Day 5 and thus the final day of my final finale! Today we see the unexpected surprise that I hinted about earlier – one that will change Estel's and Eldarion's world forever. . .

Chapter Thirty-Six

~ Éomer ~
I patted my horse's shoulder and sighed as I looked around. We were all ready to go – Mithrandir, my uncle, Aragorn, the others. The only ones who weren't here were one of Aragorn's Rangers and Legolas. So the Ranger had left to find the Elf – wherever he was. I hoped he would hurry. My horse was getting impatient to leave, and so was I.

Then, just as I was about to suggest that we leave anyways, the Ranger finally appeared at the door. He moved swiftly to his horse and swung himself up with an ease that suggested long hours of practice.

My skin prickled. I had never seen anyone move so swiftly and fluidly – except, perhaps, the Elves.

Legolas appeared next, and he mounted his horse with the same graceful ease that clearly defined him as something not mortal in any way. His movements were too graceful, to sure, to fluid. There was no way I could ever mistake him for a Man.

And then the Elf frowned suddenly and made a sharp gesture with his hand. The rider who had ridden up beside him tossed her head impatiently in response.

Wait – her?

It was Elena riding next to Legolas.

She looked no worse for wear because of the battle. True, a bit worn – but what warrior came out of a long battle perfectly fine? But in any case, she looked pretty much back to normal and definitely a lot better than she had looked when we came across her on the plains. Her eyes were clear, her smile shining, her face happy and relaxed.

"Ah, just leave her be, Legolas," Aragorn called. "She'll be perfectly fine."

The Elf's lips hardened. "Not if any of Saruman's servants sees her," he retorted grimly.

Elena didn't back down, which I admired. It took guts to stand up to Legolas – especially as he looked right now. "Legolas, I'll be fine."

When the Elf merely looked away instead of responding to her words, she added something softly in a musical language that didn't sound like anything I had ever heard. It sounded as graceful and mysterious and fluid as the Elves themselves, so I assumed it was Elvish.

But whatever she said, Legolas seemed to relax somewhat. He sighed deeply, shaking his head, but I saw how he gently reached out and touched her hand.

"Are we ready, then?" Mithrandir asked.

Our answer was to start riding, which I was grateful for. I was tired of standing still and impatient to get moving and do something, anything. I didn't like battle, but I needed something to do.

I could well understand Legolas's concern, though. Elena was not only young; she was also a woman. Therefore, more delicate, more fragile, more breakable. And, by the judging of Saruman, more worthless – but did not mean that he would hesitate to use her as a weapon against us by any means possible.

Legolas rode ahead, and I saw him begin speaking rapidly to Aragorn – again with that musical language. Slightly annoyed at the speaking in Elvish while also glad for the opportunity, I rode forward myself.

Elena looked at me and smiled. "Lord Éomer," she greeted, inclining her head.

"Lady Elena," I responded.

"I'm not a lady; you need not call me that, you know," Elena said neutrally after a pause, and I could see that she meant it; it was not a gesture of trying to gain my trust or attention. It was exactly how she felt, and she didn't really mind how I took it.

"After all you have done for Rohan, I believe you deserve the title," I said gently, wondering how she would take my words.

She frowned, seeming almost . . . surprised, that was the word, by what I had said. "All I have done?" she repeated. "You speak as if I have rendered great aid to Rohan. May I point out that all I have done was fight alongside you in the battle? Isn't that something any of your warriors would have done? And yet you do not honor them as you attempt to honor me. . . No, I see no great service rendered; nothing that would earn me the title of Lady, to be recognized as such by the heir of Rohan."

I flushed. "You know?"

Elena smiled again, her frown easing. "Obviously. I knew who you were from the moment I saw you. Who would you be confused with, after all?"

Pleased and not quite sure why, I shifted the topic back to her. "You don't seem to understand. Women rarely fight in battle – especially those with no tie to Rohan. And yet – "

"No tie to Rohan?" she interrupted.

"Well," I stuttered, "you don't. . . I beg your deepest pardon, my lady, but you are no daughter of Rohan. I would have known you if you were."

