First POV is Celeste's.
I was in a most compromising position when Haldir of Lothlórien found me. I was in a room with many of the injured from the battle, lying on my stomach. My chain mail had been removed and lay in a pile beside me and the shirts I was wearing had either been removed, split open, or pulled up to my shoulders so that the cut on my back could be properly bandaged.
"Lady Celestina?" Haldir asked, crouching down to my level on the floor.
"Yes," I grunted, craning my neck up uncomfortable to see who I was speaking to. Lynwyn, the healer who was tending to me, pushed my shoulders back down so that the cut would lie straight.
"How are you?" he inquired.
"Just peachy," I spat before remembering that the expression would make no sense to him. "Uncomfortable," I clarified.
"Ah," he said, pausing, "the Elves will be leaving with the party that is to go to Isengard, but will turn, instead, to Lothlórien. You are invited to journey back with us to be with your own kind."
"Sorry Haldir," I answered, "but I was thrown into the world to fight, not to hide. And I was raised as a human – this is my place."
"Nonetheless, you are welcome to visit the woods of Lothlórien. Caras Galadhon is the centre of all the Elven cities and you would be an honoured guest there."
"Thanks," I said as Lynwyn finished cleaning the cut and spread salve onto it. "I'll stop by for a few days when I get a chance."
"Very well then. I will see you again before we leave?"
I nodded my head in agreement and held my body in a push-up so that Lynwyn could wrap a bandage around my body. She stretched the cloth tight, over the wound and across my ribcage, just under my breasts. Just wonderful. Lynwyn tied off the last of the cloth and I rolled into a sitting position.
"Try not to stretch your back muscles too much," she instructed as she began pulling my shirts back down to cover my bare stomach. "Come back to change the bandage every day until it is healed."
"Fine," I agreed, standing up. Haldir was long gone, so my next task was to find the room where I'd left my clothes in and change out of my bloody battle clothes. I was only too eager to leave the room full of injured people. I'd felt guilty standing in there with only a scratch on my back, Some of the men had much deeper cuts, broken bones, and dislocated fingers. I was just a gym teacher who couldn't handle herself well enough.
I meandered down the corridor, poking my head into rooms that looked familiar. Sighting my saddle bag, I stepped into the pantry room and closed the door behind me. I first took of my belt and swords, happy to remove myself of their weight. Next, I pulled off my wet pants and changed into dry underwear and dry jeans. I put on a fresh pair of socks and relished the feeling of having dry feet again.
My shirts were going to be a problem. I wasn't supposed to be stretching my back muscles overmuch – what if I just shimmied my way out? I'd definitely have to keep my bra on. At least it was still dry. I managed, finally, to pull a sleeveless tank top on without much of a struggle. I put on a light zip-up sweater on top of it to keep warm. I replaced the swords on my belt, not knowing where else to put them. I put my wet clothes into the satchel and carried it out to the stable to tie it on to Dior's saddle.
In the stable, I met Éomer, who was preparing Firefoot for a short trip. I rubbed my fingers through the battle horse's mane, scratching behind his ears. The horse twisted its head around my wrist and licked my outstretched palm.
"Friendly, isn't he?" I commented.
"Only when he thinks he's being fed," Éomer answered, passing me an apple.
I held it out on my hand with my palm very flat. Firefoot sniffed the treat carefully before taking it whole from my hand. Now that the horse had the apple in his mouth and was chewing happily, I was free to turn my attention to Éomer.
"You're going to Isengard?" I asked.
"Yes, my uncle is leading a party there to reckon with Saruman – the wizard who sent the Uruk-hai," he answered.
"Should I come with you?"
"I would rest easier if you stayed here. We will not be gone long; we'll return before tomorrow evening."
"But it's a dangerous mission. Saruman is a wizard and he has his Uruk-hai. You will need a larger group."
"I do not think so, Celeste. He emptied his fortress of Uruk-hai in sending them here. He will be loosely guarded at most. And we have our own White Wizard to bring along."
"Ah, well then, I'd best get inside and say a more dignified goodbye to the elves."
"More dignified?"
"Yes, Haldir tried to say goodbye while I was on my stomach getting bandaged."
Éomer laughed loudly and clapped his shoulder to mine. My cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. He smiled at me for a moment and moved his hand from my shoulder to my cheek, resting it there a moment. I began to feel uncomfortable and fidgeted with the pocket of my jeans.
"Éomer," I began, breaking the tension, "we shouldn't do this here. Someone might see us."
