Disclaimer: *sigh* I still do not own it…So sad…So sad…

Hi there! I am back again: and this time, in Washington D.C! (America's capital). It's so beautiful here…the perfect temperature, sunny 75 degrees. I just got back from touring the city…walked down the National Mall; saw the Smithsonian Art Gallery (which was absolutely beautiful: it has the only Leonardo da Vinci painting in the Western hemisphere!); went to the Old Post Office Pavillion; and had lunch at Union Station. It was so much walking, but it was so worth it! *sigh* But now, my touring-crazed family has finally given me a break to write! *cheers* Yay!

So let's move on to the story. I would apologize for not updating in so long (I think since Spring Break), but, you know, I do it so often now that it's not even worth it. You know that I'm sorry, no matter what I don't say. :) So…yeah. Moving on. This chapter is pretty short, since it's only a bridge chapter between end of The Two Towers and the beginning of the Return of the King.

Since my Summer Vacation has officially started (woohoo!), I'll be able to update a lot more, hopefully. Then again, I've promised that before with no results, so who knows? Anyway, here is the new chapter. Enjoy! :)

Chapter 29 – Reverberations


The king now returned to the Hornburg, and slept…and the remainder of his chosen company rested also. But the others, all that were not hurt or wounded, began a great labour; for many had fallen in the battle and lay dead upon the field or in the Deep.

~ "The Road to Isengard"


As I traveled back into the depths of Helm's Deep, everywhere I looked there was damage, ruin, and destruction. We may have won the battle, but in the process…Curunîr had destroyed this once proud city. The scenes that pulled my heartstrings the most were those of the crying family members who had been left behind. The wives and daughters and mothers whose men had gone off to fight for Middle-Earth…and had not come back.

The wails and sobs of the Rohirrim women tore at me: my heart throbbed with their pain. I wished I could go to them, comfort them, tell them that the world would not always be this way. But I could not bring myself to approach any of them: partly because I knew I could not promise the latter, and partly because I had been in their position more times than I could count. My mother; my grandparents; Elros; Isildur; Gil-Galad; Celebrimbor; Mithrandir; Arathorn; Boromir; Aragorn…

…Haldir…

I swallowed heavily, trying to shake off the aura of sadness like a cloak. I had to get to the caves…had to find Haldir and make sure he was okay. That was my incentive now. Focus, Ellacári…just one more turn, and then you'll be in the caves.

As soon as I strode around the next corner, the mourning cries of the Rohirrim slowly died out and were replaced by the hustle and bustle of an infirmary that was receiving too many patients at once. Amidst all the shouting and running around, I could clearly hear Éowyn commanding the other healers in a calm and orderly fashion.

I carefully steered around the Rohirrim women and men (the latter mostly laid out on cots, stripped of their armor already) and gravitated towards Éowyn's voice.

"Éowyn!" I called loudly, trying to gently push aside some Rohirrim women who had gathered into some sort of cluster right in front of me. "Éowyn!"

A flash of blonde came from near the end of the crowd, and after a few seconds, I felt a warm hand grab mine and pull me through the mass of people. When I emerged from the other side, I was met with Éowyn's tired and weary, yet relieved face. "Ellacári…" She breathed, a smile immediately lighting up her features as she pulled me into a hug, and I reciprocated with equal enthusiasm. "You managed to emerge from this battle unscathed?" She asked with a raised when we pulled back from each other. I rolled my eyes. She is already speaking like my father…

"I suppose so," I answered with a coy shrug, feeling as I did so the sharp, but bearable, sting of a series of lacerations on my right shoulder: caused by, if my memory was correct, an orc's multipronged spear. There were also the small flesh wounds on my hands, the cut on my cheek, and an overall sensation of exhaustion and heaviness which had seemingly soaked into every single one of my bones. But Éowyn does not need to know this. I cannot rest or tend to my wounds yet: there is still much that I must do.

Yet the shieldmaiden of Rohan was more perceptive than I had given her credit for. Her eyes narrowed in the telltale 'annoyed healer' expression. I sighed heavily. "I'm fine, Éowyn. Just…please. Bring me to my cousin, and then I'll rest. I promise." She eyed me uncertainly, before nodding in reluctant acquiescence.

"Your cousin is over here, where we have been tending to the elves." After making sure the other healers had everything under control in the main room, she motioned for me to follow her to an even more isolated section of the caves. The thought of going even deeper underground – even more surrounded by cold stone and dark earth – made me shudder in revulsion, but I closed my eyes and convinced myself to bear it. I have to…think of Haldir. Taking one last deep breath, I followed Éowyn into the cavern.

