I'll probably add it to the playlist later, but I really like the song Frozen Pines by Lord Huron for this chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 26: The Dew of Morning

"Okay, this is fucked."

Quinn had been pacing for several minutes, tugging at her clothes and hair and trying to figure out where exactly things had gone wrong.

The creepy ghost cave was a good starting point. The last thing she remembered was something dragging her into the chasm. She'd fallen for a long time before finally hitting the bottom, which had pretty much instantly knocked her out, but every other time that had happened, she'd just woken up with a massive headache—and the same body.

This was…impossible, given everything she knew. There was no way she could be back in her old body from Earth, because Gandalf told her it had already died and wasn't capable of holding a spirit anymore. Whatever magic was keeping Belekur's body walking around didn't apply to hers.

But she felt normal, more than she had in a long time. She could breathe and shiver and spit until her mouth was dry. If this was a dream, it was a very realistic one.

At least she was still in Middle-earth. She could see the shape of the White Mountains a little ways behind her, though she had no idea how she'd gotten out of that cave.

And Belekur was probably still in there. Quinn had seen no sign of them since she'd woken up, and she guessed whatever fuckery had happened in there had actually managed to separate the two of them.

"Okay." Quinn ran a hand through her hair. "Let's just look at the facts. You're in your original, smaller, much weaker body. Your cranky soulmate is gone after being possessed by ghosts. You were en route to Isengard before things got fucked."

She turned to the north and frowned. Whatever had happened, she had a job to finish. Sword or no sword, she had to make sure her friends were safe.

If it came down to it, she'd strangle Saruman with her shoelaces or something.

With a sigh, Quinn shot one last glance towards the mountains. She felt a little bad about leaving Belekur behind to whatever ghostly fate awaited them, but if she was being honest with herself, they wouldn't have given a second thought about leaving her behind.

"All right." Quinn brushed off a few blades of grass from her jeans. "Let's do this thing."

She broke into a sprint, hoping she was heading in the right direction. After a minute, she had to stop and catch her breath.

"Shit." She wiped the sweat from her forehead. "No more unlimited stamina. Fuck."

She couldn't afford to delay any longer. She didn't know how much time she'd lost in the cave back there, but every minute she spent traveling to Isengard was another minute Saruman was wreaking havoc.

There was nothing to do except keep going. Quinn allowed herself to walk for a little bit as she ascended the hill in front of her. She was going to actually have to consider how to conserve her energy…not to mention food and water and all the other stuff she hadn't had to deal with while she'd been dead.

When she reached the top of the hill, a long, dark shape caught her eye. Something huge had passed through the plains and left a wide swath of trampled grass and gouged earth in its wake. She hurried down the other side of the hill and went to inspect it. It was hard to make out any distinct tracks, but they looked more like large, heavy boots than hoof marks.

These marks hadn't been left by riders. They'd been left by orcs—and a fuckton of them.

Quinn turned her gaze to the north, where the trail originated. Chills crawled down her arms. Saruman had already sent out a goddamn army.

"No more," she growled, and pushed herself into a run again.

The hours crawled by. The grasses around her felt practically endless as she struggled to keep up a steady pace. She walked when she got too tired, and ran when she got too anxious. Her limbs felt clumsy and heavy after the first two hours, but she only paused to quench her thirst at the streams she passed and scavenge a few berries she hoped weren't poisonous. Even as night fell, she didn't stop.

The next day, when the dark spire of Orthanc finally came into view between the hills, Quinn almost collapsed in relief. She allowed herself a minute to heave in gasping breaths over a parched tongue, then straightened and pressed on.

She'd spent the past day turning over plans in her head, but none of them were really substantial. She knew Isengard wouldn't have a strong defense if an army had been sent out—besides the wizard, obviously. If Saruman was still tracking her somehow, he would know she was coming, and there was no point in stealth. Her plan mostly consisted of making it through the front gate, making it through the front door, then climbing to whatever floor Saruman was on and punching him in the face. That seemed like a good start.

She knew also that she would be in no shape to put up a fight after running for almost a day straight, but stopping to rest felt wrong.

A smile twitched on the corners of her lips. Maybe Belekur ended up rubbing off on me after all.

