A/N:

Jebb – Yes, that's one battle down but we know there is still one more to come! That would be pretty cool if the ol' nymph turned up in the video!

Snakefeather – Welcome! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! It's grown quite a bit since we've started and hopefully gets better with every chapter!

Deka sighed heavily as she looked out over the Pelennor Fields. The moonlight reflected eerily off the armor and discarded weapons that littered the bloody plain. The wounded flitted like ghosts over the now silent battlefield slowly making their way to Minas Tirith.

Every now and then a pathetic cry of the ones left behind would drift over the field and echo off the walls. Deka shivered and hoped that Legolas had found Annowe and they were both safe. She would never forgive her cousin if the elf were harmed trying to protect her.

"He should know she can take care of herself," Deka grumbled darkly to no one in particular.

"What's this, lass?" Gimli's voice cut across her thoughts as he ambled up next to her.

The dryad turned to study the dwarf for a few moments before she answered. "I'm cursing my cousin and Legolas' determination to protect her when he knows she can take care of herself."

Gimli chuckled. "Aye. But it's no use brooding about it. That elf can be as stubborn as a dwarf when he's set his mind to something."

Deka grunted. "Don't I know it," she murmured ruefully.

"And that cousin of yours," he shook his bushy head. "As willful as a Mearas."

Deka scowled at the thought and made a noncommittal noise in her throat. Gimli chuckled again and Deka could have sworn he murmured something that sounded like "they were made for each other" but she did not care to hear it repeated. She snorted in disgust.

"Well, there's no use in cursing them from afar," Gimli reasoned. "There's plenty of wine and fine food to be had now and who knows what tomorrow may bring?"

"Indeed," she agreed, her features softening. The dwarf was right. There was nothing she could do until the morning and might as well enjoy the night while it lasted.

With another grunt of annoyance directed at the missing naiad, she turned from the wall and followed the dwarf toward the Great Hall and the sounds of celebration.

Merry was beside himself with joy at being reunited with Pippin and the two of them kept up a constant stream of chatter as they tried to relate their various adventures to each other, only pausing to draw breath. Anyone listening to them would marvel that they could talk and listen at the same time but it would seem they could.

When they were not talking of their adventures, they were drinking heartily and dancing with joy at being reunited and defeating Sauron's army. Many of the men had never seen such joyful abandon and were caught up in the enthusiasm of the two hobbits which mirrored their own happiness.

Aragorn stood apart from the general ruckus watching as the victory celebration played out before him. He felt oddly apart from the cheer in the room, his mind drifting from Frodo and Sam to Arwen. He could not fully give himself over to the celebration knowing that The Ring was still out there, somewhere.

As for thoughts of Arwen – he tried to keep those buried deeply inside his heart, fearing that if he were to dwell on them too long he would go mad with fear for her. A heavy sigh escaped him and he sipped his wine trying to still her memory.

Sensing his concern, Gandalf quietly sided next to the ranger to offer comfort. Neither of them spoke but Aragorn was thankful for the wizard's presence. He was almost afraid to ask the question the plagued him – fearing the answer. If Frodo failed then all of this was just a brief respite. Aragorn could not bring himself to voice those fears. Would speaking it make it real? He feared it would and remained silent.

"You're thinking of Frodo," Gandalf murmured quietly.

"Yes," Aragorn admitted. "I fear for him and Sam." He could not bring himself to finish his thought.

"And I," Gandalf admitted.

"What does your heart tell you?" The ranger asked somewhat hesitantly.

The wizard grew quiet as he searched the depths of his heart. Like the faintest twinkle of a far off star on a dark winter night he could just make out Frodo's spirit and the warmth of the knowledge flooded him and he was relieved.

"My heart tells me there is still hope," Gandalf's beard crinkled in a slow smile. "Frodo and Sam are still alive."

Aragorn felt as if a great weight were lifted from his shoulders at Gandalf's words. He had not trusted his own feelings on the matter, believing it was just wishful thinking. But Gandalf had confirmed his own feeling and he was grateful. He smiled at the wizard and the two of them nodded in their unspoken understanding.