There were a few twists and turns, but it only took half a minute at most to reach the second infirmary (which made the knot of anxiety in my stomach unravel). I was relieved to see a bit more than two dozen other elves lying on cots: injured, but alive. This cheered my heart greatly, as I had believed only the twins, Haldir, and I to be the only Elvish survivors.

"Over here, Ellacári," Éowyn said quietly, unwilling to break the calm silence that reigned in the room. Unlike the bustling activity of the main cavern, this room was quiet, yet comfortable: caused by the presence of my brethren. As always, when in the company of elves – even ill ones – the whole world seemed to stand still. There were only a handful of Rohirrim women tending to the wounded: and they all seemed to be pretty well off. If the wounds weren't too serious, as most of these incidents were, Elvish biology could usually take care of itself.

I followed Éowyn over to a small corner, and there on a white cot lay my cousin. His skin was clammy and sallow, and the lanterns and torches beside him cast an orange glow across his pale features. He looked like Death warmed over. But that, at least, is better than being actually dead.

Haldir had been stripped of his armor and dressed in dry, Rohirrim trousers. His hair had been cut short in places and bandaged, to make sure there was no damage to his skull, and it gave him an un-elflike, spiky look. It suited him, in a strange, unnatural way.

Healers had swathed my cousin's chest in white cloth, leaving no part of his torso uncovered. And yet with all the dressings and pressure, streaks of crimson continued to seep through, which worried me. The bleeding should have stopped by now…but Haldir's wound had technically been fatal.

"There is more damage than there appears to be," I told Éowyn. "It is too dangerous to operate on such a delicate injury…one mistake and he could lose the use of his legs forever." Éowyn flinched at that, and I inwardly agreed with her: that could be a fate worse than death, at least for a warrior like Haldir. In a lower voice, I added, "I will have to heal the most lethal part of this injury now…and let his own body take care of the rest, once he is out of mortal danger." I glanced at her to see if this show of Elvish witchcraft unnerved her. Yet while there was a flicker of nervousness in her eyes, she straightened bravely and nodded, moving beside me to shield Haldir's body from the inquisitive eyes of the Rohirrim women.

I sighed in relief, whispering a soft, "Hannon le," to her as I carefully took off my armor and cleansed my hands in a bowl of warm water.

I ran my hands carefully over the crimson-stained bandages, before carefully unraveling them. I motioned for Éowyn to help me lift his torso, and turn him onto his stomach. I was not entirely comfortable with him being upside down – his breathing might be restricted – but that was the only way to fully access the injury. I flinched slightly when the wound became completely exposed: the edges of the puncture and the skin around it was swollen bright red, which reeked of infection. I would have to heal that first, before trying to close the wound as much as I could safely.

Gently placing my hand directly over the injury, I closed my eyes and concentrated on drawing the harmful contaminants out of his entire system. It took a surprising amount of effort to be able to focus on only the substances which were harming him, but eventually, specks of dirt, mud, dried blood, and sickeningly familiar thick yellow pus began to emerge. Even in unconsciousness, Haldir's body tensed perceptibly. I was glad that he was not awake to feel the agony that would've no doubt arisen during the process.

Every once and a while I lifted my single hand away from the wound to rub away the infectants: dispersing them into the ground as the formless aether from whence they'd come. Then I'd return to the puncture, and begin the cycle again. After a few minutes of this draining, I used a few handfuls of conjured water to sweep through his system one last time, making sure every speck infection was gone. Being confident of this, I pressed a hand to his chest one final time to close up the injury. It would not heal immediately: but it would allow his body the time and chance to fix itself.

Sighing heavily, I turned away from my cousin, trying to coyly rest my weight on Éowyn's arm. I would rather die than admit it…but I was absolutely exhausted. The continuous drain of magic, plus the battle that had only ended a mere hour ago, had left me completely shattered. I desperately needed to sleep.

Éowyn noticed my eyes glazing, and carefully wrapped a hand around my waist, leading me towards a bed in the corner, not far from Haldir. I weakly tried to protest. "No, Éowyn…I need to find…Estel…and Mithrandir…" Éowyn shook her head. "Do not worry, I will tell them where you are. If their need to speak with you is truly great, then you will be awoken. But for now, rest, Cári. You need it."

