The Final Battle

For the first time since the Quest began, it felt as though the realm of Men was prepared. Each battle, each ambush they had faced up till now had been to their detriment. They had been ambushed by Uruks and by Wargs with no warning, fighting just with what they had on them. They had been cornered in Helm's Deep, drawing up what forces and weapons they could but had not anticipated such a large fight to occur. The Battle at the Pelennor Fields had been another instance of scrambling to find aid and to get there in time, to get ready for the attack but they were still at a disadvantage. Even now as they began to depart Minas Tirith for a battle they were far outnumbered in, it felt as though they were ready. They had soldiers, trained soldiers, they had weapons, armor, they had a strategy and a plan and, for the first time, they were taking the battle to the enemy instead of the other way around.

Aragorn rode at the head of the gathered armies, Eomer on one side, Boromir on the other, wearing true armor, with the emblems of the White Tree and the Seven Stars with the Crown above them, symbols of Gondor affixed to it. Even Legolas and Gimli wore just a little more armor, similar to how it had been pieced together for Menna at Helm's Deep. Patches here and there to guard their more vulnerable areas, which was what Menna wore too. For she rode behind Aragorn, clutching to him, with Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, and the Hobbits creating a small line to shield the sight from the soldiers marching behind.

None had been able to stop Menna fighting before, they had all but given up doing so now, especially not after she made the point that Merry and Pippin would both be taking part, Merry as a representative of Rohan and Pippin for Gondor, and that Merry was still only just recovering from his injuries. She was in a better state and better trained than the Hobbits, she could and would help. She had brought Aragorn's words back to him, that while she had not sworn an oath to the Fellowship, she was every bit a part of it now, and if they rode to battle for Frodo, she would too.

And, if it wasn't enough, she also reminded them that she could still counter their vote by 3.

It became very clear to them as they rode out, that Menna was frightened of the horses, but the Fellowship, the few who had not come to know it before, said nothing, merely joined together in solidarity to block the sight of her from the others. It would not do to have the soldiers mocking her before battle, nor would it serve any use to make the other men even more fearful of what would be coming in the battle ahead.

The horses trotted across the Pelennor Fields just as dusk began to settle, the sounds of five hundred men joining them as they moved, following on foot, a handful more on horses, men of both Rohan and Gondor. All of them with eyes on the mountains of Mordor in the distance.

They did not speak much nor did they dare stop to rest long on this journey, for every moment they wasted was another that the enemy might see what they were doing and prepare. They could not risk it. Still it took near a sennight to reach the Black Gates of Mordor, the sun shinning down from the sky, though the ominous clouds and black smoke of Mount Doom darkened even that light.

Aragorn held up a hand, calling for the forces to stop a mere half mile from the Gates. He moved off his horse, unable to crack even a smile as Menna scrambled off behind him. She had been adamant that she march with the rest of the soldiers, but neither he, nor any other of the Fellowship, would hear of it. He was partly thankful for his armor, and partly cursed it. His ribs thanked him, for Menna did have a strong grip to her, especially when the horse made an unexpected move that startled her. But, with their destination growing closer, it was a comfort to have her with him, to have her arms around him, and he hadn't been able to feel it through the armor.

He took a breath, looking ahead at the gates. Eomer and Menna came to stand on either side of him, he noticed Boromir in the corner of his eye, on Menna's other side. He had wasted no time in resuming his place there, guarding her back. It had been a risk, on her part, to send him ahead to Minas Tirith and not remain with them in Rohan, in more ways than one.

There was no saying Boromir's father would listen to his son, which he had not. There was no saying if he would succeed in gathering the forces of Gondor. He might die along the way, SHE might have died along the way without him there to protect her, which would have left his life-debt unfulfilled. Anyone else would have kept their protector near them in the battles to come, to improve their chances of survival. Menna had looked ahead, had seen that more people would survive if Boromir succeeded than just her, and she could not allow him to linger with them when so many relied on his efforts. She had risked her own protection and safety for Middle Earth, as she had throughout the entirety of the quest itself.

It had been worth it, in the sense that Gondor would have been in far more dire straits had Boromir not taken over when he had. But Boromir had not seen his actions in aiding Gondor equating aid given to Menna, to protect her life as he was sworn to do now. He had affixed himself to by her person to guard her.

