AN: Sorry about reuploading the last chapter, I accidentally wrote a bit in a conflicting point of view. Here's a new little something, done with all the time I have now that I've been exposed to covid and have to stay home.

Also, a lot of what I write military members doing is probably against all kinds of protocol and sorry for breaking that particular brand of accuracy. Please try to still enjoy and know that I appreciate the sacrifices of those who serve.

Chapter 42: Help Unlooked For

Damn the humvee blowing up.

Damn the Taliban and ISIL.

Damn the entire sun and everything under it.

Alvin York II was not a happy camper. The mission had begun badly enough, late because Martin had briefly his fucking lucky charm and actually screamed at Murphy for suggesting they go without it. Not even two hours out of Salerno (after a restless night of a ghostly child's giggling) they stopped for a pee break when some idiot destroyed their humvee with a bazooka, getting killed quickly in return.

They'd had to walk the rest of the way, did their shadowy deeds, and considered the bad luck over since none of them were killed. Not even Guerra, their fourth medic since van der Zee was recalled then went missing; so far he'd lasted four months and was becoming a friend. He'd even found a cache of weapons hidden near the assignment and they were bringing back some samples for intelligence.

That being said, walking long distances under the hot sun will put anyone in a bad mood. They were all tired, sore, and hot as they trudged back to relative safety, unable to fully quench their thirst in the desert. York mused that he'd probably kill anybody who got between him and some cold water. Or lukewarm water, he wasn't being picky anymore.

He recognized the ridge they were approaching and let out a sigh of relief. "Just another few miles, gentlemen," he announced. In celebration he allowed himself a mouthful of precious water.

"Didn't he say that a mile ago?" Murphy whispered in his Texas twang, but in the silence that surrounded them he may as well have shouted.

York sent a withering glare over his shoulder. Well, yes, he had, but he wasn't wrong. Combined, it was just three and a half miles or so.

"It's not going to be long, I recognize that rock," Guerra provided helpfully, pointing at a formation that resembled a fist giving someone the bird.

"Right. Let's just get in, report, and get a shower," Murphy suggested, "We reek."

Subtly, York smelled himself and had to agree. "Forward," he stated and began walking again.

Except that as he walked, he gradually began to not recognize this place. The stone of the mountains were still red-tinted but only by the evening light and not their own coloring; the sand beneath his feet transitioned to grass and prairie so slowly that he almost didn't notice. The air seemed to get cooler, but York supposed that he was finally getting used to the heat and evening was approaching.

Only when he looked back to see if everyone else was following did alarms begin to go off. "Weren't there mountains behind us?" he asked, unable to believe his eyes as they surveyed the nearly flat plain.

Martin gave him a look wondering about his sanity. "Yeah, of course there are mountains behind us. Guerra, can you check him for heat stroke?" he replied, using his thumb to point behind him.

"Um, I don't think heat stroke is the problem here," Guerra replied, also facing east.

Frowning, Martin turned around- and nearly fell over. "What the hell?" he squawked.

"I could have sworn there were four big-ass mountains right there!" Murphy complained, waving a dark hand at the reddening skyline.

"Yeah!" "Agreed." "Where are we?"

Accusingly Martin glared at York but didn't say anything.

He didn't have to; York's idiocy weighed on him. They could have waited until nighttime for a chopper to get them but no, he was so sure he knew the way back! A whole war was going on and they might die of dehydration. The humiliation was acute and burned his face as much as the sun had.

A noise of hooves on hard ground made the hair rise on York's arms. "Hide!" he hissed in case an enemy was coming, but there was no place in range. With a curse he swung his rifle off his shoulder and into a more ready position in case he had to shoot.

He expected a local resident, maybe an old man or a boy, possibly trying to escape something or to send an urgent message in this primitive place. Why else would they be riding so hard?

Instead a white man came riding over the ridge on a beautiful brown horse, wearing extremely stained clothing and a fucking cloak. Upon seeing the men he slowed, patting his horse's neck as he circled anxiously. His eyes were bright grey and eyed them with wary curiosity- then they went wide when he looked at their chests.

Their name tags, York realized. "Pardon, can you give us directions to the nearest American base?" he asked politely of the stranger despite the oddity of the man.

"American," the man breathed, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it.

York glanced at Murphy and got a discreet nod; he was ready in case this was a real case of stranger danger.

"There's an army coming this way," the man told them sternly in a soft English accent, "The fortress of Helm's Deep is your only chance of living and just down the hill here. Come with me!" He seemed sincere enough and certainly had the look of a man running away from something terrible.

Even more confused now, York surveyed his friends' faces. Murphy signed at him, asking if the man was crazy.

All York could do was shrug. "Anybody else got a better idea than going downhill?" he asked, snorting at his play on words. So far his whole damn day had been going no way but downhill.