My limp form hit the cot and it suddenly felt like the most comfortable bed in the entire world. "No…Éowyn…" "Hush now, stubborn princess…" She said fondly, taking away my bow and laying it beside me. "Sleep…" The irony that I was millennia older than her and being treated like a child occurred to me, but I neither had the energy, nor the focus to care.

"Sleep…"


"Ellacári…Ellacári…Arise, titta-míne | little one |…" I groaned softly, focusing my eyes and wincing as a ray of light hit them. "Mana—?" | What—? |

"Á tulë sí | Come now |, Cári. You have slept long enough. Your work is not done yet." The voice became deeper, and (unfortunately) familiar. I groaned again. Leave me alone, le yaivë istar! | you stupid wizard |

A deep chuckle sounded from above me – proving that the eavesdropper had been listening to my thoughts – before the thin blanket covering my body was abruptly ripped off, turning my temperature from comfortably warm to freezing cold in a second. "AI! Man carát?!" | AH! What are you doing?! | I shrieked, shivering already as I reached desperately for the blanket. The cruel man just threw it across the room. "Úcarnet nîn!" | Traitor! | The wizard just raised an eyebrow at me. That arse!

"We are going to be moving out to Isengard soon. I was under the impression that you wanted to be awoken when that time came. If I was mistaken, we could just leave without you…" The man trailed off, and I glared at him, because I knew that he had beaten me there. I would've killed them in the long run if they had left without waking me up. But then again, I really did need the rest…I hadn't slept peacefully in days, and even elves have limits.

I growled at him, before reluctantly leaving the bed and pulling on my boots that were beside the cot. "I knew you would recognize your hypocrisy eventually," Mithrandir said with a cheeky smile, alerting me once again that he had read my mind.

I glared at him even more furiously. "A mitta lambetya cendelessë orcova." | Go kiss an orc |

Mithrandir chuckled, completely unaffected by my insults. That insolent—! Oh, it's no use. Just let it go, Ellacári…it's not worth it.

After I had gotten on my boots and retrieved my bow, quiver, and knives from the other side of the bed (pointedly ignoring Mithrandir the entire time), I gently prodded the wound on my shoulder. All that remained was a dull ache: it seemed like my healing sleep had done its job. Since there was no bleeding, I felt no need to change the bandages, and so reluctantly rose, and walked away from the thinned, dirty cot which had become oh so comfortable for the past few hours, Mithrandir walking beside me.

As we walked past the other injured elves, we passed an empty, blood-stained cot that looked familiar. I stopped abruptly, staring at it, stunned. "Mithrandir, where is Haldir?!" I asked, panic already beginning to speed through my veins.

"Don't worry, Cári," An entirely different voice answered. "Your cousin is safe." I spun around to find a tired, pale Éowyn, wiping blood and herbs off her hands with a piece of wet cloth. "A group of Elves who were unharmed took him and a few of your more critically injured kin and left the city in a caravan. One of the captains, I believe her name was Miriel, said that they were going to bring the injured to the nearest Elvish settlement…for them to heal faster." Éowyn dropped the now soiled cloth into a dish of water, retying her hair braid, as it had come undone. "I would have told you, but you needed the rest."

I looked at her for a moment longer, before glancing at Mithrandir and asking softly, "Ma carina nás?" | Is this true? | The wizard nodded calmly. "Náto." | Yes |

I pursed my lips, still trying to decide if I was okay with this. I had met Captain Miriel a few times before, and she was an honorable and intelligent elleth. After a few moments, I judged her decision trustworthy, and nodded thankfully at Éowyn.

"Te lelyá tulë Mirkwoodenna." | They will go to Mirkwood | I said to Mithrandir tersely. "Ará tulë atto-nîn." | And to my father |

Mithrandir nodded again, saying nothing in response. Hmm, well then, maybe he does not realize that my father will kill me when Haldir wakes up and tells him of what has happened on this little quest so far. Valar, I am doomed…

The wizard shrugged lightly at my horrified thoughts, choosing only to respond with, "Aiqua n'uva, n'uva." | Whatever will be, will be |

I stared at him, incredulous, before sighing and accepting that the omniscient wizard knew something I did not, and was not going to tell me anything anytime soon. Turning back to Éowyn, I smiled wearily, and clasped her shoulder. "Thank you, Éowyn. For everything. Truly…I owe you much."

