careful." Gandalf warns, "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." Gimli growls as we all face the great, menacing tower. A black tower made of steel or something similar, all sharp architecture. It screams 'Get out. Danger.' to anyone who looks at it. But it also looks familiar to me.

"This is what the buildings in New York look like. Not entirely like this but a tall structure that reaches many floors, made of..."

"Something stronger than stone." Gandalf whispers, nodding his head as he remembers our discussion back in Rivendell. He turns to me and it's a rare occasion that I can tell what he's thinking. This is far too advanced engineering. The explosive device we faced in Helm's Deep was also advanced. It felt too modern, too close to what one would see in my days than here. This is what Saruman had spent his wisdom and cunning on. Weapons of destruction, pollution. Middle-earth is too beautiful to be used the way he did. I feel another surge of anger. Add that to the list of his offenses.

"His devices are too advanced. Too dangerous. God only knows what other machinery he has waiting in there. I agree with Gimli, let's just kill him. Nobody will miss him, anyway." I snap with such loathing in my voice that it makes Legolas turn in my direction with a frown. This is one moment when he wouldn't understand. Saruman has far too many offenses against me that are too grave to forgive.

"No!" Gandalf says, sharply, "We need him alive. We need him to talk." He turns to me and whispers, "Saruman is full of trickery and deceit. He will try to get in your head and plant doubt and fear. Do not believe a word he says, or take his bait. Great men have been ensnared by his words, already."

I heave a sigh and nod. Too many times have fear and doubt entered my mind. I'm not going to let a snake like Saruman sink his fangs into me, too. We move closer to the tower of Orthanc, waiting for the doors to open. Instead, a chilling, deep voice fills the air.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards." The voice seems to be coming from the top of the tower, which is supposed to be impossible because we shouldn't be able to hear anything from that high. But his voice rings clear in my ears, and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck raise. I see a tiny figure standing at the edge of the tower. Because my eyesight is not as good as everyone else's here, all I see is a figure of a stooped, old man in white but I can't see his face.

"Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Saruman croons. Oh. He's already laying it on thick, isn't he? He's not wasting any time trying to trick us.

"We shall have peace." Théoden says, nodding, and Aragorn and I are both so stunned that we turn to look at him, but there is rage in his eyes, and contempt in his voice. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace."

Théoden's voice rises as he spits out every crime Saruman did against his people. I think it's safe to say that had Saruman been within reach, Théoden would waste no time strangling him.

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard!" Apparently, when Saruman is angry, he channels the spirit of Shakespeare. Getting caught in his lies makes Saruman impatient. He no longer sees the point in pretending. "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame?" Seeing as he can't bend Théoden to his will anymore, Saruman focuses his anger on the Wizard beside me. "Let me guess. The key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

Where'd those accusations come from? Gandalf has never wanted power. Gandalf stiffens, but he doesn't take the bait. He speaks so calmly, too, even after he had to face the insults Saruman threw his way.

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy’s counsel."

I don't think there's any redemption left for Saruman. He doesn't even show the least bit of remorse for what he's done. He just seems angry that he was caught.

"So you have come here for information. I have some for you. And so does the girl beside you, Gandalf. Why not turn to her?" The falsely sweet tone in Saruman's voice is back, and although I still can't see his face, I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my neck and I just know he's looking at me.

"You were supposed to give me information. You were supposed to be my final weapon. Imagine a distant descendant of Elendil himself becoming the final weapon that would destroy his line forever. Why did you have to resist it?" He hisses. Those who have no idea who I actually am turn to me in confusion, and Déorwine neighs as my hold on his reins tighten, making the horse step back.

"What is he talking about, Ellie?" Merry whispers.

"It could have been the only time you were useful since the Creator plucked you from your accursed time and dropped you here. You are nothing more than a pawn. I could have made you something greater if I had you but you will die here, alone, forgotten and your family would not even know what you did for them. You are a speck of dust that will be remembered by no one. You would not even be part of history." Saruman sneers.

His words cut deep into me, like a knife. Tears blur my vision. Merry rubs my back soothingly. I try to keep my composure as I heave deep, shuddering breaths. "Joke's on you, motherfucker, because I'm not a prophet." I hiss back, just as vehemently, "I don't know what happens during or after this War. All I know is that you'll rot in this tower unless I get my hands on you first."

I don't think I've ever been this angry before in my life. My knuckles are white from clenching on to Déorwine's reins tightly and I'm shaking. I hate him. I hate him even more because what he said was also what I used to tell myself when I was at a dark place. That I will die, completely alone. That I really had no use, anywhere. That everything I'm doing is for nothing.

Saruman's laughter is shrill and cold, "Then you are even more useless than I first believed. You are nothing more than dead weight that will drag those around you down. But this..."

The tiny white figure at the top of the tower seems to be moving. He's holding something in his hand, but I can't see it. My vision is too filled with blinding hatred for me to care. I want to lay my hands on him and wring his neck.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." Saruman has chilling glee in his voice. "Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You’re all going to die."

He's about to die within a few minutes if he doesn't stop talking. Gandalf makes Shadowfax move forward until he's at the head of the company.

Saruman continues to poison us with his words, "But you know this, don’t you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king." I turn to Aragorn, who looks down, disheartened. He doesn't deserve that. He doesn't deserve to be looked down on by such a pathetic excuse for a Wizard as Saruman. He just keeps giving me more reason to hate him.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

I feel Merry's body go tense behind me. To bring Frodo up like that was just wrong. To blame Gandalf for Frodo's own decision is even worse. I know how much Gandalf, Merry and Pippin love Frodo. I know how painful it is for Gandalf to let Frodo go on this mission. He does not need to bear the weight of Frodo's decision on his shoulders.

"I've heard enough!" Gimli snaps. I hear him whisper to Legolas, "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob!"

Legolas does not even hesitate to reach behind him, his fingers brushing over the feather tips of his arrows.

"No!" Gandalf commands, "Come down, Saruman. And your life would be spared."

I think if he comes down, his chances of living will drop spectacularly. I still have a dagger begging for Saruman's neck. Or the Rohirrim could just grab a limb and pull him apart, that could happen, too. I'm just too amazed that Gandalf would even consider giving Saruman a second chance after every evil thing he's done.

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" Ever the ingrate, Saruman spits at Gandalf's offer by firing an actual fireball at our direction. Gandalf raises his staff slightly and something deflects the fireball from hitting any of us.

"I am not Gandalf the Grey, who you betrayed. I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. I cast you from the order of Wizards and from the Council." With that, Gandalf raises his staff, and with a cold voice, says, "Saruman, your staff is broken."

There is a noise of something snapping, and I see the staff in Saruman's hand break into pieces.

Something else comes into view behind Saruman, a smaller figure, like a shadow. Théoden gasps in recognition.

"Gríma, you need not follow him." It's a testament to how honorable King Théoden is, how good of a person he is, that he is willing to take back and forgive the man who single-handedly led to the death of countless villagers because of his disloyalty to the crown. "You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down."

"A Man of Rohan?" Saruman mocks. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm’s Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Théoden does not even give him the satisfaction of a response. He just speaks with a soft voice, "Grima, come down. Be free of him."

I turn to Éomer to gauge his reaction, but he's as stony-faced as ever. He trusts his uncle to do the right decision, but it doesn't look like he likes it.

"Free? He will never be free!" Saruman sneers.

There's a brief scuffle in which Gríma lunges for Saruman and something that looks like a ball drops down and falls several feet away.

That was either Gríma showing his contempt for Saruman by throwing his toy away or for Théoden, because the ball made a loud splash that indicated that it's heavy and could have been deadly had it landed on someone's head.

"That murderous rogue!" Éomer snaps, "A parting shot from Master Wormtongue, I see."

"The aim was poor. Perhaps because he could not make up his mind which he hated more, you or Saruman." Aragorn says my thoughts out loud.

"Get down, cur!" We hear Saruman shout and a second later, he hits Gríma with the back of his hand, making him yelp and fall back. He must have been hit hard. The protective side of me feels guilty for a split second until I remember that Gríma betrayed all of Rohan for his own selfish reasons.

"I have other things to do than waste my time with you, Gandalf." Like what? Make his hair grow longer until it reaches the base of the tower so Gríma could climb down it? "You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here." He tries to slither away, but something drags him forward, something he looks like he's straining to fight.

"I did not give you leave to go." Gandalf says, in a dangerously calm voice, "You have become a fool, Saruman, and yet pitiable." That word itself makes Saruman growl in anger, "You might still have turned away from evil, and have been of service. But stay in this tower, if you wish, then! I warn you, you will not easily come out again. Not unless the dark hands of the East stretch out to take you."

Saruman collapses as he is thrown backwards, "Go!" Gandalf snaps. There is another yelp of pain from Gríma before Saruman drags him out of sight. All is silent once more.

Chapter Text

We take a moment to collect ourselves after that. Aragorn turns his horse around so he could approach me. His hand lands lightly on top of mine, making me ease my hold on Déorwine's reins, "Do not let his words get to you. He knows nothing about who you are. Do not let a cruel stranger determine your worth." He whispers to me. I nod, half-heartedly.

"I'm fine. I can take it." I say. I did not go through pain and weariness to let Saruman's words leave a lasting impression on me. I'll move on. I have to. Because I've already called myself useless before, already thought about how I will also perish from this world by one way or another without even a final goodbye to my family, already let that feeling of complete loneliness get to me. I won't let it take me now. I've worked so hard proving to myself of my worth. Saruman was not about to unravel all my efforts so easily. I'm shaken, but I will recover.

We turn back to meet with Treebeard who is several feet away.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away." He says, motioning at the flood taking what was left of Saruman's machinery away. "Trees will come back to live here now. Young trees, wild trees."

I'm momentarily distracted by Pippin, who is sitting behind Aragorn on the horse in front of us. He hops off the horse, making Aragorn call out his name.

He leans down and draws from the water a ball--the same ball Gríma had thrown at us.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard booms. Okay, what is the big deal here? It's literally just a glass ball.

"Gothic Voldemort needs to work on his aim. That was way far off." I say as Gandalf passes in front of me and holds out his hand for the ball.

"Peregrin Took." He says, sternly, "I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now."

Pippin looks at the ball in his hands with slight curiosity as though he wants to look at it more but hands Gandalf the ball, nonetheless. Gandalf is careful not to let his bare skin touch it, wrapping the ball with his cloak to hide it from view.

We say our farewells to Treebeard and make our way back to Edoras. By then, the refugees would have made their way towards it, and Théoden has ordered that people go there at once.

I'm silent the whole time, but Merry doesn't push or prod. He just leaves me be with my thoughts. He speaks to me only once, just to tell me, "You saved my life. You saved Pippin's life. I'll never forget that you did that for us."

"Thanks, Merry." I whisper, with a weak smile.

Théoden later slows his horse down so he could ride next to me, which makes me slightly nervous because, well, he's the king. I'm not exactly the most important person for him to ride beside.

"What is that word you called Saruman?" He asks.

I'm so thrown off by this question that I almost flick Déorwine's reins so I can ride off into the sunset and escape it. I have a sailor's mouth, I'll admit it. But to have to explain what 'motherfucker' means to the King of Rohan is just embarrassing.

"Oh! Uh!"

"It was that bad?" He seems more amused by this.

"Not a word to be said around royalty, I now realize. Forgive me, King Théoden." I say, sheepishly.

"Ah, you have nothing to ask forgiveness for. I would have called him worse, and done worse if he had been within reach." He says, "But you must know, Lady Ellie, that Saruman's words could sway even the most noble and valiant of all men. His words are his own kind of magic. Know that the people of Rohan are indebted to you, for protecting our people, even if you are just a stranger from a foreign land. There could have been many times when you could leave us to fend for yourself but you stayed and fought. The people of Rohan will never forget that. I will never forget that."

This time, my smile is wider. When the King of Rohan himself personally thanks you and tries to make you feel better, that's a huge boost of confidence. A King just told me he'll never forget me. Fuck what Saruman thinks.

"Perhaps we could have a party after this. For the Men. They would need to celebrate their great victory, after all." King Théoden muses, making some of his Riders cheer. He chuckles and rides ahead to talk to Éomer and Merry pats my back excitedly.

"Oh, a party! Now, that's what I like to hear!" He says.

And so when we arrive, the Meduseld becomes full of activity once more. Servants go around to find their best barrels of beer, and Éowyn lets me borrow a nice dress from her. There's a lot of pushing around and fabrics and tapestries. Even the tables have to be rearranged.

"You look lovely! I used to wear this when I was fourteen or so." Éowyn tells me as she helps me lace the dress at the back.

"I'm twenty-three." I grumble, making Éowyn laugh.

"Well, I am taller than you."

"Everyone is taller than me. I don't get it. I didn't feel so small and brunette until I travelled here. Everyone is tall and blonde." I say, making her laugh harder.

"The Rohirrim find people who look like you fascinating. And I've seen you eat. You will fit in here just fine."

I giggle, nervously. "What does that mean?"

"It means the Rohirrim have a love for people with an appetite for our cooking and our beer. You will find no beer brewed better than the ones made in Rohan."

"Oh! Finally! I can get drunk again!" I fist-pump. Éowyn leads me out to the Golden Hall, and it lives up to its name. The tapestry is magnificent, the curtains are of a rich, red fabric and the food! The barrels of alcohol! The cute elf wearing a silver tunic laughing with Gimli! Why does Legolas have to be so eye-catching?

"Hey, boys." I beam when Éowyn and I approach them. Legolas freezes when he sees me and I spread my arms out to show off my dress and the grand sleeves. One of the maids had offered to do my hair up in the style of the Rohirrim women, and the dress I wear is of a deep blue velvet with white details. The sleeves, which flowed to the floor almost like a curtain, are a bit heavier than what I'm used to but it's a minor inconvenience at its worse. I haven't had the pleasure of dressing up in far too long and I'm enjoying it.

"I still don't understand how they move with this but look at this detail." I say, showing the embroidery on the sleeves.

"I made those stitches myself." Éowyn says, proudly.

"Wha--really?" I hold my arm closer to my face to examine the details. It must have taken so much patience and skill to make stitches this beautiful. The threads spread in a natural way that no sewing machine could ever reproduce.

"It was a surprise to my uncle to know I enjoyed embroidery. I preferred riding horses with my brother and cousin when I was a young girl and could never sit still." Éowyn says, proudly, "But I saw one of the seamstresses working on a dress and I became fascinated. This was the first dress in which the details were stitched only by me."

"For a first-timer, you had a very fair hand, my lady." Legolas says as he too, steps closer to observe the details of the dress.

"Why would anyone be surprised to see you enjoying this?" Gimli asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Éowyn shrugs, "I enjoyed horses and running outside. They did not think I would enjoy sitting down and stitching."

"Did they try to hold back your potential simply because you liked one thing that had nothing to do with the other? It is fine work, Lady Éowyn, anyone with an eye for beauty can see that." Gimli says.

Éowyn's beam widens, "I thank you, Master Dwarf. That is truly kind of you."

"Gimli really knows how to flatter someone when he wants to." I whisper to Éowyn, making her laugh.

"What?" Gimli asks, his eyes darting from me to Éowyn suspiciously.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Master Dwarf. The King will start his speech soon. Please, find a seat." Éowyn says, motioning to the soldiers already settling on the benches.

"I hope to see you again later, Ellie. There will be dancing. We must dance!" Éowyn says, excitedly, as she moves away to join her brother. She gives Aragorn a small curtsey as she passes him.

"See, the four of us haven't had any alone time at all." I sigh, giving Aragorn a hug when he comes within arm's reach. "Also, you smell good for once."

He chuckles, "I am glad to see you out of your old clothes. When was the last time you washed them?"

"When was the last time you washed your clothes, dude?" I say, defensively. "When has any of you?"

Legolas scoffs in indignation, "I clean my clothes when I could!" He says.

"Which is about the same instances as we could so you are no cleaner than us at this point, Legolas." Gimli says, amusement clear in his voice.

"And yet he still manages to look presentable. It's not fair. The villagers spoke of elven magic while the Galadhrim healed the soldiers. Is that what this is?" I say.

"The only magic elves possess is their ability to look cleaner than the rest of us." Aragorn says.

"You are...how does Ellie say this? Picking on me. Yes! You are picking on me." Legolas says, pointing accusingly at the three of us, making us laugh.

"Take it as a compliment." I come to his rescue by looping my arm through his and leading them towards the tables, where some of the men grin widely and welcome us.

Can't say it doesn't feel nice to walk into a party with three heroes beside me but I'm welcomed as their equal. Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli have all achieved so many things in their lifetimes, living up to their legend. That the people of Rohan accept me like they accept them feels surreal. I was just a girl following orders, just a girl trying to save her family and now I've achieved so much.

The formalities will have to go first, of course. Goblets of wine are passed around until everyone is holding one and the King, who sits on the throne at a platform overlooking the rest of us, stands and holds out his cup.

"Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country." He says, solemnly, "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" The rest of us echo. I just do what everyone else is doing and chug the goblet. I choke on my first gulp and gasp for breath, my eyes watering. Gimli elbows me, hitting my hip bone as he downs his wine.

This shit does not feel good going down. It's like drinking motor oil. I try to muffle the sound of my coughing with the sleeve of my dress while those in the nearby vicinity turn to me curiously. Aedelgar and Hildraed, sitting next to each other, snort in their laughter and try to pretend they were coughing while simultaneously leaning on each other for support. Legolas beside me giggles into his cup. I elbow him, making him laugh harder before I try to pour the rest of the monstrosity down my throat.

After that goblet, I feel like I just swallowed lava and I'm surprised I can still speak.

"I didn't know diesel was already invented in these times!" I wheeze, setting the goblet down while the rest of us sit on the benches and begin the feast.

"The Rohirrim brew their alcohols strong. You will get used to it." Aragorn says, in front of me.

"Not before I get myself killed trying to swallow another mouthful. I've gotten drunk before but everything else feels like grape juice compared to fire from Satan's balls." That went above everyone else's head.

"Oh, come, Ellie! You must try the beer!" Hildraed says from across the table. The servants are passing around tankards of foamy beer. "It goes down smoother than the wine, believe me." He assures me, offering a tankard to me. The other guys around the table look at me expectantly.

"If I can drink that awful motor oil, I can drink this..." I mutter, sipping from the tankard.

Okay. Whoa.

It does go down better than the wine but it packs a hell of a punch. Halfway through the tankard and I already feel my entire body going hot. I have to roll my sleeves up just to try and relieve myself from the heat. As more alcohol gets passed around, the rowdier the men get. And the more attention I get, to be honest. They get braver and less formal the more they drink but that doesn't surprise me at all. Soon, I'm in the middle of a loud conversation with Aedelgar beside me.

"So she comes at me, right? Calls me an asshole, too. Charming young lady, she is." Aedelgar chuckles as we both recall our first encounter to the men who didn't ride out with Éomer during the orc raid.

"What kind of idiot would mistake me for an orc's companion instead of prisoner?" I say, making the rest of the men around us shout, raise their tankards and drink. They find any reason to drink.

"To be fair, you were dirty. Mud-splattered. You did not look as good as you do now." Aedelgar teases. My mouth hangs open in indignation.

"I'm always good-looking, mud or no!" I say, boldly, and another round of cheers greet my words. Flatterers, the lot of them!

"I'm sure our Master Elf would agree." Hildraed pipes in, motioning to Legolas who is currently standing near the barrels of beer with Gimli, Éomer and a crowd of other men.

"Speaking of him, you still haven't explained to me what you and Aedelind were up to two or three days ago on our way to Helm's Deep. I saw her give you a coin, don't deny it!" I tell Aedelgar.

He chuckles, mischievously. "When she gets better, you can ask her yourself. She was the one who lost the bet. I would be a terrible brother if I would embarrass her now when she is not even here to defend herself." It's a relief to see Aedelgar in a good mood. Whatever the Galadhrim healer did to Aedelind's wound, it helped because her condition has gotten much better. Last I heard, she was already well enough to start giving instructions on what to do with the wounded from her bed. I think her injury has just become a painful inconvenience at this point for her.

"Legolas and Gimli will be doing a drinking game! Last one standing wins!" One of the younger soldiers announces as he runs toward our table.

"Oh, this I've got to see." I'm the first on my feet as I join the crowd gathering around the two.

"No pauses, no spills." Éomer says, handing both Gimli and Legolas a tankard.

"And no regurgitation." Gimli adds.

"So, it's a drinking game?" Oh, bless Legolas and his innocent face, he has no idea what he's just gotten himself into. Carrying two thousand years' worth of knowledge but still unable to grasp when a dwarf is determined to win at something. I know Legolas has gotten drunk before. His first story of being drunk being that he was too drunk to act sensibly around his own father. I have never seen either dwarves or elves in the process of getting drunk, however, and Gimli looks ready for a good battle. This should be fun. The men around me cheer.

I shake my head and laugh. Legolas catches my eye and I wink at him, "I'm cheering for you, pretty boy." I tell him.

He grins. Either this place's lighting makes his face shine or I've already had too much to drink.

"Last one standing wins!" Gimli says. He raises a tankard to me and gulps the beer down.

"What do we drink to? To victory?" One of the men behind me shout.

"To victory!" The others echo as they, too, drink. Legolas sniffs the tankard, suspiciously. I know he's hesitating because he's already had his bad experience with Rohirric food but after his first sip, he nods in approval and proceeds to down the rest of the mug.

"How about you, Ellie? No drinking with us?" Gimli asks as someone hands him a new tankard.

"I don't want a raging hangover tomorrow, thank you. You boys go ahead and make a fool of yourselves." I snort. I doubt he heard me, he's too busy downing the tankard.

"This is quite good." Legolas says, approvingly as Éomer hands him a third tankard.

Éomer shakes his head in disbelief, with a grin on his face.

"They will not think that in the morning." He mutters to me, and I have to say, I agree with him.

Aragorn later finds his way towards us and he chuckles at the sight before him. Neither dwarf nor elf looks ready to give up the game anytime soon, but it's clear that one is getting more drunk than the other.

"Legolas was raised in a kingdom whose King threw lavish parties that involved Dorwinion wine. Strongest brew there is. One goblet is enough to send a horse to the ground. Elves have a higher tolerance for alcohol than even dwarves." Aragorn tells me, making me snort.

"I'm just going to enjoy this show. Probably make fun of Gimli tomorrow." I say.

"You and me both. Do not drink more than one tankard of the beer. It is quite strong." Aragorn says.

"Yes, dad." I say, half-exasperated, half-amused.

"I am only looking out for you." He says, landing a kiss on the top of my head.

I push him away, "Okay, okay!" I laugh. Sheesh, he acts like such a dad and he hasn't even actually had children yet. Ugh, I can imagine the nagging and dad jokes already. He laughs and pushes through the crowd.

"Where are you going?" I call.

"Someone has to watch out for Merry and Pippin. I heard the last time they were left unattended, they set fireworks off inside a tent."

What did I say? Completely dad material.

The men get rowdier, more beer is passed around, Gimli gets more drunk, and the entire place gets hotter. This dress is not making things any easier for me.

Oh, yes, I'd love another tankard. Yes, sure, why not another? Aragorn? Oh, pshaw! He's not here now and I'm a grown woman. Give me that. To victory!

Éowyn comes over, giving her older brother's shoulder a punch.

"Ow! That hurt!" Éomer whines as he chokes on his beer and the tankard tips over to his shirt.

"Veteran warrior, indeed. You've had worse blows from your horse, I'm sure." Éowyn rolls her eyes.

"That does not mean that did not hurt!" Éomer rolls his shoulder to bring feeling back to it, "What was that for, anyway?"

Éowyn simply motions at Gimli, who laughs maniacally, "It's the dwarves that go swimming...with little hairy women."

Éomer gives Éowyn a sheepish, guilty look while she stares him down.

"He asked for it."

"I feel something." Legolas announces, dismayed, and the rest of us are so surprised that our heads all snap in his direction. All this time, he's been downing the beer as if he is simply drinking water. Nothing about his posture suggests he's getting drunk. "A slight tingle in my fingers! I think it's affecting me."

He says this so seriously that I release a loud snort of laughter that is most un-lady-like and the rest of the men around me laugh as well. Éowyn hits her brother's shoulder again for good measure.

"Oh, it's fine, Éowyn! Look how much fun they're having!" I say, attempting to giving her a nudge. I missed. How did I miss that? She's literally right next to me. I sweep my arm to motion at Gimli, but the hand attached to the arm is holding my fourth tankard of beer. Is it the fourth? It may have been the fifth, I don't remember. Two things happen at once: I spill the contents of the tankard on Hildraed and Gimli falls from his bench and lands on the floor with a crash.

Both instances result in thunderous laughter and shouts of approval.

"Oh, shit!" I yelp as I press the empty tankard in my hand to Hildraed's shirt.

"Hey! Ellie!" He hisses but I ignore him. I push through the crowd to check on Gimli.

"Game over." Legolas says, smugly.

"Congratulations. Do the tingles in your fingers affect your ability to hold on to things? We need to get Gimli out of here." I say.

I blink down at our dwarven friend, moaning on the floor.

"Give me another one!" He hiccups.

"Gimli, there's two of you!" I don't know why this makes me laugh uncontrollably but it does.

"Who gave her the tankard?" Hildraed snaps, waving the tankard I had given him at the rest of the men. There's a chorus of deep voices going, "Not me! He did!" behind us. More people help us with Gimli. Hildraed and Aedelgar support Gimli on either side as they drag him to the benches, sniggering.

"Whoo! That was fun!" I raise my arms, and the sleeves of my dress hit my face. I flap my arms to get them away but they just keep hitting me until I find myself lying on the ground.

"I like it here. It's nice and soft." I mumble.

I hear Éowyn trying to stifle her laughter.

"I'm going to fix this mess my brother started." She says. Legolas takes my hand and pulls me up.

"I feel like I'm in a hamster ball. Or a merry-go-round. Everything's spinning." I giggle.

"Come, melethenin, have some water to wash down the beer." Legolas says while I lean on him for support.

"Beer! That's a great idea! Where's the beer!" I turn around too fast and end up losing my balance. Legolas tries to help me stand up, and I cannot, for the life of me, control the giggles coming out of my mouth. I'm laughing too hard to stay on my feet. I hear the sound of shifting fabrics and someone carries me off the floor, one arm tucked beneath my neck and the other supporting the back of my knees.

"You smell good." I say to whoever is holding me, snuggling closer to their chest and wrapping my arms around their neck. "Nice abs." I giggle.

I hear the person carrying me release a single breath of laughter.

"Why is it going dark? Have I gone blind? Oh my god, I think you guys just discovered rubbing alcohol! Awesome! Not awesome for me, obviously if I had to go blind for it, but awesome for you guys, I guess. It's never this dark in New York. Buildings in New York never run out of lights. Nobody sleeps, too. Except Gramps. Gramps likes to sleep a lot. But he always leaves a light on. It's never pitch-black like this. It's never this quiet, too. Shit, our heater breaks down every five minutes and makes this God-awful noise, I swear, it will drive you crazy! But no. Never this dark."

"El, your eyes are closed."

"Oh. That would explain it. So, then am I going deaf? The party seems to have quieted down. Shit, is the party over?"

"I am taking you to your chambers."

"What, why? It's not nap time yet. Why do I hear crunchy Dorritos? Hey! Quit holding out! Gimme Dorritos!" I reach my arm out for the Dorritos as I heard the rhythmic sound of, to my ears, someone chewing Dorritos.

"That is my footsteps going up the stairs you are hearing, Meril. What is a Dorrito?" Another person to my left whispers the last part. I feel the shoulders of whoever I've thrown my arms around lift in a shrug.

"Nice shoulders." I say. The last thing I remember is feeling soft sheets on my back again and a nice, comfy blanket covering my body. I feel something soft and warm cupping my cheek and gently moving my hair away from my face.

"Make sure she is warm and comfortable." I hear Aragorn say from somewhere.

"Yes, my lord." An unfamiliar female voice replies.

"Losto vae." Are the last words I remember hearing.

I sleep, but not comfortably and not for long.

Chapter Text

I can never get used to the screams of a dying man. I can never get used to hearing men beg for mercy, or get used to the cruel laughter and hiss of orcs. I can never get used to the smell of blood and death. The memories of being captured by Saruman's Uruk-Hai that my mind has blocked comes rushing back to me, and this time, it's all too vivid. The fear comes back, as well as the humiliation, and the licks of the whip against my back.

I cry out in my sleep, begging for it to stop, my head pounding excruciatingly.

The next thing I remember is standing in the middle of my room, but everything is on fire, and the burning pain on my back spreads to the rest of my body. I look around for an escape but instead, a great, flaming eye appears before me, filling me with dread and I know, deep in my bones, that this is him. The evil we're all trying to fight--Sauron. It has no mouth but I hear it speak, "You do not belong here."

I shriek in pain because the heat of the flames is unbearable.

"Ellie. Ellie!" I sit up, screaming, covered in sweat and tears blurring my vision.

Someone holds my shoulder, rubbing my arms, telling me it's okay.

"Ssh, you are safe now." I blink up at the soft voice that I know can only be spoken by one person.

"Legolas, it was horrible..." A rattling gasp escapes me as I dissolve in his arms. His arms envelop me in warmth, holding my broken pieces together, gently stroking my hair as he sits on the edge of my bed while I curl up on his chest.

"I saw Him... I saw Him, it had to be Him... Sauron... He was..." I stammer.

"Ellie, it was only a dream."

"It felt so real. It was like I was fighting for my life again in Helm's Deep, and I could feel my back getting whipped by the Uruk-Hai who captured us."

"You are here now, in Edoras, surrounded by people who will never hurt you. You are safe, El." He whispers, soothingly and waits for me to calm down.

When I've collected myself, I realize he's running his fingers through my hair, gently tugging the tangles away and whispering softly in Sindarin.

"My head fucking hurts..." I finally let out. His hands stop mid motion and I feel his head shift to look at me.

"Éowyn said that would happen. I was coming in to leave her remedy for the headache but I couldn't find one of the servants, and I thought of returning here in the morning when..."

He trails off and doesn't finish his sentence, only resuming his ministrations with my hair in a way that soothes me. The images in my dreams are seared into my brain, but he provides a gentle distraction that keeps me grounded and stops me from overthinking until I can sit up from the bed again, only to feel the room spin.

"Whoa." I moan, clutching my head. "Ow..."

"Here." He hands me a glass vial filled with a thick liquid. I pull the stopper out and choke on the smell. It smells like rotten eggs and Satan's ballsack.

"Is this poison or something?" I groan, holding the vial at arm's length.

"It is supposed to help with the headache." He's not even hiding his amusement.

"Can I not...?"

"That depends on whether you can bear the pain or not."

"Ugh."

I still feel the pain from our last battle, I don't need a raging hangover on top of this, too.

"I'm not gonna enjoy this, am I?" I look at Legolas, balefully. And like classic Legolas, he just gives me an unreadable stare.

Pinching my nose, I chug the contents of the vial and almost throw up. The thing tastes about as good as it smells, and feels slimy going down the throat. I push the empty vial in Legolas' hand and cover my mouth with both hands to stop myself from throwing up. My entire body shivers, but I manage to keep it down.

The effects are almost instantaneous. The room doesn't look like it's beating with life, anyway and the headache subsides to a more bearable, dull throb.

"Would you like to rest now?" Legolas asks, getting off the bed.

"No, don't." I say, urgently. I reach for his hand and he lets me slip my fingers between his.

"I can't... I can't sleep anymore. Not tonight." I whisper. "If I try to sleep again, I won't be able to bear it."

He nods, and I know he understands, "Then get your cloak. Shall we take a walk?" He says.

I'm thankful he's always willing to help me like this. Even when we were in Rivendell, he would never think twice about accompanying me when I had nightmares. I can always trust Legolas to be by my side. I take my cloak and fasten it over my shoulder and, as always, he offers the crook of his arm. My hand finds its place there, and we walk.

The open air outside is welcome. I breathe in deeply, and let the silence of the night wash over me. I love taking walks at night, especially with Legolas. We don't need to fill in the silence with small talk, we just let it envelop us. Through the chaos of every day we've faced, the silence and dark makes me feel safe. And when it feels like it's just the two of us awake, it brings a feeling of ease.

"You are not alone, Ellie." He tells me as we stop at the terrace and I remember this as the same place where we had sat down before our journey to Helm's Deep. This was the same place he had first opened up to me about his fear of losing me.

I turn to him, already knowing what he's trying to say.

"Many warriors face this after a great battle. There is nothing to be ashamed of."

My stomach drops, "I know. I'm not ashamed... I just... I'm afraid. I thought I've finally become brave, that I've fought my demons off. Turns out they never left."

"Bravery is not the absence of fear. Bravery is fighting for the right thing even when you are afraid. The way you stood up for yourself against Saruman? That is the strength I know you have." He says. A smile slowly tugs my lips upward, but the smile slips all too soon.

"Legolas. What if he's right?" I whisper. And my voice is so small, I think I may have just imagined saying it. To say it out loud, to say it to someone, is what scares me the most. I thought keeping it to myself would make my dark thoughts subside. And sometimes, I would feel better, and then something out of my control happens and I crumble.

"He's wrong." Legolas says, plainly.

"I'm serious."

"So am I. He is nothing. He is a Wizard with no staff, rotting on his tower surrounded by the destruction of his devices, with only Wormtongue for company, and even he hates his master. Saruman is bitter and cruel. But you," I turn to face him as he says it, "you are strong, and kind, and have the courage of ten warriors. You care so much about the people of Middle-earth, and they care for you as well. You matter, melethenin. You matter to the people you have helped, to the friends you are loyal to. And you matter to me, if that means anything."

I feel as if there is not enough air around us, even though we're on a terrace outside and the wind blows against my cloak. He always knows the right thing to say. He always knows what to say to ease the dark thoughts in my mind.

He turns to face me as well, and he hesitates before he gently cups my cheeks, his thumbs brushing against my skin, to the edge of my lips. He looks at me as if asking for permission and I step closer to him to tell him it's okay.

"You do not have to continue fighting, Ellie. Not if it will bring you more pain."

I sigh, and shake my head slightly. "No. I have to do this. I have to be a part of this."

"You do not have to suffer more than you have to."