There were no better ideas.

"Lead the way," York invited, stretching an army in the direction of the mountain passage they had been approaching.

They really were lost and running on luck, he realized when he began stumbling down a very steep hill that he would have remembered. There was little he hated more than being in a vehicle going up or down a very steep incline; what if the brakes failed? How was that poor horse managing it, with little traction and a guy on his back?

Murphy yelped and then tumbled past, only regaining control a few meters from the bottom. He dusted off the various guns he was carrying and shook out his pack, but didn't seem to be hurt as he laughed at his own clumsiness.

Pointing and laughing, Martin smiled when he was flipped off.

Once on flat ground, York gave his aching thighs a quick rub and looked up at their new surroundings. His jaw may as well have hit the floor from how far it stretched, eyes dry as they went wide with utter disbelief.

If he wasn't wrong, that was a European style fortress built across the back of the valley. He had never seen that style of granite construction anywhere else, with a taller inner fort that dominated the mountain it was carved into. A long arched bridge of stone led up to an entrance that was clearly made for defense, the doors rather small by comparison and a large gatehouse crouching over it.

"Helm's Deep," the stranger introduced to them solemnly, "Come, we must warn them of the army marching on their doorstep." He nickered at the horse and it began trotting along the plain toward the impossible fortress in front of them.

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Murphy quoted in disbelief.

"Who are you calling Toto?" Martin asked, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Come on, let's follow him. Even if he's crazy, there's hopefully at least some water we can have," Guerra advised.

That was more than enough to get them going.

Earlier in the day, the mood in Helm's Deep was somber as they prepared for war. As I passed a tearful reunion of children with their mother, I smiled bitterly; there were more scenes of wailing widows than happy hugs right now. More men had been wounded or lost to the warg attack than I thought possible for such a small battle.

"How's the family?" I asked Aunt Libby while we walked the circuitous route up to the castle.

She let out a tired attempt at a raspberry. "There was an attempted attack by some Senones but Nechtan managed to get a message out in time- Liam got a nasty cut or he'd be here with us," she explained.

I hissed in sympathy. "There was an attack on a Rohirrim village too. I'm scared this treaty we all have is going to fall apart," I confessed, "King Theoden seems doubtful-"

"Yes, that's what I was going to tell you!" Electra burst out unexpectedly, face-palming, "Fedemid asked for you and Kali for some reason. Something about a terrible wound someone got in a battle but she was being hush-hush about who got injured so badly."

"These days there's always a chance of a message getting intercepted," Aunt Libby sighed, tutting, "With Isengard on the other team, there's awful danger. We even debated about discontinuing the southern leg of the caravan until the evil wizard is dealt with."

I let out a low whistle. "Well if we survive the night, he's on the chopping block. Or at least that was Gandalf's plan," I said happily, carefully in English, "By the way, apparently resurrection is a thing here. He died fighting a demon from hell and now he's a walking Clorox commercial."

Electra burst into undignified sniggers.

"I take it that I'm going to have several heart attacks and blue-screen moments when you tell us what you've been up to," Aunt Libby said wryly, definitely in English.

"I've already had like a dozen," I confirmed, "Let's start with Strider's name being Aragorn and him being heir to the throne of Gondor."

"What?!" Aunt Libby and Electra both shrieked.

A few people looked up as we passed, but very quickly went back to their business. Best not to meddle with these foreigners, they seemed to think.

"And that's the least of it," I said cheerfully while they computed our mud-soaked, travel stained friend being a prince, "There's an elf and a dwarf who are actually friends!"

"Elves are real?" Aunt Libby asked, amazed.

"Mhm. You'll know Legolas when you see him: tall, blonde, and inhumanly beautiful. More pretty than handsome. And probably moping about with a dwarf at his side," I described.

At that point we reached the throne room where the guards gave us a better welcome than in Edoras, obediently opening the doors.

At a table King Theoden and Boromir mulled over several pieces of parchment accompanied by an unfamiliar man; they all looked up at our entrance. Of course King Theoden put on his hospitality smile, though he couldn't hide the stress he was under. "Queen Elizabeth, welcome to Helm's Deep," he said to her and met her half way to have one of those odd Middle Earth handshakes, clasping each other's wrists, "I wish that this meeting was under better circumstances."

"So do I," Aunt Libby agreed, "Unfortunately it's only Electra and me, to add to the defense if a battle really is coming."

"It is," King Theoden said, dropping the formalities, "Reinforcements are coming, however we must last the night and perhaps the day after." He waved for Aunt Libby to follow him to where Boromir still studied what I realized were maps. I identified the area around the keep on one and what seemed to be a tunnel system on another.

Taking full advantage of my position, I saddled up to Boromir. "How are you holding up?" I whispered.

