My Nuka

by NarniaIsAwesome

One woman of Amator, Two nukar, Three different worlds, Four small hobbits, Five siblings, Six thrones, Seven friends of Narnia, Eight who were family, Nine of the Fellowship. One broken heart. One betrayal. One death. And there is One who watches over them all. (Bad summary - better one inside!) Rated T because I'm paranoid.

25. Chapter 24

Ok - I'm back. I'll be gone again next week (AWANA camp! YAY!) but hopefully after that I'll be able to update steadily through what remains of the summer and long into the school year (though I don't anticipate much activity when finals begin to loom...). I've neglected my stories for so long that it's not even funny, and I'm so sorry for being the annoying author who never updates! As an apology, I've given you the whole battle at Helm's Deep all at once instead of breaking it up according to my original plan, and there's lots of other (hopefully awesome!) stuff mixed in. We see both Susan and Edmund feature majorly in this chapter - with more to come!

Aragorn was in charge of the elf-host, and had positioned them on the Deeping-wall and the ground behind it. Peter, Legolas, and Gimli were standing together on the wall, and Adara was moving back and forth between her nukar. As she did so, Owain came running up to her.

"Lord Hiljar!" He called.

Adara turned to him; seeing who called her, she smiled. "Owain." She said quietly, not caring if the child knew that she was a woman or not and not expecting him to guess from her voice anyway. "I am glad you found me. Come, I will show you where to stand. Until the battle begins there are things I have to do and I don't want to drag you along, but when it does I will join you. Petri?"

Her nuka looked over his shoulder. "Yes Ar? Owain?"

"He's going to fight with me. I'm positioning him here until the battle's start – don't want to wear him out with my pacing before the fighting even begins. Look after him til I'm back, will you?"

Peter nodded.

"Course Ara. Come Owain, stand by me."

She turned away to go back to Aragorn, but not before she heard Gimli grumble at Legolas, "You could have picked a better spot."

She smiled at the dwarf's frustration with the limitations of his height.

"Ad." Her nuka greeted her as he found her at his side again.

"It's going to rain." She told him, and he glanced at the sky.

"That will be pleasant." Her brother muttered. Adara smiled slightly – Aragorn had gotten his sense of sarcasm from her.

"Very."

He grunted a reply, not really paying attention. Adara didn't mind. He was usually like this right before a battle of some sort. She was used to his ways.

They moved together, checking the lines of men that Aragorn was leading. This was always the worst part of a battle, Adara reflected. Waiting. She would far rather engage a host on an open plain than participate in a siege, whether she was under siege or the besieger. There was more room for strategy there, more planning involved. But when under siege there was only so much you could do.

{"Show them no mercy!"} Aragorn shouted in elvish, giving his pre-battle peptalk (as Adara had always called it, even in Astî) {"For you shall receive none!"}

The two of them moved to where the others stood.

"Well, whatever luck you live by lad, let's hope it lasts the night." Gimli grumbled, trying to be encouraging in his own gruff way. Peter gave him an amused look.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn." Legolas said.

"Lets hope they last the night." Gimli muttered quietly.

Adara laughed softly. The rain started.

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It had been two years to the day since Peter disappeared. Susan patted her red eyes with her handkerchief, and then blew her nose. As always, she missed her older brother, who had become a sort of father to her and her siblings after their father had come back from the war. But today – today was the anniversary of his disappearance. And after two years, today was the day he was legally considered dead. She teared up again at the thought.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the door of her room. Outside, a handsome young army officer waited patiently. She gave him a watery smile. He instantly gave her his arm, and his handkerchief.

"There, there." He hummed gently. "He wouldn't want you to weep so, Susan. Your brother was a strong man, and he would have wanted you to be strong for your parents and siblings." He soothed her gently. "Grief is only natural now, love, but tears must wait till we are alone again. Sh… Your mother needs you to be strong."

"Don't leave me, John." Susan asked pathetically. "I need you, I cannot be strong for them without you."

"Of course I won't leave you. There, love, I'll always be here for you."

He gently led her down the hall toward the room where her brother's memorial would be held. Just outside the door, Susan stopped him. She carefully dabbed at her cheeks and eyes until every trace of dampness was gone and only the redness of her eyes and nose betrayed the fact that she had been crying. Carefully smoothing her features, she nodded to John. He gently kissed her forehead, and led her into the room. They joined her family.

Edmund and Lucy were dry-eyed, Susan saw with displeasure, as was her cousin Eustace and his friend Jill who for some reason just had to be invited. She hadn't even known Peter, Susan thought dourly.

The Professor they had been sent to stay with during the war was there as well, and just as calm and stoic. His friend (or was it his wife? Susan couldn't remember…) sat on his other side, not betraying so much as a hint of emotion. Anger smouldered in Susan's chest. Was that the best they could do for her poor brother? Why were they even here? They clearly didn't care any more than her ridiculous siblings did.

At least her parents showed appropriate grief. Mum was weeping softly, leaning on Dad who was pale and misty-eyed.

"Thank you John." Susan said quietly, as he sat her down between Mum and Edmund. He murmured a reply, and moved to the row behind the Pevensie family. Once again Susan felt a hot wave of anger – Lucy and Edmund's friends got to sit in the family row. But not Susan's!

Susan had all she could do to not bawl her eyes out during the memorial service. She allowed herself to weep a little, of course, since it would have looked callous to not do so.

As callous as Edmund and Lucy look right now.

But she had to be strong for her parents, as John had said. And she would be.

Glancing at Edmund, she saw that he was staring ahead, no expression on his handsome face. Lucy was looking around, and having a silent conversation with that girl Jill. Eustace looked bored, but was clearly trying to hide it.

At least he had the decency to do that much.

The Professor appeared thoughtful – but he always did. And his lady-friend (Susan didn't think she was his wife, but she still wasn't sure) seemed to be having a difficult time not falling asleep, although you couldn't have guessed unless you saw her from just the right angle.

By the time the agony of the service was over, Susan's cheeks were burning with humiliation. Every single person in the room, she was sure, had noted the distinct lack of emotion coming from almost everyone in the family row. What must they think? Edmund might be excused, perhaps – everyone knew that he did not believe his brother was really dead, he had been very vocal about it – but all the females should definitely be in tears.