"I need to know that I've done something in my life for once. All I've ever been is a shadow. Back in New York, I was passive. I never did anything for other people, unless they were my family. I've been given another chance to help others now. I've been given a chance to protect the people I love. I will not sit by while you and the others sacrifice yourselves. We are a Fellowship. You are my family, too. If you should suffer, so should I."

He shakes his head, "You are perhaps the most stubborn, selfless girl I have ever met."

"And don't you forget it, pretty boy."

He leans down so that our foreheads touch.

"I am always here for you, melethenin. Always. No matter what happens, no matter what we might face."

"I know, Legolas." I whisper, and I hope he knows I mean it with all my heart. He's my constant. He's my star that always points north. When all else is chaotic and confusing, he's the steady rock I lean on, the shoulder ready for me to lay my head on. He's the one thing I can trust to be there when everything else is a mess.

I've fallen for him completely. I know I shouldn't. I know he's too far out of my reach. He's an immortal prince, and I'm just Ellie. We're not supposed to work out but my heart refuses to listen to my brain.

If I raised my head and kissed him, I could tell him everything I feel without words but I can't. I can't fall any deeper for him. Because sooner or later, when this war is over, reality will set in. He'll have to go back to Mirkwood and be a prince. And I'll be left behind while he takes my heart with him, while he marries an elf more worthy of someone his status. Besides, there's the great risk of me dying before this all ends and I can't hurt him like that. I don't need to give him the burden of my mortality on top of everything else that I've already laid on his shoulders. It's not fair to him.

So, I steel myself and wrench myself away from him. A look of hurt flashes across his features before he, too, steps away and I wrap my arms around myself because I'm suddenly feeling cold.

I look up at the sky, and notice something for the first time since we came outside.

"The stars." I point out. Legolas raises the hood of his own cloak and looks up, and then he looks at the horizon.

I can't see what he's looking at in the distance, but I can make out a dark cloud in the sky, as though a storm is approaching. The starless night worries me more than anything. The stars are always supposed to be visible in Middle-earth. Not once has the night sky been empty like this before.

We both turn at the sound of footsteps only to find Aragorn approaching us. I step away from Legolas so Aragorn can stand between us, and Legolas looks at me from the corner of his eye. This time, his expression is unreadable.

"The stars are veiled. Something stirs in the East." Legolas whispers, turning to look at Aragorn. "A sleepless malice. The Eye of the Enemy is moving."

Aragorn nods, as though Legolas has just confirmed his fear. "It was bound to happen. He is angry and frustrated over our victory at Helm's Deep. He'd suffered a defeat and will retaliate soon."

"As long as he doesn't have the Ring... That's all that matters." I say.

Aragorn turns to me and sighs, "What are you doing still awake at this hour?"

"I had a bad dream." I shrug. Legolas squints his eyes at me. I squint back. He's telling me it's a bad idea to hide what I just experienced from Aragorn. I'm telling him I don't need to tell Aragorn yet. I know Aragorn. I know protecting me is always on his agenda. If he finds out that my nightmares affect me more than they should, he'll basically ground me.

"Effects of the alcohol, I guess. I drank Éowyn's cure, though. I'm fine now." I wave my hand, dismissively.

"I told you to drink only one tankard."

"Sor-ry. Sheesh." I rub my temple, wincing. "I can handle it." I look up and past him, catching Legolas' eye as I say it. He gives me a nod of understanding and looks ahead at the horizon.

A growing uneasiness gnaws at my stomach. I feel immediately guilty for hiding it from Aragorn. It feels like lying to Gramps, and Gramps always finds out what I'm hiding eventually. I bite my bottom lip and stare ahead, weighing the pros and cons of telling Aragorn. I don't want him to think I don't trust him, but I don't want to worry him even more. He hasn't had a rest in days--and what's more, he's never had a rest from taking care of me. Sauron can't reach me from here. I doubt it was even Sauron I saw in my dreams and that the Floating Eyeball From Hell was just an effect of a tired mind, an overactive imagination and too many tankards of beer.

Too deep in my thoughts, I give a startled jump when Legolas breaks the silence with his anxious gasp, "He is here."

My blood turns to lead because for some reason, I know who he's talking about. Shit, I can't even think about Sauron now without him sensing it. Aragorn steps backward and turns around, running for the door. Legolas and I run after him back inside. Legolas' hood falls back and I gather the bottom of my dress up to be able to keep up with them.

"Pippin!" Legolas cries and Aragorn nods. They're heading towards a door that leads to the guests' quarters.

"What's wrong? What happened?" I gasp but the answer comes to me with a chilling scream echoing from one of the rooms. Aragorn bursts through the room, where a flurry of activity is happening, with Pippin in the middle of the room, squirming in pain, holding the glass ball he first found in Orthanc, the one Gríma had chucked at us.

But something is different this time. Because this time, the glass seems to contain flames inside--and in the center was a pupil like a cat's, black as hell itself. The hairs on my arms rise. Merry is yelling for help and Gandalf is getting to his feet.

Aragorn grabs the ball from Pippin's hand and grunts. He crumples to his knees, with Legolas supporting him immediately. Skirt still gathered in my hand, I kick the palantir back inside the room as it rolls toward me.

A burning, throbbing pain flares up behind my eyes and I close my eyes and lean on the doorframe. That was all the contact I needed for Sauron to invade my mind and hiss into my ear again. When I open my eyes again and the pain subsides, Gandalf throws his cloak over the palantir.

"Fool of a Took!" He booms, turning furiously to glare at Pippin but his expression softens immediately. Merry crawls over to Pippin, whose wide, frightened eyes stare up at the ceiling while he shivers on the ground, completely still.

Aragorn, kneeling on one knee, shakes his head to clear it, and Legolas helps him back to his feet. I step into the room slowly while Gandalf pushes Merry away roughly. I kneel down to steady Merry and we stay right behind Gandalf as he takes Pippin's hand and touches Pippin's cheek.

Merry holds tightly to my hand and we both watch Pippin, who lies still, before gasping for breath with his eyes darting all over the room.

Merry tries to go to his side immediately but I pull him back, "Hold on." I say, just as Gandalf speaks in a commanding voice.

"Look at me."

Pippin, who seems to have just seen Gandalf for the first time, focuses on the wizard, his guilt etched all over his face.

"Gandalf, forgive me." He begs, terrified, looking away in shame.

"Look at me." Gandalf says, gently but firmly. "What did you see?"

"A tree." Pippin whispers, frantically. "There was a white tree in a courtyard of stone. It was dead. The city was burning."

"Minas Tirith? Is that what you saw?" Gandalf asks.

I turn to look at Aragorn and his head jerks upward at the mention of the White City.

"I saw..." Pippin's voice rises and shakes with fear, "I saw him! I can hear his voice in my head."

A shiver runs down my spine. I've heard it before. It was a cold, harsh hiss in my ear. Sauron's voice. I will never forget it, and I hate that Pippin will have to endure the memory of it.

"And what did you tell him? Speak!" Gandalf is more forceful now, and Pippin cringes at his harsh voice.

"He asked me my name. I didn't answer. He hurt me." A fierce protectiveness comes over me. Sauron and his minions have already caused so much pain. To psychologically hurt Pippin the way he did only further angers me, and it it angers Merry, too. He's shaking with anger and frustration that he can't do anything about it.

"And what did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" There's a hint of panic in Gandalf's voice. He tries to hide it but I've felt panic and uncertainty enough times to recognize it.

Pippin gapes at him, and for a second, the whole room freezes.

"Nothing. I told him nothing." Everyone in the room releases a collective breath. I sit back on my heels, running a hand over my face. Merry releases my hand and runs his hands through his hair. Legolas claps Aragorn's shoulder as Aragorn pinches the bridge of his nose and Gandalf straightens up, breathing deeply.

He turns to me, and then to Merry and gives us the slightest nod. That was all we needed. I pull the clasp keeping my cloak together as Merry helps Pippin sit up and I wrap my cloak around Pippin's shoulder. He's no longer shivering but his face is pale.

"Go back to sleep, Pip." Merry says but Pippin shakes his head, furiously.

"Pip."

"I don't want to."

Merry opens his mouth to protest again but I hold up a hand, "Do you want to eat?"

Pippin looks at me, graciously, and the rest of the guys around me grumble about how hungry they suddenly are, as well. So we all go down to the Golden Hall, where the only food they'll accept is food I'll make. Gandalf tells the servants to help me around the kitchen.

Cooking is personal to me. It's a way for me to focus my energy on something else, and it's one of the skills I'm actually innately good at, so for once I let myself enjoy doing what I love. I've made chicken soup for everyone, seasoned with herbs that were available in the kitchen. The cook was more than happy to let me use whatever ingredient, although I know that after the war, supplies will be low.

The servants help me carry the pot to the tables where Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and the hobbits all sit.

"I did the best I could." I say.

"As long as it is not rober bans." Aragorn mutters as they all help themselves.

"I cannot believe that after everything, it is your cooking that I miss." Gandalf says as he accepts the bowl Merry offers him.

"You haven't even tasted my real cooking yet."

"Oh, believe me, the familiarity of knowing it is you who cooked what we're putting in our mouth is enough."

I can't help the smile that escapes my lips. It's good to know they find their balance in me.

"You may not be the greatest warrior, my dear, but you have kept the Fellowship's spirits up when it has all but drained from us. You are as important as anyone on this table."

And once again, I'm struck by Gandalf's intuitiveness and his ability to say exactly what I need to hear.

We stay in the Golden Hall for the rest of the night, none of us able to sleep except for Aragorn, who finally gives in to his exhaustion and sleeps with his head buried in his arms, face-down on the table. His snores are the only sound echoing through the Golden Hall. Gimli, drunk as he is, is the only one who slept through everything--including the ordeal with Pippin. The idea of giving him a hard time with his hangover has lost its appeal now. Merry and Pippin are unusually quiet, Gandalf is pacing the room and Legolas and I sit a few inches too far apart.

Sometimes, he would steal confused glances at me, and I would feel his stare before it flicks away. Eventually, I do find myself falling asleep just as the sun rises but I'm woken too soon by the king demanding what was so urgent that could not wait for later. Gimli shuffles in moments later, looking like a zombie who hasn't eaten any brains in five years.

After a hangover draught, courtesy of Éowyn for Gimli, and an explanation of what happened, courtesy of Gandalf, plans have to be made and everyone in the hall is awake and listening attentively.

"You are sure that Sauron knows nothing more?" Théoden asks.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool, but an honest fool he remains." He gives Pippin what should be a comforting smile but Pippin only looks down in guilt, "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been strangely fortunate."

Christ, if he calls Pippin's psychological trauma fortunate, I don't even want to know what his definition of unfortunate is.

"Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the Enemy's plans. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith."

This sends a ripple of silence to those listening, and Gandalf continues. "His defeat at Helm’s Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage, still. Strength perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle-earth uniting under one banner."

I never saw it this way. I never saw Sauron as being afraid but I understand now that a creature of chaos and discord would, of course, be afraid of unity. And that alone is reason enough in Sauron's mind to destroy the people of Middle-earth.

"He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war." Gandalf says, with finality.

Théoden only gives him a cold look. "Tell me, why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?" He says, "What do we owe Gondor?"

My mouth drops in indignation. People will die--innocent people. People who deserve to live another day in their city. It is not the citizens' fault that the Steward of Gondor is a terrible ruler and commander but that does not mean that the people of Gondor would have to suffer for it. That certainly does not mean they have to owe Rohan for Théoden to find some compassion.

I reel my anger in. I have to see this from Théoden's point of view. He has already lost too many Men at the Battle of Helm's Deep, but if Gondor is defeated... Then that is one victory for the Enemy, a victory we can't afford to give them.

"Lórien did not come to Rohan's aid because they owed you anything." I say, and immediately regret it as several veteran warriors and powerful lords plus a king turns to my direction. There's no turning back now. "They came because it was the right thing to do. At least send a messenger."

Gandalf nods in approval at me while I try my best to hold my ground and keep my back straight.

"I will go." Aragorn says, softly.

"No!" Gandalf is only too quick to reject his offer.

"They must be warned!" I hear desperation beneath the frustration in Aragorn's tone. Gondor is his city. Gondor is his people. And he hates that he can't do anything to help.

"They will be." Gandalf assures him, walking closer towards Aragorn and whispering something to him. Aragorn nods in understanding moments later and Gandalf addresses us once more.

"Understand this: Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith." He turns his attention now to the two hobbits sitting next to each other, one shooting a nervous glance at the other, "And I won't be going alone."

There's a pregnant pause.

"Me?" Pippin squeaks.

"Yes, you, Peregrin." Gandalf's back is turned to me but I can feel him rolling his eyes from where I stand. "If that is all the King needs..." Gandalf bows slightly to the King, who nods.

"Then, come. We leave straight away."

The rest of us disperse, and I approach Gandalf before he can charge for the door with the hobbits in tow. "You're leaving us again?" I gasp.

"It is the right thing to do, Ellie." He says.

"I trust whatever decision you make but it would make me feel a lot better when you're with us here."

"Wizards never stay in one place for long. They did not call me the Grey Pilgrim for nothing. I am needed elsewhere. You no longer need my guidance here. Rohan's fate is now in the hands of King Théoden." He says.

"But do you really have to do this? I know you don't plan on taking Merry. If you did, you'd have called Aragorn or Legolas to come with you. The three of you can't fit on one horse." I whisper, so the hobbits wouldn't hear. "You can't separate them. Not after everything that's happened. Not after..." I pause, but all Gandalf needs to do is place a comforting hand on my shoulder to let me know he understands. He squeezes my shoulder. A gentle way of telling me there is no changing his mind. I never thought for a second that whatever I say will stop him from doing what he set his mind to. He and I share that same stubborn determination.

"Sauron knows a halfling is holding the Ring, and he may think he already knows which. The farther apart they are, the safer for them." Gandalf says. I throw a guilty glance over my shoulder to see Merry and Pippin helping each other fasten their cloaks. It's not right that the world keeps dumping responsibility on their shoulders. I admire their resilience but my protectiveness of them comes over--not because I think of them as children. No, I've been with these hobbits. They're clever, witty, quick on their feet and very much aware of the world. Aware of what they could lose if this War ends in Sauron's favor. They aren't children, and I'm aware of that. I'm protective of them because they're good, and have already faced too much evil. Perhaps, the most cruel thing that has happened to them is being separated from each other. They've already been ripped away from Frodo and Sam. And now, Merry and Pippin will have to be separated from each other.

Pippin catches my eye before I can look away, so I just give him a small smile that feels more like a grimace. He smiles back, warmly.

"We have not even had the pleasure of afternoon tea, yet." He says to me.

"When you get back." I say, my voice cracking at the last word. Gandalf lets go of my shoulder and proceeds to power-walk out the doors of the Meduseld, with Merry and Pippin right at his heels. They have to run to keep up with him. I follow them to the terrace, slowing down to a stop while they continue down the steps to the stables. There's a horrible, sinking feeling in my gut as Merry and Pippin wave their goodbyes at me. I hear footsteps behind me and I find Aragorn standing beside me.

"Of all the inquisitive hobbits, Peregrin Took, you are the worst!" Gandalf booms, his voice a harsh tone against the quiet stillness of the early morning.

"Halfway to the stables and you can still hear him yelling at poor, young Pippin as though he is standing right next to you." Aragorn tries for a joke. I don't laugh. I just stare at the two tiny figures scrambling after Gandalf. Aragorn's hand falls on top of mine. I didn't realize I've been wringing my hands until that moment.

"Pippin's safety is out of our hands now, Ellie." Aragorn says. I pull my hands apart and let one rest between Aragorn's own calloused hands. He watches Gandalf go with a wistful expression.

"I had hoped to see the White City again, to see the walls of Minas Tirith, see the banner unfurling in the wind. It is quite a sight to behold." He tells me.

"I'm sure it is." I whisper, "I wish I could see it, as well."

"When we defeat Sauron..." He says. I raise an eyebrow, my lips curling upwards.

"'When'?" I repeat. Well, he's confident.

"Have hope, Meril. We can get through this."

"I never lost hope. Not in you, not in the Fellowship, not in Frodo."

His grip on my hands tighten.

"Our fate rests on his shoulders. He carries a heavy burden already. We must do what we can to lighten the load for him."

At that moment, Shadowfax bursts out of the stables again. I roll my eyes. "Gandalf is such a drama queen. What is it with him and barreling through doors?" I mutter as we watch the white horse gallop as though the wind itself was at its tail. Merry appears from the wide-open stable doors, running, and Aragorn and I run after him in our concern.

He's heading for a lookout post just at the edge of the village. This damn dress is too heavy and long for running up such high stairs, and I lag behind Aragorn.

"Merry!" Aragorn calls. A soldier moves out of the way and I mutter a quick apology to him as I yank the sleeve of my dress back up over my shoulder. When I finally catch up with Merry and Aragorn, they're staring into the distance, watching Gandalf and Pippin ride away from them. Aragorn has a comforting hand on Merry's shoulder.

"He’s always followed me, everywhere I went, since before we were tweens." Merry says, in a sad, nostalgic tone. "I would get him into the worst sort of trouble, but I was always there to get him out." A small smile appears on his lips at the memory, but the smile quickly fades, "Now he’s gone. Just like Frodo and Sam."

Ouch. Punching me in the gut would have been less painful, and I say this from experience. Aragorn gives Merry a small smile.

"One thing I've learned about hobbits." He says, oddly cheerful, "They're a most hardy folk."

The smile reappears on Merry's face, "Fool-hardy, maybe. He's a Took!" He says.

"He'll be alright. You know Pippin. Nothing ever keeps him down for long." I say.

"I bet he's asking Gandalf when they could stop to eat." Merry chuckles. I crack a smile.

"Bet he's asking if they could stop to eat now." I say, making Merry laugh again.

"Come on. Pippin is in good hands." I say, stepping back. Aragorn follows me, but Merry stays behind for a second longer and I see the smile fade from his lips again.

I don't question him when he follows after us, blinking hard and looking down.

Chapter Text

With Théoden still remaining firm on his decision not to help Gondor, all the rest of us can do now is wait. I'm not complaining about the waiting, I still have plenty of aches and wounds from Helm's Deep that need healing. I'm practically best friends with oil of wintergreen. I keep discovering bruises on different parts of my body. There's one I found on my knee that I swear I don't remember getting from the battle. Hildraed informs me that I got that when I fell on my face during that time I got drunk from the party.

What I am complaining about is the lack of action. I've come to see the people of Rohan to be brave, noble and fair people. So to see them just sit there and do nothing while some other innocent country gets taken over is frustrating. They already know what almost losing a country feels like. Why would they want others to experience that horror, as well?

Aragorn has become especially moody, always wanting to be alone, pipe in hand, puffing smoke. I know it's frustrating for him to just sit around, doing nothing while those in Gondor need their King now more than ever. I try to reach out to him, but there's nothing else I can say to him that he doesn't already know.

"Gandalf will do something about it." I would tell him. He'd just breathe in his pipe-weed and stay quiet, back to the secretive Strider that I met in Bree. Legolas, Gimli and I continue to train. Legolas insists that I improve my technique with a sword, though he's a much more patient teacher than Glorfindel, for which I am thankful for.

"Here. When you have to block from this angle, you have to rotate your wrist. It will hurt so don't attempt to hold that position. Move away the first chance you get." He'd say. He takes my hand cautiously when he has to correct my position. It's sweet how he still takes care to be gentle, even if the aches of my body are now bearable.

"I know Aragorn calls me Meril, but I am not such a fragile flower, Legolas." I tease while we sit by the ground near the training grounds.

"I wasn't treating you as such!" He laughs. "I just do not want you to overexert yourself or pull a muscle that has just healed."

"I'm fine, pretty boy. I can take a little bit ot pain." I smirk.

"I do not want to cause you any pain at all." He says.

I blush, despite myself. He says this in such a worried tone that I can't help but smile.

"You can never hurt me, Legolas." I say. No, he can't. But I could hurt him. For being mortal, for being a commoner. I have to keep reminding myself this when I want to surrender to my feelings for him. I have to steel myself, but God, that smile... And his eyes. They're unfair! When he smiles, like he's doing now, his eyes crinkle at the side. His entire face lights up.

"Are you two just going to waste your time there because if that is the case, I would rather be inside the mess hall drinking mead instead of standing here beneath the hot sun!" Gimli calls us over. I shake myself out of my trance and practically run back to Gimli, only too eager to get away from the blonde elf who has too much of an effect on me.

After training, I take the down-time to visit Aedelind in the cottage, with a basket of food and elvish medicine I've learned from Salabeth and made with Legolas and Aragorn's help. When I walk in, the sense of sickness and misery is in the air. I stop as the door opens. There are men lying on the makeshift cots scattered throughout the cottage. There is the smell of festering wounds, and in the corner, I see a large, wooden pail where various body parts have been dumped after being amputated. There is a man being held down by two of his fellow soldiers, biting down on a cloth as a healer sawed his decaying foot off. Another man was passed out, shivering despite it being a hot day and covered with two layers of thick blankets. And nearby two healers are explaining to a woman how they could do nothing more for his teenaged son but try to ease the pain.

"I do not believe he will live past tonight. We managed to get the arrow out of his eye, but it is too infected, and the arrows used by the orcs of Isengard were dipped in a potent poison. We are trying to ease the pain but his condition looks dire." One healer whispered to the woman, who I assume is the boy's mother.

"It might be best to say your goodbyes now." The other healer said. The woman's wails echo through the cottage, which suddenly feels ten times smaller.

I hold on to the doorframe for support. There is bile in my throat that I try to fight down. I did not expect to be greeted by this sight and this smell, too similar to Helm's Deep after the battle. Aedelgar, who was the one who opened the door for me, touches my shoulder to bring my attention to him. His expression is serious, but understanding.

"It doesn't get easier." He says. We have both been through battles, he more than I. He knows without me having to say it what caused my reaction. "You do not get used to seeing brave soldiers begging for others to end their misery. Or young boys who do not even have any business fighting untrained on the battlefield dying right beneath your roof. I don't know how Aedelind could stand it."

Aedelind has her own brand of strength. She picks up after the battle, she is the unsung hero who saves lives instead of taking them. It's fucked up how it's us being honored for being skilled in killing, whereas the people in here who fix broken bones, sew flesh together and care for the sick remain unnoticed except by those whose lives they saved. And it isn't an easy job at all, to be faced by men who would beg for the pain to stop, or to be at risk of getting an infection themselves.

"How is she?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"She is doing well. She does not have the strength to stand yet and it frustrates her that she cannot do more to help." Aedelgar says.

"How many have recovered?" I ask, looking behind him at the soldiers.

A small smile appears on Aedelgar's face, "More than those who have died, I am certain. The other healers took to washing their hands and they have noticed lesser cases of infection. You have saved lives in more ways than one, Ellie."

That brings some comfort for me, at least. But I wish I could do more. Aedelgar steps back to let me through and we weave through the sickbeds and the healers bustling to those who need their help. He leads me to Aedelind's room.

"No! That is not how you--Give me that mortar!"

"I'm sorry, Aedelind, I have big hands!"

"That is true."

"I should not have said anything at all."

"Hildraed, they are like shovels."

"Forgive me, your royal highness." Hildraed drawls, making Aedelgar beside me snort. He opens the door and steps aside to let me through first, always the gentleman.

"Ellie!" Aedelind exclaims, gleefully, when the door opens. She's wearing a loose dress and beneath, I can make out bandages wrapped around her torso.

"Glad to see that not even a stab wound could keep you down for long." I say, laying the basket I've been carrying on her lap.

"Ooh, gifts!" She says, excitedly, looking in excitedly at the food I've brought her. She pulls out a fresh piece of cheesebread that I made myself and breaks it in two, offering one half to Aedelgar.

"Ellie, take that mortar from Hildraed before he completely destroys the rest of the herb in it." Aedelind says, rolling her eyes at Hildraed behind me.

I shake my head, amused. I see that I'm not immune from Aedelind's bossiness. I have no complaints, though. I'm just glad she's recovering. I take the mortar from Hildraed and look down at the contents.

"Yarrow. You've run out of the ones I've prepared already?" I say, sitting on the foot of the bed and crushing the small, white flowers in the wooden mortar.

"Ten jars were not nearly enough after the battle. We have been harvesting the flowers and we are making more yarrow paste but the flowers growing in the garden have almost run out." A hint of sadness breaks into Aedelind's voice.

"How about the maggots?"

"The maggots are the only living creatures with an unlimited supply of food in Rohan nowadays."

"Nettle, then?" I suggest. She snorts.

"You try suggesting that to the harvesters. I need all the hands I can get to take care of the wounded. And nettle is not exactly the best alternative."

"And coneflower?"

"Running out of that, as well. After all the amputations we had to do, our supply of coneflower decreased dramatically."

"Do you need privacy? You two are talking in your own language again." Aedelgar interrupts. Aedelind blinks at him and smirks.

"I saw one of the new volunteers looking at you. Perhaps you should talk to her and create your own language."

Aedelgar turns scarlet, Hildraed coughs nervously. I look at the two of them with a raised eyebrow.

"Stop setting me up with strangers, Aedelind." Aedelgar says with a glance at Hildraed, who is very determined to keep his eyes focused on the basket on Aedelind's lap.

"She does not have to be a stranger if you attempt to get to know her."

"I don't need to." Aedelgar says, coldly. Aedelind doesn't seem to realize she's striking a chord on something as she picks at the dirt under her nails.

"I'm just saying. You are getting old. Soon, some other, more handsome, young male will swoop in and woo the other women in Edoras and you will be left with no one, and our male line would end." She sighs.

"I said stop!" Aedelgar hisses so fiercely that Aedelind actually stops and looks up. But my focus is on Hildraed, who's been frozen like a statue throughout that entire conversation. The look in his face is clear: He is jealous. I get what's happening as soon as I take in all of their expressions. Hildraed, with his stony face as he sets his jaw, refusing to look at any of us in the eye; Aedelgar, who keeps looking at Hildraed nervously; and Aedelind, who looks genuinely confused that her brother would get mad over harmless teasing.

Or, what she thinks is harmless, anyway.

"Oh, fuck." I whisper when the pieces all click in my head.

Hildraed then promptly walks out. Aedelgar is too stunned to even react.

"Go after him, you idiot!" I hiss, making him jump and run out the door, calling Hildraed's name.

I get up from the foot of Aedelind's bed and set the mortar containing what is now finely crushed yarrow petals down on the table before I turn to face her. She has no idea what just happened but I saw Hildraed's face before he walked out. I saw Aedelgar's pleading expression when he looked at Hildraed.

"What was that about?" She asks.

"Aedelgar just had a bad day. I do not think he takes being a healer in your stead well." I lie.

Aedelind makes a "Pfft." sound through her teeth and goes back to looking at the contents of the basket on her lap. "I do not complain about yanking wood out of a man's stomach and going through cleaning what is left of his digestive system while he screams in pain. He has not even seen the worst of what a battle can do." She says, taking a jar out and observing the contents. She raises it to me with a questioning expression.

"Athelas. Aragorn helped me make that one. It helps with the pain and inflammation, and is especially useful against the kind of poison that orcs use." I say.

"Athelas?"

"Kingsfoil."

"But that is a weed. Who uses weeds?" Aedelind shakes the contents of the jar.

I shrug, "Elves and Dúnedain. Athelas has saved lives. I've seen how potent it is. It has saved mine."

"Then I shall use it to save others." Aedelind says, gently putting the jar back in the basket. She tries to put the basket down on a table near her, but winces and moans, clutching the side where she was stabbed.

I quickly take the basket for her and put it down on the table.

"Damn it all." She hisses, breathing deeply while she lies back down, cradling her side. "I hate being dependent like this. I can't even reach the table anymore. Aedelgar has to bring my food to me, it takes at least three people to bathe me and do you know how embarrassing it is to have to call in the middle of the night like a baby just so I can pee?" Aedelind tries to fight back tears, and hides her face by throwing her arm across her eyes.

"There are people outside my bedroom door right now that I could be helping. There were soldiers who died in this house when I could have saved them, Ellie." Aedelind's voice is shaky. Her entire body is shaking as she tries to suppress a sob. I slowly approach her and stroke her long, blonde hair. I don't comment on the tears I see travelling down her face even when she tries to cover it up and wipe them away. I don't speak when she lets out a soft sound, a mix between a whimper and a sob. I just stroke her hair and let her cry it out, sitting on the edge of her bed, waiting for her.

When she peeks out from beneath her arm, her eyes are puffy and red. "I'm being ungrateful."

"No, you are not." I insist.

"At least I am still alive. At least I can still recover from this. There are people who have died and lost parts of their body."

"That does not mean you cannot despair. Crying can be a good thing, Aedelind. You need to release the negative emotions sometimes. What you feel is valid. Your pain is no less than what others feel." I say. She rubs her eyes with the heel of her hand and gives me a watery smile.

"Thank you." She whispers.

"You can talk to me anytime you wish."

"Can you visit me again tomorrow, if you could? Will I not take your time away from your duties? I do not want to be a burden, but I would enjoy your company. The other women treat me like I'm glass that is about to break. Aedelgar and Hildraed are...well...Aedelgar and Hildraed. They feel out of place in a sick house. They are not comfortable staying here long."

I can understand why they wouldn't be. I walked in here with all the horrible memories from the battle flooding back to me. I imagine how hard it must be for them, who have seen more battles than I have, and who most likely even fought side by side with some of the soldiers recovering in this house. I can also understand why Aedelind would want company, more than anything. She feels alone and helpless and is probably traumatized from her near-death experience. Silence probably brings horrible memories to her. She would need all the company she could get.

Without hesitation, I nod. "Of course, of course. I will visit you every day until your full recovery." I say. Her smile widens this time, "Thank you." She says.

"Do you want me to stay?" I ask, softly.

"Please do. You never really got to tell me how you came to be in Rohan. Before..." She trailed off, unsure whether to say it or not. I give her a small smile to tell her it's fine.

"Before the orcs took me?" I say. She looks down, not sure if she had offended. "It's fine, Aedelind. It's happened but it was not your fault. In fact, I have you to thank for my survival."

I sigh and lean back a bit on the bed, supporting myself with my hands behind me. "That's quite a long story, too..." And there's a large chunk of the story I can't tell her because it involves talking about the Ring, and after what happened to Pippin, I don't think it's safe to even mention the damned thing. The Secret Council was secret for a reason. I'd have to omit important parts of the story, and unfortunately the important parts are exactly how I came to be in Rohan.

I'm spared from having to tell her about it, however, when Aedelgar bursts into the room. "We are to ride to Dunharrow." He says to me, his face serious.

"What, why?" Aedelind asks, struggling to sit up straighter.

"The beacons have been lit. Gondor needs help."

It's like being electrified. I burst to my feet and look out Aedelind's room, which has a view of the mountains. Sure enough, flickering in the horizon, is a small flame like a candle.

I turn around to face Aedelgar, suddenly fiercely protective of Gondor, glad that Rohan will be helping. "King Théoden wants to help?" I gasp. Aedelgar nods.

"You just fought a battle six days past!" Aedelind frowns.

"And we ride to battle again."

"Aedelgar, please..." There's a hint of desperation in Aedelind's voice, and I am not surprised to see that her eyes are shining with tears again. Aedelgar's face takes on such a gentle, soft expression when he approaches his sister.

"I will come back, Aedelind. I always do."

"You cannot keep leaving me behind like this." Aedelind's voice cracks. Aedelgar sits on the bed beside her and gives her forehead a kiss. Aedelind pulls her brother in for a hug and despite the injury on her side, she holds on to him tightly.

"You better come back." She whispers.

"I promise." Aedelgar says, holding his sister close.

I look away, my heart heavy. I never can get used to the fact that no one will be waiting for my return. "And Ellie?"

I'm taken aback by Aedelind, and I turn to her, barely suppressing the surprise I feel when she addresses me. "I will be waiting for you to return and tell me that story."

A warm feeling bursts from my heart and radiates to every part of my body. I smile, grateful for everything Aedelind has ever done for me. "I'll tell you everything. Hang in there." I say, and she smiles back.

I hope she knows I mean that completely. Because when we return, Sauron will be defeated, and I can finally be released from my secrets.

Chapter Text

An elf greets me as I find my way to the Meduseld. I wouldn't be so surprised if he was blonde and clad in the familiar green and brown garb I've come to associate with the forest, but that's not the case. The elf before me is dark-haired, and clad in grey. I've only ever met this elf before he left with his twin, and that was directly after the Secret Council.

"Lord Elladan?" I ask, floored by the sight of him, bow slung on his back. The elf smiles. "It is Elrohir." He says.

"Excuse me for saying this, my lord Elrohir, but... What are you doing here?" I ask. "I did not expect you at all."

"I came with Elladan and thirty other Dúnedain." He says, motioning towards the open doors to the Throne Room. I walk beside him, confused.

"Why would you need thirty Dúnedain--holy shit." I stop in my tracks at the sight before me. Thirty men, all clad in grey cloaks, stand together, silent. And with them stood Aragorn, looking more like a king than I have ever seen him. These are his people. These are my people, my ancestors. Nothing simultaneously feels more real and more surreal than this moment, to be standing among such proud and noble people, who are supposed to be people of my past. And yet here I am, standing in their presence.

Around us, servants and soldiers are once again in a flurry, busy with the preparations for the ride out to Minas Tirith. Aedelgar had gone ahead to check on weapons and find Hildraed. Legolas and Gimli sit amongst the Dúnedain and Elrohir's twin, Elladan.

Thirty-four pairs of eyes turn to me when I stop near them, standing beside one of the sons of the Lord of Imladris. Usually, I would be shrinking away--but not this time. My chest swells with pride at the sight of them. Behind the shadow of their hoods, I can see the same proud, handsome faces of Kings from the paintings in Imladris. I see the same grey eyes and dark hair that I have become so familiar with--everything about them reminds me of Gramps and Aragorn.

"There you are." Gimli says.

"Here I am." I confirm, before turning to Aragorn. "Are we having a party or what?"

The Dúnedan closest to Aragorn raises an eyebrow, but Aragorn merely smiles. Bless him, he's gotten so used to how I talk.

"You better change if you want to keep up." He says, motioning at the dress I'm wearing.

"No more trying to stop me from joining you, I see?"

"Do you want me to?"

"As if you can."

The man beside Aragorn frowns. "Aragorn..." He says, slowly.

"This is the girl I spoke to you about." Aragorn says. The Dúnedan turns to me, both eyebrows almost disappearing into his eyebrows.