He sighed, but slowly nodded. "I wish Aragorn were here, but perhaps Queen Elizabeth can give us some new ideas," he said, then as a matter of protocol greeted her.

"Hello, Boromir," she replied, then added, "Nephew," with a warm smile.

He replied with a tight smile of his own. "Aunt," he replied, then introduced, "This is Lord Erkenbrand, the commander of this fort."

The unfamiliar man dipped his head in greeting.

"These are maps of the area," King Theoden said, and then they all put their heads together to plan.

Electra and I clung unobtrusively to the planners' sides for a while before with a tilt of her head toward the doors, Electra signalled that she wanted to get out. Once in the open air she took a deep breath and let it out in a giant whoosh. "Much longer listening to them saying we'll all be slaughtered and I'd go crazy," she said with a nervous chuckle.

"It kills the mood, doesn't it?" I asked bracingly, "Want to help me find Legolas?"

We didn't look for him so much as wander around the fort in an informal inspection. The walls were high and thick, and the gates were sturdy, so I thought we had a decent chance at holding out for Gandalf. We just needed to block that little culvert and it would be fine; I didn't like the possibility of them somehow cutting the bars or being able to shoot through them.

"You know what's missing?" Electra asked rhetorically, then replied to herself, "Trebuchets. Where are the siege engines?" She swept an arm in a vast arc, utterly devoid of catapults or anything like them.

"And there isn't time or timber to make any, or any ammo for them," I said, clicking my tongue disapprovingly.

But Electra had been distracted. She bent over the parapet with a hand shading her eyes as she squinted at something. "Somebody's riding up," she told me, "Were any scouts sent out?"

I shook my head and uselessly squinted into the distance.

"It's that Senones guy who sells us the chestnuts!" Electra suddenly shouted, "Let's go downstairs!" She then sprinted off, leaving me to follow her with a muttered swear.

At least I didn't have any trouble following her these days; those days of running had done me well. I skidded to a stop at her side as she ordered for the gates to be opened.

The guards looked skeptically at each other.

"Open the gates," I told them sternly.

No one was more surprised than me when they jumped into action, swinging the gates open right in time for Iodocus to enter on horseback. "Galchobhar, Electra, good to see you," he greeted and jumped off his horse.

At the sudden movement, the men had swords in their hands and the women scrambled away.

"Calm down folks, he's one of ours," I announced and waded through the flood of steel to seize him in a hug. He stank from travel but honestly, everybody did these days and I ignored that to grin when I released him. "What are you doing here, Iodocus?" I asked, hoping it was good news.

"The chief here needs to hear it," he said, dark eyes intense, "Big army and big news."

I traded looks with Electra and she shrugged. "I'll get your horse taken care of," she offered, "What's her name?"

"Luigsech," he rumbled.

Electra made a face. "Yeah, I'll try to remember that," she said, even as she visibly knew that she wouldn't. Still she received the reins and scratched the horse's nose, whispering to it as I showed Iodocus the way.

This time the guards at the throne room entry barred our way. "The Wild Man cannot be so armed if Theoden King will receive him," the guard on the left sneered.

I gave him a cool look. "Fine, I'll hold onto his stuff, if he'll let me," I said and looked to my friend.

A well-worn sword and dagger of Rohirrom make were set gently into my hand. "Care for them," Iodocus told me seriously, "Their spirits are proud."

Carefully I put the weapons on my own belt and shrugged at the door wardens. "Better?" I asked expectantly.

The guard on the left hissed in his own language for his companion to alert the king of their guest. Except that he didn't say it quite so politely.

I was surprised to realize that I understood the word skraeling on my own- it meant barbarian. At the blatant insult to my friend, I glared at the rude man.

Iodocus put his hand on my shoulder with a strained but largely understanding smile.

For some reason the guard reached for his weapon.

I smiled widely in answer and patted Iodocus's hand before he removed it, though I kept one eye on that guard. The last thing I wanted was an incident but I was willing to defend my friend.

The second guard reappeared with Aunt Libby at his elbow. "Oh, hello Iodocus!" she greeted him with a smile and beckoned him inside, telling the guard, "He's one of ours. Let him in."

That one guard didn't release his weapon but he didn't draw it either. I was grateful when the doors swung closed behind us, though Erkenbrand stiffened at the sight of a Wild Man in his castle.

King Theoden frowned, anger in the corners of his lips. "What does a Wild Man have to say to the King of the Rohirrim?" he bit out, clearly thinking of the village that had been burnt.

"There is an army coming here from Isengard!" Iodocus announced, to everyone's dismay, "A thousand went west and ten thousand come here!"

Boromir winced.

But King Theoden was a harder customer. "You know this, how?" he demanded.