Elena laughed then, a bright sound that seemed to make the day seem brighter too. I saw the Ranger favor her with an amused and gentle look before returning to his conversation with Aragorn and Legolas. Aragorn didn't look up, but I could see how his lips curved into a slight smile. Even the Elf relaxed somewhat.

"Rohan is an ally to Gondor," Elena said finally. "And I am an ally of Gondor, my life to be given in her service. Therefore, I will fight for Rohan whether or not I am a daughter of it."

To say I was startled was an understatement. Before, she had told me she was one of the Dúnedain. And now, she was saying she was . . . "You're a shieldmaiden?" I asked finally.

"Well . . . not quite," Elena said, frowning. "The Dúnedain are not . . . We are not protectors of Gondor in that sense. I do not fight in every battle we come across, merely those I end up in; it is better to leave such determinations to the judgment of my Chieftain."

"Chieftain?"

"Lord Aragorn," she said simply, nodding to him.

"Is he your kinsman?"

She smiled. "In a way, all of the race of the Atani are related, Lord Éomer," she said gently.

"Well, closely related then," I amended, not quite sure what she had meant by the word "Atani". It was Elvish, I was sure; but what it meant I did not know.

"Then yes." She cast him a fond look. "After all, it was he who played a great part in my upbringing after my father's death. . . You do not understand; that much I see. But the Dúnedain are not like the Rohirrim, in more ways than one. We are not bound to one particular country or another; all that is clear is who our enemy is, and that is the Dark Lord and all of his servants. But while Rohan needs our aid, so shall we give it."

"And yet you leave Gondor unprotected?"

For a long moment, she didn't answer. Her face grew sad and almost . . . haunted. For a moment, I feared I had offended her deeply and so prepared to apologize.

But then she said, in a soft, low voice, "Gondor falls under the watch of Mordor even as we speak; it shall not be long before she, like Rohan, is embattled. And I fear that the strike shall be swift as well as lethal."

"But you will give her aid?" I asked incredulously. "Even though she has done nothing for you?"

She gave me a sidelong look. "And after all the King gave to you, you still rode to his aid?"

"That's different."

"Not really. He is your family, and Gondor is mine. I will aid her as I have aided you, regardless of what she has done to me."

I studied her for a long moment. Her eyes were clear and serious; her voice even and calm. She meant what she had said, and for that time, I knew she meant it. She would not flee from her duty, no matter how much she wished to; no, her loyalty to Aragorn and the Dúnedain was too deep for that. She would stay – and she would die.

Gondor was strong, but so was Rohan. Neither of us were strong enough to fend off Sauron's forces, especially now that Saruman's forces had joined them.

"So you will die for Gondor?"

"If that is what the Valar desire," she answered calmly.

"But she has given you nothing except – "

"Gondor gave me life, as Rohan gave you life," Elena interrupted firmly. "The least I can do is give my life to defend Gondor. Wouldn't you do the same thing if it were Rohan in question?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she rode ahead.

And I stared in dismay and surprise. But at least my original judgment had been right – the Lady Elena was a great deal more than she seemed to appear to be.

~ Estel ~

We stopped on an outcropping, staring at the flaming and crackling land Mordor had become. The Eye of Sauron raged at us, and I feared to look at it. I knew it was filled with rage for our victory at Helm's Deep, and that Sauron was willing to do absolutely anything to destroy us for that, to crush us, to end our life in eternal torment.

A hand brushed mine, and I looked up. Legolas's eyes were full of gentle sympathy.

"~You will be fine,~" he said gently. "~Sauron will not hurt you, not if I have anything to say about it.~"

His words brought some relief, but along with the relief came confusion. Why did he say "I" and not "we", as he always had? Eldarion would fight for me as much as Legolas would, and perhaps even more, for Eldarion and I were blood kin.

"~Thank you,~" I told him anyways.

Mithrandir spoke then, his tone full of dreadful prophecy. "Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift. The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle-Earth is about to begin."

I looked at the furious Eye of Sauron, and I knew he spoke true. Sauron would not rest now or ever, and nor would he need to. Not until he had crushed us – or by some miracle, we managed to win the day. But that would really be a miracle. . .