"I expected her to be..."

My ears prick up. He better use the right word or I'm kicking his shins, ancestor or not.

"...taller."

I consider this for a second, before shurgging. I can think of worse things to be said about me.

"It's not fair, I'm standing next to six-foot-five over here." I say, motioning at Elrohir, who gives me a confused look.

"You are Aragorn's ward, then?" The man beside Aragorn says, "I am Halbarad."

"I'm Ellie." I smile.

"Change." Aragorn repeats. I wrinkle my nose at him distastefully.

"You're not the boss of me." I say, but run off to my chambers to change into my tunic, vest, leggings and boots anyway. I also find my pack and swing that on my shoulders as well.

When I come back, Legolas already has Déorwine saddled for me outside. "Thank you, good sir." I say, swinging my leg over the horse's back.

"I have every faith in you, melethenin, but I am afraid you might not keep up with the éored." He says.

"You call that faith?" I raise an eyebrow.

"I call it being careful."

"What does 'melethenin' even mean?" I frown.

"If you do not fall off your horse today, I might tell you." Legolas replies, mischievously. I freeze in my saddle, and he takes that opportunity to walk back to Arod.

"Now, wait just one minute, pretty boy!" I snarl. I hear him laugh in response.

"I don't like you!" I call, taking Déorwine's reigns and making the horse turn so I can face Legolas.

"Yes, you do." He replies, as he swings a leg over his horse. There is a smirk on his face.

I glare at him because I can't deny what he just said and move towards Aragorn instead, who is busy securing his saddle bag on his horse. I slide off Déorwine to admire his horse and pat its nose.

"This isn't the horse you used to ride." I say. He smiles at me. "Roheryn is his name. A gift from Arwen."

"Damn." I gasp, impressed. "Anything for me?" I add, jokingly.

"As a matter of fact..." A voice behind me says. Elladan (or is it Elrohir? I still can't tell) holds out a sword tucked in a scabbard at me.

"That was the very sword she used while fighting off the Nazgûl in the Anduin. She wanted you to use it, and says that you are not forgotten and that Salabeth sends her best wishes."

I gape at him, mouth hanging open. "I was kidding." I mutter, dumb-founded. Elladan (I'll assume he's Elladan until I'm proven otherwise) patiently holds the sword out. "This is no joke. Take it. She must really care for you if she was willing to part with this sword. It is a great honor."

"It is." I say, reaching out for the sword. "It really, really is."

I still can't believe I'm being given such a gift. Lady Galadriel has given hers and I still give those daggers extra care. To receive a gift from Arwen as well, to know I'm not forgotten and that someone is out there thinking of me takes away some of the loneliness and isolation I've been feeling. And I think: Arwen always knows exactly what to say or do. She has always been there to look out for me.

I take the sword and pull it out of its scabbard, and observe every detail of it. The blade is exquisitely designed, and the hilt fits perfectly into my hand. The sword itself is balanced, and is just the right weight. There are also Elvish inscriptions, written in Tengwar, on the blade.

"Aen estar Hadhafang i chathol hen, thand arod dan i thang an i arwen." Aragorn reads, smiling proudly at me. "This blade is called Hadhafang, a noble defense against the enemy throng for a noble lady. I think it is perfect for you."

I let out an incredulous laugh. "Thank you, Lord Elladan. Len hannon." I say, bowing to him and securing the sword to the belt on my waist. Elladan smiles (Okay, he didn't correct me which means I have the right twin).

"Of course, Ellie." He says, before going back to his horse.

Another horse stops next to us and we both turn to see Éowyn pulling her own horse next to Aragorn's. He raises an eyebrow. I'm fine with Éowyn coming along. Another girl around to fight off the testosterone is good.

"Will you ride with us?" Aragorn asks.

"Just to the encampment. It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men." Éowyn says. It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. She's packed way more than she would need if she'd only be riding to the encampment, which isn't even that far.

Aragorn seems to be thinking the same thing, because he lifts the blanket on her saddle to reveal the hilt of her sword. I'm not surprised. Éowyn despises being left at the sidelines. She quickly pulls the blanket back down and Aragorn exchanges looks with me. I suppress a smile and pretend to check Déorwine's reins.

"The men have found their captain." I hear Éowyn say. "They will follow you into battle, even to death. You have given us hope." She says.

When I get back up on Déorwine's saddle, I give Aragorn a small smile. The name the Elves gave him is so appropriate. Hope. He has been hope not only for the people of Rohan, but for me as well. He is Gondor's hope, too. And I know that if he was shying away from it before, he's not doing it now. I know he's starting to fully accept who he really is and embraces the power he has as a leader.

I go back to where Legolas is sitting atop Arod, with Gimli riding on the same horse behind him.

"Bet you I won't fall off the horse this time, despite the éored's speed."

"Utmost faith." Legolas says, breezily.

"You are trying to keep up with Horse-masters, lassie? Ai, that won't end well for you." Gimli pipes in.

"You don't get to talk when you aren't even the one controlling the horse your ass is plonked on."

"You have been around male energy for too long." Gimli sighs.

"Is that a bad thing? Most of the energy I'm around is you, Aragorn and Legolas."

"I guess it is not."

Legolas and I try not to laugh.

Halbarad and the other Dúnedain have moved towards the front of the lines, to where King Théoden and Éomer are already positioned with Aragorn, probably to talk about the course we will be taking.

"Horse-masters. I wish I could muster a legion of dwarves, fully armed and filthy." Gimli mutters.

"Ew, why?" I shudder at the thought of any more filthy dwarves. The beards are majestic but the body hair contributes to the awful smell after a battle. And I'd probably starve to death, seeing as how Gimli has it in him to vacuum a meal meant for four people. Imagine how much food a legion of dwarves could inhale. Although their skill in battle would make up for it, I'm sure. Gimli alone is a force on the battlefield. It would be a spectacle to see more of his kin fighting.

"Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands." Legolas says, darkly.

Gimli and I sober immediately.

And maybe Legolas is also thinking about his own homeland. This war just wants to keep beating its reality into me. While we are busy riding to Gondor to help the people there just after fighting a cruel battle in Helm's Deep, elves and dwarves are fighting to defend their homelands. It is not just us being affected, it's the entirety of Middle-earth. I'm struck by the thought of the Dunlendings, Men who would kill their own in the name of Saruman and Sauron. Are there more people like that? People who are swayed by evil? I hope the other races are unified. I hope they don't have to kill their own kin.

We ride to the front, behind the King and Aragorn. I'm positioned between Elladan(He's the twin who has braids behind his ears instead of no braids at all) and Halbarad. Apparently, so that there would be people to remind me to keep up.

Legolas and Gimli are behind me, and to Elladan's left is Elrohir. Aedelgar and Hildraed are on opposite ends of the King's Company at the front, where Aragorn, Éomer and Éowyn are all found.

"Where is Merry?" I ask, frowning and looking around for the hobbit. We're already starting to move and he is nowhere in sight.

"I saw him last sitting atop a pony. He may be somewhere at the back." Elrohir says.

"'May be'?" I repeat. I'm tempted to turn Déorwine around to make sure Merry is keeping up, but just as I'm about to, Éomer begins to address the army.

"Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now fulfill them all! To lord and land!"

And with that, we go into a full gallop and there's barely any time to talk because when the Rohirrim ride, they ride fast and hard.

I'm going to admit I was a tiny bit terrified of the speed we were going, but I managed to keep up. Barely, though.

Mostly because Halbarad is shouting commands at me, "Stop yanking at the reins! Sit straighter! Lift in time with the horse's movements!"

That last part came out between his giggles because I was bouncing at the saddle like a freaking Jack In A Box.

Oh, what I'd give for the joy of good, sturdy ground again. It's hours and hours of hard riding and exercise before we stop and make camp in Dunharrow.

What is it with mountains and their weird penchant for feeling...alive? First, Caradhas, now this. The road to Dunharrow was challenging enough, and now we're camping next to some creepy mountain that looks like it died from abandonment. It's cold and grey and it feels like unfriendly eyes are watching us. I try to dismiss it as paranoia but there's this road between the mountains that just feels wrong. Everytime I turn my back on it, the hairs at the back of my neck prickle up, as if someone is looking at me. And I don't think I'm the only one getting weird vibes from the place. The Rohirrim are too quiet. You can practically hear everyone breathing.

"How long do we have to stay here?" I ask Halbarad, who grunts as he tries to control both his and my horse. He's trying to tether the two but both horses are being stubborn and moving around, nervously.

"Eager to ride out already?" Halbarad says.

"You mean completely uneager. But that," I say, pointing to the road, "is not a happy place."

Halbarad looks around and finally at the road I point out. His face darkens, but his expression is unreadable. His brows furrow together and I see his jaw clench.

"No, I do not believe it is." He says, before turning back to the rest of the Grey Company to set up camp. It's like talking to Strider-Aragorn, again. Serious and unknowable. Are all Dúnedain really just a guarded, mysterious people or is this because both Halbarad and Aragorn have faced more horrors and have more experience than me?

I go over to where Legolas, Gimli and Éomer are. "Anyone seen Merry around?" I ask.

"Last I saw of him, Lady Éowyn was helping him tether his pony." Éomer says.

"Good luck with that. Déorwine was being stubborn and unmanageable. I think the horses are creeped out." I say.

Legolas looks around at everyone making camp. A horse breaks free of its tether and neighs, trotting backwards. Some of the men try to calm the horse down. Others turn their backs on the mountains, moving around nervously.

"The horses are restless... and the men are quiet." Legolas says.

"They grow nervous in the shadow of the mountain." Éomer says.

"I don't blame them. The place needs some serious redecoration." I mutter.

"That road there, where does that lead?" Gimli asks, pointing at the same road I've been getting major creeps from.

To my surprise, it's Legolas who replies. "It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain." He says.

"None who venture there ever return." Éomer adds, looking at the road with wary eyes. "That mountain is evil."

I side-eye the mountain. I know the Rohirrim aren't very trusting. It's not in their nature, and they're definitely superstitious. But even I must admit that whatever must be through that road would not nice.

"Ugh. I can't stand looking at that road any longer than I have to." I say, turning my back to it.

"Come. Halbarad and the others await." Legolas motions for me. I gladly follow after him but we both stop in our tracks when I catch a whiff of pipe-smoke.

Oh, no.

No, I am not dealing with that again.

"Why is public smoking not a crime?" I say, crossing my arms and looking at the Grey Company with distaste. Legolas keeps his distance from them. He looks like someone just stuck a dead fish under his nostrils.

A few Men chuckle. "It is an enjoyable past time."

"Okay, you boys enjoy your pipe-weed, I'm going to find Merry."

"You worry about the hobbit too much. He can take care of himself, you know." Elladan says.

"For my own sanity, I need to know he's actually here and did not get left behind." I shrug.

I don't have to look far, though. He's accompanied by Lady Éowyn and he alone seems unnerved by the creepiness of the place. He's too excited about his new position as Esquire of Rohan, anointed by the king himself, to notice how subdued everyone else is.

"Ellie!" He says, mid-speech, raising a hand to wave at me.

"We never get to hang out anymore." I tell him. Éowyn smiles at me in greeting, and it's so easy to smile back at her. She's been smiling a lot lately, and I prefer her that way than when I first met her. She was beautiful but hard and cold, then. Now she looks like snow and and the sun. Feather-light and exuding beauty.

"That is true. I miss sitting down and eating breakfast with you."

"Oh, don't remind me of the cakes the Elves of Rivendell make. It reminds me of how far we are from it."

"Better than remembering old Bill Ferny."

"Ugh. I'd rather remember Bill the Pony. Now, that's someone I truly miss."

"You know a man named Bill the Pony?" Éowyn asks.

"What? No. He's an actual pony. We named him after the ugly guy we bought him from."

Éowyn giggles at my discription. "I can never get used to your way with words."

"It has been months since I've known her and I still am not used to it." Merry says. "I was just telling Lady Éowyn about my new position as an Esquire of Rohan."

"And I was just telling Merry that he would need an armour fit for his new position."

"Ooh, I'd like to see you in your new armor!" I say, excitedly.

"Come. Perhaps there is still one in your size available. After the young boys fought in Helm's Deep..." Éowyn froze, her words dying on her lips and her smile vanishing. I look down, and even Merry's expression darkens.

There were a lot of young boys who had died in the Battle of Helm's Deep. A lot of innocent death. The women of Rohan that were left behind would be tending to their bodies right now and arranging funerals. They had left behind the destruction of one battle to charge at another towards Minas Tirith.

And the subdued Rohirrim army makes more sense. The victory party was one night for them to drink heavily and let go, but there were still bodies of friends and sons and brothers left behind at Helm's Deep. There will be more death in Minas Tirith. It hangs over everyone's heads. I can't blame them for being less spirited than usual.

Merry, always cheerful Merry, tries for a smile. "I am only too relieved to get out of this outfit. I have been wearing it for so long..."

Èowyn smiles, weakly, "Well, then, I guess it is time for a change of outfit."

We find a tent where Éomer, Gamling, Aedelgar and Hildraed have set up camp.

"Éomer, are there any of the smaller armors left? Merry needs it." Éowyn asks. Éomer looks up at his sister, and it might have been just the crackle of the sunlight but his eyes seem to narrow.

"I think there is. Check the discarded pile. You might find one still in tact." He says. Éowyn and Merry walk in, and I'm just about to follow them when Éomer calls me back.

"Not you."

I rein in my temper at his tone of voice. I know he is higher in rank than me and is much older, but I wish he didn't make me feel like a child who's been caught doing something wrong. I haven't even said anything!

"You look much better than I first met you." Éomer says.

"Oh." I wasn't expecting him to stop me just to tell me I've gained weight. Should I be offended?

"How are you?"

"How am I?" I repeat, dumb-founded.

"Yes, how are you. We have never stopped to talk and greet each other. There was always something more important happening."

"Or I'd be too drunk to have a decent conversation with." I mutter, approaching the men.

"That, too." Éomer smiles.

I shrug. "To be perfectly honest, I have no idea how I feel. I'm okay, I guess? Tired. Aching everywhere. But... okay."

"No nightmares? No waking up in the middle of the night, screaming?"

I don't answer. I don't have to. It seems Éomer already knows the answer.

"You do not have to continue, you know. In fact, I think your friends would feel better knowing you are safe. You were lucky enough to survive one gruesome battle."

"My lord." Hildraed says, in warning, because he sees the confusion on my face morph into indignance.

"My friends know I do this because I want to."

"You want to fight gruesome battles?" Gamling asks.

"I want to protect people. I want my life and my death to mean something. I would rather die in battle than live knowing the people I care about are hurting somewhere else." I snap.

"You mean to say the women who wait are less honorable?" Gamling raises an eyebrow.

"No! God, no! They have a different kind of bravery. To let go, to trust in their loved ones' return like they do is something much braver, I think. I just... I cannot think of myself waiting anymore. I'm done waiting."

There is silence among them.

"I told you, Éomer, she's like that just because. Honor runs through her blood." Aedelgar pipes in.

"Why else do you think I'm here?" Now I allow myself to sound offended.

"Frankly, I do not know. At first, I thought you wanted to prove something. That you can be as strong as the warriors around you."

I'm about to hurl my shoe at Éomer. I shake my head, "It's more than that. I don't matter anymore."

"That is exactly what worries me." He says. He looks up at me, and I catch his eye. "Please do not forget that there is also someone worrying about your safety."

And I know he's not talking about me anymore. Well, not just about me. There's something else beneath the surface, something else worrying him that he's projecting at me.

I sit down between him and Aedelgar, and I now realize that Aedelgar's remark wasn't even about me, as well. It was about someone much dearer to all of them. "Is this about Éowyn?"

Éomer freezes. Everyone does. I think everyone here right now knows exactly what Éomer is worried about.

"You're worried she's going to sneak off into battle?"

"If our parents were still alive, they would never forgive me if she was hurt. I would never forgive myself. But she is so stubborn! Stubborn and naive."

"You can't keep protecting her from the world, Éomer. Aedelgar is right. Honor runs through her blood."

Éomer's voice is thin, "What kind of brother would I be if I let her go to sure death? To something so terrible as war? What kind of brother would I be if I don't protect her? Because I promised them I would."

I want to reach out and hug him. I wish Donovan cared about me as much as Éomer cares about Éowyn. All he has is good intentions. All he fights for is his sister's safety. Him and Aedelgar are the same. They would rather suffer at the battlefield than watch their little sisters suffer.

"I know she is a grown woman now. But I still see the little girl with dirty knees and unruly hair I swore to protect."

I squeeze his shoulder. "She'll be okay. She'll live through this."

"How do you know?" And he asks this with such vulnerability that my heart aches for him.

"Because you're there to protect her, silly." I try for a smile. Éomer smiles back.

"You need more wine in your system, dude. You can be so sappy sometimes." I sigh, trying to lighten the mood.

"Are you drunk, again?" Gamling asks.

"What? No. Why the hell would you even ask that?" I ask, genuinely confused.

He shrugs. "It's the way you talk."

"I always talk like this!"

"Like a drunk?"

"Okay, now you're making fun of me. Don't make me snip your beard. Are you trying to outbeard Gimli or something?"

Aedelgar howls in laughter, more at Gamling's knotted eyebrows than anything else.

"You'll get used to it." Hildraed smiles at Gamling.

I hear Éowyn's laughter from inside the tent she and Merry had retreated to. I get up to poke my head through the tent flap and see Merry decked out in proper Rohirrim uniform.

"Whoa, Merry. You look very fine in that." I say, appreciatively as he holds his sword out. I look down at the blade.

"You'll have to sharpen that thing if you'll be going into battle, though." I say. I retreat and Merry comes out of the tent first, swinging the blade reminiscent of how Boromir used to show off with his sword. A reminder of who taught Merry and Pippin how to weild a sword.

God, I miss Boromir. How would he feel if he knew we were riding to battle now to save his people? He'd probably be on the front lines, anxiously waiting for us to move again.

"To the smithy, go!" Éowyn urged. Merry runs to the blacksmith and Éowyn slows down when Éomer addresses her.

"You should not encourage him."

"You should not doubt him." Éowyn replies, softly.

"I do not doubt his heart. Only the reach of his arm."

Gamling laughs. I scoff, indignant for Merry and ready to kick dirt into Gamling's soup.

"Why should Merry be left behind? He has as much cause to go to war as you." Éowyn says, heatedly. "Why can he not fight for those he loves?"

"You know as little of war as that Hobbit." Éomer says, "When the fear takes him and the blood and the screams and the horrow of battle take hold, do you think he would stand and fight? He would flee. And he would be right to do so."

That's unfair of him. Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo. They've all faced the Nazgûl and lived to tell the tale. They survived Moria. They survived Amon Hen. Merry and Pippin survived Isengard. These Hobbits have known war. They've known fear. They've seen the blood of their own friend stain the ground as they were dragged off by Uruk Hai. Éomer knows nothing of what Merry had to face or what scars the Quest has left on him.

"War is the province of Men, Éowyn."

Éowyn's eye twitches as he says it. I'm fuming, both for Merry and for Éowyn.

"I object to that sexist comment." I pipe in, before taking Éowyn's arm. She is stiff, tense, ready to pounce.

"Let's go, Éowyn." I say loudly as I drag Éowyn away from the testosterone her brother was exuding.

"He thinks I am weak." Éowyn says, still heated.

"He just wants to protect you." I say, trying to be fair and understand Éomer's harsh words.

"I am not a child!"

I smile, ready to say 'To him, you're still his little sister' but at the state she was in, Éowyn would probably take that the wrong way.

Éowyn says something about following Merry and I'm just about to say I'll go with her when I find Gimli motioning at me from our side of the camp. He's looking at me seriously. Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir are all looking in the same direction.

"Actually, you know what, Gimli needs to talk to me. Um... I'll catch up." I say to Éowyn and she lets me go.

When I catch up to Gimli and the Grey Company, I'm floored to see Lord Elrond there as well.

"My lord." I say, bowing low.

"Ellie. It is good to see you are well." He says. "I cannot delay. I must speak to the King now."

Gimli, Legolas, Elladan, Elrohir and I all walk with him to the King's tent, although we're asked to stay outside while someone goes to fetch Aragorn.

"I have a weird feeling about this." I say as our group stands a few feet away.

"Is it a good feeling?" Legolas asks.

"I don't know yet."

"It must be something very important if Father rode here by himself." Elladan says.

"Here he is." Elrohir mutters, motioning at Aragorn who walks past us without even seeing us in his haste. I stare at the flap where he just went through.

"You want to eavesdrop, don't you?" Gimli says, observing my face.

"That would be childish!" I say.

There was a short pause.

"Let's go eavesdrop." Gimli suggests.

Nobody protests. I'm probably going to hell for this.

Chapter Text

I feel silly sitting here on the ground behind King Théoden's tent. Elladan and Elrohir are both complaining about the lack of grass. I'm complaining about how despite being an inch away from pressing my face against the tent, I still can't hear shit.

Legolas and the twins have no trouble hearing, and even Gimli lets out awed gasps from time to time but I have no idea what's happening.

"This isn't as fun as I hoped it would be." I mumble, glaring at Gimli.

"It is not my fault you have bad hearing, lassie."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" I say.

"They are talking about the Dimholt Road." Elladan says.

"The creepy road through the mountains? Why?"

"To summon help." He replies.

"Help? From mountain-men?"

"It is not mountain-men Aragorn wishes to summon." Legolas says, frowning.

"Father would have him take the Path of the Dead." Elrohir says.

"Why just him?" Everyone turns to me when I say it.

"You know what Aragorn's like. He's too honorable to ask us to go somewhere so dangerous." Gimli says.

I know exactly what he means. Aragorn is the protector. He would take the responsibility of becoming the King of Gondor but he would never ask us to go with him on a task he thinks he should do on his own.

Which is exactly why we should go with him.

"We'll gather the Grey Company." Elladan says. He and Elrohir go off to find the Dúnedain.

Legolas goes off to get Arod, Gimli and I go back to our respective tents to get our weapons. I pass by Éowyn on her way to her own tent. It's late and most of those in camp are already retiring. I've just finished fastening my cloak when I see her still outside her tent.

"Have you seen Merry around?" I ask her.

"He has already retired in his tent. He is resting now, I think. Why do you need him?" She asks, taking in my outfit. She focuses on the weapon I'm strapping to my waist.

"Going somewhere?" She asks.

"Just going to take a stroll." I say.

"With all of your weapons?" She raises an eyebrow.

"Better safe than sorry." I say, avoiding her sharp gaze.

"Ellie, please. I do not want you running off to danger on your own." Éowyn touches my arm in concern. I give her a warm smile and put my hand on top of hers.

"I'll be fine. I won't be alone."

"There is something you are not telling me." She says.

I look up at her face, beautiful but distraught. She is always worried. I feel terrible that I have to hide anything from her. I know she must be frustrated by people always wanting her to stay out of the loop and sheltering her. She has spirit and a strong determination to help, but the Dimholt Road is not one that she has to take.

"It's nothing. Really." I say, wincing at my lame attempt at lying.

Éowyn snatches her hand away and straightens up. She knows I'm lying. She's not an idiot. She knows there's something going on that I refuse to tell. "If you say so. Be safe... with your walk, I mean." She says and turns around, back towards the camp, passing by Gimli at the path separating the Dúnedain camp from the Rohirrim's. My dwarven friend decides to call me just as Éowyn turns towards the Rohirric camp.

"Ellie! There you are. The Grey Company is ready. If we are quick, we could intercept Aragorn before he leaves." I glare at him as Éowyn stops in her tracks, but doesn't turn back. Gimli and his big mouth, I swear to God!

"What?" Gimli asks, blissfully unaware.

"Oh, just--" I charge towards him and he leads me to the Grey Company.

"What did I say?" He insists.

I turn around to where Éowyn was standing, but she's not there anymore. Praying to God she just went back to her tent, I follow Gimli back to the Dúnedain camp.

"He would call on those traitors to help us?" Halbarad says when Gimli and I join them. "We have no guarantee they would help. They betrayed Gondor before, what would stop them from betraying us again?"

"Do you doubt Estel can command them?" Elladan asks.

"It is not Aragorn I doubt but them. We cannot trust those Oathbreakers." Halbarad says, heatedly.

"Better than doing nothing. We need all the help we can get." Elrohir says. "They may not be honorable, but we need them if we are to win this war. We must all be prepared to take risks."

"Ai. It is dark times indeed. But I have faith in Aragorn. If there was anyone who could command them, it would be him." Halbarad says.

Elladan holds up a finger to his lips to quiet us, and catches my eye. He points behind him, and nods. I nod back. He heard Aragorn, probably trying to quietly leave. Thank God for keen Elvish hearing.

Gimli and I move to intercept him before he can leave while the rest of the Grey Company finish their preparations.

We see Aragorn just about done adjusting the saddle on Roheryn. I think I catch the trail of a white skirt behind the trees, and my heart sinks. So, Éowyn found him first. I see the look on Aragorn's face, and I feel terrible for him. He's always tired nowadays. He hasn't had as much rest as Legolas, Gimli or I. I have no time to confirm if Éowyn did confront him, however. Whatever went on between them is their business.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Gimli says.

Aragorn looks ready for an argument. His gaze flickers to me and I stare back, stubbornly, silently daring him to say what I know he's about to say.

"Not this time. This time you must stay."

Gimli nods, sympathetically. I didn't think a non-verbal nod could be sarcastic.

"You know, I never liked being told what to do." I say, clapping Gimli's shoulder. He lets out a single breath of laughter.

"Have you heard nothing of the stubbornness of Dwarves?" Legolas joins our little group, Arod in tow.

Aragorn gives a small smile, "Dwarves, yes. But are all my descendants so stubborn?"

"Ha! I'm tame compared to my brothers." I say, then I turn to Legolas. "Did you find Déorwine?"

"I only had time to saddle Arod before I heard Aragorn already leaving." He says. I wave my hand and approach Roheryn instead.

"It's fine. Looks like you'll be carrying two this time." I say, stroking Roheryn's neck. Aragorn shakes his head, but gives me a glowing smile.

"And you will be going nowhere without us." Another voice pipes in. Their footsteps are quiet, but several horses' hooves stamp on the ground as the Grey Company approaches, led by Halbarad.

Aragorn looks at each of us, his face a mixture of emotions.

“You’re our Chieftain. More than that, you are our brother. We will follow you even if you say you go to battle Morgoth himself, and you will not stop us from doing so.” Halbarad says, and the Grey Company murmur their agreement.

Aragorn shakes his head. He’s already accepted there is no stopping us, and when at last, Elladan and Elrohir approach with matching mischievous grins, he laughs.

“Gwador, you are mistaken if you believe we will let you go without us.” Elladan says.

“Ada will kill us if he finds out we let you run off to the Dimholt Road without us. You know he is fond of you so." Elrohir adds. "And I suspect that is why he sent us after you."

"And if you think you can send us back to tell Arwen we did not accompany you, you are mistaken. I would like to keep all of my limbs in place." Elladan says.

"Len hannon, gwadyr. I still need you by my side, after all these years." Aragorn says, approaching the twins as the two pull him in for a hug, looking so much like young siblings.

"It has not been so long in years, Estel." Elrohir smiles. "And we will be staying by your side for quite a while longer."

Aragorn pulls away first and the Company mount their horses. Aragorn then turns to Roheryn and helps me up on the horse.

"You have all your weapons? All your blades are sharpened?" He asks over his shoulder as I settle on the saddle with my arms around his waist.

I can't help but roll my eyes, "Yes, dad."

"I worry for you."

My hands tighten around his waist, "I know. You don't need to worry. I'm not afraid." I say.

"Let us ride, then."

As the Company moves, I tug at Aragorn's tunic, "You and Éowyn talked, didn't you?"

He turns his head to the side, "Yes."

"And?" I press.

"You will not be...how did you put it? 'Going blonde' anytime soon." I almost hurl myself off the horse. Instead, I straighten up and grab his tricep.

"She admitted her feelings for you?"

"How do you know she had feelings for me?"

"That's not important. Answer the question!"

Aragorn pauses before he responds, "I wish I could give her the love she deserves. But I am not the man she needs. There is someone more worthy than I. And Arwen has all of my heart. I could never think of anyone else but Arwen. Éowyn will realize that we are not meant to be."

Somehow, I knew this was how it was gonna end up. "I should push you off the horse for breaking Éowyn's heart." I say.

"I will not blame you if you do but it would cause such a mess." He shrugs.

I can't help but feel terrible for Éowyn. She just had her heart broken and I'm not there to comfort her after Aragorn's rejection. She needs another girl to listen to and share her frustrations with right now. But I know she's a strong woman. She won't let it get to her. I hope.

We are silent as we pass by the tents.

We try to be as quiet as possible but a company of thirty or so people on horseback is sure to be noticed, and we aren't even halfway out of the camp when the Rohirrim we are leaving behind call for us, shouting our names. I flinch when I hear Aedelgar. His voice is softer than all the rest, but I hear him clearly when he calls out "Ellie? What is happening?" More out of confusion than anything.

I almost turn when Aragorn says, "Do not turn around. Believe me, the looks on their faces will only bring you guilt. But we do what we must. It is for the good of all."

I've known Aragorn long enough to know not to question his wisdom. So I just lean my forehead on his back and close my eyes, blocking out the voices that fade away.

I think I may have fallen asleep on the journey, however. When I open my eyes, we are surrounded by high, jagged rocks. Everything is grey and dead. And the air is chilly.

"Nice place." I say, trying to stretch. My limbs feel stiff. It seems all I've done for the past twenty four hours is ride a horse.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" Gimli asks.

"One that is cursed." Legolas answers. "Long ago, the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last King of Gondor, to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor’s need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."

"Who shall call them from the great twilight? The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the north shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead." Elladan says. All eyes are on Aragorn.

Our path ends in front of a single opening, a door carved into the mountain. It gives me the creeps just looking at it.

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away." Gimli whispers.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it." Legolas says, looking up at the door, "The way is shut."

"Such warm welcome." Elrohir mutters as Aragorn unmounts and the rest follow suit.

"My death awaits me beyond this door but I will go nonetheless." Halbarad says.

A breeze blows past that seem to chill even my bones and the horses teeter uncomfortably behind us.

"Ssh, Roheryn, ssh." I say, approaching the horse, who snorts and backs away. The Dúnedain and elves whisper to their horses in Sindarin but none of them seem to be calming down. Eventually, Elladan suggests sending them back to camp.

"We've already tarried out here too long. If the horses will not come, we go on foot." He suggests.

"Won't the Rohirrim worry to find more than thirty horses with no riders stampeding back to them?" I ask.

"Stampeding?" Elrohir repeats, aghast, "They will go back calmly if the situation is explained to them."

The rest agree,so they unload their packs from the horses and give them instructions in Sindarin on where to go. As the horses go back on their own the way they came, Aragorn turns back to the door to the mountain.

"I do not fear death." Aragorn says and practically swaggers in with no hesitation. He soon vanishes into the shadows. Legolas follows closely, and then Halbarad. I stand there with Gimli as he exclaims, "Well, this is a thing unheard of. An Elf will go underground where a Dwarf dare not!"

"Well, we can't chicken out now." I shrug. Hey, if thirty other people could go in there, I sure as hell can. We didn't come all this way to let fear stop us. Besides, underground is a piece of cake compared to Moria. So I follow after Halbarad, and I hear the echo of Gimli's words behind me.

"Oh! Oh, I’d never hear the end of it!"

“Come, now, Master Dwarf. Or we will have to leave you.” Is Elladan’s teasing reply before he, too, enters the caves with his brother.

I turn around to see Gimli stamping his foot to gather his courage before he follows after the last Dúnedan. Aragorn and Halbarad hold up torches. Two little lights in the cramped entranceway of wherever it is Aragorn is leading us.

The air is cold in here, and there is some sort of mist around us. Nobody else comments on it but it sends chills down my back. We practically run through the dark. I feel like we're being watched by unfriendly eyes and I can't stop turning to see if someone is following after us or something.

"Do you feel them?" Legolas whispers to me as he looks over his shoulder.

"Them? Who is 'them'?" I ask, turning around. Okay, now I'm definitely freaking out. It seems the Dúnedain are feeling something, too. They're tense, and too quiet.

"What is it? What do you see?" Gimli asks Legolas, keeping close to us.

"I see shapes of men. And of horses." Legolas says. I turn around again but all I see is the mist.

"Where?" Gimli asks.

"Pale banners like shreds of cloud. Spears rise like winter-thickets through a shroud of mist." Legolas continues.

"The Dead are following. They have been summoned." Elladan says, looking nervously over his shoulder. It seems only Aragorn and Legolas are breezing past the place. They're as calm as though this is simply a leisurely stroll.

"The Dead? Summoned? I knew that." Gimli's pitch rises as he says it, freezing where he is. I keep as close to the group because I have no desire to get lost now.

"Very good. Very good! Legolas!" I hear Gimli shout behind me and I feel Legolas' shoulders shake as he tries to hold in his laughter.

The further we go in, the mist surrounding us seems to thicken, and the colder it gets. There's a path we have to walk where the mist is low, completely hiding the ground. It's so thick that it reaches my waist. And I swear I can see what Legolas now means by pale banners. I hope I'm only imagining that the mist seems to be forming into gnarled hands. Elladan and Elrohir flank me on either side, and they move cautiously. Fear seems to be affecting even the Sons of Elrond. And Aragorn continues to trudge through ahead of the group.

Halbarad is muttering beside me. "...mist...I would rather...oh, damn!"

We both jump and turn when we hear someone blowing loudly. Gimli is trying to blow the mist away from his face, because the mist reaches up to his chest since he is the smallest in our group. He looks ridiculous and is making far too much noise.

"Gimli!" I hiss, "What the fuck, dude?"

"You try getting them near your face, lassie!" He growls.

The mist thins down eventually and there is a collective sigh of relief over this. But just as we're about to relax again, Aragorn hesitates for the first time.

"Do not look down." He whispers. So, of course, me being me, I look down.

Oh God, it's worse than Moria. Our path is made of human bones. I remember my displeasure when my foot went into a hole in someone's skull and I now take baby steps to make sure that doesn't happen again. When the bones recede and the cold, stone ground lies before us again, I breathe a sigh of relief.

And then we're running again, our footsteps and our breathing echoing through the stone walls. Eventually, our path leads us to another doorway and when we walk in, we all slow down.

