Disclaimer: I only own my OCs.

A/N: Well, I'm going halfway across the country tomorrow, so I figured I'd make sure I got this updated early. So, here is the next chapter!

Big thanks to: Novafyre, shamwoohoo52, It. weaver666 (sorry for the space - it wouldn't work without it), silentnight00 and Iiznelomviing for following/favouriting.

Review Response(s):

Pietersielie: I think you seem to have forgotten that Eleniel's godmother is Ira.

jsun25: Hey, some people are crazy. And they weren't buck nude - they still had a few clothes. I know Sam said otherwise, but they were still wearing the bare minimum.

Aria-chanforever: Hello! It is 'next time'! Hopefully it was worth the wait ;)

Carelise682: See...?!

Dragon Man 180: All will become clear in time (basically when Eleniel gets her memories back)

gabiey: Hi, it's been a while :) Glad to hear you're still enjoying this.


Chapter 52:

"Do you have any idea how many people are absolutely terrified by that horse?"

Ira looked down from her perch atop Shadowmere's back and saw Faramir was walking calmly beside her, pulling his own horse by the reins. She grinned. "I probably have a better idea than you do," she replied.

Faramir shook his head. "Where did you even find him?"

Ira's smile withered and died in a split-second. "It's not a subject I like talking about much," she said. "A long time ago, I went through a dark stage. I did things I regret even to this day. Honestly, I feel like Shadowmere's the only good thing to come out of those days."

"I'm sorry if my asking made you uncomfortable," Faramir muttered, lowering his eyes.

Ira shook her head. "No, it's fine. Truthfully the main reason I don't tell people is because I don't want them to think any less of me."

"After all the good you've done, I think you're allowed to get away with a little bad," Faramir said.

Ira snorted, then laughed when Shadowmere did the same. "Alright," she said after a moment. "But you might find you want to take those words back by the end."

"Enlighten me," he said dryly, and Ira chuckled again.

She sighed heavily through her nose. "Back when being the Dragonborn was the closest I ever got to having a full-time job, it felt like I was drowning without ever being killed. I had the expectations of an entire province on my shoulders - the way they saw it, either I'd save everyone or damn everyone. When you're only in your twenties with little combat training to speak of, that's a heck of a lot of pressure to deal with." Ira frowned. "After a while the pressure became too much, so I disappeared. As far as the world knew, I was there one day and gone the next. And I didn't show myself again for ten months. But... Well, if you know what I'm like, you'll know I didn't spend those ten months hiding in a cave whittling cutlery." Faramir let out a snort of amusement, then fell silent to let her continue. "The first week or so I just wandered. Then I found myself in the city of Windhelm, where I came across a boy. Aventus Aretino. I've come to know so many people over the years and have forgotten what they were called and what they looked like, but I don't think I'm ever going to forget that boy. He was ten years old when he came up to me, thinking I was someone I wasn't, and asked me to kill a woman." Faramir looked up in surprise, but Ira couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead she kept her eyes resolutely forward as the procession of two thousand fighters ambled along the dusty plain towards Mordor. "She was an old woman - she was cruel and bitter, but she was an innocent. And I approached her while she slept and sliced her throat.

"Another week or so passed and I was contacted by a group called the Dark Brotherhood. They were assassins - contract killers. And I'd stolen one of their kills. They made me pay for it by taking another life. At that point my depression had gotten so bad I didn't care who it was. They ordered me to kill, and I killed.

"They took me in after that. Made me into one of them and taught me how to harness my skills. I was part dragon, and the constant stream of contracts kept my blood lust sated for a while. But then I was dragged into a job that was... well, it was the biggest they'd had for decades. I wasn't the only one - a man everyone called the Listener worked alongside me. So much death was dealt in preparation for the final stage. And when the man we were told to kill lay in a pool of his own blood, the Listener turned to me, placed a man on my shoulder, and congratulated me on my good work.

"It was then that I snapped out of my daze. I knew I'd gone too far, and I couldn't go further. So I left the Brotherhood under the excuse that I couldn't deny my Dragonborn duties any longer. And the Listener gave me Shadowmere as a parting gift." She fell silent. "I think they always expected me to go back. But I never did. Those ten months will haunt me for the rest of my life."

Faramir was silent for a long time, before he said, "Everyone who has ever lived or will ever live is a mixture of light and darkness. Good people try to hide their darkness, but that doesn't mean it's not there. It is." He looked up at her, and waited for Ira to finally drag up the courage to meet his gaze. There was no disgust there. No disappointment. Just acceptance. "You lost faith once," he said. "You lost faith and you fell upon the instincts of the dragon that resides in your soul. We all have those moments of weakness, where suddenly life becomes so overwhelming that we just want to run away and escape it. Admittedly, most people wouldn't go down the route that you did, but I sure there are far more that would than you'd expected." He shrugged. "And, like I said before, after all the gifts you've given this world and yours, I'd say ten months of darkness that occurred five centuries ago are excusable."

Ira shook her head. "You are disgustingly optimistic," she said in a joking tone, and Faramir grinned at her. "How do you have it in you to be so forgiving? Take your father, for example - he did nothing but beat you down your whole life, and yet you've given him a second chance. If I were you, I would have thrown that apology (and probably a fist or two) back at his face, said 'screw you' in a far less cordial manner, and then stormed out of there."