The briefest flittering thought drifted past Aragorn as he made note of the man's position that, one day, should Menna stand as his Queen, she would need a Queensguard, those who would protect her. He doubted she would ever agree to a small army of soldiers dedicating their lives to keeping her safe, but perhaps she would be agreeable to one man watching her back when her husband could not.

He shook his head, it was not a thought to have before such a battle, they first had to survive this battle.

As he gathered the men around him, each of them drawing their weapons, preparing for this final war, it fell quiet, an eerie silence surrounding them…for the enemy was nowhere to be seen. He would not lie and claim he had not feared they had been spotted by the Dark Lord and were now about to be ambushed or attacked from behind, that this was a trap he had led them into.

It was Pippin who mustered the courage to speak what they all were thinking, "Where are they?"

Gandalf was just as quiet, thoughtfully looking at the gates, watchful and alert, using his magic to locate the enemy. He looked to Aragorn, giving him a firm nod that the enemy was behind the gates and not behind their army.

Menna only barely managed to bite back a groan when the members of the Fellowship, and Eomer, made for the horses once more. She knew they would draw nearer the gates, she had come to know Aragorn well enough to know he would bait the enemy out, for that was the entire point of their plan. She did not think that would require her presence, she would not be aware or able to fight well enough from the back of a horse should they be attacked.

"I will stand with the men," she told them, gesturing to the foot-soldiers.

Boromir dismounted his horse without a word, sending a nod to Aragorn and ignoring the roll of the eyes Menna sent him for his actions. Aragorn gave them both a nod in response, not having wanted Menna in this battle let alone so near the Black Gates. This left the two to watch as Aragorn, Gandalf, Legolas, Gimli, Eomer, and the Hobbits galloped towards the gates, coming to a stop less than fifty yards from it. Aragorn looked back at the handful with him, before moving his horse a few feet ahead, calling out to their greatest enemy.

They could hear the shouts from there, Aragorn speak, "Let the lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him."

Menna tensed as the gates began to open, the metal itself seeming to scream in torture as it was used after so long shut. A single rider departed from the gates, the horse stepping up to Aragorn. They were too far away to hear what was said, they were not shouting as before. But they could still see it, they could see the creature on the horse hold something shining and clean up at the small retinue.

"Mithril," Boromir breathed beside her, gripping his sword at what that meant, "Frodo."

Menna swallowed hard, her jaw tensing as the creature threw the Mithril shirt at Gandalf and continued to speak. She tightened her hold on the knife in her hand when Aragorn moved his horse forward, towards the rider...and quickly drew his sword and cut the thing's head off. Her lip quirked up at that, even if she couldn't tell if it was for baited words about Frodo or to draw Sauron's eye more, it mattered little, it had the desired effect.

It was not a moment later that a sound of chanting and clanging armor rose up, thousands upon thousands of guttural voices merging in snarling speech from behind the cracked open gates. Soon the doors began to open more, revealing Sauron's army, at least 300,000 strong in Orcs who began to march out.

"Pull back!" Aragorn ordered the others, turning his horse to lead them back to the small army, "Pull back!"

Menna could only watch on in mounting trepidation as the small gathering of horses raced back to their hold, the armies of the Dark Lord marching steadily on, a never ending stream of foul creatures. The only thing she found surprising was that none of the Orcs attacked while the others 'fled' but just kept marching. For such loathsome creatures, they should have attacked, they should be advancing at a run of broken lines, not orderly and restrained.

"He looks upon us," Boromir murmured.

Menna looked over to see his gaze directed not at the approaching army, but at a tower in the distance, on top of which two spikes shot up, with a flaming orb between them that looked like a slitted eye. It was turned towards them, watching.

She had to look away at the blackness that radiated from that narrowed pupil, focusing instead upon Aragorn and the others as they came near. But the Orcs were close behind, and faster than she had ever thought they could be, for in no time at all, the Orcs had reached them, moving to encircle the small army of Men within their numbers. She pulled out another knife from her straps, gripping them tightly as Boromir withdrew his sword, ready for the first attack.

But all around her she could see the men beginning to waver, to falter at the sheer size of the enemy, some backing away though there was nowhere to go, their nerves and spirit leaving them at the overwhelming odds against them.

