Evelyn could feel the weight of Gandalf's stare at her back, but she ignored it and instead listened to the footsteps of Aragorn behind her. His tread was silent, and thinking about it, the Valar blood in her veins was likely the only reason she could hear him.

Once they were a sufficient enough distance so that she was rather certain that not even Legolas could hear them, she paused. With a deep inhale to steady herself, Evelyn turned and looked at the heir of Isildur. Before she could open her mouth though, Aragorn dropped to one knee, bowing low.

"My Lady," he said with reverence.

Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She could feel the amusement emanating from Nightshade.

"Get up," she ordered. "We really don't have time for this."

"My Lady I-"

"Listen," she had her arms crossed and her chin raised. She had spent too much time being uncertain and afraid. "Gandalf and Pippin need to take Shadowfax and ride ahead towards Minas Tirith to warn them of the upcoming attack. The rest of you need to go with the Rohirrim, leave Merry with them and send them towards Minas Tirith as well. As for you, Gimli, and Legolas... you need a swifter route. You'll soon be meeting a company of Dunedain with Elladan and Elrohir among them. You must all take the Paths of the Dead, the only way you'll win this battle, is if you gain the allegiance of the Oathbreakers."

"I... how-" Aragorn appeared confused, but Evelyn didn't have time for it.

"I'm not Valar sent," she shook her head slightly, a snort of derisive laughter emerging. "I didn't even know about my ancestry until just recently. But I know the future... mostly, and I promised Glorfindel that I would do what I can to aide Middle Earth. Follow my instructions or not, it's up to you. But don't say that I didn't warn you."

"He's well," Aragorn had a strange light in his eye as his entire demeanor suddenly shifted. "Glorfindel... he was barely scratched in the battle... and he sent us to find you."

Evelyn chuckled... of course he did. Of course he was worried about her when he had an entire army of orcs before him.

"Is he with the Rohirrim, heading towards Minas Tirith?"

"Yes."

"Good."

With that, Evelyn turned and began walking back towards the group. She just had to make sure that Gandalf would listen and go along with the plan... and then she was done. She and Nightshade would make their way to Minas Tirith in their own time so that she would fulfill her bargain with Glorfindel... and all would be well. The war was as good as won and very little was needed from her.

"My Lady-"

"Really Aragorn... really?" She turned around to face the man.

"I'm sorry, this may not be my place but... do you know?"

"Do I know what?" She was tired. Her magic was still completely drained from the battle and she wanted nothing more than a chance to rest. "Do I know your fate, the fate of your friends, this war, this world?"

"The meaning of that clip," he gestured vaguely towards Evelyn's hair.

One hand instantly raised to touch the little gold and mithril clip that still held her braids together. She had found herself often caressing the cool metal since receiving it back from Glorfindel.

"What about it?" Her tone was perhaps a tad defensive.

"So you don't know?"

"If you haven't anything to say then-"

"It's a promise, my Lady... it's an old custom amongst the Noldor, not many practice it today."

"What do you mean by promise?"

A strange look crossed Aragorn's features before he slowly withdrew a thin chain from around his neck. As he lifted it up he reveled a brilliant, shining pendant that looked like a star made of diamonds. It was beautiful, reflecting light and glowing in a way that Evelyn knew could only be achieved through elven magic.

"The Lady Arwen gifted this to me before we parted, with her Evenstar she swore her life to my mortal one. In return... I gave her a ring of my House. This exchange served as our engagement, a promise stronger than mere words."

"Glorfindel... we're not... I never gave him anything," Evelyn's fingers were still tracing the lines of the clip.

"Then he has sworn himself to you, asking for nothing in return." Aragorn's tone was grave, and it was enough to tell Evelyn that this was no petty promise. "Such has not been heard of since the First Age when on rare occasions, an elf would swear himself to another, usually a Lord who they loved but could not be with due to duty or class. As the head of his House, Glorfindel has technically sworn the House of the Golden Flower to your service."

"I don't understand. What-"

"Where you go, he will follow. When you call, he will come. It's an oath stronger than a Lord to his King, it's an eternal promise. He has bound himself to you by heart and honor. With that token, he had given his life to you."

Evelyn, with her mind torn, silently turned her back. Aragorn lingered for a few moments longer, but eventually began walking back in the direction from which he came. Evelyn listened to his retreating footsteps, fingers still tracing the delicate lines of the clip that Glorfindel had given her.

A gift with far more bearing than she once thought.

