Chapter 38: All United for Victory

Quinn woke up feeling like absolute shit.

Her chest felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball on it, and her mouth was coated with dried blood. With a grimace, she shifted and opened her eyes. The light canopy of a tent greeted her, rippling softly with the breeze. She could feel sheets beneath her hand—she was in a bed of some sort, though she couldn't remember how she'd gotten there.

A chair creaked somewhere else in the tent, and Toven leaned over her, eyes wide. "Quinn?"

"I'm here." She shifted again with a wince. "What happened? Did we win?"

"The battle is over," he said hoarsely. There were dark circles under his eyes. "Sauron is defeated. Don't you remember?"

"Yeah. Just feeling a little out of it." She dragged her fingers over her eyes. Whoever had brought her here had at least been nice enough to clean the blood off her hands. She looked up and frowned—Toven looked like he was on the verge of tears, his jaw trembling slightly. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"I was trying to take you away from the battlefield," he rasped. "And you fell over without warning. You had no pulse and no breath and I-I didn't know if—" His voice broke.

Quinn pushed herself up and held her arms out. "Come here."

Toven leaned against her shoulder, and she held him while he cried. She could feel it in the sobs shaking his chest, all the fear and stress he'd been holding in since the first day all of this had started.

Now he had a chance to let it all out and start healing. Beneath the grief and worry she'd been holding herself, a budding hope was breaking through. He had a chance to be free and happy, and she would actually get the chance to watch it happen.

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" she said softly. Tentatively, she flexed her right hand. "I just needed some time for the undead healing to kick in. And if any more ancient warrior bosses show up, I'll just kick their asses."

Toven pulled back and wiped his eyes. "Because that worked so well last time."

Her eyes widened. "That's right, you killed an ancient warrior." She poked his chest. "You are now a certified badass."

He gave her a watery smile. "To be fair, they were distracted."

"Doesn't matter. It was still badass." She looked him over. "You healing up okay?"

He nodded wearily. "I'm sore and I think I hurt my shoulder again, but I'll be fine."

"And the others?"

"They're all right." He perked up a little. "The eagles took Gandalf into Mordor after the battle. They brought Frodo and Sam back. They haven't woken up yet, but they're alive."

A relieved laugh gusted out of her. "They made it. They actually made it."

A kernel of guilt nested in her stomach. She couldn't imagine the hell they'd been through in Mordor. Glad as she was to have them back, she was scared to see what the journey had done to them.

"So you're sure you're…staying?" Toven asked, resting his elbow on his knee.

Quinn shrugged. "If I was going to disappear or die or whatever, I'm pretty sure it would have happened by now. I mean, last time I thought I was going to die, I ended up staying in Middle-earth because there was still a bigger enemy to defeat."

"That's not reassuring at all."

She smiled and nudged his leg. "I think we're okay this time. I'm a lot more experienced than I was back then, and I get the feeling this is really actually over, now."

Toven sat back, his gaze growing distant. "I never thought we'd make it this far."

"I know. It's a little concerning, if I'm being honest."

He looked up at her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"You've been living life one day at a time for a long time, T. It's not healthy."

His gaze fell into the stubborn impassiveness he'd picked up from the dwarves. "That's the life of a Ranger."

"Not really. Your buddies still find a way to settle down, have children, pass on their knowledge. I mean, look at Aragorn and Arwen."

His stare turned deadpan. "Is this more relationship advice?"

She smiled wryly. "That's part of it. But, you know…it's okay to imagine a future for yourself. It's okay to picture yourself getting old."

Toven lowered his gaze to a dried bloodstain on his trousers. "I don't know what that would look like. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"I'll give you your first step. Go get some rest. You look like you got hit by a car."

He laughed and lifted himself off the bed. "That sounds like a good idea."

Quinn waved him away. "Go sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise."


The army had moved their encampment away from the desolate land outside the Black Gate and traveled south, back into the greenery of Ithilien. Toven could see the river from their encampment and the narrow shape of the island that split its current. Boromir had explained to him earlier that the island was Cair Andros, home to a garrison that served as Gondor's main northern defense. Several boats were flocked like birds around the shore of the island, their white sails fluttering in the breeze.

It was spring now, and warmth had finally begun to bless the earth. Toven was beginning to regret bringing only the gambeson to wear, as it did get uncomfortably hot, but he took a measure of comfort from wearing it. The white trees on his chest and bracers were instantly recognizable, marking him as a Gondorian. But more than that, they reminded him of the men who had given him this armor, how they had accepted him without question.