Aragorn would not have them, for he rode before the Men, calling out to them, "Hold your ground!" he ordered, "Hold your ground! Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" his eyes roved over the army, as though trying to look into the eyes of every man there, as though he could share what spirit he had with them, "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me," his gaze flickered to Menna, taking more heart that she stood with him even now as he led her to almost certain death, she had such faith in him, such drive to protect the people of Middle Earth, "The day may come when the courage of Men fails; when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day!" he added, pulling Anduril from its sheath, "An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the Age of Man comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!" he cried out, "By all that you hold dear on this good earth," he allowed himself one more look to Menna, before he continued, "I bid you stand!" he lifted Anduril into the air, "Men of the West!"

All around them, the men regained their strength, their drive, even as the Orcs lifted their weapons, poised to attack.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," Menna heard Gimli remark a few feet away, he and Legolas having dismounted their horses, much like Aragorn was doing now.

"What about side by side with a friend?" Legolas offered instead.

"Aye," Gimli agreed, "I could do that."

Menna's attention, though, was more firmly fixed on Aragorn, for he would be the one to give the order to attack. He strode forward, Anduril raised, ready to make the first move...when the eye of Sauron seemed to pulse in the distance, its gaze locked on him. She watched as he seemed to slowly lower his sword, as though listening to the dark promises Sauron was offering him, but she held no fear. She had seen the true strength of Aragorn's being and if there was but a single Man in all of Middle Earth who could resist the temptations of the Dark Lord, it would be him.

She managed the smallest of smiles when Aragorn turned to them, his gaze drifting over each and every member of the Fellowship, till he rested on hers, though he spoke to them all, "For Frodo," he said softly, and then turned, his sword raised once more, to charge forward.

Menna let out a cry of her own, charging forth, Boromir and Eomer close behind, before Merry and Pippin quickly joined in. The rest of the men, not to be outdone by a woman or two child-sized men, surged forward with them.

And so the battle began, fighter after fighter crashing into the line of Orcs set up all around them, glimpses of Anduril flashing in the little sunlight peering through the clouds, a knife flying through the air at what enemies it could reach, sword clanging against sword, arrows whistling with the twang of a bow's release, an axe slamming into the skulls of creatures.

A terrifying screech rang out above them, and they could see the shadows of the Nazgul aloft, flying on the backs of winged monsters, joining the fray, but the army of Men would not be distracted nor discouraged. They and the Fellowship fought bravely, each pushing on as long as they could, with enemy upon enemy rising up in a tide to face them. It felt as though, for every Orc felled, three more appeared, and the Nazgul did not make it any easier.

"Gandalf!" Menna called out, seeing one diving straight for the wizard, though Gandalf appeared completely aware of it, staring it down, unafraid…

When a massive eagle crashed into it, slashing at the foul beast with its talons, forcing it away from the Wizard. There were many more caws filling the air, such a stark difference to the screeching of the monsters.

"Eagles!" Pippin shouted out, for more than just a mere one appeared, diving for the other winged beasts, aiding the army of Men, "The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"

It was a flurry of wings above them, a melee of swords around them.

Menna gasped, shoved to the side as Boromir slammed into her, using his sword to block an attack coming at her from behind. She landed heavily on her right arm, biting her lip to keep from crying out as a sharp pain shot down from her shoulder. She would not make a noise, she would not shout, she could not afford to distract the others, not now, not in the middle of all this. She took a bracing breath and pushed herself up to her feet, she could not stay down too long or Boromir would realize something had happened and try to get her away from the battle. She would not leave this field before the battle was done unless it was to leave this life.

She stumbled but a moment, getting her bearings and trying to move her arm, but it was too numb and tingling to be of use. She nodded to herself, grabbing the knife she had clenched in her right hand into her left and turning, hurling the knife at an Orc, one of two she saw Eomer fighting at the same time. She stumbled again, this time Boromir bumping into her from behind, still fighting the Orc that had tried to kill her.

When she looked up, she could see an armored troll wielding an enormous mallet, swinging it at Aragorn a short distance away. She yanked another knife from her strap as Aragorn was slammed back onto the ground, and threw it. There was not much open space with the armor, but the Troll's eyes were vulnerable and while she doubted it would do much to take down such a beast, but it would certainly blind it. It was wise of her, all those years ago, to train both her arms with her knives. She had been all too aware that one arm could be injured and she could not afford to be so vulnerable. Her aim rang true, the knife embedding itself in the Troll's right eye.