Faramir chuckled. "You wouldn't even have waited for the apology before you did all that," he muttered. Then he shrugged. "Sometimes it takes feeling like you have nothing to recognise the worth of some things. For one thing, my relationship with Boromir might have been very different if he hadn't needed to stick up for me all the time."

Ira hummed. "Yes, I suppose that's true."

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, and after a few minutes Faramir drifted further back, taking his horse with him. Ira slipped back into her own mind as she thought through the endless number of possible scenarios that could follow. Most did, admittedly, lead to their army's defeat, but in truth Ira wasn't going into this battle with the intention of winning. She was going in with the intention of avenging the death of her husband and mate. Of proving she was more powerful than any servant Sauron could throw at her.

"You should not let yourself be plagued with such dark thoughts," Gandalf said as he eased Shadowfax next to Shadowmere (she knew that was one day going to get very confusing).

Ira sent him a confused look. "You can't read thoughts, right?"

Gandalf smiled and shook his head. "No, I cannot. But a lot can be discovered just by watching you. The most obvious give-away would be the fact your dragon eyes are showing." His smile faded. "What are you thinking about, Ira?"

Ira pursed her lips, lowering her eyes as the feeling of being scolded like a child settled over her. "Vengeance, mostly," she admitted.

"Vengeance is a dangerous weapon to wield," Gandalf murmured. "In your right hand it provides you with a reason to survive. In your left hand it will turn against you. And it is not the wielder who gets to decide which hand they hold it in."

"I care not whether my desire for revenge kills me or helps me live," Ira answered coldly. Then her face and voice softened. "He would have done no less for me."

"I know," Gandalf said with a sigh. "That is what concerns me." Ira frowned at him. "You do not have to prove anything, Ira. Not your love for him, nor your hatred for Sauron. You don't have to prove your prowess with a sword nor your fury in the air. Your strength has already been made apparent a hundred times over. Do not let your anger blind you to the threats around you."

"Fear wakes us up to what needs to be done," Ira murmured. She turned to Gandalf, seeing his brows were furrowed in confusion. "It was one of the last things he ever said to me," Ira said. "I think dragons react to rage in the same way humans react to fear - it wakes them up, sharpens their senses, increases their awareness of the things going on around them."

"I won't try to claim I know how a dragon's mind works," Gandalf said, "but you are still part human and I do know that a man who is grieving is less likely to know when he has pushed himself too far."

"I know my limits," Ira replied stonily, her eyes darkening slightly. She hated it when people openly doubted her. It struck a chord deep within her that caused angry sparks to fly. She'd already blown up at Fili for expressing his care for her through concern for her safety.

Gandalf sighed, realising the futility of his efforts. "Well, then I hope you don't force yourself to exceed them." And then he fell silent, and she fell silent, and there was suddenly a great rift between them. Years of friendship became strained. Ira felt herself slipping from reality as she moved further from the grasp of her friends. But she'd set her path and could see it laid out before her. She would not stray from it, and no one would convince her otherwise.

...

"You should get some sleep, Ira."

Ira sighed, turning her gaze down from the heavens and directing it towards the Ranger who she would soon pledge her undying loyalty to as her King. "I haven't let myself sleep since the battle," she said. "I would rather take exhaustion over exhaustion and nightmares. Not to mention I doubt the rest of the men would appreciate being woken by me." She shook her head. "No, I'm fine how I am."

"You know, by lack of trying, you might as well be signing yourself over to Death Himself."

Ira groaned. "Why is it suddenly everyone thinks I'm incapable of existing?" She snapped, feeling that deep pang of anger again. "I lost the man I love; I haven't given up on life altogether."

"But you did," Aragorn said softly, and Ira snapped her mouth shut, eyes still blazing with annoyance. "You let go of everything when Alduin died." Ira winced at the sound of his name. "Every one of us knows a big part of you died with him. It was the part that controlled your other half - the half you're now giving free reign. And it's going to get you killed, Ira." He let out a rough sigh. "You're not alone in your grief," he said. "The rest of us may not have had the same connection that you had with Alduin" - Ira winced again - "but he was still our friend. We will fight in his name, but we will not do so because we are avenging his death. We do it to honour his life. To honour the friendship we made with him. I think you, of all people, should know the value of choosing to remember his life instead of hanging onto his death." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Get some sleep, Ira. We've still got four days of travelling ahead of us." Then he turned and walked back to his bed, leaving Ira alone in the darkness.

She stayed where she was for several minutes, head bowed, eyes glimmering with tears. She knew Aragorn was right. She was losing a fundamental part of herself, but she didn't know how to catch it before it went beyond her reach. She felt like she was tumbling into an abyss, with the light chasing after her. She couldn't stop herself falling and she couldn't climb back towards the light. She just kept sinking deeper and deeper, with the light never moving closer or further away. Just out of reach. The thing that hurt most was the fact that Ira knew the one person who'd be able to help her out of this pit of endless darkness was the one who'd inadvertently tossed her in there in the first place.

Eventually Ira turned away from the night sky and trudged back to where she had laid out her bed roll. The snores and deep breaths of the men around her created a tuneless symphony that was somewhat soothing on her ears. And even though she feared what the night would entail for her, Ira let herself drift off into the world of dreams with the hope that she wouldn't meet any monsters on the other side.

It was a useless hope.


Another week down, another chapter down, another step closer to closing time. Yep, I'd say I'm nearing the end of this fic. I don't know how much more I'll write, but I can't imagine it'll go too far beyond the events of the movies/books.

Until next week, lovely readers :)