We are in a grand hall. An entire army could have easily fit in here. So this is where the Mountain-men hid. The path that led us here was cramped and dark, but there is an eery green mist here in this grand hall.

"Who enters my domain?" The voice seems to come from everywhere, chilling and high and full of hatred. And in front of us, the green mist seems to form into the rotting form of a human. I bite back a scream. His flesh seems to be frozen forever in the middle of the worst part of decomposition. His face is barely recognizable and his hands are gnarled and flesh has completely rotted off. He wore what could have been fine armor once, but now his cloak is in tatters.

I freeze in place as his eyes scan our Company.

"One who will have your allegiance." Aragorn's voice is firm and commanding.

"The Dead do not suffer the living to pass." The King of the Dead in front of us hisses.

"You will suffer me." Aragorn says in a low, dangerous voice.

This man has balls of steel. Gimli sways nervously beside me. Beneath my cloak, my hand rests on the hilt of my sword.

The King of the Dead laughs, and as he does so, the mist takes form around us once more until an entire army surrounds our Company. We all stand back to back, and the clang of metal echoes through the grand halls as we all unsheathe our weapons, though I don't know if it will be effective against an army that is already dead.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead. And the Dead keep it. The way is shut." The King of the Dead says, "Now you must die."

Legolas, who had his bow out, releases an arrow at one of the ghosts. It goes through it as if through thin air, which it is. They're made of mist, they're already dead.

"Shit. Shit." I whisper as the Company presses closer together.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath." Aragorn commands.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" The King of the Dead charges, unsheathing his blade. Aragorn lifts a sword I have never seen him use before and blocks the King's blow, and grabs the King's throat.

"That line was broken!" The King gasps.

"It has been remade." Aragorn releases the King, and pushes him away. He turns around to at address the army surrounding us.

"Fight for us, and regain your honor." He steps forward, walking calmly in front of the army. "What say you?"

The Dead look at each other with uncertainty, and then to their King who simply glares at Aragorn. All of them are silent.

"What say you?" Aragorn repeats, more forcefully this time.

"You waste your time, Aragorn!" Gimli growls, raising his axe. "They had no honor in life, they have none now in death."

But Aragorn was not about to take 'no' for an answer when that would mean giving up on protecting Minas Tirith. We broke away from the army for a reason, we are not about to leave empty-handed.

"I am Isildur’s heir. Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled!" Aragorn says.

Still, only silence greets his words.

"I'll take that as a no?" I mutter, glaring at the nearest ghost.

Aragorn's eyes flash in annoyance, and I see the proud face of a King as his voice fills the halls, "What say you?! You have my word! Fight, and I will release you from this living death! What say you?!"

Even before he says it, the mist seems to dissipate. The army surrounding as disappears.

"Stand, you traitors!" Gimli yells.

As the last of the mist disappears, we have no time to react to the Dead's reaction before the ground starts to shake. We sheath our weapons again, and look around us.

"I think we should run..." Elladan says. Just as he says it, the walls burst out with skulls, thousands upon thousands of human bones rain down on us. I cry out and raise my arms over my head to protect myself.

"Run!" Aragorn shouts. He grabs the nearest Dúnedan and pulls him towards another doorway. We run after them, and I hear the Dúnedan calling out to each other to be careful and to keep up. We're practically getting buried alive here, and we climb through the bones that assault us. We inch closer and closer to the doorway, and we continue to run through a tunnel of some sort while the skulls continue to burst forth.

Eventually, we see the light at the end, and we exit into the side of the mountain, gasping for breath, the way behind us sealing with bones and fallen rocks. Halbarad does a quick head count and finds everyone still there.

I gasp for breath, brushing back my hair from my face with my hand as I take in the surroundings. We are overlooking the Andúin, where black ships sail down, leaving behind them the destruction of villages burning to the ground.

Aragorn falls to his knees. There's nothing else we can do but watch in horror, and my gut sinks. So, that's it. All of this for nothing? I can't imagine what this must be like for Aragorn. I take a step forward to try and comfort him before his back straightens and he turns in the direction of the sealed doorway.

From it, the King of the Dead emerges. Everyone is back on their feet as the King of the Dead stops in front of Aragorn, and with two words, he brings hope for all of us.

"We fight."

Chapter Text

"You are insane."

"This cannot be any more daring than anything else we've done before."

"It’s like you want to find out if we truly have nine lives. I’d be lucky to get a third but I doubt I’m that blessed."

"We will utilize the army. We will not be alone. But we must give them the chance to surrender."

"You offer them kindness they do not deserve. Did they give the people of the villages they burnt down a chance to escape?"

"Meril, please. Do you not trust me?"

He had to pull that card at me. I sigh in defeat.

"I trust you. I don't trust them not to shoot us without even giving us a chance to talk."

"Then stay here if you are afraid."

I give a scoff of indignation. After everything else, did he actually think I’d be afraid? Pirates are about as frightening compared to the Army of the Dead as a legion of puppies. Aragorn smirks. He knows he won. He always wins our arguments. I don’t know why I even bother.

"I'm just trying to be the voice of reason here but fine. I’m telling Arwen this is all your idea if we even come out of this alive."

Aragorn breathes out a laugh, and it’s good to see him not so serious. I happen to remember him teasing me, and lately he hasn’t had much chance to smile. He turns to the Grey Company and tells the Dúnedain his plan. He wants the four of us--him, Legolas, Gimli and I--to go down to the shores of Andúin to face the Corsairs of Umbar. They were Men, and Aragorn thought they would reason like Men. The rest of the Dúnedain will be hiding where they will get a good view of the events and if the Corsairs refuse to cooperate, the Army of the Dead will come forward and force them off their boats.

It's a good plan, except it would leave us vulnerable. Too many things could go wrong. The Army of the Dead may not come in time. The Corsairs might not even want to speak to us before they barrage us with arrows. Flaming arrows, at that. But Aragorn is right. We’ve taken worse risks than this. We faced down a Balrog, for God’s sake. Admittedly, Gandalf did most of the work but we were there for moral support.

“Hey, if they find a pretty girl with you, they might hesitate.” Halbarad mutters.

I pull my sword out of its scabbard and run my finger lightly along its edge. “I’d love to see them try anything.”

“You’re terrifying for someone so small.” Elladan says.

“You are not so tall yourself, Elrondion.” Legolas teases.

“Watch it, Thranduilion. I would hate to send you to your king in pieces.”

“How many years have you used that threat against me?” There’s a hint of laughter in Legolas’ voice.

“Yes, well,” Elladan crosses his arms, “This time I mean it.”

“You said that last time, too.” Elrohir says.

“Whose side are you on?!” Elladan demands.

“Why is the middle child always asked whose side they are on?” Elrohir moans.

“You are hardly a child.” Gimli says.

“Enough. I am sure you can all test your wits against each other later. For now, the plan must fall through.” Aragorn says, “We cannot delay any longer. Elladan, Elrohir, stay hidden and wait for the Undead Army to charge before revealing your locations. With luck, we would not even need to waste arrows.”

I give the Grey Company a small salute before following Aragorn as he finds his footing. The trek down the mountain is not so bad. But as we go lower, we realize there’s less and less places to go for cover. And we stand there in the beach as though merely enjoying the sunset while the black ships come closer and closer. I dig my heels into the ground and put my hands behind my back, beneath my cloak, my hand wrapping around the familiar hilt of a knife. I’ve stopped carrying the bulky pack of knives that Lady Galadriel gave me, but since all the knives she gave me had individual sheaths, I took the liberty of concealing the remaining knives I have left in my possession in several places of my body. At least that way, I always have a back-up if, God forbid, I lose my sword. Aragorn holds Anduríl to be plainly seen, Gimli leans on his axe, Legolas has a firm grip on his bow.

When the ships are near enough to hear us, Aragorn yells, "You may go no further. You will not enter Gondor."

Predictably, the Corsairs laugh at his words. My hand itches to send the dagger hurtling at their leader. Many of the men go to the edge of their boats to watch us.

What appears to be the leader in the ship closest to us shouts back, "Who are you to deny us passage?"

"Your new captains." I drawl. "We'll give you one last chance to surrender now."

"Lookie here. The little girl thinks she can play at being a warrior. Come closer and we'll show you what you're good for." One of the men hollers while the rest whistle. I roll my eyes. Filthy pigs, the lot of them. I wish I could come closer so I can cut their hands off.

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun’s ear." Aragorn whispers, his tone barely concealing his anger. Legolas had already pulled his bow out before Aragorn had even given the command.

"Only past his ear. We need him alive." Aragorn says.

"Unfortunately..." I add.

"Mind your aim." Gimli mutters as Legolas nocks an arrow. I keep my eyes focused on the ships in case they do anything they will regret. Legolas lets go of the arrow. It doesn't even pass the bosun's ear, instead hitting the man next to him right in the chest. I turn to Legolas, mouth open in complete shock.

I have never, not once, seen Legolas miss his target. Especially not when the target is at a distance even I could shoot from, and especially not when the target is perfectly still. Legolas' marksmanship would make it easy to fire a warning shot without hurting someone, because despite how disgusting these men could be, Aragorn still wants to offer them a chance to surrender.

Gimli covers his mouth like a little child caught by his parents, and Legolas shoots him a furious glare. It's easy to see what just happened. Gimli must have nudged Legolas at the very last second before he shot the arrow.

"That’s it. Right. We warned you." Gimli said, all business-like, "Prepare to be boarded."

There was more laughter, and the arrogant captain yells, mockingly, "Boarded? By you and whose army?"

Aragorn inclines his head ever so slightly. That was all the signal we needed. My hold around my dagger tightens.

"This army." Aragorn says.

I feel cold wind from behind us, and the next thing I know, the green mist I've become familiar with when walking the Paths of the Dead return to form the ghostly shapes of the Dead Army. Arrows whiz down from above. The Grey Company are now sending a volley towards the ships.

The four of us on the shore charge at the nearest ship. There's a rope ladder hanging off the side that has been rolled up. Legolas shoots at the strap holding it and it falls. Aragorn and Legolas climb up more efficiently, Legolas not even bothering to use the ladder and just finding footing on the ridges of the boat itself.

I punch the nearest pirate within arm's length. In the midst of the Undead Army and the panic, the pirates left jump overboard, abandoning their ships. The chaos dies down quicker than I imagine it would, at least in this ship. In the distance, the Army of the Dead continue terrorizing the other ships, and they eerily float on land as they do so.

The Grey Company have stopped firing arrows and are probably on their way down to the shore. The troops of ghosts that had invaded the ship we are on nods at Aragorn, and around them were strewn the dead bodies of the crew. Beyond, the Army seems to be walking on water to attack the other ships. I see the tiny shapes of Men jumping into the water, I hear them screaming in terror.

And as we gain control of the ships, one by one, I turn to Aragorn. "Please tell me you know how to drive this thing." I say. He gives me a pat on the back. I don't know if that's a yes. Legolas comes over to me to check if I have wounds.

"I'm fine." I say, as his hand cups the nape of my neck.

"I am not at all regretful that I killed one of them." He says, anger still in his eyes.

I shrug, "I get that a lot in New York. I'm used to it." I say.

"You've been disrespected so much that you have gotten used to it?" He looks indignant. I smile, reassuringly, and I take his hand to calm him down.

"I'm fine, Legolas." I insist.

Hours later, Aragorn had assigned the Dúnedain in the Grey Company to be the captain of each ship that we had taken. The green mist has once again dissipated, and I'm looking at the railings on the floor that look down on the lower deck. There were people still there, huddled together in fear.

"They used slaves to row their boats. The only reason these men did not jump off the boat in terror was because they were chained to the oars." Elladan said, quietly.

"We can't do this. It would be wrong." I say, my heart squeezing painfully at the thought of them. Halbarad and Elrohir work together to pry open a door that leads below deck.

Aragorn stands at the platform where, no doubt, the old captain used to sit in comfortably while men worked themselves close to death right below him. The very thought of it angers me.

"My brothers, I ask you now to be captains of each ship. Free the slaves. No man is to work on a boat if not out of their free will. We go to rid the world of this evil, so that no other would be enslaved by the forces of Mordor." Aragorn shouts, and his voice seems to be carried by the wind. This is a man who has embraced who he is as a king, a man now inspiring those around him. "We go so that our families will not suffer under the cruel hands of evil men. And so I ask you all here, as free men, strike at each other's chains that you may no longer be bound! Should you wish to leave, we will not stop you and may good fortune be upon you. To those who wish to stay to protect those they love, do it because you choose to, not because you were ordered to."

There was complete and utter silence. And then, one by one, the voices of the free men rose and cheered. Below, the clang of metal striking and falling to the wooden floors sounded like a symphony. The hairs on my arm raise when I look down to see the freed slaves raising their fists, celebrating their freedoms.

"To Minas Tirith! Minas Tirith!" The free men shouted. I turn to Aragorn, filled with emotion. Nothing, nothing felt more right than this. To give freedom to those who deserved it most. And to watch these honorable men, chained to oars, probably forgotten by their cruel captain, rise up and fight in their own way to defend their homes.

This moment right here is why everything is worth it.

"Open the stocks! Tonight, you eat until your bellies are full! Tonight, you sleep when you are tired in comfortable hammocks! The ship is yours now, gentlemen!" More roars of approval greet his words and Halbarad finally gets the door open to reveal the food stored there. The free men happily take the food, and when they rush above deck, they offer us salted or pickled meat and cabbages.

"One for the lovely lady, yes?" One man says, offering a piece of dried meat for me. I thank him and tell him my name.

"You won't be sleeping with us in the quarters, are you? A fine lady such as yourself deserves privacy."

"She will not. Ellie, you take the captain's room. I will sleep in the hammocks with the rest of the crew." Aragorn says. And it says a lot about him. That, despite being king, he does not think he is above sleeping in the same room as the rest of his men.

"Thank you, my lord." The man bows low, "Thank you."

When everyone had settled down and the crew had changed into a fresh set of clothes(thanks to the men who had left their things when they jumped off the ships), and the Dúnedain were all manning ships of their own, things became quieter.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and I are all in one boat. Aragorn is busy plotting the coarse of where to go. For the rest of the day, the crew is integrated to feel more welcome on the ship and to get the rest of the day off to rest and regain their strength. Preparations take place.

Legolas looks restless. He's become awfully quiet and keeps looking off into the horizon. Sometimes, I would catch his eye, and the look on his face makes me worry. He looks torn about something, like his heart had just been split in two.

"Hey," I whisper to Aragorn when he's not talking to anyone. "What's going ln with Legolas? Elves don't get motion sickness on boats, do they?"

His eyes flicker past my shoulder, to where Legolas is leaning against the railings at the stern, gazing out into the open water. I see understanding dawn on Aragorn's features, and then his gaze flickers back to me.

"I cannot tell you, Meril. It would be better if he tells you himself."

My heart sinks, "What do you mean? Now, I'm really worried."

Aragorn sighs and looks at me as if contemplating if it was a good idea to tell me. I give him my most convincing, wide-eyed doe look. He frowns in defeat. Uh oh. This looks like bad news. "You used to have long talks with Arwen, yes? What has she ever told you about Elves and their connection to the Sea? What has she told you of the Undying Lands?"

"She... never mentioned..." My voice trails off, remembering something Arwen had said before. "I know the Undying Lands is where elves go when they no longer wish to stay in Middle-earth. It's where they live the rest of their lives to heal until the end of days. There are ships in the Grey Havens that take elves there."

"Ellie, you must understand, the time of the elves is ending here. Middle-earth was made beautiful by the elves but the Sea-longing is in every single elf's heart. It beckons them to sail to Valinor." Aragorn tells me this hesitantly, and I'm so confused about where this conversation is going and why my simple question now has this explanation.

"For wood-elves like Haldir, who did not heed the call of the Valar to return, they spent their days in forests, far from the sea, but sooner or later, an elf would feel the Sea-longing very deeply. A wood elf who feels it would never be as content as they used to be in their woodland homes." He continues, "For the Sindarin, like most of the Elves in Imladris, and the Noldor like Glorfindel or Lady Galadriel, the Sea-longing has always been a part of them. Wood-elves who have not had any opportunity to be near the Sea would feel it very suddenly."

"And..." I realize now. The sinking feeling in my stomach now feels like a vortex, twisting me inside uncomfortably, "Legolas was raised in a woodland realm. Now, he feels the need to sail. He's never been near a body of water this large before, has he? The river-course we took from Lórien was smaller than this."

"We are near the sea, yes. I hear seagulls even now." He looks so sorry for saying it, but he has nothing to be sorry for. I straighten my back and blink. My eyes have gone blurry. I turn away from Aragorn and drag the heels of my palm to my eyes, annoyed at myself for even shedding tears. I should have been prepared for this.

Aragorn is quiet.

I hear no seagulls.

"Ellie." He says behind me.

"I'm okay. I just... want more pickled cabbage." I lie, my voice thick. I try to keep the hurt from my voice. I knew it. I knew this was going to happen. I knew sooner or later I would hurt myself if I fell for him and here is the proof.

"Y-you get some rest, okay?" I tell him, my back still turned.

"You too, Meril."

I try to walk as calmly as possible, all the way to the captain's cabin. When I close the door, I lean my forehead on it, breathing in and out, trying to collect myself. The tears come quietly. I try to distract myself by disarming myself. My hands move methodically at the strap around my waist that connects the sheath of my sword to my belt. I place my sword on the table that I assume is used for writing letters. There's a seal and wax there that I brush away carelessly. I take out the daggers I hide in each boot, and the ones strapped on my back, and the ones strapped to my thigh. They all clatter, one by one, on the desk. I keep the last dagger that is hanging off the right side of my belt. I can never go anywhere completely unarmed nowadays.

When there is no more room on the desk, I yank my bow from behind me and set it down on the bed, followed by the quiver and the belt strapping it across my chest. The arrows clatter as their positions shift. And I kick my boots off and crawl to the side of the bed that is left empty. I bury myself beneath the blankets.

And I sleep.

I sleep because there is nothing else I can do.

Chapter Text

The nightmares return with a vengeance. I toss and turn in my bed as the images of the orcs that captured me surface back in my memories. I dream about them tying me upside down over a large cauldron of boiling water, or turning me on a spit to roast me alive.

"What about her legs? She doesn't need those."

"Not her arms either."

"Take her heart. I hear human organs taste sweeter than most."

I wake up, seizing the front of my shirt, as my heart races. I try to collect myself and bury my head in the sheets, until I can get myself back on a regular breathing pattern. Of course, now I can't sleep at all, so I'm back to lacing up my boots and fastening my cloak to my shoulder. The ship is quiet. Everything is quiet. I can hear the soft snores from the men sleeping below, but other than the breeze and the creaks of the ship, there is only silence.

When I come to the deck, my eyes go up to the sky. Not a single star could be seen, and I worry. I'm used to seeing the three bright stars that signify my family. I turn, trying to find them, but they are hidden beneath a thick, dark cloud.

"Ellie? Melethenin, what are you doing awake?"

Oh no. No, that is not the voice I need to hear right now. My heart falls apart at how my name tumbles out his lips. Legolas is sitting on the railings, facing the horizon, legs dangling off the boat. I don't move.

"Ellie?" He swings one leg back inside the ship as he looks at me. I'm aware I've gotten very still. A statue would be proud of me. I don't know what to say. Should I pretend I don't know that he has Sea-longing, should I bring it up so we can talk about how our relationship will go? Is there even a relationship to talk about or have I just been assuming all this time?

"I'm fine. I just had another nightmare. Must be the pickled cabbage I ate." I say.

"Do you want company?" He asks. Now, he's walking towards me. I want his company, I crave it. He knows even if he doesn't admit it that a simple touch from him eases so much of my pain. He reaches his hand out for me.

I allow myself this one last indulgence. After this, I am letting go completely. I will abandon any thought of us being together. It would be for the both of us. Whether he goes back to Eryn Galen to return to his duties as a prince, or he goes to depart Middle-earth, I will not be the one holding him back. Just this one last time, I want his hand in mine. Just this one last time, my fingers will lace through his, our hands fitting together perfectly. Just this one last time, I will allow myself to drown in those beautiful blue eyes of his. Just this one last time, I will look up at his face, drink up every inch of him to preserve in my memory, and regret that I never got to touch his lips with mine, and now never will.

"You seem troubled." I say as he leads me to the stern. His hand laces through mine, as it usually does whenever our hands meet and we are alone.

"No more than you do, melethenin." That crooked smile will be the death of me.

"Tell me what's wrong." I say.

"Melethenin." He repeats the word to himself, "Do you know what that means?"

I freeze at the unexpected question, "You said you would tell me."

He laughed, "But I never did, did I? I feel myself in the uncomfortable situation of being afraid."

He turns to me, and takes advantage of our intertwined hands to pull me closer, gently.

"Can I be honest with you?" He asks. He looks so scared, but also resolute. Like he's been holding whatever he has to say back and is determined to say it now. Confused, I nod.

"I know we have only known each other for a short time. But I have to say this now, for I do not know if there will ever be a chance to tell you again. Nothing in our world is certain, but what I feel, I know to be true." He stops to collect his thoughts, and continues, in a softer voice, "Right now, I feel the need to kiss you. To look into your eyes and see nothing but happiness. Right now, I hear the cry of seagulls. I hear the call of the Sea and feel myself drowning in it, getting overwhelmed. But then, there is you. The one thing in this confusing, frightening world that is keeping me grounded. The one person my heart calls for, who holds more power over me than even the Sea-longing." He says.

My jaw slowly drops. I'm not hearing this right now. I must be hallucinating, or dreaming. I squeeze his hand, to make sure he is real and to ensure I am not imagining any of this.

"Legolas," I manage to croak out, "what are you saying?"

He laughs, shyly. He looks down at our intertwined hands, and then he raises my hand and kisses my knuckles, "What I am trying to say, Ellie, is that I love you. I have tried to fight what I felt for you for so long, but I cannot deny it any longer. You have my heart in your hands. You've carried it with you since the day you held that rose in the gardens of Imladris."

My heart leaps. I try to shake my head. This is not what I planned. This is the opposite of what I had set myself on doing. Didn't I just tell myself... Oh, but he has such beautiful eyes, and they look up at me now in earnest, as he spills his feelings out. There is a hopeful smile on his face that makes my heart ache, but it is such a sweet ache.

"My love, Ellie. That is what melethenin means."

"Wait." I gasp out. I feel light-headed. I have to make sure I haven't lost my mind. I have to make sure this is real. "Why--how--wait."

He tugs me forward again, and my hand lands on his hip as both of his hands move to cup my cheeks.

"Tell me you do not feel the same and I will stop. Tell me you do not want me to kiss you."

I should do that. I said I was going to be the one to stop this so neither of us would get hurt. But I can't deny it. I can't keep denying it anymore. I love him. I love him so much, it hurts. I love him so much, that even if he were to leave right now and never return, my heart will still ache only for him. I want only his happiness, and nothing more.

A small voice in my head says, His happiness is in your hands. He said so himself.

I fall apart.

"I can't." I whisper.

That was all he needed. His mouth is on mine. My restraint vanishes. My hand clings to the fabric where it rests on his hip. His hand cups the back of my head to tilt my head up. The kiss is feverish, uncontrollable. It's a kiss long overdue. A kiss both of us have wanted for so long. It's like being underwater for too long and you come up, and his kiss is the air I need to breathe. His other hand wraps around my waist and pulls me closer, and my hand travels up his chest to his neck, his face, that wonderful jaw. My fingers trace the inches of him I thought I would only fantasize touching.

I pull away first, breathless, "But... the Sea-longing... I..."

"The Sea-longing is what made me realize this. I was standing right here when the Sea first called. The first thing I thought of was you, that I could never bear the thought of leaving you. It made me realize that as long as I am here on Middle-earth, I will only be happy when you are with me." He rests his forehead on mine.

"But... I'm mortal, Legolas. I'm nobody. You're a prince, I don't--"

"That changes nothing. If anything, I should have told you sooner. I've had every opportunity to do so but I was afraid of hurting you."

"Of hurting me?" I gasp. He could never hurt me. I've told him this.

"It would be unfair to you if I ask you to be mine for the rest of your life. I have lived for two thousand years, and I will continue to live more. I thought it would be selfish of me to ask that you live the rest of your days tied to me."

"Legolas." God, if this is a dream, let me never wake up from it. He shares my fears, just in a different way. I almost laugh. "I've wanted to kiss you since that night, after the party, in the Meduseld. I pulled away because I didn't think I was worthy of you."

"Worthy of me?" He looks just as surprised as I felt moments ago. His eyes widen in innocence. He has no idea the things I've told myself to deprive myself of his touch.

"Well, you're a prince. And you're immortal. I couldn't... I couldn't ask you to love me for the rest of your life when I will only be but a fraction of it, when I'm not of nobility. I can't hurt you like that when you deserve to be loved for all your days."

He kisses my forehead, "A few years with you is all I would ever need to be happy for a lifetime." He says, "All this time... I could have told you all this time and I was too afraid. If this makes me selfish, so be it. But I never would have forgiven myself for not telling you I love you, just once. Gin melin."

There are butterflies in my stomach. I feel like I could fly. And I never thought I'd ever be allowed to say these words to him, but I do. "I love you, too."

He freezes, and he brings his face closer to mine until our lips are brushing against each other.

"Say it again, melethenin." He whispers. I smile, almost giggling as the butterflies in my stomach dance in happiness.

"I love you, Legolas. Gin melin." I say and this time, it's me pulling him closer. This kiss is slower, more gentle. It seems as if we are the only ones left in this ship, in the whole world, even. We kiss as if we had all the time in the world. And my resolve disintegrates because this is all I want. My hand on his chest, his heart beating quickly beneath my fingertips, his hand at the nape of my neck, his tongue shyly running at my bottom lip. The kiss deepens until we both pull away, breathless and giddy.

And we agree, right there.

I may not be immortal, and my years are short but our love is enough. Our love will be worth it. There's no use dwelling on our fears, there's no use letting our fears keep us from being together. What is important is the present, and what we can do with our time together.

"We take it day by day." I say.

He kisses my lips one last time, "Right here, the two of us. This is what matters. I would rather be here with you, in this moment, for a short time, than never tell you how I feel."

And we stay on that stern, with him standing behind me, his arms around my waist and his chin resting on top of my head.

"You really are so small." He teases. I elbow him.

"Don't push it, pretty boy. You're not that tall."

He laughs, and kisses the top of my head. I don't think the butterflies in my stomach are ever going to go away.

"How long have you been up, anyway? Did you even get any sleep?" I ask.

"Of course I slept. I was surprised to find you up so early." He says.

I furrow my eyebrows and try to look up at him, "What do you mean?" I ask.

"It's almost sunrise."

"But it's still dark..."

Legolas lets me turn around to face him, and there's a frown on his face as well, "That is what worries me."

The rest of the crew wake up not long after. Aragorn is one of the first to come up on deck. He doesn't seem surprised to find me and Legolas awake before everyone else. He's more concerned with how we're both frowning at the sky.

This is a mood dampener.

Listen, a girl just wants to end her perfect night (or in this case, early morning) of declarations of love with a kick-ass romantic view of the sunrise but even that is too much to ask for, apparently. It kind of ruins the mood, actually.

The sun never came up. Or if it did, we never noticed. The thick cloud of smoke that hid the stars seem intent on covering the sun as well.

Aragorn asks us if we saw the sunrise, and we admit that little light pierced through the smoke and that there is little wind.

Aragorn sighs, "Well, we have to get to Minas Tirith before all the fighting is done." He says. He calls for the men, and asks one of the crew for advice on what to do.

They go back to rowing. I hear the men below singing to motivate themselves to row. Dozens of ships follow behind ours.

"Stop smiling so much." Gimli grumbles. He and I are at the helm of the ship, and I'm enjoying the view. Gimli is sitting on the floor with his head between his knees. He is pale. He doesn't like being on a big boat.

"I have not been smiling!" I say, indignantly, and as I say it my eyes flicker to Legolas, who is talking to one of the crew. He glances up and catches my eye, and he smiles mid-sentence. His smile is infectious.

When I look back at Gimli, he's glaring at me.

"Okay, I'm not smiling that much!"

He proceeds to throw up right at my feet.

"Okay, buddy..." I sigh, holding back his hair and helping him to the edge of the rails.

"Ohhh..." He moans, "Are we there yet?"

"We are perhaps two days away."

Gimli groans and throws up again.

Through the journey, I find myself in the strange position of babysitter to our dear dwarven friend. I try to help around the ship, but the crew insists I must rest. I'm surrounded by gentlemen. That these good and noble folks were treated so badly as slaves break my heart, but I admire them for not letting the horrors they have faced darken their hearts. It makes me happy to see them smile, to see them call to each other and laugh with care-free gladness. Seeing them takes the wear out of my bones. We're doing the right thing, and though there will be sacrifices, the smiles on free men's faces as they sing while they work fills me with hope.

Sometimes, I would catch Legolas looking at the horizon, but I don't worry. Because then, he would always turn back to me and smile the same warm smile I fell for.

As we approach the Pelannor Fields on the second day, however, the mood darkens. And behind, we can still feel the chilly air that the Army of the Dead carried with them. A mist followed our ships, and Legolas tells me he sees the same pale banners he had seen in the mountain forming shape.

To get our mind off things, Legolas and Aragorn spar with me, both to help with my training and to distract me.

"We will be doing an upfront battle. We will be the ones charging. Your technique would have to adjust to be on the offensive." Aragorn tells me as he and Legolas stand before me with blunted weapons that were found in the storage deck.

It's a testament to how I've grown as a warrior that I'm only slightly intimidated by the taller elf and man in front of me. Legolas holds his twin knives in his hands.

"The important thing is to move quickly. You don't have to kill the enemy, just incapacitate them enough that they will no longer be able to fight again." Legolas says.

"What do you do when you are outnumbered like so? One of your enemies wear lighter armor than the other." Aragorn motions to Legolas, who silently moves behind me. I get in position. It's a bit harder when the floor moves side to side.

"I go for the enemy with lighter armor, preferably to use him as a shield." I say. I demonstrate by charging at Legolas, but he side-steps me and turns me around, locking my arm behind my back. The tip of Aragorn's sword is at my face in a heartbeat.

"The enemy wearing lighter armor would move quicker and if you misjudge their ability, this may happen. But if you can outstep the enemy wearing heavier armor, then your plan to use them as a shield would work." Aragorn says.

"If you have the opportunity to slice them both down, however, take it." Gimli calls from where he's sitting near the railings of the ship.

"Come, Ellie, let me see how much you've improved." Aragorn tells me. I move obediently and Legolas act as the sparring master. Just like that, we're back to Rivendell, and I put forward every effort to impress Aragorn. Occasionally, he gives out grunts of surprise when I execute a move neither he nor Legolas has taught me, and it looks as if he's concentrating more than he did when we last sparred. Eventually, he does disarm me, but he was too impressed to even gloat.

He picks my fallen practice sword up and gives me a one-armed hug, "Well, well, Meril." He says, proudly, "it seems you have picked up a few tricks along the way as well."

"Never underestimate a New Yorker's skills." I say, teasingly as he retreats to put the practice swords away. I look up at the sky. Though today, the wind has allowed us to put the sails up, a dark grey cloud still loomed overhead. Legolas catches the look of concern on my face, and he touches my shoulder to lower my gaze.

"You must rest before we arrive at the battlefield tomorrow." He says.

"Can you--" I look up at him, and then realize what I was about to say was too embarrassinh and I look away.

"Tell me, melethenin." He says.

"I haven't been able to sleep well at all. How do you stand the quiet?" I ask. "I've been so used to noise and other people and constantly being on the alert that I don't know how to relax anymore. When it's the middle of the night, I grip my dagger beneath my pillow expecting an ambush because it's too quiet."

"Ellie, are your nightmares getting worse?" He looks at me with concern now, his thumb and forefinger beneath my chin, gently lifting my head up so our eyes meet.

"They're... different. I no longer dream of what happened before but I still dream of the orcs." I say, truthfully.

He considers this for a moment, and he leans down and brushes his lips against my forehead.

"Rest. I will stay with you if it will make you more comfortable."

And he did. I curl up in bed that night with my head on his lap while his fingers absent-mindedly brush through my hair and he recites a poem in the Silvan tongue to calm me. It takes my mind off the nightmares, and I'm glad for this moment alone with him before we go to battle on the Pelannor Fields. He's just as worried as I am, I can feel it.

"What is that poem about?" I ask him when he finishes reciting it.

"It is about two elves who fell in love, and the ellon who wrote the poem describes his love the way one would describe the forest of Eryn Galen.
For she is strong and dangerous, but I would never love one as much as I love her.
For she is the home my heart sings for, and her touch is as familiar as the ridges of the tree that sits outside my window.
For she is as steady and as alluring as the enchanted river.
And there is no one like her, no one as dark, no one as beautiful, no one as full of mystery and charm."

I smile when he kisses the top of my head. He always takes the opportunity to kiss me when he could, and I fall for him even more whenever he does. It's like he's trying to make up for all the times we let these opportunities slip.

"When this war ends, I would like to take you to Eryn Galen. I would like you to see the beauty of the forest. It would not be like Lothlórien, where the leaves are golden, but it has its own beauty in a way." He says.

I lift my head from his chest to look in his imploring eyes. "Yes, of course. When the war ends, and when we defeat the Enemy. I would love to see the forest where you grew up." I say.

I think I fall asleep soon after that, but not for long. Legolas shifts, and I am shaken from my slumber as the bells above start ringing.

Legolas and I quickly strap our weapons back on, and run up to the deck where Aragorn and Gimli stand, looking beyond.

Light had finally pierced through the smoke. The same wind that blew against our sails also blow away the dark smoke overhead. But beyond, coming so slowly closer, a candle seems to flicker.

But it is no candle. There are pale banners, and the tower was white and high, surrounded by great walls.

But the wall was destroyed, and the city was burning. And in the distance, I can see the shape of huge creatures, and beyond I hear the faint sound of battle.

"Minas Tirith burns." Gimli whispers, aghast.

Aragorn's knuckles are white as he grips the railings.

"Your orders, my king?" I say, to bring him out of his stillness.

The look on Aragorn's face would have sent a hundred orcs running as his eyes burn with both anger and determination.

"Let us go take back our city." He says.

