DISCLAIMER: The characters and locations of Lord of the Rings do not belong to me. They belong to JRR Tolkien, New Line Cinema, and probably a host of other people I've forgotten. I'm only borrowing them for a little entertainment, and I'll put them back when I'm finished with them. Amareth, however, belongs to me and I would like to be consulted before she is used in any other works. Evendim and Ithil-valon have standing permission to use any of my characters in any fics they choose. Celos and Celon are used with Ithil-valon's permission.

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WARNING! This story is set in an alternate universe. This means that some of the features, faces, and places might differ slightly from the original. This is intentional and WILL NOT result in canon characters behaving in out of character ways.

THIS STORY IS NOT A MARY SUE. If you want one of those, please look elsewhere. I don't care for Mary Sues, and I don't write them. It does, however, feature an original character in a starring role. She is not superwoman, she is not God, and she is not irresistible. She's just plain human, with all our faults and strengths.

THIS STORY IS ALSO NON-SLASH.

DEDICATIONS: To Evendim, who first gave me the courage to post in this fandom and has given me such pleasure with her own AU series. I would never have been so bold without your help, thank you from the bottom of my heart. To Ithil-valon, who has been more than a loyal friend and has helped me through some really tough times of late, and who has been the best beta-reader anyone could ask for. And to AJ, without whom my life will be a lot poorer. Rest well, my darling. You are sorely missed.

Love the story? Hate it? Think I should be burned at the stake? I'll never know unless you review!

Part 13

"One positive point about our heading west," Boromir said evenly as he matched his pace to the twins. Amareth walked at his side, no longer slowed by fatigue but carefully pacing herself nonetheless. "Isengard lies to the northwest, Fangorn to the north. The Uruks would have taken the Hobbits to Isengard, so we should encounter little resistance." The words left a bad taste in his mouth. He had tried, he had tried so hard to protect them and he had failed completely. His last sight of them had been in the arms of those powerful Uruk-hai, tormented and terrified. He had to atone for his mistakes. He had caused Frodo's departure from the Fellowship, he had abandoned Merry and Pippin to torment and probably death by being unable to fight off the Uruks when they came. He had tried, he had died in the attempt, and still it hadn't been enough. He wanted to be chasing them, but it was too late. Too much time had passed, they would never be able to catch up to them in time and an outright assault on Isengard was out of the question. So, he marched steadily toward Edoras, hoping to find mounts and aid to reach the White City before Sauron loosed his armies.

Amareth nodded. She could feel the pain of his decision, could see it in the lines of his face, but she said nothing. No words would help his turmoil and she needed her breath to keep up the pace. Whatever else, she was in better shape now than she had ever been before, even as a trained Marine. And it felt better, felt different, too. She was drawing strength from the very earth she trod, and it nourished her better than the lembas of the Elves. She felt combat ready in a way she hadn't for months.

Boromir marveled at the woman. He simply couldn't fathom how she could have brought him back from death, but so she had done. She was formidable to say the least, and yet she seemed no more than human at a glance. Spare of form but strong, easily keeping up with him and the Elves without distress. She had spoken of being a soldier of her own people, and if she were a true representative of her people's military, he would certainly be wary of taking them on. She gave all that was asked of her without complaint or hesitation.

Sounds of battle to their north gave them pause and as one, they turned toward the sound. The crackle of fire and the twang of bowstrings caused them to hurry, but it was the screaming of women and children that spurred them to greater haste. Horses sped past, both mounts and runaways, and Boromir raised his sword with a shout of pure fury. No more innocents would die when he had the power and the strength to protect them!

The Wild Men weren't satisfied with simply harassing these people. Homes burned, some with people still inside and Amareth steeled her heart against the screams. Dead lay all around them and still they came on, ready to meet the quartet and cleave them into death as well. Women and children pelted past, some wounded, others simply too terrified to register the armed travelers in their midst.