Quinn passed between two hills, coming into the valley proper, and froze. The earth, which had been bare last time she'd been there, was covered in trees. The wall surrounding the tower had been crushed to rubble in places, and the land within was completely flooded.

She put a hand on her forehead. "Oh my god. How long was I in that cave?"

She took off down the slope and sprinted through the trees. If Isengard was a ruin now, that probably meant Saruman had lost. She could assume Sauron wasn't doing too well either, or more things would be on fire or something. But if she'd been gone long enough for an entire forest to spring up, then decades must have passed. Her friends and Toven—

She shut the thought down before it could fully form. She'd draw her own conclusions once she had more answers.

A low groan resounded through the forest, and Quinn frowned at the trees. The air here felt muggy and strange—not as foul as Mirkwood, but still…weird. She was glad when she emerged on the other side. The forest had grown right up to the wall, and she jogged towards a large gap in the stone.

A couple of voices reached her ears, and she ducked behind a tree. They were too high to be orcs or Dunlendings. In fact, they both sounded weirdly familiar.

Quinn walked over to the gap in the wall, looked up, and found none other than Merry and Pippin sitting at the top, smoking and laughing.

She blinked. "Uh…" They both froze and looked down at her. "The fuck are you guys doing here?"

They both stood up, and Merry frowned down at her. "What business is it of yours?"

They had both shifted their weight like they were preparing to run, and Quinn realized that neither of them recognized her. "Oh, shit, sorry. It's me, Quinn." She spread her hands. "I, uh, got a new body."

Pippin's eyes widened. "Quinn?"

Merry kept frowning. "How do we know this isn't one of Saruman's tricks?"

That was a valid point. She frowned for a moment. "Ask me something only Quinn would know. I mean, something only I would know."

Pippin leaned forward. "What got you banned from Hardbottle?"

"We were playing watermelon soccer and I kicked it through Sigismond Bracegirdle's window and it exploded all over his living room." She smiled. "That was a good day."

Both hobbits relaxed at that, and Pippin grinned. "Well, I think that's proof enough."

Merry beckoned to her. "Get up here!"

Quinn started forward, then paused. "Hang on. How do I know you two aren't wizard illusions or something?"

"Would an illusion be able to do this?" Pippin took a drag from his pipe, then blew out an impressive smoke ring.

"Okay, you've convinced me." She climbed up to the top of the wall and hugged them both. "God, I'm so glad to see you two. But what the hell happened?" She looked around. "Why does it look like the apocalypse came early here?"

"That was the Ents," Pippin said.

"What the hell are Ents?"

"They're walking, talking trees, I suppose." Merry leaned closer and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Don't say it to their faces, though. They don't like to be called trees."

Quinn looked back at the forest and relaxed slightly. Ironically, it made a lot more sense that the trees had just walked here. "Looks like a lot of them showed up. But what about you guys? Where's everyone else?"

Their smiles faltered at that, and her heart dropped to her stomach.

"What happened?" she demanded. "J-Just start at the beginning."

"We were attacked by orcs, two days after you left," Merry said.

"Orcs?" Her hands tightened into fists. "What, the same ones that went after us earlier?"

"We think so," Pippin said quietly.

"Fuck." She took a step back. She'd run off on her own for nothing. "What about the others? Are they okay?"

"We were separated from the others at the beginning," Merry said. He was having trouble meeting her eyes. "The orcs were almost upon us when Toven and Boromir came to defend us. But there were…there were too many, and they grabbed us." He lowered his gaze, his voice nearly a whisper. "Toven was shot by an arrow. We didn't see anything else after that."

Quinn barely heard his last sentence. Her ears began to ring. She stared at them blankly as an icy sensation trickled through her chest.

He got shot.

He got shot, and I wasn't there.

She took another step back, and Pippin darted forward and grabbed her arm before she could stumble off the wall.

"It wasn't your fault, Quinn," he said, tears welling in his eyes. "None of us could have known."

"It was my responsibility," she said hoarsely. "I was supposed to…"

She looked up at the black tower looming above them. The anxiety that had been hounding her every step over the plains of Rohan began to take form again, rumbling like the heat in a furnace.