Chapter Text

There is only quiet and stillness as our ship approaches the dock. You could almost hear the crew's heartbeats. I've tied my hair back in a braid down my back. It's messy, but that won't matter soon.

I don't think my nerves will ever go away before a battle. My bounding heart seems to be reminding my brain how many beats it's taking, and I count my breaths.

"Stay close, Ellie." Gimli tells me as the orcs on the docks snarl at our approaching ship. One lazily throws away a human arm.

"Late as usual, pirate scum!" One of the orcs yell. I take a moment to decide if I should bring out a dagger or my sword. My hand moves to the sheath hidden behind me. I would need to get off the ship quickly, and it would be easier to do that with a smaller weapon. "There's knife work here that needs doing."

"Hey," I nudge Gimli. He quirks an eyebrow at me. " Bet I can take on more orcs than you."

He snorts in his laughter. "I will take that bet."

"Are you leaving me out because you know I will pass your count?" Legolas teases.

I smirk, "Oh, it's on, babe." I say. I'm done feeling sorry for these things. They're beyond hope of redemption, and after seeing the destruction they've caused, I tell myself over and over that I'm killing for a noble reason.

"Come on, you sea-rats! Get off your ship!" Aragorn looks over his shoulder to nod at us. We grip our weapons tighter. Behind us are Elladan and Elrohir, swords ready. And for creatures of beauty, I know their appearance alone would strike fear in our enemies. Upon their brows are circlets of silver, with gems in the middle.

A chilly breeze blows past, the signal of the Army of the Dead. They are ready, and so are the rest of the Dúnedain waiting for Aragorn's command. All we would need is a signal from Aragorn, and the Dead would tell the rest of the Dúnedain manning ships of their own.

Aragorn jumps out first. He makes it look easier than it is. I do not have legs as long as he does. Gimli and I hurdle off the railings and we revel at the look of complete shock on the orcs faces. Behind us, still on the ship, I hear the twins pulling back their bowstrings. Aragorn raises Anduríl, and Legolas and I catch each other's eyes, smirking at the look on the orcs' faces as they slowly back away. Behind me, I catch a glimpse at a standard that Halbarad unfurls. The details are exquisite, and the White Tree shines in the middle, with seven stars surrounding it, set with gems and made with mithril and gold. It catches the light of a ray of sunlight that has penetrated the dark grey clouds over the Fields.

"There's plenty for the three of us." Gimli says, shifting his axe in his hands, "May the best dwarf win."

"I bet the last man standing would be a woman, dear dwarf." I say, and throw my dagger at the head of the nearest orc. We charge.

My sword is out of its scabbard before the orc has even fallen. Aragorn gives out a ferocious battle cry and beside me, Legolas has fired two arrows with one shot. I can hear the orcs yelling to each other to form ranks and bring out their weapons, and behind us, the thud of numerous feet hitting the ground and the shouts of thirty other Dúnedain and freed men rise in the air. And then the chilly wind that accompanies the Army of the Dead blow past until the ghostly forms of an undead army practically sweeps through the field.

I manage to retrieve the dagger I had thrown, and I duck beneath an incoming orc's sword before turning to it and slicing its neck. Halbarad has the standard in his hands.

"Take a horse!" Elladan shouts to his brother from somewhere to my right. There are several horses running through the fields riderless. I don't want to think about how many Rohirrim were lost.

I turn when a particular horse catches my attention. He lies on the ground in a pool of blood, his legs twitching.

Or rather the stump where his legs used to be.

"No." I whisper. I run to him. I know that brown mane, I've memorized its exact color and texture. I've run my hands through its mane several times to know how it feels beneath my fingers. I recognize the white spots on his hind quarters and the white patch over his eye. I know how strong those legs are, those poor, poor legs.

I'm furious, and I let out my frustration by kicking the nearest orc right between its legs. It drops its weapons by reflex. I have no idea if they have the same anatomy as men, but judging from its pig-like squeal, I'm guessing it's similar enough in at least one area. I punch it in the face and hear the satisfying crack of its nose breaking, making it stumble farther away from its weapon until it is out of reach.

Before the orc can recover, I grab him by the throat and rest the tip of my sword on its stomach. I push in just enough to make it bleed but not enough to kill it.

"Who killed my horse?" I whisper, as calmly as I can.

And of course, because an orc is an orc, all it does is laugh that shrill laugh that makes the hair on my arms stand up. It answers my question by spitting blood on my face.

"Fuck!" I gasp, running it through with my sword and pulling away quickly to wipe the foul-smelling, thick, dark blood off my cheek. Ugh! Okay, no more interrogations, then! Fuck it, I'm going ham on them.

I dispatch five more orcs as I run towards Déorwine's corpse. I don't have time to grieve. I wish he didn't have to suffer, but seeing the amount of blood, the state of his remains, his eyes still open and rolled back in fear or pain... I don't want to think too much of it. I feel sick.

Three other horses speed past me, and two of the riders shoot arrows on horseback--Elladan and Elrohir and between them, waving the standard of gems and mithril, is Halbarad.

Two other Dúnedain on horseback gallop forward, and they all form a protective circle around Halbarad. The role of standard bearer is one of great honor. So long as that is raised high and proud, the men on our side will have morale, they will have hope, and our enemies would be afraid.

The fight takes us closer and closer to the gates of Minas Tirith. I barely have time to admire how grand the City is, because I'm too busy not getting killed. And too many things are happening at once for me to focus on anything else but killing my latest opponent.

I stay close to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli, though. I keep them within shouting distance. I can hear them yelling their numbers.

"Fifteen! Sixteen!" Legolas shouts as he fires arrow after arrow.

"Seventeen! Eighteen!" Gimli yells as he hacks his enemies tirelessly.

"You're cheating!" I shout.

"Keep up!" They shout back in unison.

Alright, that's how they want to play.

I sheath my sword and take out the daggers I've strapped to my thighs. I throw one at an incoming orc and use the other to stab the one trying to flank me.

"That's eighteen!" I shout.

"Twenty-one!" Gimli counts his latest kill.

"Ellie!" Aragorn shouts. I turn around and see him running towards me, or behind me. I turn and immediately run towards where he is going.

The standard-bearer is in trouble. More than that, his guard is too preoccupied with their own enemies. I hear Aragorn cry out as Halbarad gets pulled off his horse. "Elladan! Elrohir!" He shouts.

I throw my dagger and pray to God it's a killing blow. The dagger embeds itself in an orc's neck but not before it sinks its blade in Halbarad's stomach.

"No! Father!"

Father?

I turn to one of the Dúnedain that was guarding him. Halbarad gasps on the ground and Aragorn is on his knees to check the damage. He looks so distressed, his features a mixture of despair and frustration. Halbarad grabs Aragorn's hand as he tries to check the damage. Blood seeps from his mouth as well as the wound I know is too deep to heal, even for Aragorn.

"I am sorry I could not be with you until the end." Halbarad gasps.

"Halon. My son." He calls. The Dúnedain who called for him is by his side immediately. His hood pushed back, I can now see how remarkably similar he is in looks to Halbarad. God, how many of these men have died and I haven't even had time to know them yet. There is no victory won without loss, that I know. But it is cruel that fate would have a son witness his own father die on the battlefield.

"The standard. Do not let the standard fall. Take care of your sisters. Where is Arahael?" Halbarad tries to look around but Halon, looking like he is fighting back tears, shakes his head.

"I do not know. He was separated from the guard when he was attacked by three orcs at once." Halon says.

"Is he... Is he alright?" Halbarad's voice is weak now.

Halon looks up for a brief second, his eyes surveying the battlefield expertly. "He must be." He says.

"Rest easy now, mellon. It will be over soon." Aragorn says soothingly.

"I'll watch your back." I say, getting up to let them have their final moments in private. Halon takes the standard from Halbarad's hand, and I turn back and unsheath my sword. The twins have mainly kept the orcs at bay. I'm amazed at their ability to work together. The two flow together seamlessly, guarding the other's blind spots and they strike out with both precision and strength.

I charge forward and dispatch any orc that dares to come forward. I only stop when I hear a horn blast behind me. Halon has taken Halbarad's place as standard bearer. And I see the remaining Dúnedain who are close enough to hear the horn come forward to form a protective circle around it, some on horseback, some on foot. I notice that they, too, protect Halbarad's corpse. There is no mercy on the battlefield. I've stepped on enough orc bodies to know that if he is left undefended, his face would be beyond recognition if we come looking for him and Halbarad deserves more than that.

I see Halon looking around. There are ten Dúnedain around him, but it seems none of them are his brother. The fighting leads us closer and closer to the Gate of Minas Tirith. We are getting closer and closer to see just how severely the city was affected and ruined.

The creatures I saw from the ship now stomp through the fields ferociously.

Elephants. But I've never seen elephants this huge before. They were much bigger, and are closer to height as I imagined a dinosaur would be. There are chains of steel and blades on their tusks. A single tusk alone could run through five horses at once.

Ahead of us is also the corpse of a large, winged creature.

"Is that a dragon?" I gasp.

"No. Dragons are larger than that. It is one of the Nazgûl's fell beasts. Something or someone powerful cut its head off." Elrohir answers.

I don't know what I should be more perplexed by, the fact that there are dragons, that they're larger than this monster, or that someone was brave and powerful enough to cut this beast's head off.

"Legolas!" Aragorn shouts. I turn to see the love of my life nod and fucking charge at one of the elephants.

Him. Alone. Elrohir releases a breath of laughter, "The little prince does love to show off. Hey! Elladan!"

Elladan turns just as he finishes cutting down an orc. He, too, seems amused by what he sees. As if one elf single-handedly taking on an elephant/dinosaur hybrid was no big deal. Me, half my attention is focused on quickly dispatching the orcs around me though they are getting fewer and fewer as the Army of the Dead sweeps around us.

"I'm about to have a heart attack." I gasp, aghast, as Legolas swings from a rope or a part of the strap holding whatever it was that was on top of the elephant from one leg to another. He scurries up the creature's body and beside me, Gimli is muttering under his breath about how annoying elves are.

Legolas stands on the creature's head, and shoots two well-aimed arrows. The creature lets out a pained roar and falls, and Legolas slides down its trunk and hops back on the ground, with a tilt of his head and the barest trace of a victorious smirk.

I really shouldn't be thinking about how attractive he is right now.

"That still only counts as one!" Gimli says.

"I can't handle either of you." I shake my head and as if he didn't just take down a massive elephant, Legolas aims an arrow past me and shoots down an orc attempting to charge from the side.

The Rohirrim have continued to hold, despite the destruction of their army. Their skill amazes me. And while most of the army have lost their horses, they still fight bravely, right beside men in different armor. I assume they are Gondor's army. The fighting continues, and the Grey Company and the Men Aragorn commanded joined the melee right in front of the gates of Minas Tirith. We press ever forward, and I count every kill, every orc or man serving Sauron, and we get closer and closer to victory.

They get a few good kicks and injuries in, too. Once again, I'm amazed by my own luck that I only have bruises and cuts. Those will hurt later, but they don't stop me from fighting. Not when so much relies on our victory. Not when there truly is so much more for me to fight for. I get my hair pulled, I get my arm sliced, I get punched and groped but I fight on. I fight because I must, because there are people dying around me. There are people fighting for good and noble reasons and I refuse to let evil triumph. And it takes hours. It takes breaks in between the fighting, it takes Legolas wrapping bandages around my forearm and my hands from where the hilt of my sword has chafed my skin and left blisters. But we continue to fight, and I think--despite the screams of our men around us--I think we're winning. We're winning, the sun is shining, and we are holding fast in front of the Gate to Minas Tirith. It's a chaotic battle between Rohirrim, Gondorians, orcs and evil men. And my exhaustion is becoming unbearable.

One particularly stubborn orc manages to get me off my feet. I face plant on the ground, and I feel rocks graze my skin and I know my lip is bleeding again. I roll around just in time as I hear his blade sink to the ground. I give him a kick as well and take a dagger hidden in my boot and stab him in the face before he could move. I pant, still lying on the ground, trying to catch my breath and a hand extends in front of me. I look up and see none other than Aedelgar standing before me. I take his hand and he helps me up.

"Your fighting technique has improved. I saw you earlier." He says.

"I'm glas you're alright." I say.

"Same here, Ellie." He answers. And just like that we're back to fighting. And I notice who he is fighting side by side with. Hildraed is sporting an injury, that much I can tell because his movements are slower, and Aedelgar is fighting to guard him. I don't think the injury is grave, but it shows on his face that Hildraed is tired.

"Well, don't you look like a daisy just sprung from the ground." Hildraed says as greeting. I let out a laugh. I'm covered in blood and dirt and God knows what else. I can taste blood as my lip bleeds and my knuckles are raw, my hands bruised, and my hair looks more like a bird's nest than anything. But I am glad both of them are alive.

"That's because I bathe every once in a while, sir. You should try it some time." I say. Hildraed laughs, and regrets it immediately as he groans and grips his side. They've fought off most of the orcs around them.

The battle is ending. The orcs that remain are far and few, easy enough to dispatch, which the Army of the Dead are doing. We're winning, actually winning. I can already feel my bones sagging from hours and hours of battle. Hildraed groans and falls on his knees.

"No, don't you dare!" Aedelgar kneels beside him and supports him.

"I'm fine, my love, I just..." Hildraed's eyes flicker to me as the term of endearment slips from his lips. I beam, though. Aedelgar turns to look at me, and shrugs.

"I think she's known for a while now." Aedelgar says.

Hildraed raises an eyebrow as he sits on the ground and leans back in exhaustion.

"You are more perceptive than I give you credit for."

"The look Aedelgar gives you when you walk out of the room was telling enough because I know I look at Legolas the same way." I say as I approach to check his injury.

"At least I can tell Aedelind I told her so again." Aedelgar says. He holds Hildraed down while I check the damage. He got sliced. The wound isn't deep but it's still bleeding, so it must be fresh.

"Give me your water sac. And tell Aedelind you told her what?" I say to Aedelgar. He gives me his sac immediately and I pour the contents on Hildraed's wound, trying to wash off as much of the debris and blood as I can. He takes it like a champ and other than a gasp of pain, Hildraed stays still.

"Oh. Remember that coin she tossed me, back when we were heading to Helm's Deep?"

"Fifty years later and you still haven't told me what that was about." I say.

"Well, she bet both of you are just really close friends. I told you she had a crush on the elf, so she didn't want to believe that there was something between you. She felt that she would be betraying you if she had even the smallest attraction for someone you cared deeply for as more than a friend." Aedelgar explains. I raise my eyebrow and look up from my ministrations.

"And what did you bet?" I ask.

Aedelgar smirks, "I bet at least one of you had feelings for the other beyond friendship. I bet it was the elf, actually. He looks at you like you are a constellation in the sky."

I try not to blush and immediately change the subject.

"The quicker we clean this up properly, the quicker we can eliminate infection." I say to Hildraed, who is also smirking at me. My cheeks are getting hotter. Aedelgar and I help Hildraed up and he groans in pain as he stands. A Dúnedan recognizes me and approaches. He looks tired but relieved.

"We have secured the city. Minas Tirith is safe once more." He says. I sag in relief.

"Where is Aragorn?" I ask. I would think this victory would be led by King Théoden, but both Aedelgar and Hildraed immediately go silent.

I turn to see the look of grief darken their faces.

I didn't need to hear it.

The King is dead. We go forward in silence. And my heart turns to lead as I think about Éowyn. I hope she...

We freeze as we hear a cry of anguish, and I turn to see Éomer falling to his knees. He bundles someone up in his arms, rocking back and forth as he strokes their long, golden hair.

"No." I whisper.

But there is no denying that fair face, paler than I remember.

"No, no." Éomer's gut-wrenching screams are enough to confirm my fear, though. My eyes take in the battlefield. Mangled, burnt bodies. Body parts strewn all over the ground, men dying and screaming. We have victory, but there is too much death and destruction to cheer for it.

The Dúnedan takes my place of supporting Hildraed as I run to Éomer.

"Éomer. Let me see her." I say, as firmly as I can. He's shaking. He looks at me helplessly.

"She is the only one... She is the only family I have left. I told mother I would protect her. I promised father no harm shall come to her. And now she is gone." He whispers, frantically. I shake my head. I refuse to believe it. I refuse to believe she's gone. Not like this. I check for a pulse. And it's a relief that she has one, though it's faint.

"She's alive." I say.

"She is cold." His voice is full of despair.

"She's alive!" I insist, taking his hand and guiding his fingers to the side of her neck, right beneath her ear. "Do you feel that? She has a pulse. Blood still flows in her veins. We need to take her to a healer."

Éomer is on his feet immediately. There's a man beside Éomer I don't recognize. He dons a heavy plate of silver. His hair is dark and his eyes are grey. He is a man and yet looks more like Elladan and Elrohir in terms of the fairness of his face. His features are more delicate and refined.

"Take her to the Houses of Healing with the others." He has a commanding voice, used to giving orders to those below him. This is a man who has led armies to victory. Some of the men in his command have already laid a sort of stretcher out, and they carry her on it gently and bear her to the Gates. Éomer is by her side immediately, ordering those carrying his sister to be more gentle.

"She'll be alright. You must trust that." The man beside me says. I force my hands to my side, and find him observing me as I do.

"She is a dear friend..." Is all I can say, because I'm afraid for Éowyn.

"You wear the gear of the Dúnedain. You are one of those who came with the ships?" The fair-faced commander says to me.

"Yes, my lord. I am Ellie." I bow again. "Speaking of those who came with the ships, I must go to Aragorn and tell him about..." I motion at the spot where Éomer held Éowyn's cold body in his arms, and my own blood seems to chill. Aragorn would want to know. He cares for Éowyn as much as I do.

"By all means, my lady." He bows, "Prince Imrahil, of Dol Amroth, at your service. Much grief has fallen on us today though we claim victory, but we still have many battles to face. Please, allow me to escort you."

A Prince. I'm not surprised. Like Legolas and Aragorn, Imrahil has the same regal poise and a chin held high. He is someone born and bred to exude authority. Once, I would have shrunk and been intimidated. But I've fought beside princes and kings and lord. I've held a prince in my arms, consider a king my best friend.

We walk through the fields and I try not to look at my surroundings. There's blood and mangled bodies and smoke and hacked up body parts. Around me, I can smell a mixture of blood and urine and feces. The smell of death. Death isn't clean. Death isn't like they show it in the movies. Sometimes, it takes you swiftly, sometimes it takes its time. And when it does come, sometimes it makes you shit and piss your pants. I shudder at the thought of dying in these fields. There would be too many bodies to bring back. Most bodies would be buried in these fields, right here. Their bones will be soaked in their own blood. I feel nauseous, and I think Imrahil knows I am too tired and too disturbed by my surroundings to speak, so we walk in silence.

We find Aragorn, standing with Legolas, Gimli, Elladan and Elrohir. "They're taking the injured to the Houses of Healing." I say as greeting. Aragorn nods, but is still. "Aragorn. Éowyn is one of those injured." He looks at me then, and I see grief flash through his eyes.

"What happened?" He asks.

"I don't know. She must have snuck in with the army..." I say. He sighs and rubs his tired face. I look around us.

The battlefield is quiet. Too quiet. Though the echo of swords clashing and men screaming and orcs snarling are still in my head, there is not even a breeze anymore. All that there is in the Pelannor Fields is the stillness of death.

"The Dead are now at peace." Legolas says. I look up at the city, smoke and destruction not marring how grand it looks. I wonder how long it would take to get to the top of it. It is a city with white walls, pale banners and several levels. I bet it was beautiful before all this destruction.

"At least someone is..." I say. The rest of the living are to face grief and injury. We still have many things to do, and as Imrahil said, many battle battles to face. This victory cost too much and there will be more to come still.

"I will set my tent up in front of the gate." Aragorn announces.

"What, why?" I ask.

"Estel... We've already unfurled the standard. People would know who you are now." Elladan says.

"Taking claim of the throne now would only bring about debate. I will not cause strife unless it is to our enemies in Mordor. No. The time has not come for me to be king quite yet." Aragorn says.

"I would not have you in a tent outside the walls of your own city like a beggar, my lord." Imrahil says.

"Not a beggar, but a Captain of the Dúnedain, who is not used to the stone houses of a grand city." Aragorn says.

"If you're camping down here, then so am I." I say, immediately.

Aragorn smiles, "I would expect no less loyalty. But you do not need to, Ellie. You must rest while you can."

"Whenever we're separated, something bad happens. I'm not leaving your side if I don't have to." I say.

"I will have my men set up tents for you and those under your command, then." Imrahil says. "If there is anything else my lord needs."

He bows and leaves our little group to find his men. When he is gone, the rest of us turn to each other. Legolas is in front of me immediately, taking my bruised hands and observing my raw knuckles. His hands go to my hair, half of the strands have fought free of its braid. I'm the one sporting the most injuries among us. Elladan and Elrohir, while dirty and covered in blood, are unharmed. Gimli has that one cut across his cheek, but other than that, he seems fine. Aragorn and Legolas are unscathed except for bruises themselves.

"How do you feel?" He asks.

"I'm so hungry." I mutter. "And tired. But I got forty-six today." I say.

"Forty-six, ha!" Gimli chuckles. "Fifty-eight for me."

"Okay, you cheated!" I say.

"If that is what you want to tell yourself to lessen the blow." Gimli teases. We turn to the elf.

"Sixty-one." Legolas says. "It would be higher if you did not ask me to count the mûmakil as only one."

"Mûmakil?" I raise an eyebrow.

"They call them oliphaunts in the common tongue."

Aha! So those are elephants. Or their gigantic ancestors.

"We can clean and treat your injuries in the camp. Come, Meril." Aragorn says.

"How about food?" Gimli asks. He's asking the right questions.

"I'm sure there is bread and mead still packed. Elladan, Elrohir, do you know if anyone else other than Halbarad...?" Aragorn does not continue what he says but we all understand what he's asking.

"Three others that I know of." Elrohir says.

"We'll know the total tally once we regroup." Elladan adds.

Aragorn looks down, and I feel the weight of all these lives on his shoulders. I don't know how to lift the burden for him. All I can do is offer support by gripping his elbow and squeezing, to remind him I'm here. We're all here for him, ready whenever he needs someone to share the load with.

"Let's find the others. We all need rest." Legolas says.

And side by side, the six of us walk the vast fields of the Pelannor, thankful for the victory, but none of us wanting to relive it.

Chapter Text

I feel restless. Every part of my body aches and every cut stings. Aragorn has a tent set up right by the Gate to the White City, and there are smaller tents set up by the remaining Dúnedain scattered nearby. No one is resting, though. Most are helping the soldiers of Rohan and Gondor to tend to the wounded who are too injured to be carried all the way to the Houses of Healing. And some, still, are looking for those whose bodies had been lost in battle.

I can still hear the clang of metal pounding in my head, the dying screams of men, horses and orcs alike. The defeaning, pained roar of a múmakil. I can still see Déorwine's mangled body, lying in a pool of blood. My poor horse, gifted by Éowyn herself.

And then I think about Éowyn, and all I can do is worry. Legolas finds me sitting on my bedroll inside the tent, knees drawn up, my arms tightly wrapped around my legs and my head on my knees as I try to block out all the noise that I know isn't really there.

"Ellie?" His voice is filled with concern. I didn't even hear him come in. Elves truly are so eerily quiet with their footsteps, and it makes me jump. My hand moves to the hilt of the dagger on my back but I freeze when I see him. My eyes are blurry with tears. He says my name again, surprised this time and sits beside me.

I melt into his arms, where I feel safest. With my head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat drowns out all the other noises in my head.

"Hush now, it is over." He says, kissing the top of my head.

"Pippin. Is he here? Is he safe? And Gandalf? And, God, if Éowyn managed to sneak into the army, Merry probably did as well. Legolas, has anyone found them?" I say, frantically.

His hands stroke my knotted hair. I know there is blood that had caked there but he doesn't mind.

"Not yet. But we will find them. Gandalf is still in the City. I am sure he will come down when he can. Rest, my love."

"I can't." I shake my head, "I can't. I can't sleep here. Every time I try to, all I can hear is screaming and all that I see when I close my eyes is Déorwine's legs and Halbarad getting cut down."

"Sssh." He rubs my back when my tears choke me. "Alright. No sleeping. We talk, then, if that would drown out the noise."

He understands. He understands because he's spent so many of his years already dealing with death before this, protecting Eryn Galen from orcs and spiders. He has always been in battle, and he knows that scars never really heal. They're just... there. Festering. Invisible. But they are there.

I ask him about his father's realm. I ask him about what his father is like. I ask him about his siblings. And I let my mind wander to what his home might look like. A fortress built into a mountain, surrounded by a thick forest, with an enchanted river that can put people to sleep. His older brother, Taumathor, is second-in-command to his father's army. His oldest sister, Silarassel, is a diplomat and scholar, Celaireth is the Captain of the Guard, while Legolas leads the squad of the realm's most skilled archers.

He tells me he wants me to meet them one day.

"After the War, you can come with Gimli and me through Fangorn and go directly to Eryn Galen afterwards. My sisters would love you." He says.

I smile, wearily. Something to look forward to after the War. Something to drive me forward. The idea of peace, of meeting his family, of getting to know his sisters and brother. I couldn't be more thankful for him. I've worried about what I would do after this War. I've worried about who will be waiting for me, where I will find my home, what I would do when this is all over. And here, he gives me a chance to lead as normal a life as possible.

"Ellie?" A voice calls from outside the tent. "They told me this was your tent."

My heart soars. "Pippin? Pippin!" Legolas' hold on me loosens and I scramble out my tent and find Pippin standing just outside. He, too, looks like he's been in battle. He has a bruise on his cheek, his hair is messy and his armor is stained with blood, but he's alive. I'm too relieved to get up on my feet. And so, still on my knees, I pull him towards me in a hug, and he sags in my arms, this brave, wonderful hobbit. Words are not needed. We just cling to each other, glad of each other's presence. When I pull away, I ask, "Where's Merry?"

The bright smile on Pippin's face falters. "I was going to ask if you knew where he was."

I'm back on my feet, and Legolas comes out of the tent behind me with more grace than I just had.

"Master Hobbit." Legolas bows low, "Still as hardy as ever."

"Fool-hardy, Merry would probably say." Pippin mutters and I exchange concerned glances with Legolas. Merry did say that, while he watched Pippin ride off with Gandalf. I refuse to let that be the last time they would have seen each other.

"Come on, Pip. We have to find him." I say, urgently.

He nods, determined and optimistic as always. With Legolas' sharp eyesight, we walk through the fields quickly. I try to ignore the blood seeping into the ground. We end up separating, to cover more ground.

But the night falls and I only see the faces of strangers. Strangers with families and friends who would never see them again. Strangers whose families and friends wouldn't even be able to recognize them, given the state of their corpse. But their faces haunt my memories. Some are frozen in their looks of fear. It's grotesque and haunting, to see all these men lying here, while crows circled around their bodies.

I don't know where Pippin or Legolas is. My attention has gone elsewhere. I see a dead horse lying nearby, its stomach cut open. I see men whose bodies have been crushed beneath the feet of a múmak. I smell blood and urine and shit. Death isn't ever as clean as the movies. The history books never write about how soldiers shit themselves seconds before death. They never mention how, in the final moments, men beg for mercy from monsters who will cut their throats. I can almost feel the terror that follows the Army of the Dead. Even weak-willed men ran from them.

It's everywhere. The blood, the smell, the screams. My hands tremble as I freeze there, helpless though I know the battle is over. I see no sign of Merry, and my energy is spent. My throat has been tight the entire time. But I see the face of a Rohirrim, no older than me, crushed beneath his horse with an arrow to his eye. A fly buzzes lazily around the wound.

I end up dry-heaving on my hands and knees at the sight. It's too much. It's too much, I can't bear seeing this anymore. Blood pounds through my ears, and it's like I can hear and feel the ground shake beneath the thundering footsteps of the múmakil. I tell myself it's over. It's over. It's done. The battle is done.

I feel someone's hand on my back and instinctively, my dagger is in my hand and I realize slowly that I'm pointing it at Gandalf.

The dagger falls to the ground and I weep. I weep for all these people who died here. I weep because some will never go back to their homes. There are too many bodies, and some would have to be buried where they died. And it seems such a lonely, horrible fate. To be all alone, with no family to mourn them, here in the field where they faced their doom.

"I'm standing on a graveyard." I mutter as Gandalf picks up my dagger. "Is this going to be my fate someday? To die alone? Forgotten? Buried where I lie?"

"There are things we must face alone. Roads only we can take. But you would not have the fate you have now if someone infinitely more wise and powerful than any of us that walk the earth did not think you could bear it." He says.

"I don't want to die alone. Not again." My greatest fear comes out as a shaky whisper. Gandalf holds out the hilt of the dagger. It is silver steel, etched with flowers and leaves. So beautiful, and yet stained with death. I've used this beautiful thing to take lives. Nothing in this world remains unsullied.

"Only those who walk in darkness and corruption are alone, Helen Grayson." He says, "And you neither walk in darkness nor corruption. Your heart is good. It will not fail you."

I take the dagger slowly and put it back in its scabbard. And I look up at Gandalf, who leans on his staff as if he is simply a tired, old man. He extends his hand to me. I sniff, and take his hand so he can help me up.

"There is yet more pain. You understand that, yes?" He says, his eyes serious. I look down. Sometimes, Gandalf has a really intense, knowing stare. I feel like an open book whose secrets will always be bare to him.

"I do." Is all I can say, because all I can do is accept it.

"But will you fight, anyway?" My gaze meets his piercing blue ones. My heart slows to a steady beat. And I know he's asking me if I can still take it. If I can see all this destruction and still fight. "You are not a coward for saying no, my dear. You have fought with immense bravery."

"Many more fight despite what they've seen. I will not turn back now. I don't matter anymore. But what happens in this war does. If I was sent back here for a reason, I am sure the reason is to fight."

"Or perhaps the reason you were sent back is for you to realize your life does matter. Life is precious. You must not spend yours thinking it is not. You hold the lives of every one of those around you as one would hold a precious gem, Ellie. You must learn not to cast the importance of your own aside as if it was a pebble."

I sniff, but say nothing. I just take everything he said in, and let it all sink.

"A dagger may be stained, but it is still beautiful. It is still good, if the evil life it takes protects the innocent." He says. I'm so shocked by this that I gape at him. Okay, the guy needs to get out of my head. Either he's reading my mind or I'm just that transparent.

I open my mouth to maybe ask if being Gandalf the White means it's easier for him to read me, but he speaks before I do.

"And do not worry about the hobbits." All he can give me is a serene smile. "If there is ever any good news, it is that they live. All of them."

"How do you know for certain?" I ask.

The smile on Gandalf's face grows, "I know it in my heart. There is too much as stake, too many things that would go wrong, if we doubt them now." He says before he turns around and walks back to the direction of Minas Tirith's gates.

"I believe Pippin is taking Merry to the Houses of Healing. Aragorn is already on his way there." He says over his shoulder.

Legolas finds me not long after, and we are led into the City by some guards who have seen Aragorn walking through their streets. I have to remember that there are people still alive. There are still soldiers we can save, who can go back to their families.

Aragorn's sleeves are rolled up and he's already bent over Merry to check the damage. My blood runs cold. Merry's skin is so pale, it's almost blue. His lips are dry but there is blood that has caked at the edge of his mouth.

Pippin sits beside him. "Will Merry be alright?" He asks, shakily. I roll my own sleeves up and wash the blood and dirt off my hands in a bowl of warm water. My hand goes to Merry's forehead.

He's cold.

This feels too much like what happened to Frodo. My throat tightens. "What do you need me to do?" I ask Aragorn. He sighs in frustration, and turns to one of the women in the room.

"Show Lady Ellie your stores of healing herbs. Ellie, you remember what we did to Frodo, to staunch his wounds?"

"Yarrow and athelas, yes." I nod and get up while the plump woman motions for me.

"Lady Ellie? A lady, then? You come from a noble house? Why a woman of your status should be down here, tending to the sick and wounded is beyond me. It is a gruesome sight. You should not even be in the field of battle! Did they rescue you from the enemy?" The woman says to me as she leads me to a room filled with cabinets labelled according to use. Their stocks of herbs and plants are huge. There are plants here that are completely unfamiliar to me. Herbs that perhaps had gone extinct or is no longer deemed useful in the modern age for me to learn about. It stirs a curious part of my brain that wants to stay and learn.

But a greater part of me is frantically going through a large cabinet labelled "healing". There are jars of crushed herbs ready for use here, and my eyes scan the labels as I take what I can. It does not escape me that this cabinet, large as it is, is almost depleted. I hesitate when I realize the woman who guided me here is talking to me.

"What?" Is all I say.

"Were you kidnapped and rescued? Is that why you're with the army?" She asks again. My eyebrows furrow. One would think the bruises and cuts I have right now is a sign of what I did with the army.

"No." I say.

"Oh. Then what were you doing there, my lady, if I may ask?"

"I was fighting. I came with Aragorn. We boarded the Corsair ships, freed the men that were abandoned and came here as fast as we could."

"Fighting?" The woman sounded dumb-founded, almost skeptical. I bristle but yank more jars out of the cabinet.

"Yes. Fighting. With a sword. Occasionally with daggers or a bow and arrow." I say, as patiently as I can manage.

"Oh, but that is ridicu--"

"Where do you store the athelas?" I interrupt loudly. I really am not in the mood to be dealing with this woman right now. There are much more important things I should be focusing on.

"The what?" She sounds almost annoyed now.

I release a long, steadying sigh and go back to where Aragorn is standing next to Faramir.

"Here's the yarrow. And I also brought coneflower and poppy in case there's any pain when they wake up. But I can't find any athelas." I say to him.

"But athelas is what we need most."

"Their supplies are low enough as it is... There's been too much destruction. Their stores are almost spent." I try to keep my voice down so that I don't worry the conscious patients around us.

Éomer is sitting on a stool beside where Éowyn is resting, and he wrings his hands, staring at his sister with concern and near-panic. He doesn't seem to hear us, or if he does, he ignores us. His focus and attention is only on his sister.

I can't help but approach him, "Hey." I say, gently. The only indication he shows that he heard me is the slightest turn of his head in my direction.

"She will get better. She is strong, as strong and noble as you. She won't give in to whatever is afflicting her. She's fought too hard to give up now." I try to comfort him.