His thoughts drifted back to Minas Tirith, to Faramir and Éowyn. No doubt they'd heard the news of their victory by now. His heart lifted at the thought of seeing them again, though he was nervous too, after their parting. He had no more excuses now to avoid reckoning with his feelings.

In any case, he would probably have to wait a while before returning to the city. They were likely going to be camped here until the wounded were well enough to continue on—and for once, they were in no rush. He'd also seen preparations for some sort of feast to celebrate their victory, and just getting the supplies necessary for that would take a few days.

As he wandered closer to the banks of the river, he spotted Aragorn speaking with a few finely-dressed men who clearly weren't soldiers. Even after the battle, he'd continued to take charge, organizing messengers and supply lines and tending to the wounded himself.

Aragorn finished talking to the men and began walking towards him. It was clear that a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, not just from the end of the war, but also a release of whatever he'd been carrying all those years as a Ranger in obscurity.

"You look different," Toven said as he approached.

"How so?"

"Taller, perhaps." He tilted his head. "More…kingly?"

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "I have no crown."

"Are you planning on getting one?"

He hesitated for a moment before his head dipped into a nod. "I will. The people of Gondor need someone to lead them into a new age."

"I think you'll be a good king," Toven said with a smile. "Not that I envy the amount of paperwork you'll have to do, but…"

Aragorn laughed at that. "And what will you do, now that the war is over?"

Toven looked away, his gaze returning to the white sails of the ships around Cair Andros. He hadn't forgotten Quinn's words, but he hadn't put much thought towards his future, either. "I've been a Ranger all my life. I can't imagine doing anything else."

"There will be a need for Rangers yet, while the remainder of Sauron's forces linger," Aragorn said. He stepped closer and put a hand on Toven's shoulder. "But you have a long life ahead of you, and there are paths for you to take that you may not see right now." He held his gaze, eyes full of steady reassurance. "No matter what you choose, there will always be a place for you in Gondor. I will make sure of that."

Toven nodded, his chest warming in gratitude. Once again, he became aware of the white trees adorning his clothing.

Gondorian.

He knew in that moment that he was in a place where he could be accepted, where perhaps he could carve out some sense of belonging, and that was enough for now.


Quinn set her breastplate in her lap and ran her fingers over the thin hole where the Lieutenant's sword had punched through it. Her armor had a lot of scratch marks and divots from breaks and subsequent repairs over the years. Her friends and Erebor had continually pestered her to get a new set, but there was something comforting about wearing the armor she'd had since the beginning.

She turned her gaze to the weapon resting on the bed beside her. Someone had recovered the Lieutenant's sword after the battle, and Aragorn had given it to her. The blade was wickedly sharp, unlike anything she'd ever seen. On a whim, she'd dropped a blade of grass onto the edge, and it had broken in half just from the contact.

She was hoping she would never have to use it. There would still be fighting to do while they hunted down the remainder of Sauron's forces, but after that she was ready to put her weapons down for good. The way she'd felt during the battle—ruthless and bloodthirsty—didn't sit well with her. She didn't want to put herself in a situation where she'd need that part of herself again.

There was no denying something had come to an end. She just hadn't expected a new beginning for herself. Belekur had confirmed (in their own curt way) that they didn't know what had happened, why they hadn't been summoned back to their world. Maybe it had something to do with Toven killing the Lieutenant, but whatever it was, Quinn didn't exactly feel like questioning the specifics.

For now, at least, they could get a break. Quinn set aside the breastplate and walked out of the tent. It was finally getting warm again, and the mood in the camp had noticeably shifted to one of relief. There was talk of a feast in the next couple of days, and she was looking forward to a good old-fashioned celebration without the threat of war looming over their shoulders.

She changed course, heading into the woods on the edge of camp. Birdsong filled the trees, a welcome change from the eerie silence they'd experienced on their way to the Black Gate. It was nice to just walk among the greenery and smell the change in the world, like the earth itself had let out a sigh of relief.

Apparently, she wasn't the only one with that idea. She found Legolas perched on a low branch a little ways into the forest, fiddling with the fletching on his arrows. He didn't look up until she was close, though he'd probably heard her coming for quite a while.