She stood quickly as soon as she was able to do so without seeming rude, and John appeared at her side. He gently put an arm around her as he led her to the family table. Fortunately it was set aside from the rest of the reception area, to give the family some privacy. Of course, the Professor and his friend would be at the family table as well as Eustace and his friend. And of course John wouldn't be…

How am I to last through the entire reception with them?

John pulled out her chair and sat her down.

"Thank you, John."

Edmund glanced over at her on hearing her beau's name. His eyes narrowed as John bent down and gently kissed her forehead.

"I'll be just over there. If you need anything…"

"I'm sure my sister will be fine, and I'll be able to help her if she needs anything. Thank you anyway, John." Edmund said coldly, moving John aside and pushing in Susan's chair for her. She clenched her jaw and sent an apologetic look to John.

He smiled softly and withdrew to his assigned seat. Susan turned a glare on her brother.

"What is wrong with you?" She hissed, thankful that her parents were not there yet. Dad had taken Mum out as soon as the service was over – she had been completely breaking down. The others were already seated, however, and Susan wished they hadn't all been there to see the sibling drama. Oh well – Edmund was asking for it.

"I am not allowed to assist my sister with her chair?" Edmund asked, feigning surprise.

"You're just – augh!"

He frowned. "I am afraid I don't understand…"

"Why were you so rude?! John was just being supportive! He knows how difficult this is."

Edmund's gaze became sad. "It is only as difficult as it is because you choose it to be, sister. There is no need for grief – Peter is fine."

Susan closed her eyes. She could feel another stress headache coming on. "If you start about those games we used to play –"

"They weren't games, Susan. Why do you deny what you know to be true?"

"Edmund, I hardly think this is the time for a debate about your imagination." She tried to shut the conversation down before it even started. "And you didn't answer me. Why were you so rude?!"

Her brother's eyes hardened. "I do not want you to associate with John."

Susan felt her anger flare again. "And why not?" She challenged.

"Susan…" Lucy whispered, but her sister ignored her.

Eustace spoke up. "Cousin, what Edmund means is that John is… playing on your grief, as it were. He does not add up to the picture he paints of himself – he seems to have ulterior motives."

"John is a fine young man of good report. How dare you slander him so!"

Edmund looked as though she had slapped him, and for the first time that day she saw tears in his eyes. "Susan… Will you not trust me now, as you once did?"

"As I once did? I swear, if you bring up that Narnia nonsense –" She cut herself off as her parents approached the table. In a low voice she hissed, "Whether you think he's in an alternate universe or not, at least try to appear grieved. For Mum's sake. What will she think of you – that her youngest children have no hearts? At least act like you care, support her."

Niether of her siblings were able to reply, since at that moment Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie reached them, but Edmund sent her a scathing glance, and Lucy looked at her with sorrow and pity.

That evening, as John walked her back to her room after the reception, she was very quiet. Just as they reached her door, she finally spoke.

"John?"

"Yes, love?"

"I am sorry about my brother… He means well, I suppose, but he was terribly rude. I hope you will not hold it against him."

Her handsome beau smiled. "Of course; he was simply being a protective brother. I understand completely – although I don't have sisters myself – I watch over my cousins."

"He doesn't like you at all, I'm afraid."

"That is a shame, for your brother is a man I would be honored to consider my friend. What does he have against me?"

"All Edmund would say was that he doesn't want me to associate with you. Eustace told me that they are suspicious of you – they think that you are using my grief to worm your way into my heart, or something like that."

Something flashed in John's eyes, there and gone again before she knew what it was – almost before she saw it.

"I hope that you know me better than to entertain such suspicions yourself, pet. I would never do such a thing to any lady, and certainly not to you. Susan, you know that I care for you."

He pulled her into his arms, and she wearily rested her head against his chest.

"I know, John. I wouldn't dream of listening to such nonsense from them."

"I am glad." He released her, and stared into her eyes, his gaze gentle and kind. "Sleep well, Susan. You have had a hard day, and have borne it with such fortitude. Goodnight."

He kissed her forehead, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Then she gave him a watery smile, and went into her room.

On the other side of the door, Susan sank down onto the carpet. She was so tired, but she couldn't go to bed yet. She couldn't bear to face the dreams. She knew she would have them again tonight – of course she would, since Edmund had begun the nonsense again. Every time one of them referenced their old games, she would have vivid dreams – memories of adventures they used to imagine. Susan wanted so badly to be rid of them, but they just kept coming. Those dreams were her torment.

What will I dream of tonight? She wondered wearily.

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The attack had begun. It would not let up now, Adara knew. They would either kill, or be killed. And the odds leaned heavily toward the latter. She fired arrow after arrow into the orcs below, using water to bring them back to her quiver. When she saw that Legolas was running low, she brought his back as well. It was a simple thing, and used no real energy. The elf shot her a thankful glance.

"Ladders!" Aragorn cried, warning everyone on the wall well in advance so that they could prepare.

"Good!" Gimli exclaimed. Adara laughed softly – the dwarf was rather eager for some action. But the sooner orcs mounted the ladders, the sooner the real fighting would begin, and the more people were likely to die.

At Aragorn's command, she switched to her sword. Before the orcs reached the wall, however, she turned to Owain. He was pale with sick fear.

"Owain, stay close to me. I will help you, alright? Remember, you are not alone."

He nodded, determination replacing the fear in his eyes. But the fear was still lurking around the edges, Adara could see, and trying to make its way back in.

Peter leaned down and murmured in her ear, ["Why don't you put him in shadow-form? No blade could touch him then. You'd know where he was, wouldn't you? Since you would be the one hiding him…"]

Adara considered. ["If I die without taking him out of shadow-form, I don't know what would happen. He might die, he might be freed of the shadow, or he might be hidden forever."]

["The Dejen endures. You will not die this night."]

After a moment, his sister nodded. ["Right. You will fight alone a moment, he and I will both be shadows while I explain."]

Turning to Owain, she said, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, my lord Hiljar."

"Then stay perfectly still, and do not talk."

With that, she put him in shadow-form, and assumed it herself. He stared up at her with wide eyes. She knelt, feeling a blade pass thorugh her as she did so. It always felt strange when something solid passed through her when she was in a non-solid form, but it never hurt.

In the boy's ear she whispered, "I come from Astî, the land of peace that my brother Petri helped to free from the Witch Jadis. You remember the story, right?"

He nodded.

"I am not just a Ranger, Owain. I am magic. I have made you invisible – now the orcs cannot see you, and nothing can hurt you. See?"