"I wanted to protect her. She shouldn't have to be fighting for her life. I was supposed to be her shield." Éomer chokes out, and I can hear the sob he's trying to push down. Even now, he's trying to be strong.

"Be her pillar now. Be her brother. Support her, and believe in her. She can get through this." I insist. It might have been my imagination, but he relaxes, just a tiny bit. But it's enough that he has a bit of hope left in him.

"Ioreth, is there no athelas in your stores?" I hear Legolas ask while he bends over Faramir, with Aragorn beside him. Aragorn hasn't had a single moment of peace for himself. He's constantly moving, constantly fighting, constantly taking care of people. His strength and willpower is remarkable.

"I'm sure we don't, my lord." The woman who accompanied me says. So, that's her name. "Or perhaps we do and I only know it by another name. I shall fetch the herb master, he knows all the old names."

"Kingsfoil. That's what it is most known by now." Legolas insists.

Ioreth waves a hand, "Oh, that." She breathes out, "No, we have none of it. It's a weed. It has no medicinal property, at least none that is significant. Still it smells sweet when bruised, does it not? If sweet is the right word. Interesting name too, kingsfoil. If I were a king, I'd have prettier plants in my garden. But, anyway, sir, we have none at all in hand."

"Oh, my God..." I groan.

"If you love the Lord Faramir at all," Aragorn says, evenly, "run as quick as your tongue and get me some kingsfoil if there is indeed a leaf in the City."

Ioreth set off at once, and I pat Éomer's shoulder as a comforting gesture before standing next to Faramir as well.

"He's nearly spent, but it is not because of the wound." Legolas says, observing the only visible wound on Faramir's body. I feel my throat tighten as my eyes rake his features. His hair is lighter than Boromir's, but I would know that nose and jawline. They are familiar. They are Boromir's nose and jaw as well. Even with his eyes closed, I can tell Faramir is Boromir's brother.

"He's covered in something." I frown, running a finger down his cheek.

"Oil." Gandalf answers, grimly, "His father tried to burn him alive. The fire was already ablaze when we reached them. Pippin managed to rescue Faramir."

The poor man. Darkness truly has come upon us if that is what the Steward of Gondor would do to his own son. His only living son. Boromir would be furious to know this is how his younger brother had to endure all that.

"And where is his father? I'd expect the man would at least want to see if his son still lives?" Legolas' own voice is icy.

"He ran off the pyre and jumped off the highest level of the Citadel."

Silence greets those words. My arms feel heavy, and I can already feel the sting of the scrapes and wounds on my face and hands. My head spins, whether it is due to fatigue or hunger, I can no longer tell. Everything about this situation is draining me.

Ioreth comes back empty-handed, but still continuously running her mouth. "I'm afraid we have none of the kingsfoil, my lords. At least, no fresh leaves. There are some of those older folks using infusions of the weed, however, somewhere in the city, I am sure."

"Then in the name of your king, get them!" I don't have to look at Gandalf to know he's rolling his eyes.

As we wait for whoever would bring the athelas, we tend to the wounded as best as we can. It's even a more gruesome sight than before. The Easterlings and the mumakil were merciless. Some soldiers would never walk again, some would have to lose their hands due to infection, some are still unconscious from their injuries, though I see there is more hope of recovery for these people than those who fought in Rohan. Gondor has a lot of skilled healers, and herbs that I have never heard of. Those who were injured are in capable hands.

A soldier walks in a few minutes later with six leaves of athelas in hand. "These are at least two weeks old, however, sir." He says to Aragorn, out of breath and sweating.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief. Aragorn places a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezes, "The worst is over now, good man." He says. He tells me to get him a bowl of hot water, and I pour some out for him from a jar. The moment he places the leaf in the bowl, a freshness seems to float in the room. Like all the heaviness in the place just lifted away. I breathe in the sweet smell of the athelas. I remember Aragorn did a similar thing steeping athelas in hot water, after we got out of the Mines of Moria. The weed works wonders.

Aragorn ministers first over Faramir, who, he says, needs the most attention. All it took was Aragorn's hand on his forehead and the steam from the bowl with the athelas, and his eyes flutter open.

"My king called for me?" And my heart crashes. His voice is softer than Boromir's, more gentle. But his eyes are the exact same shape, the exact same color.

"Rest now. You have been through a lot. But you have done well." Aragorn says to him.

"I can.. " Faramir says, attempting to get up. Legolas pushes him back down on the bed.

"Your king tells you to rest, man.You have served him well protecting the city." Legolas says.

"How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?" I ask. Faramir takes us all in. Aragorn beside him, Legolas on his other side, me standing beside Legolas and Gandalf beside Aragorn.

"I was so cold. So cold and tired. But then I heard your voice telling me to come back." Faramir says to Aragorn.

"And so you did." Gandalf says.

"I am not in much pain, however. Thank you for your concern." Faramir turns to me and smiles.

"Then, you have earned your rest. Perhaps also eat, and be ready when I return."

"I will, for who could stand by when their king has come?" Aragorn says. And I don't wonder why he just knows who Aragorn is, despite this being their first meeting. Because I know this man is loyal to Gondor, just as loyal as Boromir, just as honorable. I don't know what kind of horrible man Denethor is to be able to stomach burning his own son alive, but there is a kindness in Faramir that I see only in him, in someone who has known only coldness and wants only to give off warmth. A good man, and one who would serve Gondor and his king well.

We move next to Éowyn, and I sit beside Éomer so I can squeeze his hand for support. Éowyn is pale and motionless. But she is alive. She has to be. "Alas for she struck a foe that would take the strength of steel to defeat." Gandalf says. "It was once said that no man would ever slay the Witch King. And yet here she is, victorious, though at great cost."

I freeze. Éowyn killed a Nazgûl. Not just a Nazgûl, the "king". Apparently, the unbeatable King, too. I remember him. I remember his grip on my throat in Weathertop. I remember how utterly terrified I was of him, how helpless I felt. My own hand goes to my throat at the memory of his cold hand, gloved in steel, around it. Éowyn killed him.

Éowyn, strong as iron. Quiet and sad Éowyn, who has always been sheltered by her brother and uncle, who had to take care of King Théoden when he slowly deteriorated, but who wanted to fight, to take up arms, to not be treated as some wilting flower. Éowyn, who everyone around her tried to protect, turns out to be the greatest protector of them all.

Éomer stands beside Aragorn as he observes Éowyn. "I can heal her of her physical wounds but I cannot say for certain that I can heal her completely." Aragorn says.

"Her shield arm was the one broken, but that will heal in time. It has already been given care. Yet it is her sword arm that lies motionless. Whatever her malady, it has been afflicting her long before the battle." Aragorn says.

"That's impossible. She has shown to signs of affliction before." Éomer says.

"Not of the body, but of the mind." Gandalf says, "You had horses and strength of arms but she, born in a body of a maid, had a spirit and courage the same as yours. And yet, she was left to care for her uncle the king as he deteriorated and was manipulated. I do not doubt Wormtongue had hissed poison in her ears."

"Her sadness ran deeper than anyone thought." I say, heavily. My hand goes up to brush back Éowyn's hair from her face. "Not even sadness anymore. It's more than that."

Cold. A deep kind of sadness, something no one could have gleamed. Her fear of being caged, wanting to fight. Éowyn never wanted to prove herself. She wanted only to be free, to not waste into a role that the men around her forced her to conform to. She loved King Théoden. I know she cared deeply for him. But now I can see that she must have felt suffocated into being simply the caregiver. She was a shield maiden of Rohan, a woman of strength and nobility. A fighter, just as honorable as her brother.

Éomer looks at his sister, regret slowly dawning on his features. I think he, too, is wondering what Éowyn must have felt, feeling as if the walls were closing in around her, shrinking, as she felt more and more alone as Théoden fell into Saruman's spell.

"I regret leaving her in Dunharrow the way I did." Aragorn says, quietly. His eyes rake Éowyn's soft face. "She had bared her heart, but I could not return her love. And no greater fear was upon my heart than fear for what might befall her. But I see now that she loved you more than she loved me, Éomer. For in me, I think she saw only a shadow and a thought, of hope for glory and great deeds and lands far beyond Rohan."

I bring Aragorn another bowl of water and again, he steeps the athelas in the bowl, and a breeze blows in that brings a freshness into the room. Aragorn holds the bowl by her face, and begins to call her by name and her eyes flutter open, her breathing no longer shallow. I feel Éomer sag beside me and breathe in a sigh of relief. He takes his hand from mine and covers his face with both of his. I could swear I hear a small sob behind those gloved hands. But when he drags his hand down his face, his eyes are shining and he stands beside his sister, taking her hand in his.

"Éomer? They told me you were dead..." Her voice is raspy.

Éomer kneels on the bed beside her. "I am here, sister. It was just a dream. All a dream." He says.

"It is good indeed to see you awake to health and hope, lady Éowyn." Gandalf says.

"To health?" Éowyn is confused, "Yes, I awake and the darkness is no longer consuming me. It no longer whispers but to hope..."

She looks back up at Éomer, "Uncle is dead, is he not?"

Éomer nods, "He is dead."

"Then that was not a dream." She was silent, "I wanted to protect him."

"And you did, Éowyn. You protected your king valiantly." Éomer says.

"Get some rest. You've earned it. I'll get Ioreth to give you food, if you would like any." I say to her.

"Ellie." She looks at me as though just seeing me, "I am glad you're alive. The whispers... the voices in the dark told me horrible things. They said you are already dead."

Whatever dark things hissed in her ears weren't wrong. I have died. But to manipulate that and use it against Éowyn... "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." I say to her, to try and comfort her.

We leave Éowyn and Éomer to have some time for each other and we move now to Merry, where Pippin stands guard over him, putting a damp washcloth on his forehead. Pippin has dark bags under his eyes, but he doesn't seem to mind. His eyes are as sharp as ever when he looks up at us.

"He was screaming." He says as greeting, "Before Aragorn came. He was screaming and moaning and hot with fever. Now, he lies motionless and cold."

Pippin looks up at me, "I'm frightened." He chokes out.

"Be frightened no more. Look, he stirs awake now!" Legolas says, comfortingly, as Aragorn leans down on Merry and does his ministrations. Merry's eyes open just a tiny crack.

"Merry!" Pippin cries, cheerfully, standing beside him.

"I am hungry. Is there any food?" Are Merry's first words. Laughter blooms from us. From Aragorn, from Gandalf, from Legolas, from me.

"I'll get Ioreth to bring you something." I say, and I leave them to give Ioreth instructions on what best to feed them.

"So, you know the King? Know him personally? I tell you, there is a story about the kings of old who were very good healers. Why, the word is already out that the king has come. Can you believe it, m'lady, a king in my time!" Ioreth says as greeting.

I try to smile as best I can. How anyone can be this animated is beyond me. She has energy for days! An image of her running around tending to the sick as fast as Sonic the Hedgehog forms in my head, and that makes the smile a tad more genuine.

"Could you bring some food to Merry and Lady Éowyn? The perian and the injured lady?" I say.

"Of course, of course. Would you care for some food, as well? You look peckish, dear, when was the last time you ate?" My stomach grumbles and she clicks her tongue disapprovingly, "All well and brave that you fought, but you must take care of yourself as well. I will tell the servants to cook up something. I will not have the king and his warriors have an empty stomach under my roof."

I can't help but smile as she leaves to send orders. Perhaps the steam from the athelas helped raise my mood as well. Ioreth isn't all bad once you get past the ceaseless talking.

I come back to Merry, Pippin and Aragorn talking about pipe-weed. Legolas' nose is wrinkled. He hates the smell of pipe-weed. Just the very thought of it disgusts him.

"Master Meriadoc, if you think I passed through the Paths of the Dead and fought through fire and a mass of orcs and múmakil to bring herbs to a soldier who lost his own gear, you would have to remain disappointed." Aragorn is saying.

"I see where Ellie gets her wit from." Legolas says, "It must run in the family."

"I am glad my wit continues to get carried down to my descendants."

"Your jawline, too. And be thankful for it." I say, sitting on the edge of Merry's bed. "What's this about weed?"

"Alas, I no longer have any herb left for my pipe." Merry says. The mood in this part of the Houses of Healing is lifted exponentially. We talk about pipe weed and food as if no ill has befallen us. I find myself learning from the Hobbits. Despite all the evil they have faced, they remain as happy and stout of heart as ever.

And while I know the worst is still to come, it's good to know there is some good news, still. All is not dark.

There is, however, no rest for us. When we get out of the Houses of Healing to get back down to the tents outside the Gate, a crowd had already formed. As Ioreth said, word of Aragorn's arrival had spread, and people came to look upon their king. Some came to beg him to help their sick and wounded. Elladan and Elrohir were there with the Dúnedain and Gimli. Ioreth insisted we all eat first and we do so on a table set up in an antechamber. But afterwards, we go out. And together, we all help those that need us. We go from door to door, and Aragorn, most of all, does all the hard work. And around him, I can hear people talking excitedly. Their king has finally come, and they give him a name, whispered behind hands: Elfstone. The gem that Aragorn had received in Lothlórien is still clasped on his cloak, and the people see it as a symbol of hope.

"I'm immensely proud to be by your side." I tell Aragorn when all work is done and Legolas insists we get some rest because the sun was about to come up.

"I am immensely proud to have you by my side." He tells me, and his arm wraps around my shoulder.

"Oh, no, they will never remember me. I barely did any work. If they would, they'd remember me as your assistant or something."

"Trust me," he says, "they remember you."

We go back to camp and retreat into our tents, and Legolas, like he always does, kisses my forehead and says, "Losto vae. You were wonderful today."

Chapter Text

I wake up early, and just as tired as the night before. I struggle out of the tent to find Gimli sitting by the dying camp fire. It's still dark, just before the sun comes up and everything is bathed in pale light and the breeze from the night is still crisp in the air. "Ellie! Awake before sunrise! How is this possible?"

"Always the tone of surprise." I grumble as I sit on the log beside him, fastening my cloak to my shoulder and snuggling into its warmth. "I'll have you know I've been waking up early for quite a while now."

"Since when?" He asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

I shrug. I don't want to make a big deal out of it. And I already have both Aragorn and Legolas worried. I wouldn't want Gimli to worry as well.

Legolas is concerned, but he respects me enough not to push me. He trusts that I am strong enough while also offering support If I fall apart. He believes in me, the way no one else ever has. And he gives me the space I need to think everything through.

Aragorn, on the other hand, is still ever the protector. I don't blame him for that. I know he'll always feel some sort of responsibility over me, if not because he knows I'm of his blood then because he was the one who found me in those woods outside Bree. There's a reason he still calls me Meril.

But Gimli, I know, worries a lot. He doesn't show it. He pretends that everything slides off him and he hides behind his jests but Gimli does care so deeply for the rest of us. He's the only dwarf among the Fellowship, and the only one who hasn't had an established relationship with anyone else until the Fellowship formed. The hobbits had each other. Aragorn and Boromir and I understood each other best. And Gimli had Legolas. They've formed a friendship so deep, and so unexpected, that I know nothing will ever tarnish it. Despite their differences, Gimli and Legolas have become the best of friends. And in turn, Gimli has formed a strong sense of friendship with us.

I remember him wanting to charge back into Moria to defend his fallen kin and to go back for Gandalf. I remember him fighting fearlessly in Helm's Deep to protect the people of Rohan. How he ran all those miles, keeping up with a Ranger and an elf, in an attempt to rescue Merry, Pippin and I. He cares so deeply for all of us, I know it. And it would make me feel guilty the most for lying to him about the state of my mental health.

Because the truth is, I'm scared. I'm scared these nightmares will never end. I'm scared the screams in my head would break me someday. I'm scared of jumping at the wrong noise and end up hurting someone.

"Lassie, I know I act like a fool sometimes but... I have known loss, as well. I've walked through the graveyard that used to be the proud home of my kin. I'm not as pretty as the elf but I will be here for you if you need someone to talk to." He says. I crack a grin at his last words, and he chuckles.

"For what it's worth, Gimli, I'm sorry." I say.

"...What did you do this time?" His eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What? Nothing! I'm just..." I blink, "I'm sorry. For your loss. For not being there. For not asking how you were. I was so focused on myself and my problems that I didn't take the time to realize how going through Moria must have been a nightmare for you."

This makes him bow his head. "It was." He says, "But Legolas has helped me through it. And I wouldn't have said anything to worry you if you had asked, lassie. You always looked confused before. Like you were lost. I knew you had your own loss to deal with. I would not have wanted to bother you even more."

"You would never have been a bother!" I say.

"And why is that?"

"Because we're friends, Gimli! I would want you to let me know if anything was wrong. I would want to help you ease the pain."

He smiles, "I could say the same for you."

I freeze, but he smiles kindly and pats my hand. "I understand, lassie. I'm not forcing you to talk about anything you do not wish to. Especially not at this hour. What I am telling you that it is fine to take your time to open up. Just know that your friends would never dismiss what you feel." He pushes himself up from the log.

"And Legolas is not so bad when you open up to him. Very understanding and patient, that elf. He doesn't get that from his father, let me assure you. Ah, look! Here he is, now!"

I look to where he's pointing at and I find Legolas, hood over his head, walking briskly towards us in the same green and brown garb he loves to wear. I stand up from the log as well.

"Come! I managed to get away from the twins but they will come after us!" Legolas doesn't even stop as he takes my hand and steers Gimli by the shoulder towards the Gate.

"Wha--" I gasp as he pulls.

"Come, they are gaining on us!" Legolas tugs at me and Gimli to go faster.

"Who?" Gimli says, gruffly, not liking having to run at such an early hour.

"Thranduilion, you come back here!"

The three of us bolt as Elladan's shout reaches our ears. Legolas chuckles lightly.

"Oh, leave him be, Elladan!" Elrohir's sounds exasperated. That is the voice of someone who knows better than to try to pursuade a determined ellon bent on not following instructions to behave.

"What was the about?" Gimli asks.

"Oh, they just wanted me to attend another battle plan meeting. I convinced Elrohir to let me fetch Prince Imrahil before Elladan realized I had no intention of going back."

"'Battle plan meeting', is it?" I echo.

"Aren't you the Captain of your realm's best archers?" Gimli says.

"I am not the Captain of anyone here, gwador. Their way of fighting and strategy is not like the one I am used to. They're better off speaking to Taumathor. When it comes to leading a small, stealthy group, I would be the one Aragorn would consult first. Trust me when I say they will not miss me." Legolas says, cheerfully.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"You're scared of Elladan."

"I am not. I just know not to be within arm's reach of him when he is in a mood." He says, too quickly. I laugh at the look on his face but say nothing else.

Minas Tirith is huge, and the streets are quiet when we enter the first level. The city is sectioned into levels that goes higher and higher, built into the hill. I assume that the higher levels are where we'll find most of the noble houses. Around me is stone and high buildings, narrow passageways, intersections, markets. White banners fly from the roofs of these tall buildings. By the time we reach the third level, the streets are more crowded, and God this feels so much like New York that I keep looking around in wonder, seeing in my head the bright lights of Times Square, and hearing the flurry in these streets make me think of the noisy traffic back in my home. Home. This feels like home.

I've never felt this comfortable in a new place here in Middle-earth like in Minas Tirith. As we walk the streets, my hand is around Legolas' forearm and Gimli looks around him in fascination as well, but with keener and more critical eyes. He strokes his beard as he mutters to us.

"There is some good stone-work here. And some that is not so good. I wager the old stone-work and old buildings are the more superior ones. They are the ones who have withstood, after all. The newer stone crumbles even now. And the streets should be repaired." He says.

"What do you expect? The city just got attacked." I say.

"Yes, your powers of perception are remarkle, Ellie." Gimli says. I stick my tongue out at him. "But in general, the way their streets were paved could be improved upon."

"They need more gardens. It is all stone and dirt. There is nothing green and soft here." Legolas sighs. Then his eyes turn to me in amusement, "Rose gardens. They should have dozens of those in every level of the city."

I nudge him and he laughs.

"You two love-trolls need to separate." Gimli grumbles.

"Trolls, huh?" I say, stepping away from Legolas as I move beside Gimli so he stands between us. Both Legolas and I lean down to wrap our arms around Gimli's shoulders.

"Such a grumpy dwarf." I sigh, dramatically.

Gimli just sighs. I know he's probably thinking 'It's too early for this' and Legolas and I both poke his sides to get a smile out of him.

"You two--ow, Legolas that was my rib!--you two are children." He huffs, though I see him fighting back a laugh.

I walk ahead of them and hold my arms out, "This is the closest I've come to New York. The crowded streets, the tall buildings, the bustle of activity. God, I missed this!" It was not the quiet, isolated Imladris, or the warm, vast lands of Rohan. There were people already milling about, helping each other repair damaged houses and women and children going around doing errands. There were guards already standing attentively in their stations. A reminder that this is the peace we all fight to preserve.

A child runs up to me then and offers me a smooth, white stone.

"Hello, there." I say, kneeling in front of her.

"This was from our house." She says, brightly.

The smile slips off my face.

"Dada is fixing our house now to be stronger." The child continues. "Here. So you can be strong, too."

I take the stone and ruffle her hair. Her mother calls for her and she runs back before I can thank her. The stone is cool in my hand. I slip it into the pocket in my trousers.

"Hmm. If I could send some of my kinsmen here, we could help with the repairs. Once Aragorn takes the throne, I'll call for some of the stonewrights from the mountains to help with repairs. We will make this a city to be proud of." Gimli says when I turn back to him and Legolas. They're both looking around them again, assessing the construction of the city.

"And with my kinsmen, we could make Minas Tirith more beautiful than it has ever been. There is very little here that grows and is glad. When Aragorn comes into his own, the woodland elves will restore beauty here. There will be trees that do not die, flowers that grow in bloom and birds that will sing." Legolas says.

Looking at the pair of them, I smile. They really are so different--elf and dwarf--but they have so many things in common as well. They both appreciate beauty, in their own ways. And watching them has made me realize they are the perfect balance for each other. Who knew that these two would get along as well as they did?

I get distracted by the giggle of a pair of teenage girls who pass us by.

"Mae l'ovannen, sir." One says, shyly to Legolas, whose eyes widen in surprise at being greeted. He looks at me, bewildered, and I bite my bottom lip to prevent myself from laughing out loud. The girls pass by, giggling uncontrollably.

And then I realize they are not the only ones giving us attention. I get weird looks from the women there. I'm vaguely aware that my appearance isn't exactly decent. I'm covered in dirt, smell like sweat and my hair is a tangled mess.

"Rolling in the dirt... Probably one of them from the lower levels. You know how some of the women there get driven to desperation." I hear a woman pass me by with her friend. When I turn to them, they look away with a disgusted glance my way and walk faster.

"Um..." Confused and hurt, I retreat next to Legolas and Gimli, who instinctively stand closer beside me.

"Why don't we go visit the hobbits, yes? Merry and Pippin are probably bored out of their minds in the Houses of Healing." Gimli suggests, loudly.

"Come, melethenin." Legolas has a protective arm around my shoulder as he leads me away from the crowd, towards the gate that leads to the higher levels. The guards stationed here bow at us. I recognize some of them when Aragorn was healing some of the people here. He was right, as he always is, because these guards remember my name. They didn't forget me.

"Lady Ellie. My lords." One bows as we pass by.

More guards bow low, and we realize Prince Imrahil is walking towards us. Legolas is the first to bow among us. "Hail, lord." Legolas greets, brightly.

It's strange to see him, the Prince of the Woodland Realm, being the first to bow to a mortal prince. The prince bows back, and takes my hand and kisses it. "My lords, my lady." He says, acknowledging the three of us.

Prince Imrahil smiles at Legolas. "It has been years beyond count since one of the fair folk has walked among us. I marvel to see you here now, amidst sorrow and war. What brings you here?"

"We are three of the Ten Companions that set out with Mithrandir from Imladris. And we are the three who came with Aragorn with the ships. But for now, we wish to see our companions, who are in your keeping, so we are told." Legolas replies.

"Ah, Merry and Pippin are their names, yes? I could accompany you to them, if you wish." Imrahil says.

"There would be no need. Aragorn wishes for you to join him in his tent to hold council with the other captains and Lord Éomer of Rohan. If you could send a servant to guide us, that would be enough." Legolas says.

Gimli and I exchange looks. I've never realized this before but outside of the Fellowship, and aside from Elladan and Elrohir, no one really knows that Legolas is of royal blood. He never introduces himself as a Prince of the Woodland Realm. Hell, I wouldn't have known he was a King's son if Salabeth hadn't told me all those months ago. He is very private about his upbringing, but it seeps out of him probably not even consciously. The way he holds himself, the way he speaks, hell even just his suggestion to Imrahil--polite but firm--speaks of how he grew up used to giving orders.

Imrahil picks that up as well. He's a smart man. I don't think many things get past him. Either that or he knows that some elves also have a tendency to treat mortals as children. He nods, and sends one of the guards to lead us to the Houses of Healing, then he excuses himself to go to Aragorn's tent.

"That is a fine man and lord. If Gondor has men like him still in the days of its failing, great must their people have been in the days of its glory." Legolas says.

"You didn't introduce yourself as a prince." I say.

"There was no need to." He shrugs. "Here, right now, I am simply an elf of the woods. And you are simply the beautiful woman I'm privileged to stand beside."

"What am I, a dead log?" Gimli injects.

"You are the mighty dwarf who weilds an ax unlike any other warrior that I am proud to call my friend."

Gimli grunts approvingly.

We are led to the Houses of Healing by the guard, and Ioreth is there immediately. "My lords, my lady." She greets, "Why, if you are here for the perian, I shall tell you he is quite well. Very hardy, those young ones. He is recovering quickly, but keep in mind, still recovering. Although, he sure eats like four full-grown men. And the lady Éowyn and lord Faramir are getting better. That Lady Éowyn is very quiet though. Always sad-looking, she is."

Legolas is astounded she could speak so fast in one breath. Gimli looks half-scared. "You'll get used to it." I mutter as Ioreth comes forward and takes my face between her hands. I squeak.

"You're filthy!" She tuts.

"Excuse me?" I gawk.

"This will not do. Not do, at all. Come, come. There should be an apprentice here who would have a dress that could fit you." Ioreth grabs my shoulders and turns me this way and that, glaring at the state of my clothes.

"Where is the perian, good lady?" Without even looking at him, I know Legolas is laughing. I try to wrestle away from Ioreth but she holds me firmly in place.

"He's been moved to his own room. Over there. Morwen! Take these kind boys to see the perian, would you?" Ioreth points at one of the doors that leads to the rooms. The Houses of Healing are surprisingly similar to modern hospitals. There are rooms and even small houses where the sick and wounded could recover and an 'emergency room' of some sort where those that need immediate attention are taken. That was where we were last night, but here we stand in a courtyard that looked out into the many Houses.

"Come, come." Ioreth tugs me away.

"Wait!" I protest.

"We will wait for you here, lassie!" Gimli calls. I turn back to see him and Legolas clutching each other, laughing. I raise my hand and show them a good view of my middle finger. They turn around, shoulders shaking.

Ioreth leads me towards a group of apprentices and places me in their care. Two of them fetch hot water while another leads me to a House with its own bath. The bath itself is made of stone, like a jacuzzi. I admit, it looks nice and inviting. But regardless of how I see it, I'm whisked inside.

I have five women surrounding me to see to my needs. They're very quiet and keep their heads down. I'm too taken aback that I have five people helping me to comment on their demeanor. I don't even need to do anything, they're thorough with their scrubbing and undressing. Afterwards, they bring me a dress in the style worn by Gondorian ladies while they take my battle clothes for washing. I try to tell them I could bathe and dress myself, but this almost terrifies them. Apparently, their boss won't like it if they don't do their job. I frown. Ioreth doesn't seem like the kind of woman who would punish her subordinates, but for their peace and because they know Ioreth best, I allow them their ministrations.

These clothes are much heavier than the ones I'm used to wearing. The clothes here involve layering and long, heavy fabric.The dress beneath is a soft, blue color and the fabric is light, much like the dresses I'm used to wearing in Imladris. But then a much heavier, much stiffer surcoat of a grey color, with long, curtain-like sleeves is worn over it. It's worn like a robe, secured by tying the laces at my side. It feels like I'm wearing ten dresses at once, and the woman who helps me with the dress secures it to my side so tightly to cinch in my waist that I can hardly breathe.

I have to beg for her to loosen it because my ribs are still bruised from all the kicks I've received during the battle.

Lord Jesus, how am I supposed to run in this? Am I not meant to run in this? What if I have to change into battle-gear again? I'm led back to Ioreth and I pull the collar of the dress from my neck. I feel like I'm being choked. Who wears turtlenecks when it's this hot out?

"There. See. Much better for a lady. Now you won't have to look like some wild woman with that hair and those revealing clothes. You really should not be wearing clothes that hug you figure so much. It gives the wrong message." Ioreth said.

"I love the smell of internalized misogyny in the morning." I sigh, already tired.

"What was that?" Ioreth asked.

"Where are my friends?" I ask, innocently. She points me to a doorway that led to a garden outside by the greensward. Legolas, Gimli, Merry and Pippin are all standing by the edge of the wall of the sixth level of Minas Tirith and I stomp towards them, unlacing the surcoat beside me so I can loosen it.

"Thanks for leaving me behind there, pals." I say, in which Legolas and Gimli both giggle.

"You look beautiful." Legolas says.

I squint at him, "Mm-hmm, keep talking." I say.

"Very radiant." Gimli adds.

"As radiant as the sun." Legolas says.

"Alright. Stop overdoing it." I shake my head at both of them and sit beside Merry.

"What's up? How have you been? How'd you sneak into the army? What happened to Denethor?" I ask the hobbits. They laugh.

"One at a time! Let's see... The thing about the army..." Merry starts.

We spend most of the morning catching up with each other. Merry and Pippin recall their vows of service to Rohan and Gondor, and I've never been prouder of them. They no longer need protection. None of us do. We've all grown strong in our own rights, after facing our own battles. And here we all are, once again, sitting side by side, still the same group of friends, although something heavy hangs above us. Merry still gets tired, but he insists that by tomorrow, he'd be able to walk with no problem and hold his sword again. Legolas, Gimli and I recall our own adventures in the Paths of the Dead, though Gimli refuses to talk about it, the memory of it still haunting him. I don't blame him. The half-rotten faces of the ghosts of the Army of the Dead will forever be in my mind. I would never want to go back there, even if we could.

There is a moment of peace and quiet after all the stories, and I stand beside Legolas as he looks out from the wall. Beyond is the Anduin, glittering and wide.

"The gulls..." He whispers, his mouth slightly open as he leans forward ever so slightly. His hand is on the stone, and I place my hand on top of his. He seems to be shaken out of his trance when he turns back to me. "I have never seen them before we came upon Pelargir, and their voices are a cry from the Sea. I find myself no longer finding peace under beech or elm."

"Now, don't say that! There are countless things we need to do, still. You're not getting away that easy, elfling." Gimli says.

"The world will be duller without the elves." Pippin says. "Don't leave yet."

Legolas turns to me with a sad smile, "I will not leave anytime soon, my friends."

"Oh yes, you will, elfling!"

Legolas steps closer to me when the familiar voice of Lord Elrond's son snaps. The twins stomp towards us and Merry and Pippin turn in confusion.

"You are lucky your father and sisters are fond of you." I assume it's Elladan that's pissed.

"You said you were getting Imrahil!" Elrohir says, trailing behind his brother.

"I did." Legolas says, breezily.

"We assumed you would be coming back with him."

"You assumed incorrectly." I'm bewildered that Legolas could sound this cheerful when Elladan is glaring at him as though contemplating fifty different ways to strangle him.

"Stop wasting time and come!" Elladan says.

"Jesus, someone pull the stick out of his ass, please." I grumble when the twins retreat to the courtyard.

"It's alright! It's time for second breakfast, anyway. We will see you three again later." Pippin says, cheerfully as he and Merry stand.

"Say hi to Éowyn for me." I say as farewell and we follow the twins, though this time, we are instead led to the highest level of Minas Tirith, to the Citadel.

"Uhh, the Dúnedain camp is back there." I point southwards.

"Mithrandir was waiting in the Throne Room, anyway. It would be less troublesome this way." Elrohir says. The Citadel is the highest point of Minas Tirith. From here, the view of Gondor and the levels below would have been breath-taking if the land wasn't suffering from the war. There is a great, white tree in the middle, guarded by four sentries, dead and leafless. The White Tree of Gondor. The emblem I see on the banners of the city.

There is a meal waiting for us when we get to the throne room, where the ceiling is high and statues of kings line either side of the walkway towards the throne. Getting from the Houses of Healing to here took enough time for Aragorn to get cleaned up, which is a small mercy. He's been doing so many things that he's forgotten to take care of himself, as always.

"Why," Aragorn sighed, "in the name of the Valar, did you not come back, Legolas?"

"I did not think you needed me."

"Did not...?" Aragorn sighs again, "Of course I need you! You are like a brother to me. What has gotten into you?"

"I am sorry, Estel, truly." This time, a hint of pain is in Legolas' voice. Aragorn stares at him, and as though understanding this is not the time and place to discuss it, he simply motions to the rest of the captains.

We eat hastily, on a table where I assume Denethor ate with Faramir, though there is only one seat at the head of the table and servants had to carry in chairs for us. I practically devour the food laid in front of me. I don't even care what's on my plate, I just eat.

"You eat like Gimli does when he's drunk." Aragorn chuckles.

Gimli grunts in approval.

"I deserve this." I say between mouthfuls.

The men around the table aren't doing any better as well. We're all hungry. Nobody cares about table manners, not even Imrahil. The people on the table who still have any control over how they're eating are Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir, who stare at us as if they are eating with wolves.

"Men..." Elrohir mutters under his breath.

"Elves." Aragorn mutters under his.

"To Dwarves!" Me and Gimli say, loudly, raising our goblets of wine to wash down our food.

"She has a healthy appetite your...sister?" Imrahil turns to Aragorn, eyebrow raised. Well, that question was bound to come up sometime. Everyone always wonders who the hell I am and how I came to be in the company of some very important people, not least of which is the heir to the throne of Gondor.

"My ward. I found her in the wilds, abandoned, so I took care of her." Aragorn says. Imrahil leans back in his chair and looks at me, as if seeing me for the first time, looking at me with both pity and admiration. I tear meat off the chicken leg in my hand, waiting for him to say anything else. Instead, he simply smiles and goes back to eating the food on his plate.