"Is he still in there?" she asked, her own voice sounding alien.

"Saruman?" Merry asked.

"Yeah."

"I think so. But—"

"Okay." She hopped off the inner edge of the wall, landing in thigh-deep water. Pain shot through her ankles when she hit the ground, but she ignored it.

Merry and Pippin called out to her, but their words rolled over her like a passing wind. All she could focus on was the dark, jagged shape of the tower in front of her, and the blood she wanted on her hands.

The victorious mood of the men diminished as they returned to the fortress. The ground just outside the walls was almost entirely covered in dead orcs, and the scent of rot was already beginning to form a haze above the battlefield. In the daylight, Toven was able to get a better look at the V-shaped hole in the wall where some wicked tool of the orcs had managed to break through.

As they passed back into the fortress itself, the bodies of their own became more frequent. Lying face down in the street was a body too small to belong to a grown man, and Toven looked away as his stomach turned. He'd seen men die before, but this…this was a horror he didn't fully know how to comprehend, like standing at the base of a mountain and trying to visualize all the stone within.

The women began to emerge from the caves, blinking against the bright sunlight. Some ran to the walking soldiers with cries of joy, but far more fell to their knees among the fallen, shoulders shaking with sobs.

A man came forward to collect his horse, and Toven dismounted and let him lead it away. His legs felt weak and shaky, but he forced himself to move and make room for the soldiers still filing inside.

The yard behind the wall was in little better shape. It was littered with rubble and bodies, the night's rain covering it all with splatters of mud. A few soldiers were already at work, tossing the dead orcs into one pile and lining up their fallen allies at the other end. Toven staggered forward to see what help he could offer.

He found Legolas and Gimli digging through the ruined remains of the wall and went to join them. Gimli heaved a chunk of rock off a man's body, and Toven quickly looked away from his broken form.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gimli asked as Toven bent down to take hold of one of the dead orcs.

Toven straightened. "What?"

"Off to bed with you." He waved his axe as if to ward him off. "I'll not have you lifting anything with that shoulder of yours."

Almost unconsciously, he rubbed at his shoulder with a slight wince. A sharp pain was throbbing through it, though he'd tried not to move his left arm too much during the battle. "I can't just go rest while everyone else is working."

"Well, you'll be no good to anyone if you keel over and get mistaken for one of the dead."

"This will be a task of many days, with or without your help," Legolas said with a kind nod. "No one would begrudge you a moment of rest."

Toven sighed, though in truth he was wondering whether he had the strength to make it back to his room at all. "Just…don't let me sleep for more than a few hours."

He trudged back into the fortress and pushed open the door to their room. He lay facedown on the cot, and was asleep before the frame had stopped creaking.

When he woke, the sun was still up. Toven pushed himself up with a groan, wincing at the sore muscles in his back and arms. His shoulder still hurt, and he distantly wondered if he'd somehow done permanent damage to it. The cut on his side hurt as well, but a quick inspection informed him that it had stopped bleeding, at least.

He finished the last of the water in his waterskin, then stumbled outside. The streets had been cleared, and people were crouched against the walls now, taking care of the wounded and comforting the grieving.

"Toven!"

He turned to see Éowyn approaching him, and to his surprise, she wrapped his arms around his neck.

"I am glad to see you alive," she said, releasing him after a moment.

"Glad to be alive." He blinked, then decided not to comment on her sudden display of affection. "You decided to stay in the caves?"

Éowyn nodded, her expression falling a little. "I…I had no weapon."

"Well, I'm glad you're all right, too."

She looked up, as if remembering something, then reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a roll of bandages. "I haven't forgotten," she said, pressing it into his hands.

"I appreciate it," he said with a smile. "You know, your people are lucky to have you."

Éowyn blushed at that. "Well, there is still much I must see to today." She touched his elbow. "I will see you later."

Toven watched her continue down the street. He felt strange, almost self-conscious, but not necessarily in a bad way. He shook the feeling off and climbed the stairs to the top of the keep. Legolas was standing near the battlements, his bow clasped contemplatively in both hands.