It let out a loud cry, stumbling back, clutching at its face, trying to get the thing out of its eye, but its helmet was in the way and its fingers were too large. Aragorn scrambled to his feet, an arrow whistling past him as Legolas, along the same thought as Menna, sent an arrow flying at its left eye. Aragorn raised his sword, rushing at the troll, sliding between its legs and stabbing his sword into each knee of the beast as he passed, pushing it to its knees. Gimli rushed at the creature, his axe raised and leapt up, slamming the blade into the Troll's skull, straight through its helmet, causing it to fall forward to the ground, dead.

Suddenly a loud booming noise rang out, so startling even the Orcs paused in their attacks to look back at where Mount Doom was imploding, lava and flames expelled from it and into the sky. The massive dark tower, the icon of Sauron's eye, began to shake, falling to pieces, before it crumbled, falling to the side, smoke and steam billowing up as it fell. The giant eye of Sauron widened before it flickered out, the Black Gates collapsing into a cloud of ash, everything dark and foul about the land utterly destroying itself. The very foundation it was built upon collapsed, before the mountain exploded in a rain of fire and stone.

The Orcs, truly every foul creature there, turned and ran, fleeing in every direction now that their master, their base of power was gone.

But even as their enemy was defeated, even as the men around them let out a rousing cheer of victory, the Fellowship could only look on in despair…for it could only have been triggered by Frodo fulfilling the purpose of the Fellowship, destroying the Ring of Power.

And there was no way he or Sam could have survived such devastation.

~8~

Menna walked through the Houses of Healing absently, winding her still-sore arm as she went, doing all she could to keep her thoughts from turning to her fears for Frodo. Granted she had not travelled with him as much as with Pippin or Merry, but she could not forget the state he had been in after the battle. The Fellowship had mourned their certain loss of Sam and Frodo while the other Men had been celebrating their latest and last victory, the cheers of the soldiers nearly deafening, though it fell deadly quiet when two Eagles soared above, drifting lower until they landed mere feet away from Gandalf and deposited two Hobbits in sorry states upon the ground. It was Sam and Frodo, saved by the eagles. Sam exhausted and thinner than she remembered, Frodo looking far worse for the wear, with part of his finger missing on one hand. They didn't know what happened, not entirely, Sam was too frantic with fear for Frodo to speak and so they were rushed back to the Houses and quickly seen to under Gandalf's care.

It only took one look at the Wizard's face after he had examined both Hobbits to know their situation was dire, especially for Frodo. She had only held the Ring in her possession once, but that black and evil nature of it was far too much like what befell Rohan, it had saturated Frodo, it wasn't even just her who could feel it. Boromir and Gimli too shifted with unease whenever they were near Frodo just after he'd been returned to them.

She could not imagine the toll bearing the Ring for so long had put on him. If he survived this, what would become of him after? She had seen it in Theoden King, a lingering guilt and weariness and…something else she couldn't identify hiding just behind his eyes. He would never be the same man he'd been before Wormtongue ensnared him, nor would Frodo be the same Hobbit as before.

Her heart ached to think on that.

Her sleep had been troubled, as it had increasingly become of late, plagued with nightmares of the battles, the Uruks, the suffering. The Houses of Healing were a balm to that, to see people who had been suffering recover, to know those soldiers defeated Uruks and other terrible creatures, to see them survive the battles. To see people heal and gain strength gave her hope.

She had not realized where her feet brought her until she found herself stumbling upon the courtyard of the Houses, where she knew Eowyn frequented for they were near the quarters she had been given as a Noble Lady. She had not thought she would encounter the woman there, had not intended to seek her out, but a part of her, perhaps, thought that if Eowyn found peace there, she might too.

She was not alone though, for Eowyn WAS there…and so was Eomer.

She opened her mouth when the siblings turned, hearing her approach, to apologize for disturbing them, to back away and leave them in peace, when the words died on her tongue.

Eowyn was looking at her.

And not in the way she often had in the past, with a cursory glance, with veiled jealousy of the freedom to fight when she could not, with the narrow-eyed edge she would watch when Aragorn was speaking to her.

No, her eyes were wide, rapidly filling with tears, her hands moving to cover her mouth as she stared as though she had seen a spirit.

Had it not been for the pleased smirk on Eomer's face, she would have thought Eowyn in mourning for Theoden and her brother comforting her.

But now she realized it was no such thing.