She put her arm in the way of an orc's blade – it passed right through her without the slightest harm.

"All that the orcs see is a shadow, and they do not know that you are that shadow. You can kill them, but they can't kill you. Be careful and don't fall off the wall – and don't talk too much. They can still hear you, even if they can't see you. Fight your hardest, Owain. Remember that no one is alone – so you must help your people just as they help you. I am going to be visible again in a minute, so you will not be able to see me very well. I will be as dim as the fighters around us. But I will always know where you are, since it is my power that hides you. Alright?"

Owain nodded again. All traces of fear were gone now that he knew he was safe. It was better this way, Adara thought. He was much to young to be in battle – but since he had to be, it was good to introduce him to the horrors of war from a safe position.

Resuming human-form, Adara instantly brought her blade down on the orc that she appeared in front of. She instantly caught her rythym, fighting alongside Peter and Aragorn as if she had been born doing so.

Every now and again she used her powers to save the life of an elf or man around her, but mostly she had to focus on her own fight. There was no room in this battle for a misstep, and while a mistake couldn't cost her own life it might cost the lives of her brothers.

A shout from Aragorn caught her attention. An Uruk was carrying a strange torch with a sparking flame toward the wall. Adara's eyes widened as she felt the aura of magic coming from the fire.

"Bring him down Legolas!" Aragorn cried.

Legolas shot the beast twice, but it threw itself forward as it died. And then the world exploded.

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"Edmund." The voice that called his name was strong and deep – and much beloved.

"Aslan!" Edmund knelt in front of the great Lion.

"Peter needs you, Edmund. The darkness that gathers in Arda is strong enough to destroy all goodness – stronger even than the Witch. I am sending you to Arda, to help. As others once risked everything for your sake, so you must now go into great danger for the good of others. And Lucy as well."

"Where is Addie?" Edmund asked, worried for his sister.

"With her nukar."

"Nukar? Plural?"

"Her blood has been mixed with that of Aragorn, son of Arathorn – of whom she spoke in Narnia."

"So I'll be joining them then? Peter, Addie, and Aragorn?"

"No." Aslan said, quietly, in the way that only Aslan could. "You will not be with them, and neither will Lucy when she goes. You are each needed in different places. But you will have a connection by which you will be able to communicate."

"Is… Is there anything else I need to know before I go?"

"Adara did not understand the language at first – she had to learn it. But to Peter I gave the ability to understand, as there was no time to lose. To you and Lucy, also, I will give the ability to understand the common tongue – and any other tongue that is important for you to know. The things that you need will be given to you, weapons, armor, supplies and the like. You will go now, and Lucy will follow you soon."

"What about Susan, Aslan? I am worried for her. She refuses to acknowledge you – she claims that you are not real, only a game we used to play. And her beau, John, is up to no good – but she doesn't trust me enough to heed my warnings. How can I leave her now, when she needs me more than she ever has before?"

"Your sister's path is her own to choose. Take heart, and go to Peter. Though the Gentle Queen has denounced me, I have not abandoned her. Until the day she dies I shall continue to call her back to myself. Only she can choose to heed the call or run from me – there is nothing you can do here that will help her.

"Be wary, Edmund. Because Evil failed to claim you forever when you were a child, it will continue to try. You must be strong. I will never be far from you, to help you."

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"Lucy, you've just been dreaming!" Susan tried to calm her little sister down. She was jumping with excitement, and had woken both Susan and Peter to tell them about her latest trip to "Narnia" – in the middle of the night!

"But I haven't! I saw Mr. Tumnus again, and this time Edmund went too." Lucy answered happily, as if now they had to believe her.

Susan and Peter both turned to their little brother.

"You… saw the fawn?" Peter asked slowly, still a little groggy.

Edmund shook his head, looking confused and almost a little scared.

Lucy stood up; she'd been sitting on the edge of Peter's bed.

"Well, he didn't actually go there with me. He…" She trailed off, as though she just remembered something. "What were you doing, Edmund?"

Susan waited, watching her brother expectantly. His eyes darted around the room like he was looking for a way out of this situation.

"I was… just playing along." He glanced at his older brother. "I'm sorry Peter. I shouldn't have encouraged her, but you know what little children are like these days. They just don't know when to stop pretending."

Susan glared at her obnoxious brother, and turned to Lucy, whose face had crumpled in tears at Edmund's betrayal. The girl let out one loud sob, and ran from the room.

"Lucy!" Susan called, sending Peter a quick glance and running after her.

Peter jumped up to follow, and he must have done something to Edmund because Susan heard the younger boy cry "Ow!" in the room behind her.

The two siblings ran through the halls after Lucy, just as they rounded a corner, they saw her run into Professor Kirke. She stumbled back a half-step and stared up at him, then put her arms around him and cried into the front of his robe.

"You children are one shenanigan shy of sleeping in the stable–" Mrs. Macredie burst out, tying her robe as she rushed into the hall. She cut herself off abruptly at the scene in front of her.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor. I told them you were not to be disturbed."

"It's alright Mrs. Macredie. I'm sure there's an explanation. But first I think this one is in need of a little hot chocolate." He gently pushed Lucy toward the stern housekeeper.

"Come along dear." She said, more kindly than they had heard her speak yet.

Peter grabbed Susan's elbow, and they turned to go, hoping to slip off unnoticed. No such luck, however – the Professor cleared his throat loudly and raised an eyebrow. He led them to his office.

"You seem to have upset the delicate internal balance of my housekeeper." He said calmly, as he filled his pipe with tobacco.

"We're very sorry, sir." Peter replied decisively. "It won't happen again." Once again he tried to pull Susan away. But she jerked her arm out of his grasp.

"It's our sister, sir, Lucy."

"The weeping girl." The Professor confirmed.

"Yes… She's upset."

The corners of his mouth tilted up as he replied. "Hence the weeping."

"It's nothing!" Peter interjected. "We can handle it!" He glared at Susan, willing her to listen and come away.

"Oh, I can see that." Professor Kirke said. He looked and sounded completely unimpressed.

Peter shrunk slightly under his gaze, and Susan continued.

"She thinks she's found a magical land – in the upstairs wardrobe!"

At that the Professor looked up sharply. Leaping to his feet, he came over and led Susan to the couch. "What did you say?"

"Um… The wardrobe, upstairs. Lucy thinks she's found a forest inside." Peter answered for her.