When the table is cleared out, we all get comfortable. Especially Gimli. He takes the seat of the Steward, which was at the bottom of the steps that led up to the throne of the king. He wastes no time in lighting his pipe.

"How's the chair?" I say and he just shrugs.

"It's comfortable enough." He says.

There is a quiet that settles on us immediately. Legolas and Éomer stand beside each other, leaning against one of the white pillars in the hall. I rest my hip on top of the table where we ate, Gandalf stands in front of us, and Aragorn, Imrahil, Elladan and Elrohir are all talking in one corner.

"Gandalf, what's wrong?" I say, because I notice he's unusually quiet. He has his hands behind his back and his eyes are staring at the wall, unfocused.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight." His voice is soft, but I can hear the worry beneath it. Aragorn turns to him, slowly. I don't know how to feel. Should I be worried about Frodo and Sam's safety? Against all odds, they are alive. The Ringbearer is still on his quest to destroy the Ring. Should I be relieved that he's still okay? Is he even okay?

"The darkness is deepening." Gandalf continues.

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it." Aragorn says, though I don't know if he's trying to assure us or himself.

"It’s only a matter of time." Gandalf says, ever the pessimist. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping."

Gimli sucks in a breath from his pipe. Our eyes meet, and he voices out exactly what is on my mind, "Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?"

Gandalf gives him a look I'm sure was meant to be exasperated. "Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom.

"The Ringbearer has managed to escape and evade detection against all odds." Elrohir says.

"But who knows how long that luck will hold? Who knows what horrors he's faced and will face?" Elladan says.

Gandalf turns to Aragorn, "I’ve sent him to his death." He sighs.

I see that familiar fire behind Aragorn's grey eyes. I see him already forming a plan. We haven't fought so hard for so long to just give up now and wait it out, and I know he's thinking this.

"No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

Gimli narrows his eyes at him. "How?" He asks, suspiciously.

We've all had a taste of Aragorn's decision-making, and sometimes it involves having balls of steel that some people just won't be able to keep up with. My gaze turns first to Legolas, and he gives me a nod. Great, all three of us are thinking it.

I then turn to Aragorn, "We're not going to like what you have in mind, will we?" I ask.

Aragorn lets me decide for himself, as he explains what he has in mind. "We draw out Sauron’s armies. Empty his lands."

"And? We challenge him enough that he'd gather all his forces against us but where are we supposed to take them?" I ask.

"Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Aragorn continues, as though ripping off a Band-aid.

Gimli chokes on what he's smoking and coughs out. In hindsight, we should have expected this. Aragorn is nothing if not incredibly brave.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." Éomer says.

"Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron’s Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves." Aragorn says.

Legolas lifts his chin, "A diversion."

"Okay, so..." I say, "We gather our armies, armies who are still tired from the battle we faced in the Pelannor Fields, and march right up to Sauron's evil, impenetrable fortress, and basically tell him to go fuck himself?"

"Don't forget the taunting. We have to call him names or he won't give us the time of day." Gimli mutters.

"We keep him as occupied as possible. The more damage we do, the more distracted he will be." Legolas says.

"And all the more angry he will be." Imrahil adds.

"Certainty of death. Small chance of success." Gimli says in a cheery voice, "What are we waiting for?"

Gandalf alone seems to be the only one having any reservations. Éomer is shaking his head, and he has a disbelieving smile on his face, but he doesn't protest. Imrahil and the twins are as grim-faced as ever. They look mildly disapproving of how Gimli and I seem to be taking the idea of throwing ourselves at Sauron's feet but at this point, how else are we supposed to cope? We've done everything, and we have this one last push.

All the lives that will be lost in front of the Black Gate would be a dagger in my heart, but if it will help Frodo finally destroy that damn Ring and utterly destroy Sauron, our lives and our deaths would mean something. The least we could do is put on a brave face while the Grim Reaper beckoned us to him.

"Sauron will suspect a trap. He will not take the bait." Gandalf says. And I recognize Aragorn's mischievous little smirk.

"Oh, I think he will." He says.

And that was that. With a plan formed, Imrahil, Éomer and the twins go to gather the armies. Legolas, Gimli and I go back to the Houses of Healing to inform Merry and Pippin, and Aragorn and Gandalf stay in the Throne Room, with Aragorn looking like he's about to go into battle himself.

Chapter Text

I'm worried. I always worry but this is excruciating. I know Aragorn is planning to use a palantir. I know what those things do. I've seen what holding it has done to Pippin. Hell, the effect it had on me when I just kicked it is an experience I never want to relive. It feels like something evil is invading your mind. Like whatever is trying to latch on to your thoughts wants to bend them to its will and it will force you to do that. I don't want Aragorn to experience that yet there he is, in the Throne Room, alone.

Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Imrahil, Elladan, Elrohir and I all sit by the courtyard. Well, they're sitting. I'm pacing in front of the doors to the Throne Room, straining to hear what's going on behind the shut doors that Gandalf himself closed.

"Ellie. Sit." Gandalf says, firmly.

"No, thanks." I say, stopping briefly only to glance at the door.

"Do you know the history of the White Tree, Lady Ellie?" Imrahil asks. I shake my head, barely listening.

"Meleth." It's Legolas, and he strides towards me and holds my shoulders to steady me. "Listen to me. He will not break. Not Aragorn. He is the true master of the palantir. Sauron will not be able to harm him."

"I worry."

"You do. But I assure you, he will not be hurt. Come. Sit." He urges. I throw one last glance at the doors before letting Legolas lead me to a bench in front of the White Tree. There were four sentinels guarding over it, surrounding it. The tree is large, its branches thick and twisting. There is not a single leaf on it, but its bark is smooth.

"Pippin saw this. He saw this burning, didn't he?" I ask. Gandalf looks up at it, his mouth tightening. He is silent. I don't need to hear his answer, though. That was all the confirmation I needed.

"Éomer has already begun preparing his men. They have suffered grievous injury, and they mourn the loss of their horses, so his hopes are dim that he will be able to gather even two thousand men." Imrahil is quick to change the subject. "The southern fiefs shall send in reinforcements now that the lands are cleared. Some of the ships that have come from Pelargir that you had rescued would be in Harlond by now."

"We won't be needing large numbers. Just enough to send a challenge that Sauron will not be able to resist." Elladan says.

I pale. "What he meant," Elrohir says, hastily, "is that we need enough men to keep him as occupied as possible without giving off the impression that we're desperate by sending in our entire force."

"With the reinforcements, the City should be well-guarded. We cannot march to war only to return to a ruin, regardless of the outcome of the battle." Legolas says.

"The Gate is ruined, however." Imrahil points out. "Minas Tirith would be harder to defend."

"Some of the best wrights of my people will rebuild it themselves if commanded. Besides, soldiers are more important than gates. No gate will stand if there are no soldiers defending it." Gimli says.

"How many can we gather for our army?" I ask.

"Two thousand soldiers in the south, if we could find them. Three and a half thousand of Imrahil's soldiers. Five hundred Rohirric foot soldiers. Five hundred Riders under Éomer's command, five hundred horses for the knights of Dol Amroth, for the Dúnedain, for the sons of Elrond." Gandalf says.

Seven thousand is such a large number, but it still feels too small if we are to knock down Sauron's own doors. It's still less than the army Saruman had sent to Helm's Deep, and it terrifies me that we would be going with less than ten thousand to Mordor itself.

"Isn't there another Marshal of the Mark? Elfhelm? Would he be commanding an army as well?" I ask.

"He will but he will not march to the Black Gate. Éomer already plans on sending a messenger with his command that Elfhelm's men are to defend against enemies on the West Road, when they come in from Anórien." Elrohir says.

I sigh, rubbing my head, "And we're looking at the best case scenario here, right? You don't think an army of men who have just suffered through a horrific battle will lose hope?"

"You are asking if there are men who will wish to turn back? There will be, I guarantee it." Elladan says.

"How very optimistic." Legolas rolls his eyes.

"You would know about soldiers fleeing when they are needed most, Thranduilion." Elladan fires back.

"Watch your mouth!" Gimli snarls.

Legolas stiffens beside me. He's... he's angry. It's been a long time since I last saw this side of him. And just because of that, though I don't know the weight of Elladan's words or how deeply it affected Legolas, I still shoot a cold glare towards the grey-eyed son of Elrond.

"This is not the time nor place to mention that. Elladan, apologize!" Elrohir snapped.

Elladan's expression softens up, though perhaps it's also the fact that Gimli is holding his pipe as one would hold a sharp dagger.

"I am sorry, Legolas. I did not mean--today has just not been a good day. I should not lash out on you." Elladan says.

Legolas relaxes fractionally. "It's fine." He says.

It's not. I know that tone. He's not fine. But he's willing to let it go because there are people around. I look up at his eyes, and find that they are once again cold.

"Later." He says, simply.

Sometimes, I forget he is thousands of years old and has been through so much. Sometimes, I forget that there are things I still don't know about him. So, I nod in understanding. Now is not the time.

The doors of the Throne Room open and Aragorn walks out towards us. I stand and meet him halfway. He's pale but other than that he seems fine. He seems angry, even. "God, what happened?" I ask, while the others behind me also stand in attention. He sighs, rubs his face with one hand, but says only, "I am alright." Before we join the others.

"We leave in two days." He says simply, loud enough for the others to hear.

Imrahil laughs.

He laughs, and Aragorn and I both turn to him, frowning.

"Two days? This must be the greatest jest in all of Gondor's history. There are men still injured, grievously or otherwise. Seven thousand is not enough to successfully drive back our enemy in his own doorstep. This is barely the strength of Gondor's vanguard in the days of its power to assail the Black Gates. It is like a child challenging a mail-clad soldier with only a daisy for a weapon! Mithrandir, would the Dark Lord rather smile than fear? And with his little finger, crush us like a fl that tries to sting him?" Imrahil says.

Boromir's words from the Council echo back in my head. He had once said that not with ten thousand men could we fulfill this mission. Gondor has faced so much, has fought constantly, and this has conditioned them to prepare always for the worst. I see that now. Boromir and Imrahil both know how truly weak Gondor is at this moment. They have no illusions.

"He will fear and he will try to trap the fly and take the sting, for there are names among us worth a thousand mail-clad knights. He will not smile, Prince Imrahil." Gandalf says, grimly.

Aragorn, too, has no illusions about Gondor's strength, "If it is a jest, it is one made bitterly and made against us. This would be the last move in a great game. And for one side or the other, it would bring the end."

I look down, heart pounding in my chest.

This is it. This is the great move. This is the battle that will determine Middle-earth's fate. In two days, we'll march. In two days, whatever happens, this will all be over. There is grim determination in the faces of those around me.

Minas Tirith is bustling with activity. Men pour out of the Houses of Healing as news spread of what is about to happen. I visit Éowyn in her chambers, but she is asleep. Her eyes flutter open when I walk through her doors.

She sits up in bed and I go towards her and sit beside her. And we hold each other, the only ones who would know each other's pain. "I'm scared." I tell her. I don't want to admit it for fear of being called weak, and for fear that I will be told I should stay here.

"So am I, Ellie." She pulls away from me and her fingers brush back a strand of my hair. "But I know you. You were never one to stand back and wait. So, when you march through those doors, you look those bastards in the eye and you show them they will not frighten you." She says.

"Would you be okay here?" I say. She shakes her head. "No. I am still too weak. I wish I could go. The silence here... It does not do well for me to remain alone with my thoughts. But I will be okay, and I beg for your safe return."

I spend that afternoon with her, as she tells me what happened when we left for the Dimholt Road. She tells of the battle that the Rohirrim faced, of the horrors of the mumakil up close. How she challenged the Witch King himself and killed him. I would have stayed even through the nights just to ease Éowyn's thoughts. She relaxes with a companion, and she tells me herself that me being there makes her feel lighter and keeps her away from her own dark thoughts. But Ioreth insists that both Éowyn and I must rest and sends me away.

My next visit is to Hildraed, and Aedelgar stands watch over him. The wound was poisoned, so as shallow as it must have been, Hildraed would still have to stay behind and recover from his fever. He had survived the worst of his injury, but he still uncontrollably shivers from time to time.

"It appears you will have to fight without me once more." Hildraed says as greeting.

"I'm still keeping your water sac. When we get back, you better be on your feet." I say to him.

He smiles, and I stay briefly to wish him well. I know he would want to spend as much time as possible with Aedelgar, who will be marching with us. It's unfair that they have to be separated once more. My heart aches for both of them, because I know it's hard enough that there are already some apprentices who whisper about the nature of their relationship here. All they want is to hold each other in their arms in peace. But Gondor is not Rohan. Gondor is stiff, and there are too many people in one place, too many eyes judging. And it is bittersweet that while Aedelgar and Hildraed can spend some time with each other, they still have to watch their backs. Not from enemies, but from the eyes of people who cannot mind their own business.

I leave them to give them time with each other. And I find Legolas in the greensward, once again looking out from the walls at the Anduin.

For the next two days of our stay, Legolas and I are inseperable. Whether to train or to eat or to visit Merry in the Houses of Healing, we are together. Because we don't know how long we have. We don't know if we'll be coming back alive.

And in the morning of the march, he brings me my armor and newly-sharpened weapons, like he did back in Rivendell.

"Always keep at least one dagger with you. No matter what happens, leave one dagger in your possession. Somewhere hidden." He says as he helps me strap my weapons on. My daggers are once again hidden in seperate sheaths all over my body. There are only five left of them. Two are strapped to my boots, two more around my thighs, and one, hidden by my cloak, is sheathed at my back. With sword, bow and arrows and daggers secured, I look through my bedroom window, at the soldiers pouring out to the lower levels.

"Protect your right flank." He gives me one last warning. My hand goes to his cheek and to the nape of his neck and I pull him forward and kiss him, softly. To let him know that I know he worries, and that I worry as well. To let him know, despite whatever happens, that I love him. With every beat of my heart, I love him.

"If these are to be our last moments together, know that I love you so much. More than I can ever say." I tell him. He leans his forehead on mine, his thumb under my chin.

"When this is all over, promise me you will come with me to my home, to Eryn Galen." He says.

"When this is all over, I will go with you, wherever you want to go, melethenin."

There it is. The hope to hang on to. The thread of peace that is so fragile, and yet I cling to it, nonetheless. We join the army and take our positions in the vanguard, where Gandalf, Merry and Pippin, Elladan and Elrohir, the Dúnedain, Imrahil and Éomer and his riders will be. Gimli, as always, rides with Legolas.

I sit on a new horse, and find myself missing my stubborn Déorwine. I feel heavy, though perhaps, it may just be the chain mail I have. Beneath the chain mail, I wear the clothes I wore when I last set out from Rivendell, as though the clothes made by Salabeth's hands brings me comfort and hope. I started the Quest in these clothes, and I will finish it--one way or another--in them. Aedelgar beside me, who has been honored with the position of being in the vanguard under Éomer's command, looks behind him and I know he's thinking of Hildraed and his sister. Aragorn's horse rides forward, ahead of the army, in his fine armor, and the jewel set upon a silver circlet upon his brow.

The trumpets blow, the gates open for the army, and we march. We march for days. And everywhere we go, the trumpets blow as Gondor claimed its lands and challenged any that might oppose us. It was by Imrahil's suggestion that Aragorn take up the title of King to further draw the Enemy's gaze our way. We pass by the cruel Morgul Vale, and barren though it may be, the air around it is still foul.

The soldiers are all quiet. We all know we march to our doom. Merry and Pippin, beside me, sit upright but their faces are grim. We all know this could be our last march. There is a sense of fear and dread, and Legolas keeps looking up at the grey skies. Whatever it is, it isn't good. Because I see his frown deepen whenever he does. Something is following us. I'm already worried enough as it is. He doesn't tell me what he sees and perhaps it's for the better. The men in the army already look like they're ready to turn tail and run. There is no need to spread further despair.

Scouts later tell us that a band of orcs and Easterlings are coming to attack, and the men of Rohan are quick to drive them back with no casualties on our side. But even that victory does nothing to lighten the hearts of those around us. We all know it was just a distraction.

Almost a week later, when we reach the harsh lands of the Pass of Cirith Gorgor, the desolation around us leads to some of the men no longer wanting to go further. I catch Elladan's eye when the men expressed they no longer want to go further. He was right, after all. But Aragorn understood. There is only pity in his eyes as he addresses them.

"Go. But save whatever honor is left of you and do not run. There may yet be a task for you. Take your way south-west until you come to Cair Andros, and if that is still held by enemies, then re-take it, if you can and hold it to the last in defence of Gondor and Rohan." He says.

Some of the men, ashamed, harden themselves and vow to march onwards. Those who turn back do so with whatever remaining dignity they have. There are some who glare angrily at them, calling them cowards who abandoned their brothers-in-arms but I do not begrudge anyone. There is too much at stake, and more important things to worry about, than men who would leave us at the Gate itself if not here.

We come ever closer to Mount Doom, to the land of fire, ash and dust as Boromir had described it. The skies here are dark, and black clouds swirl above us. The air is filled with the stench of orcs. The land is harsh, deceitful, and still we press forward until the last time we make camp.

There are now only six thousand left of us, after Aragorn ordered some of the men to defend parts of Gondor, and then after those of the army left. The air is cold. Gimli and I sit on a log as we always have. No one sleeps. Aragorn had recalled all other men into the army. Sending scouts seemed futile now. The Enemy knows we're here, and yet they do not attack. Both sides know what is about to happen.

As the sun rises once more and the camp is abandoned, and we get ourselves back on our horses, we set ourselves towards The Black Gates to make our final stand.

Chapter Text

It's quiet. Aside from the almost rhythmic sound of thousands of steel boots marching on hard ground, the sound of thousands of men counting their breaths, The clop of a thousand horses, and even they seem to feel the tension and the fear in the air.

It stinks, too. Mordor is not like the rest of Middle-earth. The lands are desolate, there are cracks, it's too hot. And there is a thick stench in the air. It smells of death, of fire, and of shit. Nothing but evil things grow here. Nothing but rock, ash and dust. No ray of sunlight could penetrate the thick, black clouds swirling around us.

I haven't had more than four hours of sleep, and that's plenty compared to the Hobbits. They've only had two before we abandoned camp. Some of the men were up all night, including Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas. They sat up talking all night. I heard their voices, and sometimes when I stirred awake, they would sing in fair elven voices until sleep took me again.

But now, everyone is silent. We approach the imposing Black Gates that stand between our army and the horde calling for our blood beyond. We slow down to a halt and I feel Arod move closer. I turn my head a fraction to look at Legolas. There is no trace of fear on his face. Two thousand years of fighting has trained him not to show it. But I see it in the way he holds the reins. I see it when he turns to me and his eyes call out helplessly. And without words, we tell each other to be safe and please, please stay alive. The army halts until there is only a deafening silence. Beyond the Black Gate is the tip of Mt. Doom--thick, black smoke rising from its mouth. And a tower, tall, imposing, menacing. I realize now that Orthanc is a pale imitation of this monstrosity. I know the only thing waiting inside that tower is death.

Aragorn turns to face us and nods. With Pippin riding behind Gandalf, and Merry riding behind Aedelgar, the King's Company approaches the Gate. Aragorn goes first, followed by Gandalf, Prince Imrahil, Éomer and Aedelgar. Elladan and Elrohir are there too, and I ride beside them.

The Gate looks more and more intimidating from here. And I see Pippin turn to me as our small Company stops, with Halbarad's son, Halon, bearing the standard of Arwen. The silver tree and the stars of mithril and gold. The symbol of the kings of Gondor. I don't know what to do to reassure Pippin that it will be alright. I can barely hear anything but my blood pounding through my ribs.

"Where are they?" Pippin whispers. He has every right to ask that. I, too, am wondering why the Army of Mordor hasn't charged at us yet.

Then Aragorn calls, "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth. Let justice be done upon him!"

There is a short pause, and the Gate opens a fraction. From where I am, I almost choke when I see the army waiting beyond. It's massive. I feel the gaze and hatred of thousands and thousands of evil creatures. Our army of seven thousand is almost laughable compared to what's waiting beyond. But my focus is drawn to the solitary horseman that approaches.

It's ugly, like everything else in Mordor. Its helm covers half of its face and extends all the way up like a sort of crown. But its mouth. God, its mouth. The teeth jutted out and were razor sharp and yellow. Around its mouth were wounds as if someone sliced at the area around its mouth to make it seem wider. It is donned in all-black. Even its horse was pure black. The horse beneath me, who is not as fearless as Déorwine was, backs up when the creature approaches. I try to calm it down.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome." The creature says in a harsh, growling voice.

Sauron the Great, huh? I raise an eyebrow at how pretentious it was. Don't see Sauron the Great out here fighting his battle, though I guess that's a good thing. The odds of a victory are against us already. The creature smiles abnormally wide, exposing his rotting gums. I make a face at it and I feel its gaze on me for a split second before it turns back to Aragorn.

"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" It sneers.

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return." Gandalf says.

I don't think they'll take that demand. But hey, I have to commend Gandalf for trying.

The creature's grin returns, "Old Greybeard." It says, mockingly. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

From the folds of its black cloak, it pulls out something white and glimmering. My heart plummets and I freeze. I know that shirt. Mithril. It saved Frodo's life once.

"Frodo." There is anguish in Pippin's whisper and I turn to see his mouth hang open, aghast. The creature holds it up for us to see and my eyes lower because every drop of hope is quickly fading from my body.

The creature throws the mithril shirt at Gandalf, who holds it delicately, as if it was Frodo himself that he was holding.

"Frodo!" Pippin cried out.

"Silence." Gandalf barks, but beneath it is sorrow as well.

"No!" Merry's voice joins in. Aedelgar reaches behind him and shushes him.

"Silence!" Gandalf's voice is stronger.

"The Halfling was dear to thee, I see. Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host." The creature says the words almost lovingly, relishing in our horror. I'm trying to hold my tears back, as grief and rage war inside me. "Who would’ve thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."

That did it. That broke Gandalf. When I turn back to him, he looks no more than an old man grieving. The most human I have ever seen him, and a tear betrays him. I glare at the creature with every ounce of anger in my body.

It turns its sneer from Gandalf to the rest of us, first on Legolas then on Elladan, Elrohir and myself.

"Look what we have here. The sons of Elrond and Thranduil. Your father fled the field of battle once, elf. Twice, even. But he will not be able to flee a third time." The creature spits at Legolas.

"And even now, Imladris's numbers are dwindling. There will no longer be a valley or a family for you to return to. Better for you to die here." He says now to the twins.

All three return only stoic, cold gazes. But their anger is seething. Inevitably, the creature turns to me and grins widely.

"And you brought a treat for my servants, I see. My, my. What a beautiful gift. The army will enjoy her once we are done with the lot of you. We'll kill her last." The creature says to me. Oh, I feel sick. But I don't let my face betray me. I stare it down, though I can't see its eyes.

Aragorn approaches, dangerously closer. Until the creature can no longer ignore him, "And who is this? Isildur’s heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade--"

Aragorn pulls his sword out and slices the creature's head right off its shoulder.

"I guess that concludes negotiations." Gimli says. Aragorn turns his horse so he can face us.

"I do not believe it!" He says, forcefully and just one look at the determination in his face is enough for me to cling to the barest thread of hope. "I will not." He says, more softly this time.

The creature falls to the ground and I see Gimli spit at it before the Gate opens wider and the black horse runs back inside.

Uh-oh.

"Back. Pull back!" Aragorn orders us. I grip my reins and we ride back to the bulk of the army.

"Ellie, give your horse to Haerel. You will stay behind with the hobbits and the archers until it's time for the foot soldiers to charge." Aragorn tells me, and I jump off immediately. I know the cavalry will be charging first and I do not have even an ounce of skill to last when the clash happens. Haerel, a Dúnedan with a scar that ran across one side of his face to the other, helps me down and swings his leg over the horse. Legolas and Gimli slide off Arod as well to accomodate for a Rohirrim rider. Merry, Pippin, Gimli and I all stand side by side.

"On my command, archers will nock their arrows and wait for the signal. Legolas, the archers will be under your command." Aragorn orders.

Legolas nods, taking his own bow out.

"Éomer, you lead the Rohirrim and the cavalry of the left flank. We wait for your signal to charge. Imrahil, you will be to the right."

"Aye!" Éomer nods as he and Imrahil plan the strategy of the cavalry together.

The sound of a distant horn echoes through the field, and the men behind me shift in uncertainty.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" Aragorn shouts, and rides back and forth in front of us, trying to keep the soldiers' focus on him and not the approaching army.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers." Aragorn calls, "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day." My courage builds up at his words. I keep my eyes on him and only him. Here is a true king. Here is a man I would die for. "An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

The cheer of the soldiers behind me and the sound of their swords being pulled out of their scabbard is all that I need. They shout, and Aragorn holds his sword out as it seems to catch a glimmer of the slightest sunlight.

"Archers!" He bellows.

I am one of those who take their bows out. I nock my arrow, ready for the next command. I'm calmer than I expect I'd be. I imagined I'd have been a wreck by now, with less than zero chances of survival. But my friends are here, and somehow that is enough for me. If we go down, we go down together, we go down with a damn hell of a fight, and we go down knowing we fought for good.

"Take aim!" Legolas shouts. We pull our arms back and hold the string.

The enemy's army approaches closer and closer. I trust Legolas to know when to fire. He has led his own troops into battle before. He knows how this is done.

"Steady." He shouts. I count my breaths. I reach four before he shouts again, "Loose!" and I release my arrow.

Arrows sail above us and towards the army. The dying shouts from enemy troops signal that our arrows have found their marks. They are within our range, and we are positioned perfectly for long range attacks. We bring down more and more troops.

The horn of the Rohirrim echo, followed by the horn of Gondor. Horses neigh, but I keep my focus on the arrows I am aiming.

"Hold your lines!" Aragorn commands to the rest of the foot soldiers.

"Loose!"

"Horses!"

Everything is chaotic. The army of Mordor is firing back arrows at us, and I can hear men shouting as they fall. The cavalry charge. I see horses and riders fall to the ground with arrows buried in them.

"Aim for the wargs! Loose!" Elladan and Elrohir are with the archers as well.

"Charge!" Aragorn shouts and the rest of the foot soldiers do so. The archers remain behind, including myself, to watch the soldiers' backs. And there is only bloodshed. Horses clash with wargs, men are run through with spears, and the battle-cry of our men compete with the hungry shrieks of orcs. I don't know at what point the army of Mordor broke through our lines and got within close distance. We hold off pretty well, actually. We have the advantage of being on higher ground, and Aragorn uses the field to his advantage. A Ranger would know how to move on any ground, dangerous though it might be.The superior skill of the Rohirrim and Dol Amroth's cavalry keeps the enemies back, but not for very long.

The fight continues and we aim our arrows more carefully as our army confronts the enemy. I'm suspicious of the numbers, however. We're fighting hard but Mordor's army still looks so small. The fight is over quicker than I expected. The army of Mordor has stopped charging.

I don't believe for a second that the battle is over, but I'm glad for the short rest. I throw my bow to the ground, as the string is now broken and my quiver is empty. The army reforms the ranks.

"They're bait." Legolas says, his eyes focused on the Gates.

"What?" I say, but he sees something with his Elvish eyes that I cannot. And whatever it is, it's not good.

"Elladan. Get Aragorn out! Tell him to pull back now!" Legolas shouts in Sindarin. Elladan takes his horn out and blows. I see Aragorn look up at him, and Legolas shouts. "They have archers--"

He doesn't get to finish what he says, though. One by one, the cavalry falls. And I watch in horror as their ranks break.

Aragorn leads the cavalry's retreat and the foot soldiers run back to our position. Aragorn's horse is shot down beneath him and it is one of the unhorsed Dúnedain who helps him back on his feet, at the cost of his life. The arrows fall mercilessly on them and we watch helplessly as what's left of our army run back to us while arrows shoot their backs.

They were lured within the range of the archers that must be behind the Black Gate. I suspect they're along the walls, out of our range. With the cavalry there, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. No one comes back with a horse.

"How many are left?" Aragorn asks as Imrahil approaches him. They're both covered in blood, both their enemies' and theirs.

"Four thousand, most likely even less. They wiped out the cavalry." Imrahil says.

"Éomer?" Aragorn asks.

"He's fine and with the rest of the Rohirrim. He managed to get to safety, along with Aedelgar. All the horses are dead. We got too close to the Gate and they wanted to cut off our only advantage. Without horses, the only ones left holding the lines would be foot soldiers."

"And we'll have no other choice but to charge. With the horses, we could hold them back. But now, we either charge or we let their army swallow us whole." I say, realizing what has just happened. The cavalry was our defense. They were doing a good job keeping back the enemy's army. But now, with the horses gone, all the rest of our meager three thousand or so troops can do is charge. Charge and hope for the best.

The Gate opens once more and this time, an even larger army marches out. Huge trolls even larger than the one we encountered in Moria are amongst them. And there are men there as well, corrupted men bent to Sauron's will. The men of Umbar and Harad and the rest of the Easterlings. There is fury and greed on their faces.

"They would swallow us all either way. The difference is if we get killed on our terms or theirs." Gandalf says, darkly. He had charged with the foot soldiers, and had ridden Shadowfax until even it was shot down. Whether any of the horses survive only with injury or if they had bled out the same way my poor Déorwine did, no one can tell now. I stand between Legolas and Gimli.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf." Gimli mutters beside me.

"What about fighting side by side with a friend?" Legolas says with a smile, and Gimli looks up at him and nods.

"Aye. I can do that." His voice is thick with emotions. "Be careful, Ellie. Please." He turns to me this time. I clap Gimli's shoulder.

"Always, my dear Gimli. And you as well." I say. He nods, patting the hand I have on his shoulder. I lift my eyes from him to Legolas.

"Gin melin." I tell him. "No matter what happens, know that."

"Melethenin. Stay close to me. You are the stength I draw from." He whispers. And our hands meet, here at what could be the end for us all. Or the end of Sauron. Here, at the tipping point, we stand together.

I pull my sword out of its scabbard. And my eyes go to the heavens. Rory.

I'm doing this for Rory.

His smile, his laughter, the way he says my name, the way he always gets me to give him an extra cookie because he knows just what to say, his pout when he can't understand his homework, his dark hair, his eyes. All the things I will never be able to protect him from, all the firsts I will never see. Not his first girlfriend, or his first heart-break, or his first trophy. Because he loves baseball as much as I used to, back when I was in high school and everything was simple.

And Gramps.

Strong, gentle, wonderful Gramps. Who taught me to never let a man treat me no less than I deserve. Who taught me that while our lives were simple and we could barely afford my tuition, we still are not hopeless. Gramps, who is forgiving and kind but not when his grandchildren are harmed or disrespected. Gramps... who still remembers Grandma. Who had to raise us even when every joint in his body ached and Donavan and I bickered to no end after our parents' deaths.

And Donovan.

A piece of shit but still my brother. My brother who just lost his way. I will never be able to fix things between us anymore. That chance has long passed. But I hope, in this fight, I hope we win. So he can have a chance to fix it with Gramps and Rory. So he can do right by our parents. So he won't have to turn to dangerous means to get by.

With every thunderous step the army approaching us takes, their names echo into my head. The memory of them wrapping around me, giving me courage. For them. This is for them.

This is for the good of everything. Aragorn turns to what is left of the army, and he smiles. He smiles. And it is all I need.

"For Frodo." He says, holding out his sword and leading the charge.

I hear the echo of horns from our side. And it is the hobbits who yell and charge after him first. These hobbits, who have never known battle until now, are the bravest among any of us.

The army takes up the battle-cry, and my voice joins in. And we charge. There is the whiz of arrows from behind me, the archers emptying their quivers. Before us is the squealing orcs and Uruk-Hai, waiting to devour us.

I sidestep away from the swords waiting for us and find my opening. Blood and flesh drench the ground. And I push and stab and slash with the sword Arwen had entrusted to me. I block, I parry, I get punched and grabbed and still I fight. Because there is no turning back now.

Gimli roars as he swings his axe expertly, orcs giving him a wide berth because he wipes away anything that gets in his way. Merry and Pippin's first kills are the same troll. They took down a troll, with rocks and well-aimed slices at the ankles. When the troll fell to its knees, Pippin had buried his short sword in its head.

An orc crashes into me as Elladan kicks it away and I bury my sword in its back and kick it off. I turn and duck away from the mace of an incoming Haradrim, and block his blow with a grunt. I kick him between his legs and slice my sword upwards, from his navel to the side of his neck. When he falls, I block the incoming blow of another to my right. And I know we're all fighting desperately.

But we're losing. There's too many and we're losing.

And it gets worse.

From above, the shrill shriek of a fell beast sends a tremor of fear through the Army of the West.

"Nazgûl." I whisper, eyes widening as the shadow of their beasts fly over us. I've only ever felt this fear once before, on Weathertop, where a Ringwraith almost killed me. I don't blame some of the Men for cowering.

The men scream and lose focus, giving the enemy a chance to attack. Aedelgar is one of those who quiver in fear, and he gets pushed to the ground at his distraction.

I run.

He will not die. Not when his sister and his lover wait for him. He's the only family Aedelind has left. He won't die on my watch. I unsheath one of my last remaining daggers and throw it at the orc who has its axe raised to strike at Aedelgar. As the orc freezes, with my dagger buried in its head, Aedelgar rolls away, towards me and I drag him to his feet.

"Don't die." I almost sound like I'm begging.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He says, gratefully, massaging the back of his neck. The fight goes desperately on. And there are horrors here that I will never wish to revisit again. Orcs doing...horrible things to the dead; cutting off body parts as tokens, eating the bodies, stripping them bare of their armor. There is no dignity for those who have died. The enemy is merciless and they know everything they're doing is affecting morale. Elladan shouts as Elrohir, too far from him, gets sliced at the shoulder.

Legolas is by Elrohir's side in an instant and the two spin and thrust in a deadly dance of sword and knives, killing anything that came close until Elladan finally manages to get to his brother.

"How bad is it?" Elladan says.

"I'm fine." Elrohir growls, shrugging Elladan off as he glares at the orc that injured him.

"Gwador, we need to get this healed." Legolas says.

"Look around you. There's nowhere for us to stop now. We either continue or we die." Elrohir shouts. "Go! I have suffered worse injuries."