"When Isengard began tearing at the valley and stinking it up months ago, the Senones began watching it," Aunt Libby explained, "They wanted to know what was going on and why the animals were being driven away, and as of January it's a joint project between the Senones and Tharbad."

I raised an eyebrow at her, wondering why she hadn't told me earlier.

She gave a pointed shrug; it hadn't been relevant.

Keenly King Theoden eyed Aunt Libby, then me, and finally Iodocus. "Do you swear that what you say is true?" he questioned.

"I swear on my children," the Senones man said solemnly.

Slowly, subtly, King Theoden nodded. "Thank you for your warning. Unfortunately it may be too late for you to return to your forest," he said with forced politeness.

"There is more!" Iodocus burst out suddenly, "Horse-prince lives!"

The entire room froze. No one seemed to breathe.

"Theodred is alive?" King Theoden asked, voice cracking on his son's name. Hope flared up in his eyes for the first time in days.

I grinned and barely kept down a screech of delight, clapping my hands like a seal.

"Fedemid and Kali care for him," Iodocus confirmed, though he struggled with his common speech, "Very hurt but alive."

Unable to believe it, King Theoden looked to Aunt Libby for confirmation.

She nodded.

A smile crossed King Theoden's face like I've never seen on him. He quickly strode around the table and, weeping with joy, he seized Iodocus around the middle to spin him in the air like an old friend. "My son is alive!" he laughed with delight, "He lives! A thousand blessings on you and your children, Iodocus!"

A startled yelp left Iodocus, but he was always quicker to laugh than to anger and returned the sudden embrace joyfully. "And on you and yours," he replied respectfully, tapping his forehead and gesturing outward, palm up, in a token of respect to the king.

"Cassandra, I trust that you can feed and armor this man?" King Theoden asked expectantly.

I handed Iodocus back his own weapons. "Let's get some grub," I said to Iodocus and with a dip of my head to King Theoden, left the castle.

The kitchen was already churning out vast amounts of bread, pottage, and potatoes so there was no issue grabbing a couple of plates. Everywhere we went people whispered, but I only smiled. My brother in law was alive and as long as Fedemid or Kali had him, Andy wouldn't be a widow. It would take a while for him to be able to travel, but that's a minor hiccup in the scheme of things.

The incoming army was a bit more troublesome.

"Will you fight the battle?" Iodocus asked as we sat on the wall, gazing over the plain in the lessening light.

"Definitely. Are you?" I answered.

"Of course," he replied.

For a long time afterward we sat in silence, each thinking our own thoughts. Ten thousand of those same super-orcs as I met on Amon Hen? Against the tiny fort garrison and the guards from Edoras? It sounded like a bloodbath waiting to happen, especially considering that a wizard was doing this and who knew what tricks Saruman had up his overly long sleeves?

We were giving our plates to the poor scullions when the shout came up to open the gate. I glanced across the room at Electra's flame-red hair, but she seemed just as surprised as anyone.

"He's alive!"

"Tell Theoden King!"

"Didn't he die earlier?"

A tingle went down my spine and woodenly I walked down the street to meet Aragorn, nerves churning in my stomach. This was it, I told myself. No backing out now.

Then I saw my bloodied, bruised, and disgustingly damp friend, and my heart soared. I didn't care about the smell as my feet rocketed me at Aragorn, nearly sweeping him off his feet with the force of my hug. "Aragorn!" I shouted, laughing with delight at his mere presence.

He winced and embarrassed, I let him down. "Where are you hurt?" I asked, medic mode kicking in.

"I need to see King Theoden," he told me and tried to go around me.

"He knows about the army heading our way," I interrupted, "Go find Legolas- he's a fucking wreck- and report in if you must, and clean up, then find me and I'll bandage you up before you get all bloody again." I bumped his shoulder with a fist. "Can't have you dying of blood loss when we just got you back," I teased.

Aragorn gave me one of those big, slightly loopy smiles that I didn't trust and nodded. As he hurried up the lane, I made a mental note to track him down later and bandage him up. By force, if necessary.

Unable to avoid them any longer, I finally looked at the four men who had been gazing all around them in confused fascination. I'd never seen York so sunburnt, but nothing about my old teammates had changed, I thought with a sudden wave of nostalgia. Nothing but the fourth man who I didn't recognize, presumably my replacement. It couldn't have been six years for them like it had been for me.

Murphy's black eyes caught mine and went wide.

"Hi, guys. It's been a while, hasn't it?" I asked even as I berated myself for not saying something more witty. But how could I when my heart was beating itself into oblivion and nerves made me feel sick.

"Van der Zee?" York questioned incredulously, squinting at me like one would a mirage.

Showily I opened my arms in a gesture at myself. "The one and only Cassandra van der Zee. Now who wants to eat before we all die horribly?" I asked, grinning like a lunatic.