Elladan and Elrohir sprang into battle, forcing the Wild Men back from two of the houses where people remained. Their swords blocked the strokes of the Wild Men's knives, shattering the inferior steel and sending the wielders to the ground to beg for mercy.

Boromir threw himself forward, taking on several of the Wild Men himself, thrusting and parrying with what seemed little effort, his shield taking the hits as the attackers defended themselves and forcing them ever backward. His face was set with fury.

Amareth waded in as well, not as accomplished with her sword but using her knife to deadly effect. Many of the Wild Men fell before her blade as she barreled through their ranks. Her rage at the treatment of the victims knew no bounds and she slashed and hacked mercilessly, trying to reach those that could still be saved.

Soon there was no one left to fight. The Wild Men had retreated, fleeing back to their hills to avoid the determined onslaught of the quartet, content to still be alive and wanting to stay that way. Amareth drew in a deep breath and immediately began searching for survivors. Boromir was moving back toward the village, also searching the wounded that lay upon the roadway, looking for those who could be saved.

Elladan and Elrohir remained on a slight ridge overlooking what was left of the little hamlet. They would keep watch until the wounded were tended and they would help with the disposition of the dead. Their biggest concern was that the attackers would return, and to that end, they would be wary.

Amareth healed those she could, but her strength was quickly leaving her. There was a limit to her abilities, it seemed, and she was fast reaching it. Still she pressed on, helping those she could, binding up the wounds she couldn't heal, offering comfort to those who were simply in shock and unable to comprehend why they had been targeted.

The tale was quick to unfold, and chilling in the extreme. One woman, her face drawn with pain and fear, told them that there had been no warning. She had sent her children toward Edoras, armed only with a fast horse and a warning that the Wild Men had stormed the Westfold and were moving that way. It had been her hope, she said, that the children would at least be spared the sight of the carnage they left behind. That they would be spared the fate of those left to fight.

Amareth gave a quick glance to the others. Edoras had been their destination from the start; and now they had even more reason to go there. They had to be certain that the message had been delivered. More importantly, to Amareth's way of thinking, they had to check on the children. Eothain and his sister were young, too young to have had to witness such a devastating attack and undoubtedly were sorely afraid at being all alone on such a desperate mission.

"We need mounts," Boromir stated apologetically. "If there are any to be had, we need them. We'll have to move quickly and while the Elves could do so, Amareth and I are only human." There was a hint of humor in his words.

Theoda didn't smile, but she went behind what was left of her home and returned with an older mare, worn and obviously hard used. "Leoma is old, but she is steady," she explained patiently. "She is the only one of our horses to survive. She will carry you to Edoras and beyond, if that is your wish. She may be rough looking, but she is strong and can carry two easily."

Amareth started to rise but it took more effort than she expected. She had expended a lot of energy in healing; hopefully she'd be able to recover before she was called on again. "I've never ridden without a saddle," she said softly. At least she'd have plenty to hold on to. Boromir was a big man and he had that cloak, too. If she had hold, she wouldn't fall.

The twins nodded to each other and moved to help the others. "We can keep up, but you'll need to ride fast," Elladan explained as Elrohir thanked Theoda for the use of the mare. Boromir was seated first, and although he had practice riding, rode well, he was having a bit of discomfort as well, it seemed. "You won't fall, Amareth, I promise you that," he said grimly. He'd seen the concern in her eyes.

"Hold tightly to him," Elladan whispered as he lifted her up. "He won't let you fall – but there might still be Wild Men or Uruk-hai in the area. Be careful, both of you." He stepped back and bowed low to Theoda, as did Elrohir. "Many thanks, Theoda of the Westfold. Anar kaluva tielyanna."*

All four of them turned West then, toward Edoras. They would be moving against time itself now, trying to outrun the attackers. Boromir checked to be certain Amareth was holding on tightly and kicked the horse into a labored run, and the twins ran beside them, all wondering if they would succeed in their mission of warning, or arrive to another scene of carnage and death.

*The sun shall shine upon your path.

TBC...