"She won't stop going on about it!" Susan said, her desperation clear in her voice.

"What was it like?" The Professor asked in amazement.

"Like talking to a lunatic." Susan replied, tears in her eyes.

"What? No, no, no, not her. The forest."

"You're not saying you believe her?" Peter asked in disbelief.

"You don't?" Came the quick response.

"Well, no. I mean, logically it's impossible!" Susan pleaded.

The Professor leaned back in his chair. "What do they teach in schools these days?" He murmured.

"Edmund said they were only pretending…" Peter added slowly.

"And he's usually the more truthful one, is he?" The Professor asked sharply.

"No… This – would be the first time." Peter admitted with reluctance.

"Well if she's not mad, and she's not lying then – logically – we must assume she is telling the truth." Professor Kirke concluded, and lit his pipe.

"You're saying we should just… believe her?" Peter asked incredulously.

"She's your sister, isn't she? You're a family." He took his pipe out of his mouth and leaned forward, fixing them with a stern gaze. "You might just try acting like one!" (Quoted directly from the movie "The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Unfortunately, I didn't write that scene myself... *sigh*)

Susan awoke with a start. The dream was still vivid in front of her eyes, but to her relief it began to fade. She remembered that day – the day Lucy had started their games of make believe. Eventually they had all given in and played along, until they got so caught up in it that it seemed more real than real life. Edmund and Lucy were still trapped in that world of imagination.

"You're a family."

Professor Kirke's words rang in her mind.

"You might just try acting like one!"

Susan got out of bed and made her way to the window. It was three in the morning, and the stars were just beginning to fade.

"You're a family. You might just try acting like one!"

She rubbed her eyes, waiting for the last vapors of sleep disappear, and with them the Professor's voice.

"You're a family. You might just try acting like one!"

"Yes, alright! I get it; you needn't repeat it over and over. We did act like one, we accepted her little games – and look where it got us! Peter's dead, and my siblings don't even shed a tear because they believe a magical talking lion floated him off to some other world. I'm trying to be a family; they are the ones who aren't acting like one! They are the ones who still hang on to silly childish myths, they are the ones who try to turn me against John – it's all them! What am I supposed to do?"

"You might just try acting like one!"

"I am! They aren't, but I am!"

"You're a family…"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Susan cried, desperately trying to silence the voices in her head. She sank to the floor and shut her eyes, weeping. "Shut up."

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Pounding. Someone was pounding on her door. Susan opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming into her room. She stood, straightening her crumpled nightdress. She must have fallen asleep on the floor.

She was pathetically grateful for the distinct lack of dreams in the second half of the night.

"Susan?" Her mother's teary voice called. "Is Edmund in there?"

Susan opened the door. "No, Mother. Why?"

"He's gone!" Mrs. Pevensie wailed.

Automatically, Susan put her arms around her mother and soothed her gently.

"He'll be fine, Mum. I expect he's probably taking a walk. With Eustace, like as not, or the Professor. You know how close they've all gotten recently. He had a hard time at the service yesterday" (Edmund better be grateful that she was trying to hide his horrendous behavior from Mum) "and wouldn't let himself show any emotion for fear of totally breaking down. Professor Kirke probably took him for a walk so he could cry without shame, or something like that. You know how men are."

"But they're both here!" Her Mum cried. "They say that he's gone to Peter, that Peter's alive and he's gone to join him!"

"Susan." Lucy spoke up. Susan hadn't even seen her – she was standing behind Mum. "He left – not half an hour ago. But he'll be back. Can I talk to you alone for a minute?"

"No." Susan answered coldly. "Whatever you have to say you can say right now."

Lucy sighed. "You know why I can't do that." The look she gave Susan was meaningful.

"Lucy. Don't even." Susan warned.

Her little sister sighed again. "He said to tell you that he'll try to bring Peter when he comes, and maybe Addie too – if he can. And he said that he doesn't want you around you-know-who, and that you must trust Eustace."

Susan felt her anger flare. Mrs. Pevensie looked between her daughters, trying to understand what was going on.

"Susan?" She asked, tearily.

"Don't worry about it, Mum. She's only talking about an old game we used to play."

Lucy's eyes flickered on hearing her sister's words. The girl took a deep breath, before she finally let loose everything she had to say.

"No, Susan, it is not a game. It was never a game. And somewhere, deep down in your heart of hearts, you know it too. I don't know why you pretend it wasn't – isn't – real. No, listen!" She cried, seeing Susan about to protest. Her tone shocked her older sister into silence.

"Peter's with Addie. I don't know if he's ever going to come back – that's up to Aslan. But Edmund's gone now, to join him. And soon I'll go … Aslan's spoken to us, he's told us what's going on.

"Don't you care, Susan? There are people dying – right this very minute – in hopes that their children will live in a world without evil. Do you care? Peter's in a battle right now, holding a fortress with only five hundred men against ten thousand. Do you care at all?

"Remember, Susan! Remember the sound of the waves at Cair Paravel, the singing of the niads and the dryads, and the mer people, the laughter of the dancing fauns. Remember the way the Narnian's threw themselves headlong into battle, following Peter to victory! Remember how Aslan looked straight at us as he died, how he roared when he came back, how he smiled at our coronation! Why do you push it away? Narnia is the best thing that ever happened to us, and you pretend nothing ever happened at all! How can you pretend that Aslan isn't real? He is all that really is real!

"Someday you are going to wake up, and understand the gift you were given – only to realize with heartbreak that you threw it all away!"

Susan stared at Lucy in shock. Mrs. Pevensie looked back and forth between her daughters, still not understanding anything.

Eustace appeared at Lucy's elbow, pulling her away. "Alright Lu, that's enough. Nothing you can say will change her heart – Aslan's the only one who can do stuff like that. Come away. It's almost time to go."

"But she has to come with me!" Lucy cried. "Please Susan, Aslan said you could come if only you were willing." She pleaded. "Won't you please come, Susan, before it is too late?"

Susan pulled away from her mother, and retreated to her room. She slammed the door behind her, hard.

An hour later, Professor Kirke came to her with the news that Lucy had gone. She ignored him, only coldly asking him to leave her room. He did as she said. Once he had gone, she broke down and wept.

A quiet knock roused her from her tears. She knew that sound – John was at the door.