Mithrandir seemed to be thinking along the same lines, but at least when he voiced them his tone was warmer and full of a lot more hope. "All our hopes now lie with two little hobbits, somewhere in the wilderness. . ."

The others gave him strange looks, but Legolas, Aragorn, Eldarion, and I all understood. And silently, I offered a quick prayer to the Valar about Frodo and Sam. Please help them. They will do more for this place than I ever will in my lifetime. . . Please help them, watch over them, give them aid and shelter and direction. I know they will need it.

Then there was a sudden sound, one that made our entire group start.

It was the clip-clop of horses, and suddenly I found myself reaching suspiciously for my weapons. Who in the world would be out here in the middle of nowhere on horseback?

~ Legolas ~
Quietly, I shifted my horse so that I was in between whoever was approaching and Estel. I saw others prepare for a fight too – Eldarion shifted so that his sword was in reach, Aragorn put his hand on his sword, Théoden moved his reins to one hand. Others moved as well. The battle had left us tense and cautious, ready to jump at the slightest noise. And not knowing whether it was friend or foe that came certainly didn't help things. . .

Then the riders came into view.

They were clad in dark hooded cloaks that concealed their faces, and both rode with the effortless grace and ease of born riders. They had no weapons – well, at least no visible weapons. But their horses were simple and regular ones, like those one could buy at a market or something.

Both riders halted within speaking distance – but not too close.

"Greetings, Mithrandir," said one rider. She – for she was obviously a woman – had a clear, strong voice that carried easily and had an undercurrent of nobility and self-confidence. "And hail to you, Théoden King!"

"And to Lord Elessar of Imladris," added the second rider. She was a woman as well, but her voice reflected one not long into womanhood; she was younger than the first speaker, that much was clear.

I started, as did the others who understood what she said. But Eldarion didn't start; he was frowning almost thoughtfully at the women.

"I think I speak for all of us when I ask thus," Aragorn said finally. "Who are you?"

But the women ignored him.

"Mithrandir," said the first speaker, "we bear a message from Treebeard. He says that the Uruk-hai who entered Fangorn Forest have been dealt with. They are at peace now. They did not return to Isenguard."

"And all those who are foolish enough to stray into Fangorn's depths will suffer the same fate," the second rider murmured. "For you have awoken the Forest, and now it will fight."

Mithrandir nodded slowly. "I see. . . And who are you to tell me this?"

I was slightly relieved by the fact that not even Mithrandir knew, but also unnerved by that. If even the White Wizard didn't know, how would any of us know whether these two women were foe or friend?

At his words, the younger woman looked at the first speaker. At a slight nod, both women raised their hands and pushed back their hoods.

The older women had long blond hair and clear blue eyes. But even though I knew she was older, I could not put an age to her. She didn't have the sense of agelessness as many of my kindred did, but there was a vague yet strong sense of quiet wisdom and experience about her that prevented me from simply passing her off as a young woman inexperienced in ways of the world.

The younger woman was a sharp contrast in almost every way. She had long dark hair that was longer even than Estel's and fell unbound down her back, framing grey eyes that were as grey as the starlit evening. She was a beauty, even more than Estel, and brimming with energy and youth instead of the calm and experience of the older woman.

The moment after the women lowered their hoods, Eldarion sprang off of his horse with a cry and ran towards them.

Estel gasped as though she had been kicked in the gut and leaped off of her horse as well – but I seized her wrist as she passed, stopping her.

"What are you doing? They might be dangerous!" I exclaimed.

Estel pulled her wrist away. "Legolas, let go! That's my mother! And my sister, Tinúviel!"

Dun dun dun! Surprise, everyone!

Oh, and to anyone who's confused as to why Éomer still calls Estel "Lady Elena"; remember that when they met in Chapter 20, Aragorn gave her false name to protect her when they came across the Rohirrim. And he still doesn't know the truth yet, so he still thinks her name is Elena and no one has yet told him he's mistaken. He also hasn't yet met Eldarion, so he refers to him simply as "the Ranger".