"You told her," Menna's eyes narrowed at Eomer, unsure how she actually sounded or intended to sound. It was as though she was both resigned, expectant, that she should have known he would do something like this the moment the war was over, and also offended, hurt, disappointed, for…she hadn't lied when she said she would tell Eowyn the truth. It was accusing and angry and relieved all at once.

Eomer, apparently, had not trusted her word and done it himself.

She truly was not sure if it was better he had, for as much as she intended to tell Eowyn the truth, a part of her resisted doing so, part of her was all too willing to depart Gondor or Rohan or come up with an excuse why she had not the time to tell Eowyn. Eomer had welcomed her back, had been so overjoyed she lived…but would Eowyn feel the same? After all that had happened? Would Eowyn be joyful or resentful, angry or happy?

She could not tell, truly, what tears Eowyn cried now, she could see nothing of her expression but her eyes and how her eyebrows drew down.

"Aye," Eomer nodded, "The war is won, it is time to come home."

Menna inhaled sharply at his last words, straightening and tensing when Eowyn began to walk towards her. She stood resolute, ready to accept any reaction Eowyn might feel fit to give her, whether it be heartbreaking to bear or filled with warmth. She would deserve heartbreaking, after all she had done, how long she had allowed Eowyn to think her dead, for all that she had taken from Eowyn without realizing or intent...a chance at glory in 3 battles, Aragorn…

It took everything in her not to flinch when Eowyn withdrew her hands from her mouth, now within reach, to extend them towards her. If it was a slap the woman wished to deal, it would have been faster, surely. She was not moving her hands towards the throat, so it could not be anger she felt…

Eowyn's hands shook as they reached out, trembling fingers touching her cheeks, before her face was cupped in both of Eowyn's hands, the touch so light, as though Eowyn feared her hands would disappear through her and not touch solid skin. She tilted Menna's head up just slightly, looking into her eyes, searching them, roving all over her face for the familiar features that could not disappear with age and maturity.

Menna held her breath throughout, fearful that even a single breath would disturb the moment.

But then Eowyn smiled, beamed at her, tears falling down her cheeks in clear joy. She tugged Menna forward just slightly by the hands trapping her face, using them to lower her head so she could rest her forehead to her, taking a moment of thanks, before she pulled more firmly, releasing Menna's face to put her arms around the girl's shoulders, hugging her as tightly as she could while she wept with just relief and overflowing happiness.

Menna could only blink, standing with her arms at her sides, truly not sure if this was happening, if all that remained of her family was truly accepting her back. But she caught sight of Eomer, his expression now one full of elation and warmth and delight, radiating contentment and fondness and…completion. This was true, this was happening, this was real.

She found herself sniffling, her face scrunching as she wound her own arms around Eowyn's middle, hugging the woman in return, though no tears fell from her face for she was too worn and overwhelmed for such things. Eowyn let out a small laugh at the movement, which drew a smile from Menna. Eomer echoed his sister's laugh, striding over to them in but a few bounds of his long legs, to put his arms around the both of them, the last of Theoden's blood reunited.

The Houses of Healing lived up to their name that night.

Aragorn, from his place on the second level, smiled as he observed the sight below, before nodding his head and stepping back, allowing Menna her privacy.

~8~

Menna slowly approached Aragorn as she found him, midday, standing in the throne room of Minas Tirith, standing at the foot of the throne, looking up at it, contemplative.

"That is quite the fancy chair," she remarked, sure to keep her voice light and teasing as she came to his side, noting a smile that cracked the corner of his lips at her words, "Almost looks like a real throne."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to face her, "You do not think this the throne of the King?"

"I think you went to great lengths to convince me it is," she countered, "You still wish me to believe you the King of Gondor."

His smile widened. So many others, should they hear her speaking such, would be offended by her words, her teasing disbelief. But he had come to know her well, he knew her words were more about how she saw him than what he was. She did not see him as a King of Gondor, but as merely Aragorn. There would not be many who would look upon him in such a light once he was coronated, even those of the Fellowship would defer to him as King, treat him as King. Even before such an event, Legolas and Boromir both regarded him as such, and he knew Gimli and the Hobbits would follow suit once there was a crown upon his head.

Menna speaking as she did, insisting he was trying to fool her, to him it meant she would never see him as anything other than Aragorn, the man before her.