"Just a minute!" She called softly. Rummaging on her vanity for a handkerchief, Susan wiped her eyes and face. She glanced at herself in the mirror – she was hardly presentable. She looked like a mess! But John wouldn't care, and she couldn't bring herself to care either. She opened the door.

"Oh, Susan." He murmured, gathering her into his arms. With a tremulous sob, she let him hold her. Somehow, in his embrace, she found the strength she needed to last another day.

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The force of the blast destroyed a large section of the wall, and sent the men on top flying. Adara took air-form before she hit the ground, keeping herself from injury, and used her powers to help cushion the falls of others as well. Many that would have died otherwise were saved. But the use of so much magic took a toll on her. She would have to be careful till her energy returned.

Owain had been thrown from the wall too – but he was in shadow-form, so it didn't hurt him. Still, she checked.

"You alright Owain?" Adara asked, since he had landed close to her.

"What was that?" He cried. A nearby soldier looked around in confusion after hearing a voice come out of thin air.

"Dark fire. It is very explosive if the spell is cast correctly. Saruman has clearly been dabbling in dark magic for quite some time if the fire was so powerful. I wish I had realized what it was before the explosion – I could have countered the magic, or at least weakened it. But are you alright?"

"I'm not hurt." He said, his voice a little shaky.

"Good." Adara knelt beside an elf who had been critically injured by flying debris from the wall. Placing her hands on his chest, she allowed magic from the Dejen to flow through her, healing his wounds. Then she helped him up. Orcs were surging through the gap in the wall, but she paid no mind. She would save as many lives as she could.

As she moved from person to person, Owain stayed with her protecting her while she healed the wounded.

Ten soldiers later – all of whom had been near death before she reached them – Adara heard Aragorn sound the retreat. They had to pull back to the keep.

Adara helped a man to his feet, and turned toward the keep.

"Haldir!" She heard Aragorn shout, and looked up. The elf nodded in response to Aragorn – but was cut down from behind by an Uruk. Aragorn leapt up the stairs and killed the creature, catching his friend as he fell. Haldir was dead.

Adara took shadow-form and transferred to Aragorn's shadow, reaching him just in time to save his life from another Uruk. Resuming human-form, she pulled him to his feet.

"Aragorn, there's no time! Hurry, we must get the men inside the keep!"

Mechanically, he obeyed. When the shock of his friend's death wore off, he clenched his jaw in anger and fought his way to the keep with new vigour.

Peter came into Adara's view.

"Owain?!"

"I'll get him inside!" Adara called. "He's making himself useful down by the wall."

"Be careful!"

"I'm a shadow. Nothing can touch me! Close the gates, we'll get inside easily enough." With that she took shadow-form and was gone.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Edmund stood still, taking in his surroundings. He was in a beautiful forest – it was green and lush, but showed a distinct lack of life. He couldn't hear a single living creature, not even a bird. The only sounds were the slight stirring of leaves on the soft breeze and his own soft breathing.

It wasn't natural. The only time he had ever seen a forest so quiet was…

Edmund swallowed hard at the memories brought back by the silence.

The only time he had ever seen a forest so quiet – so deathly quiet except for the stirrings of the wind – was when he left his siblings in the beavers' dam and made his way through the snow to the Witch's castle.

Shaking his head to clear it, Edmund glanced down at his attire. He was wearing strange clothes – they were clearly Narnian, but unlike his usual armor they seemed designed for stealth and hiding. After a moment he placed them – they were much like Amatorian garments from the Dark Days, when they haunted the wilds in hunt of evil creatures.

He wore light brown breeches and sturdy, flexible, brown leather boots. His tunic was the same color green as the forest around him. Under the over-tunic he felt that he wore leather Amator armor – Amatorian armor was strengthened with dragon scales. No armor was more flexible, and no armor was stronger. Good dwarvish mail might be considered equal to dragon scale armor, but it certainly wasn't better. At his hip Edmund wore his usual sword, his knife was on his belt, and he could feel that his two throwing knives were in his boots. On his back was a bow – not his weapon of choice (he preferred blades) but certainly one he knew how to use. At his knife side he also had a quiver of arrows. And over his whole ensemble he wore a grey-green cloak with a deep hood that hid his face; a cloth of the same color was wrapped around the lower half of his face.

Aslan had said that the gear he needed would be given to him, so Edmund guessed that he needed to blend in with his surroundings.

Edmund glanced up, reevaluating the scenery. He was in the middle of a clearing and instinctively he backed out of sight into a small copse of bushes. But how was he to stay out of sight while getting a better look at his surroundings?

He glanced up, deciding whether or not he'd be able to reach the lowest branch of the nearest tree on the first try. He couldn't afford to leap twice. With a quick look around the clearing, Edmund darted for the tree and jumped into the lowest branches. He pulled himself up into the higher branches, where the leaves were thick enough to hide him effectively.

Once he was safely hidden, Edmund stayed still, panting slightly from his rush. He scanned his surroundings again, to make sure that nothing had changed. Something was different. He couldn't place it at first, but then he realized that the breeze had dropped. Without the rustling of leaves and whisper of wind, the forest was completely silent.

But only for a moment.

Harsh voices grated on his ear. The language was dark, and evil, filled with malice.

Edmund remembered that Aslan had said he would understand any language he needed to, so he listened carefully and tried to understand. Almost instantly, he did.

"…the cut ahead. They'll be passing through soon, going to the Gate. Orders are to meet them as they come out – do a little head count. The Eye doesn't want any games, there's too much at stake."

A second voice cut in, it was thin, reedy, and whined incessantly. "So what're we to do then? If you're doing the big count, what's left for us? You'll get all the fallout, if something goes wrong – I don't mind that. But you'll also get all the glory if it all goes right – and that I do mind. You don't expect my lads to just sit tight while you have all the fun?"

"Oh, no." The first voice, which was deep and gravelly, answered. The voice seemed to be almost growling when it spoke. "I don't expect you to sit still at all. You're on look-out. The Tarks have been awfully active lately – don't want them on our tail."

"Of course." The winy voice snarled. "Leave it to the tower rats to do the dirty work, hm? Let the gate rats take care of the nice, tidy stuff, and stick me and my boys with the dangerous part. I see, oh yes, I see exactly what you're up to. And if anything goes wrong – anything at all – you'll blame the tower rats. Then it's off to the mines with us, isn't it. But you'll be in the clear. Very clever, very, very clever."