The battlefield had been cleared somewhat, and a growing pile of dead orcs was accumulating outside the wall. Toven was grateful they hadn't started burning the bodies yet, as he was sure the smell would be unbearable. At the edge of the gorge, the strange forest crouched low and dark. It seemed to rise and fall in places, almost as if it was breathing.

"Gandalf will go to Isengard," Legolas said without looking at him, "to confront the Saruman."

Toven looked down at the lower wall and immediately spotted the wizard standing next to the king, his white robes spotless even after the battle. "He really is back. How the hell did he survive that fall?"

"He didn't," Legolas said. "But he is returned to us now."

"If only it were that easy for the rest of us," Toven muttered, resting his elbow on the battlements. "When do they leave?"

"Nightfall, once the men have had a chance to rest." Legolas finally turned to look at him. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit." He rubbed his shoulder again. He would probably need to put his arm in a sling again. "I just…I need to know what happened to Quinn."

"You will."

It wasn't exactly a comforting statement, but it was a little closer to the truth, and Toven appreciated that. "What about you? Were you injured at all?"

"No. I only wish…" Legolas turned his gaze to the gap in the wall, and remained silent for a long moment. He shook his head slightly. "It is done, now. The Rohirrim have defended their land."

Toven looked down at the dozens of pale-faced bodies lining the yard. "With everything they had." He looked away. "You'll be riding to Isengard too, won't you?"

Legolas nodded.

"I'm going to go patch myself up. If I pass out again, make sure they don't leave without me."

"I will," he said with a slight smile.

Toven saluted him with the roll of bandages and made for the stairs.

Quinn staggered through the murky water, ignoring its pull on her clothes as she made her way to the narrow black stair in front of Orthanc. Every breath felt like flames, searing the inside of her chest as she pushed forward.

I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fucking kill him.

She reached the bottom of the stair and started climbing, her wet sneakers slipping a few times on the stone. She fell against the doors, bracing her palms against them, but they were locked.

"Come on!" She shoved at the dark stone, but it didn't budge. "Open, you piece of shit!"

Saruman had to be somewhere in that tower. She wondered if he was watching her right now, if he even recognized her. She wondered if he knew what was going to happen, and if he was afraid.

She wondered if Toven had been afraid when—

A scream ripped through her throat, and she rammed her shoulder against the door. Pain jolted through her arm, but she ignored it.

"Saruman! Open these fucking doors!" She tried to pry her fingers into the gap between them. "Come out and fight me, you fucking coward!"

She took a couple steps back, then lunged forward and tried to break down the door again. Her sneakers slipped against the stone and she fell, knocking her elbow against the ground.

She cradled her arm against her chest. Hot tears were running down her face and dripping off her chin. She dragged the heel of her hand over her cheeks. She didn't deserve to cry. She wasn't the one who had been fucking shot.

She sat back against the door, elbows propped against her knees, and put her face in her hands. She was supposed to protect him. He was her son—that was the one fucking job she had, and she'd failed. She'd left him alone on a whim, and her stupidity had gotten him killed.

"God dammit." Sobs rattled her chest. It was too late to make things right. The only thing she had left was killing this stupid wizard, and she couldn't even open the damn door.

"Quinn! Come down from there!"

She looked up to see Merry standing at the bottom of the stairs, the water coming up to his waist. She sniffled and wiped her face again. "Can't you see I'm having a moment, here?"

"Well, you can have your moment somewhere safe. Just…Just come down."

His voice was like a tether, steadying her in the raging current of her grief. And she would rather trust his judgment than her own when it came to what she was supposed to do next.

Quinn picked herself up and walked down the stairs, careful not to slip. When she reached the bottom, Merry wrapped an arm around her waist and started leading her back towards the wall. A few more tears slipped down her face and vanished into the cloud-gray water.

Nobody asked, but I've been picturing Ashly Burch as a fancast for Quinn in her actual body. I've been picturing Louis Hofmann as Toven and Booboo Stewart as Belekur (it's hard to find trans/androgynous fancasts so these are more for the Vibe of the characters)

So Quinn is really going thru it, but I promise next chapter will not be so angsty. We're getting into the Return of the King arc of the story, and I'm super excited to get into some more crazy stuff. Until next time!