A small part of him, a part that grew quieter and quieter as the days and weeks had dragged on, whispered a question of Arwen. Did she see him as the future King of Gondor first or as Aragorn?

He shook his head, the question had no relevance now, Arwen had departed, and his heart held someone within who was not her. It mattered little what Arwen saw in him now, not when he was sure of the future he would have with Menna.

It was ironic, he thought, that she should not see him as a King yet he had begun to see her as a Queen.

And perhaps that was right, perhaps that was what they needed in each other. He needed someone who would see the man he was and not the crown he wore, while she needed someone who would see her value, and who was most valuable to a King but a Queen? They balanced each other, offered what the other needed without even knowing they had.

"And if I was?" he teased back, his heart so light and full it felt near bursting with his relief. They lived, his people survived, his kingdom stood, the Darkness had been defeated once and for all, there was peace throughout all Middle Earth, he could not help but feel happy and content.

Menna considered it a moment, "I would think you a kind, humble king," she answered, "There are not many who would delay their coronation for the sake of one person, let alone a Hobbit."

That had been a point he had been instant about when Gandalf first broached the subject. After so much destruction and fighting and death and darkness, the Wizard had suggested Aragorn's coronation take place with haste, a show of hope to the people, a restoration of light and order, a celebration for the victory of the Fellowship's quest. Aragorn refused, he would not consider the Quest a success until Frodo awoke, until all members of the Fellowship had healed and could attend such an event. He would not be king, he would have no kingdom, if not for the bravery of two Hobbits, he would not dishonor them in such a fashion as to go ahead and celebrate when they were not recovered.

Gandalf had smiled and agreed.

Menna herself thought this revealed a true show of the character of Aragorn, especially to his people who had wanted a king returned but did not know Aragorn until he appeared for the final battles. It was a wise move, in one sense, to delay for what it would show the people, though Menna knew he had not done so to affect his image but because that was his genuine feelings.

"There are not many who would call the King false to his face," Aragorn remarked, jesting.

"Better to your face than behind your back," she quipped.

He had to concede to that.

"Truly, Aragorn," Menna spoke after a moment, serious, "The people of Gondor will love you, king or not. They will love you…" she took a breath, "As I love you."

Aragorn's eyes widened slightly at her words, his mouth dropping open just enough to belie his surprise, lasting but a moment, before a wide grin spread across his face. He reached out to take her hands in his, lifting them between them, her knuckles nearly resting against his heart, "Menna…" he began.

And then promptly considered if Gimli would be able to fashion some sort of lock for the doors of Minas Tirith when Pippin pushed open the doors and interrupted them, though his shout of, "Frodo's awake!" and fast escape quickly cast such thoughts from Aragorn's mind as the two of them turned and raced for the doors, having been waiting for such word for far too long.

It was not until they had startled a handful of servants and nearly toppled one, that they realized Aragorn had yet to release her hand. She tried to tug it away, so they would better be able to maneuver and run down the halls to the Houses of Healing, but Aragorn tightened his grip, intentionally keeping her hand in his as they rushed on.

Despite having such large feet, Pippin was quite spry. They came upon Frodo's room to see Merry and Pippin already in there, half jumping on the bed, hugging Frodo as Gandalf laughed. Gimli and Legolas were there as well, beaming at the sight of Frodo awake, pale and weary but awake on the bed. They stepped into the room, laughing with joy and relief when Frodo called out to them all by name, the Hobbit so happy to see everyone alive still.

Frodo's happiness only grew when Boromir stepped into the room, his hand on Sam's shoulder as the two best of friends were reunited. Sam didn't hesitate to rush over to Frodo's side, hugging him tightly, tears escaping both their eyes.

Menna crossed her arms, Aragorn having let go of her hand to clap with Boromir for Frodo's awakening, and looked around the room at the Fellowship. It had been a dangerous quest, she had not expected anything that happened during it. Not to survive, nor to discover her worth, nor be reunited with family, nor find love, she had not expected any of it to happen.

But she was glad it had.