Glorfindel walked through the tents of healing, pausing at each bed that held one of his brethren. The tents were kept as clean as possible, but they still reeked of astringent herbs and the unmistakable scent of death. Many of the men who survived the battle were already succumbing to blood poisoning, and the few elvish healers left could only do so much. The losses were severe, but if he were honest with himself, they were fewer than he thought upon seeing the hoard of orcs at the gates of Helm's Deep. So many mortal and immortal lives were lost.

He briefly closed his eyes to utter a silent prayer, thanking the Nienna for sparing those that she did and asking Mandos to keep those that they lost in safety. It weighed heavy on his heart, to see so many of his kin who were meant to sail, to return home, now lost.

"My Lord," Glorfindel turned and smiled slightly to see his ever faithful Second.

"Cuhador," he nodded in acknowledgment.

"We have two, maybe three score soldiers who can be ready to march alongside the Rohirrm by dawn. If we wait, then it is likely we can-"

"That'll be unnecessary," Glorfindel cut off his old friend with a hand on the other warriors still armor-clad shoulder. "I will not ask more of them to loose their lives for this world that we are prepared to leave."

"My Lord," he frowned slightly. "Where you lead, they will-"

"I will not lead them, their fight is over."

A look of understanding crossed the veteran's face. He appeared reluctant, but accepting.

"And I suppose... that you will not be joining us on our journey back to Imladris?"

"No, I won't... and you may not come with me, not this time."

Cuhador nodded.

"Farewell then, may the stars light your path."

"May the stars light your path."

The next morning, Glorfindel woke at the first sign of dawn. Theoden King was preparing his Riders to march in aide of Minas Tirith and Glorfindel would travel with them. He left behind all his surviving warriors with Cuhador set to lead them back home. He had fought many battles before, marched on armies that he had no hope of defeating, but never before had he felt so alone doing it. He didn't regret what he said to Cuhador... he really couldn't ask more of his soldiers to fight and die; but, such meant that he would be going to war alone, none of his kin by his side.

In the early, pre-dawn light, Glorfindel carefully prepared Asfoloth, brushing his white coat until it gleamed and polishing every piece of leather tack. Once he was prepared he said his final goodbyes to his soldiers and mounted on Asfoloth's back. With a soft whisper to his steed they took off to join the line of Rohirrim. Behind them were the ruins of Helm's Deep, crumbling walls and fresh graves. The tents of healing stood out like islands of life in the emptiness of the barren battlefield.

Glorfindel took one last, long look at the small troop of elvish warriors who stood outside, arms raised in a salute to see him off. He knew that he was riding to save Gondor and Middle Earth, to aide Aragorn in rising to his rightful place as King, and to seeing Elenya once more. Yet, something twisted inside him as he watched his brethren fade into the distance. There was a small, quiet part of him that questioned whether he would ever see them again.

Evelyn was sitting in the middle of the clearing that she had once made camp in will Merry and Pippin. The sun was slowly sinking behind the wall of trees and would soon fade from view. She knew that she was supposed to be on her way to Minas Tirith, but she wasn't quite finished yet. Mirkwood was warned of their attack, Saruman was dead, Helm's Deep saved, and all the correct armies were on their way to fight on Pelanor Fields. As far as she was aware, she had technically completed her tasks. Yet, there remained one more who she needed to speak with, one that she had been avoiding for so long.

You must remember, Evelyn of Yavanna, the Valar are forbidden from meeting us in these lands. If you seek your Grandmother, you must invite her in. You must allow her to walk through you dreams.

"What do you think Nightshade?" She asked the wolf who was lounging nearby.

I think the Healer-one was telling the truth, Nightshade replied.

"Then I suppose it's time."

With that, Evelyn leaned back, the grass around her growing together into a small clump, plush enough to serve as a pillow. She laid back and allowed the sounds of the forest at dusk to envelope her: crickets chirping, owls hooting in the distance, the soft creak of Ents moving about, and the distant whispers of water gently lapping around the newly flooded Isengard. No orc would dare to show themselves after the battle and no creature of Fangorn would dare to harm Evelyn. She knew she was safe.

The reassuring weight of Nightshade curled up against her side as she closed her eyes, breathing in the air- still tainted with remnants of smoke but growing clearer by the second. The night seemed to grow still as Evelyn was slowly lulled into the embrace of sleep.

And just as she became ready to drift off, Evelyn opened up her mind, calling out one phrase over and over again.

I invite you in Yavanna, for in dreams may we meet. I invite you in Yavanna, come walk with me in sleep.

I invite you in Yavanna, for in dreams may we meet. I invite you in Yavanna, come walk with me in sleep.

I invite you in Yavanna, for in dreams may we meet. I invite you in Yavanna, come walk with me in sleep.

It was time for her to meet her Grandmother.