He's right. They're parrying blows as they speak. There is no time for argument and no time for protests. So Elladan and Legolas nod and continue the fight.

"The Eagles are coming!" I hear Pippin yell and I look up and sure enough. Eagles as large as the fell beasts the Nazgûl ride on swoop down to attack the orcs at the ground. And some attack the Nazgûl themselves.

There is hope once more. We're not alone in this fight. The Army of the West continues with renewed vigor. The Eagles were a tremendous boost to morale. And their cries matched against the shrieks of the fell beasts. The battle takes me further away from Legolas or Aragorn or Gimli. I can barely keep sight of Gandalf, who is a few feet away from me. Merry and Pippin are lost to my sight. I'm all too aware that our army is getting smaller and smaller.

A Nazgûl above us shrieks, then another and another. And then they fly back towards Mt. Doom, just like that.

"They're not retreating, are they?" A soldier beside me says. I look around the battlefield, confused. There is no reason for them to retreat. They're winning. They know they're winning and that we're desperate and tired. It would make more sense for them to unleash their full terror now.

Unless...

"Frodo." I whisper. Frodo, despite all the odds, has to be in Mt. Doom right now. They must have sensed the Ring. They must have found out he's there. Does Sauron know that Frodo is inside right now and calling his most faithful servants to get Frodo?

I see Gandalf raise his head towards the direction of Mt. Doom and I know he's thinking about this too. Sauron's army closes in around us. A troll is charging at something, or someone. And whoever it is fights it off. Only when Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir all shout in alarm do I realize who the troll is fighting.

"Aragorn!" I shriek. Shit, shit, shit.

He falls. Aragorn, the one man in the battlefield that I have never seen fall to anything, falls now. And I fight harder than I ever have towards him. There has been too many close calls. Everytime, every single time, we separate, something horrible happens. My entire being would break if he dies in front of me. He's been like a father to me, I will never be able to forgive myself if he dies in front of me.

"No! No!" I scream when I feel a Haradrim's hand close around my waist and I get violently thrown on the ground. I scream in anger and desperation as he kicks my sword away. I see the cold smile on the Haradrim's face as he aims his sword at my neck.

And in a last ditch attempt to save myself, I reach up with my free hand to the sheath on my boot and I pull out a dagger, burying it in the leg of my opponent. I only feel the slightest bit of guilt when he screams in pain before I twist the dagger. His hand jerks downwards, and pain shoots up like electricity on my bicep. I yank the dagger from his leg, kicking him off as I do. He falls on the ground beside me and I thrust my dagger in his chest twice, twisting for good measure before the life seeps out of him. I'm vaguely aware that Legolas is calling for me, but it's Imrahil who pulls me back up to my feet.

"You're bleeding!" He says, noticing the wound on my arm, right below the bite mark from the Uruk-Hai who had captured me in Amon Hen.

I look at my arm to check the damage.

I'm desensitized to severity of wounds now. After all that I've seen, the bleeding gash running from my bicep and midway to my elbow looks little more than a scratch. It definitely needs medical attention, though. My arm feels like it's on fire. It hurts to hold my sword up for long and even sheathing it hurts too much. There is so little time for Imrahil and I to talk, however. All I manage to say is 'Aragorn. Where is Aragorn?' before we are met with more enemies. I don't even get to thank him for the help. I feel a sick lump on my throat as I try to pick out a familiar face from the chaos. Gandalf is too far away and has his back turned. Aedelgar and Éomer are nowhere to be seen. I can hear Gimli and the hobbits shouting, but I can't see them from the army of tall Men around me. The twins have been pushed away and are now preoccupied by five orcs surrounding them. And Legolas...

He's pushing people, whether friend or foe, aside to run to the troll. I squeeze past the Dúnedain trying to keep the orcs away from Aragorn, who is most vulnerable at this moment. The orcs are practically throwing themselves at the Dúnedain, only to keep them distracted from helping Aragorn. I can't see much but the glimpse of what I have seen horrifies me. Aragorn on his hands and knees, the troll towering over him, ready to strike him down.

"Help him, damn it! Save your king!" Legolas shouts at the soldiers around him. I bring down an orc that jumps in front of me by slicing its throat and as it falls, the dagger in my hand soars towards the troll and buries itself in the troll's shoulder. It roars and steps back, buying Aragorn precious time to recover. He reaches for his sword and pushes himself to his feet.

The troll yanks my dagger out of its shoulder and roars, and just as it's about to hurl its spear at Aragorn, it freezes.

The entire army around us stops and turns to the mountain. My jaw drops at the sight before me. The tower of Barad-dûr is falling apart. Something has happened. And judging by the sudden shrieks of what is unmistakably fear from the orcs, it must have been good.

The tower topples to the side as though it was merely made of sand and a wave had passed over it. And as it hits the ground, a ripple of great wind from the fall of the Dark Tower travels over the land of Mordor. It hits my face, blowing sand and dust everywhere and with it, all my fears vanish. The desperation eases until I feel so light, I wouldn't be surprised if I'm flying now. The forces of Mordor retreat, completely forgetting that they were winning the fight until that point. It's nothing short of a miracle.

Until only the most desperate of the enemies, the Haradrim and Easterlings, stay behind. In their anger and desperation, they fight back, killing more and more of our people.

But Aragorn is rallying us, and with the Dúnedain and Éomer and the sons of Elrond by his side, we fight back even harder until at last the handful left of the enemy laid down their weapons.

I have a dagger in my left hand because my right arm hurts too much for me to be able to hold a sword. And I have it aimed at a Harad's throat when he drops his weapon and kneels before me. I look at him with all the hatred I have. "I should kill you." I say through gritted teeth.

"You should. But you will not. You are too honorable for that." He says, fixing his gaze on me with the same amount of hatred. I want to prove him wrong. Something inside me, what little control I have left, tells me I should rid the world of one last vermin.

But I can't do it. Not when he's unarmed. The only thing now that lets me sleep at night is the thought that though I carry the weight of all the lives taken by my blade--by me--I do it all in self-defense. What kind of monster would I be if I kill a man on his knees? I pull my dagger back a fraction, and I feel Imrahil beside me pick up the Haradrim's sword before he turns to me.

"It is over." Imrahil can't hide the shock from his voice. I blink and look around. The last of the Haradrim and Easterlings left in the battlefield are all kneeling and are unarmed. There is not even a hundred of them left. And slowly, it dawns on me, too. Light pierces through the thinning clouds.

"We won." I gasp. I can't believe it. We won. We survived. The Ring and Sauron are gone.

"Frodo! Frodo!" Merry is shouting in pure joy. Frodo did it. Brave, wonderful Frodo did it. He and Sam bore the Ring all the way to Mordor, have faced horrors together and they succeeded. Everything we've all faced was not for naught.

"We won." A breath of laughter escapes from me, and my eyes are blurry now from tears of relief. It's finally over. Laughter bubbles up from me... until the explosion.

Mt. Doom erupts, its anger uncontrollable. And I stand there in horror because deep in the fires of Mt. Doom would be where Frodo and Sam are. I remember Lord Elrond's words clearly. The Ring was made in the fires of Mt. Doom. Only there can it be unmade.

The tears of relief in my eyes turn quickly to tears of grief. It would take a miracle now for them to survive that. Orcs and enemies can be avoided and deceived, but not burning lava. My knees turn to jelly and I would have fallen had Imrahil not held me up. My uninjured hand goes up to cover my mouth as my shoulders shake with my sobs.

"Frodo. Sam." I manage to let out, and I almost choke at their names. It would be a gross injustice for them to die now, right at the moment of victory.

Three Eagles cry from above us, and Gandalf rides the back of one of them.

"They're not dead. They cannot be." He calls to us.

"Bring them back." I shout over the flurry. I do not mention that he should bring them back, whether alive or dead. Frodo and Sam deserve better than to be abandoned after all they have sacrificed. They deserve the highest honor. No matter what, they must be recovered. His eyes find mine and he nods once to let me know he heard me. My eyes lower as my hand covers my face.

"Ellie!" Legolas' hands are on my shoulders. He's finally managed to fight his way towards me. I hiss when his hand touches the gash on my arm and he pulls back and checks the damage. He takes deep breaths when he sees me, and I feel his relief radiating from him. My free hand strokes his cheek and slides to the back of his neck and I pull him towards me.

"You're okay." My voice is hoarse.

"Of course, meleth." He says, reassuringly. Another sob escapes from me.

"Please, I beg of you, never scare me like that again." He whispers, desperation etched in his features.

"Never again." I say. My head feels so heavy. I drop to the ground then and there and he kneels in front of me.

"This needs to be taken care of." He says, trying his best to tear off the fabric of my sleeve without hurting me. One of the Dúnedain brings a jar of yarrow paste. My face scrunches up in disapproval. That's not sanitary. If they apply anything on my wound now without cleaning it, it will definitely worsen the infection. Legolas notices immediately.

"I know, meleth. Once we get to camp, we will be able to care for it. Right now, we must stop the bleeding."

"I'm fine." I lie, though I already feel dizzy.

"You are about to faint." He says.

"Maybe a bit." I mutter. I whimper when he applies the yarrow on my arm and quickly bandages the wound. Legolas is terribly perceptive, however. I still feel sick, and he's right, I feel like I'm about to faint.

Aragorn calls for Imrahil. And I turn to find both Elladan and Elrohir standing beside him, with Elrohir questioning him if he had any wounds he was hiding.

"You are the one with the wound." Aragorn protests.

Above their conversation, all around us, are the cheers from the soldiers. Despite everything, despite all the injuries we have sustained, we are victorious. We endured. Spears and swords glimmer as sunlight fights to break through the thick, black smoke over Mordor.

Our victory is not without cost, though. The army has been cut in half. Aragorn refuses to leave behind even a single corpse. "Not here. Anywhere but here." He says to Imrahil. Those who are uninjured go back to the previous camp we had abandoned to gather wagons, which we had brought with us to carry supplies. Some of the injured who can still walk are taken to the camp to rest, myself included. While those who need dire help are taken care of in the field of battle by the Dúnedain.

Another miracle is that there are surviving horses. Very few, no more than fifty, including Shadowfax and Arod, and all are injured but not grievously so. Some must have fled the field when their riders were shot down. Shadowfax himself is being personally watched over by Elladan and Elrohir, who speak to him in calmimg Sindarin while they try to yank out the arrow on his backside. They did so successfully but not before almost losing their heads when Shadowfax tried to kick them away.

Merry and Pippin stay behind in the camp and Elrohir sits beside me in front of a campfire while we wait for the men to bring all the corpses back. One by one, the wagons roll in, pulled by what few horses we have left. They've piled bodies on top of each other and then covered the wagons with tents.

A scouting party led by Legolas leaves to ask for reinforcements and more horses, particularly from the soldiers who had chosen to retreat and break away from the army before we reached Mordor.

All there is left to do is wait.

I have never seen Merry and Pippin this disheartened before. They barely speak or eat. Gandalf still hasn't come back with the Eagles, so we have no idea what happened to Frodo and Sam. All we can do now is hope for the best.

Meanwhile, I'm freezing. I have three blankets wrapped around me but I'm shivering.

Elrohir kneels in front of me and orders me to show him my injury.

"You're pale." I tell him, though he focuses in and out of my vision.

"You are white as a sheet!" His hand goes to my forehead, "And you're burning with fever. Ellie, your injury is infected."

"Fantastic." I mutter and proceed to throw up on his boots.

He curses in Sindarin and Merry and Pippin shout for a healer.

"Ellie, stay awake. You cannot die now." I hear Elrohir's voice as if from miles away.

He brushes my hair away from my arm. "Was this treated with yarrow?" He asks. If I had the strength, I would have punched him for touching my wound. The pain is excruciating. Instead, I pull away and nod, and even that small movement makes me feel sick.

"You've bled through the bandages. The yarrow is not working fast enough."

I remember him calling for someone to bring alcohol and hot water. And then Merry and Pippin push me back down and I protest.

"If I do not take care of this now, Ellie, you will lose your arm, do you understand me?" Elrohir snaps.

And then there's only the gripping fear of that statement. Followed by someone pouring something that felt like piping hot water on my already sensitive injury.

"Ellie!" It's Gimli, but I can barely hear him over the screaming. My screaming, I realize.

"It's poisoned, it has to be." Merry says as I gasp for breath.

"I'm not sure about that. The infection, I can understand. But she would not be this weak or this feverish without something else making her this way. Unless her body has finally given in to stress. She has more injuries that has not healed completely yet. Where did she get this?" There's a brief pause of only my arm throbbing in pain.

"Amon Hen. An Uruk bit her before taking us captive."

"And what did they use to take care of the wound."

"'Take care' is a stretch. They barely kept Merry alive with the foul liquor of theirs." Pippin says.

"Their twisted version of miruvor. Perhaps elven-made miruvor will save her. But, this will hurt, Ellie. I have to take the debris out and wash the wound. If we get to a proper healer, this will have to be cleansed and stitched."

"Anesthesia." I mutter weakly.

"She's delirious!" Merry cries.

"Give her milk of the poppy. Gimli, help me." Someone tips my chin upwards and pours a bitter drink down my throat. It tastes nothing like milk. I sputter and cough as people move around me.

And then, everything fades.

Chapter Text

I slip in and out of consciousness. I'm awake for brief periods, and the only time I feel conscious is when my arm feels another burning stab of pain.

After blacking out when I was given milk of the poppy, I remember someone lifting me on a wagon and that it hurt like a bitch before someone gave me another mouthful of the milk of the poppy. And then I wake up briefly to the pain of a needle going through my arm before I'm given yet another dose. The smallest mercy granted to me is that I don't have any dreams, or at least I don't remember them.

I don't know how long it's been but I wake up in a clean bed with soft sheets, wearing a silk robe. I am in a tent, but it's huge and spacious, enough for someone my size to be able to stand. I feel groggy but the breeze from the slightly open tent flap near my bed is cool, and the air is fragrant. Outside, I see the glint of silver chainmail and black banners. There are trees outside, and there is much activity. I turn my head to find Gimli sitting on a stool with his chin on his chest. It's his snore that must have woken me up.

My first instinct is to look at my arm. I take a sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth as I try to bring my arm up. Fresh bandages are wrapped around it and it feels like it's been crushed by an elephant, but what matters is that I still have my arm and that so far, my wound has not bled through the bandages.

I look up when Gimli snores once more. He's not wearing any armor, only a dark blue tunic and brown leggings. I don't think I've ever seen him out of his chain mail, come to think of it.

"Gimli?" My throat feels so dry.

He jumps, his hand seeming to feel for something beside him, probably his battle-axe. When he realizes where he is, he blinks at me and laughs that booming laughter of his.

"You're awake!" He says, standing beside me.

"How long was I out?" I ask.

"Three days. Elrohir saved your life. There was poison in the wound that made the infection worse. The dishonorable bastard who injured you coated his blade in orc blood. He wanted his enemies dead, whether on the field or off it. A man like that must have had so much hate in him." He answers.

"Frodo and Sam. What happened to them? Where are they?" I ask, trying to sit up. He pushes me back down.

"Safe and asleep, though severely dehydrated. The hobbits... they were so thin. Barely hanging on." He says.

"But they're okay now?" I ask, finding that I don't have the strength in me to push back against him. He fluffs up my pillow and brings my blanket up to my shoulders.

"They are. By some wonder, they are." He sounds almost tearful. "We are in Ithilien. The injured were taken here to recuperate. The dead are being taken care of. We've won, lassie." He says it as if he can't believe it himself.

"I have promised Legolas I will call him the moment you open your eyes. He has barely had any sleep. I had to force him to go to his own tent." He says. "Would you like anything to eat? Fruit juice?"

God, Legolas. I want him by my side right now. Our last meeting was him giving me a hurried kiss as he rode Arod to get reinforcements. I shake my head at Gimli's questions. I can't believe he's actually here taking care of me as though he is my nurse. I've never seen him this...soft. It's quite endearing.

"I will get you some soup and tea." He says, leaving the room.

I never did get that soup and tea. I fell asleep again before anyone could come back. When I open my eyes again, I see the silhoutte of someone standing outside the tent. But I would know that silhoutte in whatever situation.

"Legolas?" I call, softly. The tent flap opens and his head pokes through. The moonlight turns his hair a shade of silver, and he wears a pale blue tunic.

"Ellie." He gasps, and in one fluid movement, he is kneeling on the floor beside my bed. His hand takes my knuckles and he kisses them lightly.

"Melethenin." His voice is relieved.

I tug him closer, until his knee is on the bed near my hand. He kisses my neck, my shoulder. "I was so afraid." He says.

"Ssh, my love. I am here." I tell him, and I melt into his arms. He is careful with me, as though he is holding something precious. His nose settles at the curve of my neck and my arms go around his waist. He holds me and I let the heat from his body warm my clammy hands.

"I'm sorry I left you." His apology came with kisses sprinkled on my skin, his lips warm and soft and feather-light. I close my eyes at the comfort of his touch.

"Do you need anything? I am sure there's something I could get you." He says, pulling away. I almost groan and pull him back but I restrain myself.

"You. Here. That is all I would ever need." I say.

That radiant smile. The moonlight makes his eyes shine. God, he has such pretty eyes. He stays in the tent with me all night, recalling the better parts of the aftermath of the war. Sam is still asleep but barely out of bed. No one but Gandalf, Aragorn, Merry and Pippin could enter his and Frodo's tents. There were guards by their tents all day. Reinforcements came bearing news of victories in other parts of the West. And though it would still take two more days and thousands of horses, most of the dead would be brought back to their families. Some soldiers would be buried here in Ithilien, for those whose families were all lost to the war. But the atmosphere in general is good.

There has been much rejoicing the past three days, and Legolas informs me Aragorn would be crowned King the moment we came back to Minas Tirith.

He laughs when I dismay over not having a dress to wear. He redresses my wound and slather a honey and garlic concoction on it.

"That's going to leave a scar." I mutter when he exposes my wound. The cool breeze feels good on it, but that is quickly replaced by the sharp pain of what he was putting on my skin.

He looks up at me, apologetic. But I shake his worry away.

"It will be a mark of bravery." He says.

"Do you have any scars?" I ask, then bite my lip. It's rude to ask that. But he has flawless skin. His hands are always soft. You'd think after centuries of being a warrior, there would be marks of his previous battles.

"I do. But not in places you have seen yet." He says this in a teasing manner, but there is something else beneath his words. "Once everything settles down, I may show them to you."

I blink at him, mouth slightly ajar. I recover quickly, however. "They better not be the only things I see, then." I say.

It's his turn to freeze. I'll pretend I didn't see the blush on his cheeks until I can use this moment against him someday.

The next morning, Aragorn visits. I watch in amusement as a pageboy announces his arrival. Legolas opens the tent flap while he stood outside, his back straight and proud, and announces the king's arrival.

When Aragorn walks in, I laugh at the expression on his face. He wears a tunic of rich velvet, with the symbol of Gondor on his chest--the White Tree. His boots are clean and his hair and beard are trimmed and brushed. He looks just like a King described in fairy tales. Regal, and exuding authority.

"Good morning. Do I call you Aragorn, Elessar, or King Elessar Telcontar?" I tease, recalling the titles the pageboy gave him before he walked in.

"I see you are back in full spirit." He says.

"When can I bathe? I stink." I sit up, careful not to put weight on my injured arm.

He laughs, "I am glad some things never change. But you cannot bathe until the wound closes."

I scrunch up my nose, "That's gross."

There is a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. With my good arm, I throw a pillow at him. The guards outside shift when I do. It's not like I hurt him. He catches it easily, fluffs it up and puts it back on the bed.

"I will have someone bring rose oil and hot water for you, if you are able to stand and wash yourself. Your wound itself was not terrible. It was the poison that worried us most, and the infection after. But now that both of those are no longer an issue, the wound should heal within two weeks, less if you keep it clean and dry. Do not forget to put the honey and garlic on it." He sounds like a doctor. I smile in gratitude. It's a rare thing for a king to care so much about those beneath him. These kinds of things are usually left to healers.

"Thank you." I say. He walks to my side, tucks my hair behind my ear and kisses the top of my head.

"I cannot very well let my Meril die because of a lousy wound, could I?" He says and I smile up at him.

"You fought bravely. When we get back to Minas Tirith, you will have a place in my court if you will accept it. I would need someone to keep me company. The life of a king is tiring."

"You've only been king for a week or so."

"I have not, in fact, been crowned king at all and yet I have already read through lists upon lists, have sent out men to hunt down the last of the orcs here in Ithilien, have had to hear the healers complain of the lack of resources." He sighs. "But it feels right. I was born for this."

"I know you are." I say. "And I'll be right here for you if you need me."

"My king." A voice from the doorway says. "Another one of the wounded has passed away into the night. Lord Elrohir tried his best to save him. Three more have caught fever. The Rohirrim have also arrived with new horses. There should be enough to horse an army now."

Aragorn sighs and steps away.

"I'll see you later." I say.

Legolas returns that afternoon with Gimli, who holds a tray of food while Legolas has a bunch of flowers in his hand. I laugh when I find them grinning at me.

For two weeks, we stay in Ithilien while everyone heals. Mercifully, the wound on my arm heals just fine. Elrohir prides himself on his good work. I join Merry and Pippin for strolls in the woods of Ithilien. Ithilien is gorgeous. Sunlight flitted through the leaves and their shadows danced on my skin. The river is clean and wide. And the wildlife are gentle. There are deer, and ducks, and foxes and owls. It is peaceful.

Though I know it's safe, I still keep the last dagger that Lady Galadriel gave me on me at all times, wherever I go and whoever I am with. It was these daggers that saved my life in more ways than one. And though the others are lost to me, there is this one dagger left.

We've also been preparing a party. Frodo and Sam are recovering remarkably well and soon, they will be strong enough to join us. There is much excitement over them. They're like superstars. I hear people whisper about them as though they are living legends, and they deserve nothing less. They have done what no brave and mighty king could never do--destroy the One Ring, by themselves. Their journey will be told for generations to come.

A guard informs me that Gandalf is looking for me in the Ring-bearers' tent. I am with Aedelgar when it happens. Aedelgar laughs as my face lights up and he urges me, "Go, go! Do not keep the Ring-bearers waiting."

I bolt out the tent, almost knocking into Legolas when I do. He takes my hand and we run.

Frodo is pale, and in the bed beside him is Sam, looking perplexed at all the attention he's getting. Merry and Pippin are on Frodo's bed, laughing while Gandalf stands by the foot of Frodo's bed, a grin on his face. Gimli is there talking to Sam and I practically tackle Sam when he sees me and calls my name. I give Frodo a kiss on the cheek and tell him how proud I am of him, that he has done what no one else could do, that he is a hero more than any of us combined. What he and Sam accomplished is nothing less than a miracle.

He lost his finger. Bitten off by the same creature that had followed us all the way from Moria. They had taken the thing, Gollum, for their guide and it betrayed them.

Frodo gives all the credit to Sam. "I would not have lasted long without him." He says. I sit beside him on the bed and the room is filled with laughter and the merry voices of the Hobbits. Aragorn is the last to walk in, and he smiles at the sight before him.

The Fellowship is reunited once more.

All that's missing is Boromir. But even his presence seems to be in the room, laughing along with us. We catch up with each other, we talk about how hard it is to eat without salt, how hard it is to actually run with a weapon strapped to the waist. How weird it feels to be out of armor after what feels like months wearing only that. We point out red spots where insects have bitten us, and muscles that have grown firmer.

"I feel like I could eat fifty fried chickens." I say.

"Fried fish." Sam sighs. "I'll never be able to look at a fish the same way ever, I'll tell you that."

"Potatoes. Potatoes of all kinds." I say. God, I miss potatoes. I miss it mashed or as chips.

"Actually, I will go help the cooks prepare the food now." I say, getting up from the bed.

"Food?" Sam sits up straighter.

"There will be a feast, of course." Gimli says.

"A feast." Sam and Pippin echo. I know they're already thinking about the food. They've gone through months sustained by the barest food; tasteless soup and rabbits and lembas and boiled water. Now, they get to taste mead and lamb, in a meal dedicated to them.

"The King would want to honor you." Gandalf continues.

"The King?" Frodo asks. The rest of us turn to Aragorn, expecting an answer. He only gives a hint of a smile.

"He has claimed his throne and all his ancient kingdoms." Aragorn says. "He would want to welcome you." We hide our smiles. He's playing that trick again. We keep the secret until the feast.

"But what shall we wear?" Sam asks.

"See," I mutter sideways to Legolas, "even they're worrying about clothes."

"You will look lovely, whatever you wear." He whispers back.

"Wear what you wish. Even the orc-rags that you wore when we brought you back have been preserved. No silks and linens could be more honourable. I will bring fresh clothes for you to wear, if you wish." Gandalf says.

"We will let you rest, now." Aragorn says, backing away.

Up until the heralds announce Frodo and Sam's arrival, they are the only ones unaware that Aragorn is now, by all rights, the King of the very land they walk on. We set the feast up in a greensward near the river. There's a large, green lawn--a clearing within woods of beech and oak. The ground is littered with red petals from the flowers that grew in the trees. There's an archway of trees that marks the entrance to the lawn, where guards in shining armor stand upright, waiting exactly for the moment when the Ring-bearer will arrive. And behind us, the Anduin glimmers in the sunlight. Hundreds of ships are lined up on the shoreline. It is the height of tranquility.

It's strange that the soldiers in Ithilien turn to me for guidance. I went into the area of the camp where they were preparing the feast, asking if there was anything I could do to help, and I come out being asked where to place the barrels of wine or what dishes to cook.

Sadly, I don't get to make the french fries I wanted. But the food is superb. Of course, this is just me speaking after weeks and weeks living off of mushrooms and rabbits. My mouth practically waters while waiting for the feasting to actually commence. Legolas and Gimli are off doing God knows what, Elladan and Elrohir are with a company still attending to the aftermaths of the war--bodies to bury or injuries to tend to. It seems the twins alone demand no rest. The rest of the Dúnedain are here, however, to give the King company. Later, though, Elladan and Elrohir would return. They would not wish to miss the Ring-bearers.

I'm trying to keep people away from the food until after Frodo and Sam arrive. If they stuff in, they won't be able to save any for the Hobbits. And the Hobbits need the meals for five grown men, each. So here I am, standing by what's more or less the buffet table.

"I tried the sauce." Aragorn mutters beside me. He's in fine armor as well. On his head is a silver circlet and on his back flows a deep purple cape. A sharp contrast to the dirty madman with the muddy boots that I met. Then again, we have both changed since we first met.

"Did you stick your finger into it like a child?" I put a hand on my hip.

"I had the decency to use a spoon like a proper king." He had the decency not to look at me when he says it.

I pause. "The only spoon near the sauce is the serving spoon, Aragorn."

He laughs, and walks to the platform where a grand chair is set up in the middle of the greensward. I shake my head, disbelieving. He takes his seat, his cape flourishing, and he catches my eye and winks at me. I think back to that time in Bree when we hid behind a hedge.

I mouth, "Twelve years old" at him. The trumpets muffle the sound of his laughter. The soldiers stand in attention. A line of soldiers parts to make way and Frodo and Sam's perplexed faces. Gimli and Legolas siddle beside me, straightening their clothes.

"Where were you?"

Gimli looks pale. He shakes his head and motions at Legolas, "I convinced Gimli to climb a tree."

Oh, that poor dwarf, "And how did that work out?"

"Never again." Gimli says, weakly. "I want my feet on firm, solid ground for the rest of my mortal life."

Legolas snorts.

The soldiers begin to sing. And we raise our goblets and praise Frodo and Sam, the heroes. The Ring-bearers. Swords are unsheathed as they walk towards Aragorn, spears drum on the ground, and everywhere praises are sang.

"Long live the Halflings! Praise them with great praise!"

"Long live the Cormacolindor!" I cup my hands over my mouth to make my voice louder and clap proudly. Legolas and Gimli, beside me, applaud and shout their praises too. I can hear Merry and Pippin cheering as well--theirs are the loudest voices. And Sam and Frodo, both red in the face, walk as if in a daze.

They approach the three high seats. On the left is a banner of silver upon blue, with the swan-proned ship: the standard of Dol Amroth. On the right is white upon green with a great horse: the standard of Rohan. And between them, the largest banner of all, is black upon silver, with a white tree beneath a shining crown and seven stars: the standard of Gondor.

Sam's eyes widen in recognition as he realizes who is sitting on the highest throne.

"Strider!" He gasps. "As I live and breathe, Strider is King!"

Aragorn's smile is wide, "Yes, Sam. Strider. We have both come a long way since we first met in Bree. But yours is the darkest path of all."

He led Frodo and Sam up to the platform with him and the two hobbits, still completely mystified, turn to face the crowd. My heart swells with great pride. They, who have suffered the worst, deserve no less. They, who defeated great evil in a way no brave and mighty warrior has ever done, have saved Middle-earth. They saved the world. It is them I have to thank for the promise of a beautiful, peaceful world. It is them I have to thank for the hope of a good future for my family. For all of our families.

Aragorn steps down from the platform and cries, "Praise them with great praise."

We take up his words in a deafening chorus. And a minstrel announces, "Lords and knights, kings and princes, and fair people of Gondor, and Riders of Rohan, and the sons of Elrond, and Dúnedain of the North, and fair lady of strength and valor, and Elf and Dwarf, and greathearts of the Shire, and all free folk of the West, now listen to my lay. For I will sing to you of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom."

Sam bursts into tears. And I find myself crying along in joy for all that we have accomplished. Gandalf stands at the edge of the platform, standing with Elladan and Elrohir, and he catches my eye and nods. This is all that we have done. And though there have been sacrifices that our hearts still bear havily, grief lingered with unwavering joy for the kind of peace and joy that we have gained--that Frodo and Sam have made possible.

The minstrel sings, sometimes in Westron and sometimes in Sindarin, and we let his song tell the tales of the heroism during the War, and lament over those who we have lost. And later we eat, well into the night.

Until at last the guests depart and there is only us, sitting beneath a tree as the stars shine above us, brighter than ever. Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Legolas, Gimli and I are all in a circle in front of a fire as though it was simply another night at camp. We are all even wearing the same clothes that we wore during traveling. Frodo in his mithril shirt, Gimli in his silver mail, Legolas in his green and brown garb, and me in the clothes Arwen had gifted me.

And we talk about everything that we have missed. About the múmakil, Shelob's lair, the battles we have faced, the orcs we have escaped and fought.

"Captured by orcs, you say?"

"Did the trees ever spit out the orc corpses? I don't imagine orc tastes very good."

"How big were the oliphaunts, Miss Ellie?"

"Can't believe that little rat tried to frame Sam. Sam."

"But how are you so tall? At your age..."

Merry and Pippin laugh at Sam's astonishment. I turn, quirking an eyebrow up at the two. "You've grown? I didn't even realize."

"Big People do not notice these things. I don't think you've even noticed how much weight you've put on."

I smack Pippin. "Ow! I did not mean it in offense! I just meant you are not as weak-looking as before! Legolas, stop her!"

Pippin dodges the smack I aim at his shoulder. Legolas, on the other hand, simply laughs.

"I do realize you are taller than Master Meriadoc now." Legolas says to Pippin. Merry straightens up in indignance.

"I'm taller than him! I always have been." Merry protests.

Frodo makes a soft noise, and when Merry turns to him, he raises his hand in surrender. "I did not say anything." Frodo says.

"You are lucky you are still alive. The hunt for the orcs that took you was the hardest task of all. It is no easy feat, keeping up with these two." Gimli interjects, pointing at Legolas and Aragorn, who has just joined our fire.

We would have stayed longer, if Gandalf had not stood up and motioned for Frodo and Sam. "The hands of the King are indeed the hands of healing. And he has put forth all his power to save you, but even so, you must rest now. It has been a long day, and dawn is about to break once more. Aragorn has pulled you from the brink of death and you must find your strength, still."

"Aye, laddies, I am tired as well and shall rest, too before breakfast is served." Gimli gets up.

"And I shall walk the fair woods of this land, for that is rest enough for me. In days to come, if my elven-lord commands, I shall bring my people here and we shall care for the woods. And we will stay for a while and make Ithilien more beautiful than it has ever been." Legolas says. Then his gaze travels to the river, always within sight. "And Anduin is near. My heart shall find peace knowing it is near the Sea."

Gimli and I exchange looks, and I try to hide the pain I feel, and the guilt. Legolas could sail to Valinor if he wanted, but he stays for the people he cares about. He stays for us: Aragorn, Gimli and me. If he could, I think he would sail as soon as possible. He tries to hide it but whenever he looks at the Anduin, a look of longing would always pass on his features. I try to push the thought away that I am holding him back.

"My lady, could I escort you back to camp?" Legolas says to me.

I try to smile, and pretend it is simply fatigue that suddenly makes me more quiet. "Yes, of course." I say.

He takes my hand when we walk, and when we stand in front of my tent, he tilts my chin up with smooth fingers.

"What is wrong, meleth?" He asks. I can never hide my emotions from him.

"Nothing." I say. For truly, it is not worth mentioning. We are happy, we are safe and we are together. I would not want to ruin that. Not so soon when we have just found peace and time to get to know each other more and more.

He does not push. He never pushes. "Ellie..." He says, though he does not pull away. "I do love you, more than anything else. Losing you would be my greatest pain."

He knows what's bothering me, or has a hint of it. I admit, his words bring me comfort. We promised each other we would take it day by day, and that is what I'll do. I smile, and kiss his lips and with words unspoken, I tell him how much I love him.

And I think, this is what I want. Here, in this peaceful field, with the beautiful woods and the flowers on the soft grass... Here, where Anduin flows and the water rushes like music and the sunlight filters through the leaves, and where birds sing and horses could roam free... Here, with Legolas looking at me as though the world is in my hands... Here is where I would want to be.

With him.

With my heart in his hands.

Here, in this peaceful land, we can build a new life together.

I don't know if he is thinking the same thing, but one look from him gives me hope.

I bid him good night, and he echoes the words back to me.

I lie down on the bed, thinking of what may happen now, what lies in store for us now that the War is over. And for the first time, I do not worry. For as long as my friends are here, I am home.

And that trust and love from them, I think, is the greatest trophy of all. Whatever happens, I'll have them with me. And though the future is uncertain, knowing they'll be by my side makes whatever to come less scary.