A/N: Awww, we got a return 'I love you!' :D Which was then ruined, yet again, by interruption :/ I really think Aragorn is just going to be traumatized from this, in his own way, and any time he has something important to say or talk to Menna about he's just going to lock them both in a room till it's done so people stop butting in lol :) At least this was for a good reason, Frodo's awake! :D

Lol, Boromir's back in action as Menna's shadow...and probably STILL won't consider the life-debt paid since it was the heat of battle, much to her annoyance ;) SO much happening in this chapter :)

We got a battle, a victory, taking down a troll, eagles, and the defeat of the darkness! We got some more teasing from Menna to Aragorn about his crown and throne, but then the confession! :')

AND...the reveal! At least to Eowyn, about who Menna is. I debated whether to add in more dialogue to that family moment, but I felt like there was something beautiful about them not needing words, in Eowyn not needing to say anything to convey how much she missed Menna and how grateful she was to find her cousin returned to her. Another part was I couldn't find the words, no matter how much I wrote it out, Eomer's came easily but Eowyn had grown and changed and been through so much too that I felt like it was fitting to add in that quiet moment. She didn't need to be vocal or speak her mind or be the strong princess, she just had to be Eowyn, getting part of her family back :')

Eomer, no matter how I went about it, just refused, REFUSED, to wait even a second longer for Eowyn to know the truth. To him, the war was won and Eowyn needed to know. Part of it was him doubting Menna would tell the truth or if she'd flee and refuse. I think the bond between them is strong, he loves his cousin, but there is all that time missing, time where they grew without the other, and for all that he loves her, that trust won't instantly come back the way it used to be. I thought it would be a bit more realistic for him to doubt and take things into his own hand, he was patient and he tried hard to honor Menna's wishes, and he lasted a while, but it's also his sister, who was there all those years, and who had to watch their Uncle die. She grieved so badly when Menna first 'died' because she, as the Shieldmaiden-in-training, couldn't protect her cousin, she failed. Then to have Theoden die on her, when she couldn't protect him and she 'failed' again, I think Eomer would, after that, be a bit more on Eowyn's side in terms of telling her even if it broke Menna's confidence in him.

Menna is conflicted about it. On one hand, WOULD she have actually told Eowyn? Or would her nerves get the better of her? It's like how you can plan something in so much detail and build it up and promise yourself you'll do it and you chicken out at the last minute :( She's partly terrified that Eomer is the only one that would have welcomed her back and that Eowyn couldn't possibly after everything. So she may be a bit grateful he did it so she wouldn't have to, that he did it when she was faltering and hesitating. On the other hand, it should have been HER decision who to tell and when. Though, she did agree she would tell Eowyn so he partially had her choice to do it to go on. She wanted to be the one to reveal herself, to actually reclaim her name to her family and that was sort of taken from her. In that same breath though, Eowyn, of all people, would understand that she may reveal it to them and not tell others and so all that ceremony might not be needed anyway. Being Nameless, for all it's pitfalls, does have that benefit of a modicum of freedom most women wouldn't get.

But, what's that? ARAGORN saw it all? Hmm...I wonder what he's thinking? The looming battle sort of derailed his thoughts on Menna and Eomer, so I wonder what seeing that would make him think? We'll find out very soon }:)

Only one chapter left! O.O

For anyone interested, I'm going to be posting short little 'teasers' of the next series I'll be posting, my Time Lady 6 for Doctor Who on my tumblr. One post every day, one from each episode including an intro. So if you're curious, hop on over to my tumblr's 'Upcoming Stories' page to check her out ;)

Some notes on reviews...

I know, it's terrible and I always feel so evil to be even a bit pleased when the stories make someone cry, so I can promise quite a lot of happiness from this point on though ;) Lol, you called it with her teasing about the fanciness of it all, and I could see her using that logic. 'Aragorn, just because the Dark Lord was trying to kill you doesn't mean it's because you were the King, he was trying to kill literally everyone' :) I could see their children in the future doing that thing where they are before court and calling him 'your majesty' and Menna's on a throne next to him literally with a crown on her head going 'don't call him that, don't play into his lies. Aragorn, why are you teaching our children it's alright to lie?' and Aragorn just smiling at her fondly while the whole court is like 'what?' and Boromir's trying so hard not to burst out laughing from the side :)

Lol, Pippin might have given Boromir some stiff competition in this chapter ;) Sorry to worry you! Menna lived :D Had to keep you all on your toes at least for a day or two ;)

Aww thank you :) I actually am planning a Buffy story! :D It's on my tumblr and FF profile's list of upcoming stories ;) I can't give a specific day or anything about when it might be posted, only that it won't be in this year or next year. I can also say it's a Spike/OC one :)