"And that's a problem?" he asked, pulling his hand away.
"Well, yes it is. We may have won a battle, but we're in the middle of a war. This isn't an appropriate time for any of this…"
"This isn't the appropriate time?" Éomer echoed, interrupting me, "you don't even sound like yourself, Celeste. While I will respect your reasons, whatever they are, I doubt that timing is one of them."
How was I supposed to tell him how I felt about the prophecy and my overall hesitancy to begin a relationship? This was stupid – I felt like a whiny girl, when, really, I was just trying to avoid trouble.
"I'll see you when you get back," I said, turning and leaving the stables to go back inside. If Éomer was getting ready to leave, then the elves would likely be doing the same. I wanted to say my goodbyes as quickly as possible and then find a bed where I could sleep for the rest of the day. Now that the battle was over, my old laziness was returning. I was happy enough not to go to Isengard with the Rohirrim. It meant that much more time that I didn't have to spend on a horse or with a sword in hand.
What had that been about? Celeste was a riddle in a person. Appropriate time? We both knew that that had nothing to do with anything. I just had to determine whether her reasoning lay in a something or in a someone. I mentally ran through all of the reasons I could think of as to why she would reject me.
I'm too forward. We're from different worlds. We're different species. The prophecy speaks of doom. She doesn't like me. She is in love with someone else. She's worried one of us might not survive the war. She's still in love with the man who died.
The list of possibilities was not encouraging. Still, I clung to hope, remembering how she'd kissed me back earlier today.
I turned my thoughts to the journey ahead. Others from the company were saddling and mounting their horses. It was nearly time to leave for Isengard. And I would need my wits about me if I was to be facing Saruman.
"Haldir of Lothlórien, I bid you and your company a fond farewell," I said, keeping my words formal and doing my best to remain dignified. I seemed to lack the grace of the elves before me, who stood solemnly and beautifully. "I thank you for coming to the aid of Rohan and for standing with the Rohirrim against the powers of evil. I honour those of your company who died protecting free lands. To be strong and free comes at a heavy price. You will not be forgotten."
Had I said everything that I was supposed to say? Would I offend the elves by making such a quick speech? Deciding that a simple gesture was the best way to close my goodbye, I rested my hand on Haldir's forearm and squeezed gently. "Have a safe trip home, my friend," I said, quietly enough for just Haldir to hear.
"Our paths will cross again if the Valar are willing. I wish you and the people of Rohan victory over the greater powers in the East," he answered, bowing his head to me.
The other elves did the same and then, one by one, they turned around and left out the front gate of Helm's Deep to go home. Their timing was perfect, as if they had rehearsed their departure many times. Again, it was painfully obvious that I lacked their grace. Not for the first time since arriving in Middle Earth, I began to wonder if I had made the wrong choice by choosing to be an elf. I fit in neither with the elves nor with the men that I was supposed to be fighting with. While I was sure that both sides gave me respect because of who my parents were, they probably laughed behind my back at every stumble I made.
It was Éomer's sister, Éowyn, who made me feel better. "You sounded very regal just then," she complimented. "Very different from what I've heard of you."
"Has Éomer been telling stories behind my back?" I asked.
"No, it was my uncle who spoke highly of you. He said that you were rough in demeanor and fought like a man. You have his respect. And you have mine – I envy your boldness," she answered.
"You want to fight too?" I asked, interested.
"Yes, very much."
"And here I am, wishing that I didn't have to. You're lucky, you know, that your mother didn't go around making prophecies about you. You can lead your own life instead of following what someone else has set out for you."
"I never thought of it that way," Éowyn said, then added, "but I do not think that prophecies are made to be obeyed by the letter. It is up to us to interpret them as we will."
"And I'd never thought of it that way," I said, holding in a yawn, "but I'm really too tired to keep talking about the philosophy of fate and choice. Is there a bed anywhere that I can borrow?"
"Yes, yes, of course. There are rooms off the West corridor," she said, leading me down a passage and past several doors. She found a door that was open. Poking her head inside, he insured tat the room was empty. "It's small, but it should be quiet."
"You have no idea how grateful I am," I said, giving Éowyn a quick hug before disappearing into the room. In seconds, I'd thrown my sweater to the floor and was under the blankets in my tank top and jeans.
The battle be damned, I thought, like hell I'm waking up before I'm good and ready. With that, I fell into the first dreamless sleep I'd had in many nights.
I'm too lazy for a poem.