The human woman just smiled gently, gripping my elbow softly in return. "Westu hal. Ferðu." (1)

I raised an eyebrow at her use of Rohirric (which I could just barely grasp the meaning of), and she just smirked at me, as if to say, See how you like it, being spoken to in another language you don't understand. I chuckled sheepishly and cuffed her lightly on the shoulder.

"Go on," Éowyn said, enforcing her second appeal with a small push towards a quickly departing Mithrandir, who had already left me behind from exasperation. I had no doubt that the wizard would actually convince the rest of the company to leave without me, so I quickly said goodbye to Éowyn and hurried after my mentor.

"So my cousin is gone…what about Dan and Ro? Did they leave without letting me know as well?" I asked when I caught up to him. Mithrandir shook his head. "Nay, the twin sons of Elrond are still here. They were resting as you were until a few minutes ago. I believe Aragorn woke them up. They should be…ah, yes. Here we are."

I looked away from the istar and found that we had emerged from the caves, arriving in the main, open-aired chamber of Helm's Deep. The wooden set of doors that once rested in the fourth wall were utterly destroyed, leaving a gaping hole in the stone barricade. Along with a few curious Rohirrim spectators, the only ones who occupied the area were the twins, Aragorn and Gimli – astride Brego and Arod respectively – King Théoden, Éomer, Captain Gamling, and now Mithrandir and I.

Next to the other horses, Shadowfax (unbridled and unsaddled) neighed impatiently, whickering for his master's attention. While Mithrandir mounted the lord of horses with a strength that belied his age, I walked calmly up to Arod and leapt onto the young steed in front of Gimli. I heard my dwarf friend sigh in quiet relief as I took the reins from him and immediately quelled Arod's nervous twitches.

Elrohir trotted up beside us, and brushed my hand gently with his. "Feeling better?" He murmured, concern lacing his voice. I smiled softly as a response, nodding in an affirmative. "Yes, I think I just needed the rest. And you? Mithrandir told me that you and Dan slept as well…?" The peredhel nodded. "Yes, although we were forced to by that insufferable brother of ours." He shot a playful glare at Aragorn (who was trying to look innocent and failing).

"An insufferable brother who should've been resting as well, but was instead working himself to the bone in the infirmary," Elladan added, cuffing said man lightly on the shoulder. Aragorn just rolled his eyes, murmuring halfheartedly something along the lines of, "I rested…" We all looked at him disbelievingly. The to-be-king of Gondor sank noticeably lower in his saddle.

Beside us, Théoden chuckled briefly at our antics, before turning towards the causeway and proclaiming in a loud voice, "We ride to Isengard!" Then, in a tenser, quieter tone, muttered to the wizard, "Although what we shall find there has yet to be discovered."

Mithrandir raised a coy eyebrow, and a small, amused chuckle rumbled in his chest at the king's irritation.

To his credit, Théoden managed to coolly shake away his annoyance as he urged Snowmane forward and through the shattered gates.

And with one final glance back at the Deep, we rode. Away from the scene of one of the greatest, cruelest battles of this Age. And towards an unknown future, filled with perils that have yet to be seen.

Mithrandir was right.

The Battle of Helm's Deep was over.

But the battle for Middle-Earth…that was only just beginning.


Translations –

Titta-míne – Little one

Mana—? – What—?

Á tulë sí – Come now

Le yaivë istar!You stupid wizard! (lit. You insulting wizard!)

AI! Man carat?! – AH! What are you doing?!

Úcarnet nîn – Traitor (lit. You've wronged me)

A mitta lambetya cendelessë orcova – Go kiss an orc

Ma carina nás? – Is this true?

Náto – Yes

Te lelyá tulë Mirkwoodenna – They will go to Mirkwood.

Ará tulë atto-nîn – And to my fatherAiqua n'uva, n'uva – Whatever will be, will be

(1) Westu hal. Ferðu. – May you fair well. Go now. (Rohirric)


Word-Count: 3,042

So I don't have much to say in this last A/N, other than the fact I am very sorry I have not been able to update before now. It's been a tough year, and I'm just so glad that it's over. Now, it's summer, and I can just relax, have fun, and have a breather.

To any of you that are still with me, I just want to say thank you. And trust me when I say that updates should be coming in a lot quicker now, now that I actually have the time to do it. And since Return of the King has some of my favorite scenes, it'll go much faster. :)

Again, thank you so much for sticking with me, and I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!

Until next time…

Naamarie!

~ CC.