"It is, isn't it." The deep voice replied. "This is one time I have to agree with you, tower rat."

Whiny voice snarled, and from the sounds he heard, Edmund guessed that he jumped the 'gate rat' and a scuffle ensued.

Orcs. They must be. Nothing else sounds so… Well, like orcs!

Edmund grimaced at his reasoning.

Really, that sounded terribly smart.

But who were the 'Tarks'? If they were enemies of the orcs, then were they on his side?

Which 'side' am I even on? How many 'sides' are there? I should have asked a few more questions… Then again, what Aslan didn't tell me when I asked must be things I either don't really need to know, or have to figure out on my own.

He carefully looked out from his hiding place. There were a lot of orcs, at least fifty, all told.

There might be more I can't see.

He couldn't take that many alone, not when they were all clumped up like so. He was going to fight them – they were orcs, evil. No matter what 'side' Edmund was technically on, they were his enemies.

He watched as a third orc broke up the scuffle, and the band of orcs split in two. After identifying which group was doing the 'head count' and which was keeping watch, Edmund waited until they were out of sight – though not out of hearing – before making his next move.

The trees were strong, well able to hold his weight far out on their limbs, Edmund surmised, after a quick assessment. And they were close enough together that he should be able to move from tree to tree, with fairly little trouble, and without being easily spotted from the ground.

Carefully, he emerged from his hiding spot, exchanging complete safety for the considerably more dangerous task of following the orcs – in the treetops. Edmund had done this sort of thing before; but that had been in Narnia where the trees moved their branches to help him and catch him if he slipped. Then, too, he had only been playing around with Lucy, not trying to stay silent and out of sight.

Edmund made it into the next tree, and then the next, and then the next, and began to move faster as he got used to what he was doing. The orcs were far ahead of him now, but he didn't let that knowledge push him to faster speeds than he could reasonably handle without falling.

Abruptly, the trees ended. Edmund glanced about, and saw that he had caught up to the orcs at last. Ahead of him was a shallow valley – arguably the 'cut' the orcs had mentioned. The tree he was in now was the very last on the edge of the valley, and the whiny leader of the group on watch was directly below Edmund. He carefully slipped up a little higher in the tree, where the orc couldn't see him if he happened to glance up. Once safely hidden again, Edmund let out a silent sigh of relief.

Now then, how do I get to work and deal with him, without alerting the others?

After considering for a moment, he decided on a plan of action. He would have to be absolutely silent. Edmund drew his knife, put it in his teeth, and began to slowly descend the tree again. Suddenly he paused, feeling eyes on his back. Someone had seen him.

Why didn't they raise the alarm?

Edmund had no idea, but decided that it didn't matter. He was probably going to die anyway, and he would certainly take down as many servants of evil as he could in the process. He would not die without a fight.

This thought in mind, he resumed his stealthy descent. The orc never knew he was there. Edmund got to the ground without its knowledge of his presence, and he easily slipped up behind it, holding his breath so the movement of air wouldn't make the orc look around. He killed it and caught the body in the same motion, preventing it from hitting the ground noisily and attracting attention.

He was still being watched, that he knew. But even now, no alarm was raised. Carefully, Edmund scanned the area, lying on the ground a little ways from the dead orc, hidden by underbrush. He saw nothing. Or – did he?

Edmund took a second look at a clump of bushes just down the hill from him, and smiled slightly.

Gotcha.

There was a man in the bushes, and he was watching Edmund's every move. He was dressed much as Edmund was, and very difficult to see – from this Edmund surmised that he, also, blended with his surroundings very well. The man had probably glanced up the hill at the precise moment Edmund was visible and moving, and the movement had caught his eye.

Or else he is used to this sort of get-up and doesn't have much trouble picking it out from the landscape.

Edmund doubted the man was alone. He must be one of the 'Tarks' the orcs had spoken of, in which case there were certainly more.

The man clearly knew that Edmund had seen him, and made a motion toward the orc, then gestured in a way that Edmund guessed meant he was asking how many more there were.

With a grimace to show that he was uncertain of the exact number - he forgot that the man could not see his face behind the concealing cloth - Edmund showed the fingers on both hands twice, and again the fingers on one hand. Twenty-five.

The Tark nodded.

Edmund turned carefully, crawling back to the tree. When he reached the base he glanced about, checking for watching orcs, and leapt to his feet and into the branches. When he looked back, the man was still watching. Shrugging slightly, Edmund turned around and slipped back into a tree farther from the edge of the valley. He wouldn't worry about the Tark now; his focus was the orcs.

One by one he picked them off. It was simple really – they had spread out to watch for Tarks. One he shot, another he stabbed, and so on. Edmund was careful to only kill with arrows ones that he could not reach from the trees, and that had a clump of bushes or something beside them to soften the noise of their fall.

Twenty-five.

That was all. He scoured the area, but there were only twenty-five. With the orcs dead, he slipped from tree to tree back to the edge of the valley. What met his eyes was quite a different scene from the one he had viewed earlier. The valley was crawling with men. They were dark, and wore strange armor, with black cloths wrapped around the lower halves of their faces. They rather resembled Calormenes, Edmund decided, but their eyes were dark and evil.

There were also a number of elephants – huge beasts, unlike any elephant that Edmund had ever seen or heard of. On the back of each was a small wooden tower, almost a miniature fortess. The backs of the elephants were higher than the trees in the valley, and the tops of the towers were about level with the valley walls.

These must be the ones the orcs were coming to meet. So deep-voice and his 'gate rats' must be down there somewhere, counting them as they come out of the valley.

His thoughts were cut off by cries from the valley. Arrows rained down on the dark men. Edmund carefully followed the flight paths of the arrows with his eyes, and in doing so was able to trace them back to more Tarks. The sides of the valley were swarming with the hidden men.

No wonder the orcs fear them so!

They were virtually impossible to see unless moving, at least with his unpracticed eyes, and still difficult to see even then!

With a grim smile, he took his bow from his back. Whether the Tarks were 'good' or not, the men in the valley were obviously in league with evil. As such, they were Edmund's enemies.

Edmund set an arrow on the string. He aimed carefully at one of the elephant's eyes, hoping that if he got it exactly right he might actually kill the beast. With a deep breath, he let the arrow go.

His aim was true.

The elephant was simply too big to be killed by the arrow as Edmund had hoped, but it was clearly blinded. It stumbled toward its blinded side, heading straight for Edmund's tree. Bracing himself, he set another arrow on the string and aimed again. As the beast came closer, Edmund knew, he had a better chance of actually killing it.