"Hey." She leaned against a nearby tree and crossed her arms. As soon as she'd made herself comfortable, she hesitated. It was possible he didn't want her company right now, even though she'd sort of made it a habit of inviting herself into his space. The night before the battle had been the first time he'd turned her down outright. "Uh…what's good?"

"I owe you an apology," Legolas said, resting the arrow he was working on in his lap. "I…dismissed you the night before the battle, and I see now that it was unkind of me to do so."

"No, no." She waved him off. "Don't apologize. We were all stressed out, and I was being obnoxious." She half-smiled. "Honestly, you can just tell me to fuck off whenever you feel like it."

The corner of his lips turned up at that. "You are a good friend, Quinn. I want you to know that."

She relaxed, and her smile widened. He'd been so cold when she'd first met him, so much like his father, and it had taken years for him to learn how to be something different. "You've changed, man. I'm happy for you."

The undergrowth rustled, and Legolas froze. Gimli walked out from between two trees, stretching, shirtless, and with several small flowers adorning his hair. "You didn't have to let me sleep in, amrâlimê."

Quinn's mouth fell open. Legolas turned the same color as Gimli's hair.

"You're. Kidding. Me." She looked back and forth between the two of them. "Was that the A word? Wha—When did this happen?"

"Oh, don't act so surprised," Gimli grumbled, retrieving his shirt from behind a bush and pulling it on. "You're the last one to notice."

"Okay, to be fair, I got separated from y'all and then I got possessed and I spent a day in a different dimension. But that is one hundred percent beside the point." Her face broke into a grin. "I'm so happy for you guys! You finally worked out your differences!"

"That we did," Gimli said with a genuine, affectionate smile towards Legolas, who turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Oh my god." She sighed dreamily. "You guys are gonna get married and make really cute babies…" She pulled herself up onto a nearby tree branch and stood up, spreading her arms to the sky. "We did it, everyone! Love is real!"

"I told you she would do something like this," she heard Legolas whisper below.

Quinn hopped down, brushing a few loose twigs from her hair, just as Merry and Pippin ran into the clearing. They were both breathless, panting as they tried to talk over each other.

"What is it, lads?" Gimli asked. "Only one of you speak!"

"Frodo and Sam are awake!" Pippin said, his eyes bright. "Gandalf said we can go see them now."

"Oh, shit." Quinn followed Merry and Pippin as they rushed out of the clearing, Legolas and Gimli on her heels.

The tent where the two hobbits were resting was on the other side of camp, in a quiet glade where they would have a little bit of peace. Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir, and Toven were already waiting outside.

As Quinn approached, her footsteps began to falter. The last time she'd seen Frodo had been on the river, before she'd split up from their Fellowship. Before she'd left them to be attacked by orcs. Frodo had already seen so much pain and grief before she'd left him. What had the past several weeks done to him?

Merry and Pippin barged into the tent without a second thought, and a bout of joyous laughter rose from within. The others began to file in as well. Toven shot her a questioning glance as she hung back, but she only motioned for him to go ahead.

She wasn't the only one lingering outside. Boromir stood at the entrance, his posture straight and soldier-like, but she could see the hesitation on his face, a mirror to her own.

"Hey." She sidled up to him. "You okay?"

"It was my fault our Fellowship was broken," Boromir said quietly, his gaze fixed on the rippling canvas. "We prevailed in the end, but had it not been for my weakness, perhaps Frodo would not have been forced to take that path alone." His brow tensed. "If he still fears me, still distrusts me, I would not blame him."

Toven had mentioned to her that Boromir had tried to take the Ring from Frodo, but with everything else happening, she hadn't found it in herself to get mad at him for it. And now that it was all over, she didn't see the point in still holding it against him.

Quinn put a hand on his shoulder. "First of all, Frodo wasn't alone. He still had Sam with him. And he probably knows better than any of us what the Ring can do to people. He's not the kind of person that would hold it against you."

Boromir met her gaze, and his expression relaxed. "You are certain of this?"

"Yeah."

"In that case, perhaps you should take some of your own advice."

She let out a small, shocked laugh. "Okay. Fair point, my dude." She slung an arm over his shoulders, and they walked inside together.

I know this chapter was relatively short, I wanted to give a sort of transition between the final battle and the actual ending of the story. Next chapter will be a bit longer to make up for it, and there will also be a moment that I'm pretty excited about. Until then!