He let fly.

The arrow struck right beside his first arrow, but didn't kill the elephant. The continued on its blundering path toward his hiding place in the tree. Setting his jaw, Edmund put his bow on his back and drew his sword. As it smashed into his tree, he leapt out and caught hold the giant main rope that held the wooden tower on the elephant's back, clinging to the side of the animal. Quickly he cut at the rope with his sword; after a few moments it snapped in half. The tower tipped and began to fall down the opposite side of the elephant – alerting the men within it to his presence. As it fell, pulling Edmund up in the process until he was able to let go and stand on the elephant's back, several men managed to leap out of the miniature fortress that would have carried them to their doom and threw themselves at him.

Edmund's sword was still in his hand, and he easily fought them off. The hard part was keeping his balance while fighting as the beast lumbered around, smashing into trees and stumbling often. When he had fought the men off the elephant, he sheathed his sword and strung his bow again.

Edmund knew there was a spot, right at the base of the elephant's skull, where the tough skin was at its thinnest and the skull offered no protection to the spinal column and cord. That was the spot that he aimed at, firing at point blank. The elephant groaned, and settled down on its knees. Its life finally faded and it collapsed. Edmund leapt off its broad back and into a new tree.

As he was about to make his way back to the valley, a number of Tarks converged on the spot. There were at least twenty. And they were all looking at the tree in which he was hiding.

It would seem I've been spotted. The first Tark must have told his friends.

One Tark stepped forward.

"Come down."

Edmund obeyed. He was instantly surrounded.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in these lands?"

He hesitated a moment, then removed his hood and face cloth. "I am Edmund Pevensie, of Narnia. I was sent to these lands by my liege lord and master, Aslan (whom you call Illuvatar) Son of the Great Emperor overseas. He brought me here to fight the darkness, and that is what I am doing. Therefore tell me for whom you fight that I may know if you are with me or against me."

The Tark said nothing for a moment, and then declared, "I can tell you nothing without leave of my Captain. These lands are closed to any save those sent from Gondor by Lord Denethor, and therefore I am charged to bring you in that my Captain may question you. Will you come of your own accord, or must we bring you by force?"

Edmund smiled slightly. The Tark before him clearly was unsettled by the look on the face of the younger man – he smiled as though he knew something they did not.

"I come willingly." Edmund said cheerfully. "Though if I refused and you tried to bring me by force, you would perhaps find it a harder task than you think. I am not unskilled in the use of the weapons I bear. Lead on then."

The Tark gave him a look, then murmured to his men in a low voice (in another language, but Edmund understood) "Keep your weapons to hand, and watch him closely."

"No need." Edmund said, taking them all by surprise. The Tark clearly hadn't expected him to understand. "I said I will come, and Edmund the Just does not break his word."

The leading Tark stared at him for a long moment, trying to stare him down. Edmund, however, returned the look with a confidant, and unwavering gaze. At last the Tark turned and led the way to wherever the Captain was.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Adara found Owain, and helped him shadow-shift into the closed keep. She arrived just in time to hear Aragorn ask, 'How much time to you need?"

Theoden replied grimly, "As much as you can give me."

Aragorn nodded, and looked at Peter, who nodded as well. Adara joined them just as they were about to exit the fortress through a tiny side door that could not be reached or even seen from the causeway. They looked at her with visible relief, but said nothing. Gimli joined them as well, and they slipped out onto the stone ledge outside the door that led around the corner. Just past the corner there was a large gap – on the other side of which was the causeway in front of the main gate.

The orcs were intent on ramming the gate down, and had done a great deal of damage. They had to get them away long enough for the men inside to brace the gate and nail new, strong planks across the splintered holes.

"Oh come on, we can take them!" Gimli muttered when Aragorn paused and peered around the corner to assess the situation.

"It's a long way." Aragorn told him solemnly.

Gimli's face dropped, and he peered around the corner himself. Dropping his eyes to the ground, he growled.

"Toss me."

"What?" Aragorn asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"I cannot jump the distance, you'll have to toss me!"

Aragorn nodded and reached for the dwarf, but Gimli stopped him.

"Don't tell the elf."

"Not a word." Aragorn agreed.

What was that about? Some sort of inside joke I missed out on…

The other three followed Gimli over the gap, barreling into the Uruk-hai that were assaulting the gate. Drawing their various assorted blades, they began to fight.

After a good five minutes of stiff fighting, Theoden called through the last hole in the door before a plank was put in place over it.

"Aragorn! Get out of there!"

Above them, Legolas threw a rope down.

"Aragorn!"

All four of them glanced up. The rope would certainly not hold all four of them.

"Aragorn, take Gimli." Adara ordered. "Peter, you're used to being in shadow-form; we'll shift to the wall and help Legolas get them up."

They all moved to obey without question.

Adara put herself and Peter in shadow-form, thankful that she had recovered most of the magical energy she had used up in the wall explosion, and shifted them to Legolas's shadow. It showed how used to Adara's ways the elf had become that he didn't start at all on their appearance at his elbow, only moved to the side slightly so that they could all grab the rope. Working together, they pulled Aragorn and Gimli up the wall and into the battlements of the keep.

In spite of their efforts, however, it was only a matter of time until the gate was breached. No gate can hold forever against the ruthless pounding of a battering ram. The gate was giving way – it finally splintered, allowing orcs to surge through. With a shout, the King drew his men back into the inner keep, guarding the entrance to the caves where the women and children waited in fear.

The few fighters that were left strained against the door, trying to brace it against the pounding of the ram that the orcs were now using to force entry to the last refuge of the people of Rohan.

Owain touched Adara's sleeve. She turned to where she knew he was, although he was still in shadow-form.

"Do not give up hope." She whispered. "I have seen more miraculous things than this victory would be. I have seen the Lion dead, and raised to life again by the power of love. I have seen men saved from the brink of death, pulled from the very mists of darkness even as it tried to claim them. I have seen winter turn to summer in the blink of an eye, despair to hope, and mourning to joy. Do not let your courage fail you now, Owain. There is nothing too difficult for Illuvatar to accomplish."

"It is no good." Adara turned to the King's voice as Theoden continued. "It is over."

"You said this fortress would never fall as long as your men defend it!" Aragorn shouted at him. "They still defend it! They have died defending it!"

The King turned away from Aragorn. Adara's heart fell, and she watched to see what her brother would do.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" He asked Gamling, the King's aide.

Gamling looked between Aragorn and his lord, hesitating, uncertain whom he should be following at this moment.

"Is there no other way?!" Aragorn shouted again.

"There is one path… into the mountains." Gamling answered at last. "But they won't get far – there are too many!" He added quickly.

"Send word to the women to make for the mountain path, and barricade the entrance behind themselves." Peter said quickly, as he laid a hand on Aragorn's arm to calm the man down.

"So much death… What can men do against such reckless hate?" The King asked distantly. He seemed dazed.

Aragorn turned to him, determination in his gaze.

"Ride out with me."

Theoden raised his head, and looked the Ranger in the eye. After a moment he nodded.

"For death and glory!"

"For Rohan!" Aragorn countered. "For your people!"

"The sun is rising." Gimli said quietly, staring at a small slot high in the wall, designed for the use of archers to cover the yard below. Soft white light seeped through.

Gandalf said that he would come from the east at dawn on the fifth day… It is the fifth day!

"Yes. Yes! The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deeping-comb once again!" Theoden cried, oblivious to the meaning of the sunrise. Adara guessed that he didn't know what Gandalf had said.

Either way, it doesn't really matter.

Peter put an arm around her as soldiers brought horses from deeper within the inner fortress. A light brown horse broke away from the soldier at its head and trotted to Peter, snorting.

"Kemen! I am glad to see you returned safely from whatever caused you to leave with such haste." Peter greeted it with a smile.

"Kemen?" Adara asked. She reached out and stroked Kemen's mane.

"Yes – it is the name I gave him, after he chose me as his master. He was gracious enough to accept it."

"Of course – it is a good name, a strong name. A name of which to be proud." Adara smiled slightly, as if she knew a secret. "But, what do you mean he left earlier with haste?"

"Exactly that." Peter replied, swinging onto Kemen's back. "He came racing out of the cave in which I had stabled him and only paused a moment beside me before he was off, galloping through the gates and away from the fortress. I did not see when he returned."

"That may have been my fault." Adara said sheepishly, and peeked up at her brother. "I sent a message on the wind for a swift horse who was willing to come and carry us to the fortress. Kemen answered my call."

Peter threw back his head and laughed, instantly catching the attention of the other riders who were gearing up. "I might have known." He leaned down and patted Kemen's neck affectionately. "Thanks for bringing my sister back to me."

Kemen shook his mane and whinnied.

Peter reached down for Adara, but she shook her head. She was more used to riding with Aragorn, and figured that Owain would be happiest behind Peter, who he looked up to and trusted.

"I'll ride with El."

"Who?" Peter asked, puzzled.

"That's what I call Aragorn – like I call you Petri. He calls me Ad, and you call me Ara, or Ar."

"Ah. I see."

Adara turned and called, "Owain!"

"Yes?" A small voice behind her whispered.

"Here. You're going to ride with Peter, alright?"

Peter met her eyes, understanding now why she had refused to ride with him.

"Alright." Owain responded, still in a whisper.

Adara lifted him onto Kemen behind her brother, getting some strange looks from other fighters in the process, since she seemed to be lifting air.

Aragorn rode over on Hasufel, and reached down for her. Adara took his hand, and he pulled her up behind him.

"Let's blow this nut stand!" Adara whispered, just loudly enough that both her brothers could hear her. Peter chuckled softly, while Aragorn just raised an eyebrow, looking at her over his shoulder.

"You know this looks weird, right?" She asked, softly enough that only he could hear her. "Two grown men – as far as anyone watching knows – mounted on one horse?"

He shrugged. "Let them think it strange. I care not. They will know soon enough, I expect – Aslan will not have you pass as a man forever."

She grinned at his response, and drew her twin blades. Basil and Lorcán flashed in the air. The door trembled, then it finally shattered before the relentless pounding of the ram.

The orcs tumbled into the room – only to find a column of armed and mounting Rohirrim waiting. The King shouted, and a great hornblast blew. Adara guessed that it was the legendary horn of Helm Hammerhand, which Gimli had gone running off to find not long ago. The Rohirrim charged. The orcs gave way before the stream of horses like water breaking on rock.

Out of the gate of the keep and down the causeway the mounted fighters rode, pushing the orcs before them. The Keep of the Hornburg was now clear of all invading creatures, and a few men for which no horses could be found instantly set to work on the inner door and the gate, bracing the splintered wood and hammering new beams across. The new defences wouldn't hold long against the Uruk-hai, but they would last a few minutes – and in war a few minutes could be as long as a lifetime. A few minutes could make the difference between a victory and a defeat.

Now the Rohirrim were beyond the end of the causeway, surging into the mass of seething orc-flesh that made up the enemy's army. At that moment, the sun finally topped the ridge beside the fortress.

The light of the rising sun illuminated the figure of a single rider dressed in white on a white horse. A moment later another horse appeared on the ridge, bearing a tall man in armor. They held a moment's conversation – then the man in armor drew his sword.

"Rohirrim, attack!" He cried, sounding the charge.

Horses surged down the ridge and into the mass of orcs, the rising sun blinding their enemies as they came. The riders from the fortress rode with new hope and vigor, urging their horses through the dwindling mass of orcs towards the new-come Rohirrim. The two forces met in the middle – the one led by King Theoden, the other by his nephew Eomer.

As the last orcs fled into the mysterious forest that had also appeared with the rising sun and had blocked off the orcs' one possible escape from the riders, all the riders entered the fortress. Someone was sent to the caves to catch up to the women and children with news of the victory and bring them out of hiding. Others were set to caring for the wounded.

Adara was tired, but not as physically exhausted as most of the men were. Magically, she didn't have a lot of energy left, but she had enough to save quite a few lives. She disappeared to the makeshift infirmiry the moment she and Aragorn dismounted, where she spent herself saving the lives of those who had no other hope. Eventually her brothers found her, and dragged her away to rest.

The next day they would ride to Isengard to deal with the traitorous wizard Saruman. Just thinking about it exhausted the tired Amator even more. While Aragorn attended to whatever needed to be done, Peter watched over his sister as she slept.

So, Edmund's introduction to Middle Earth and his first interactions with the Gondorian rangers may be one of the scenes I think turned out best in this story... Let me know what you think?