"It is going to take many turns of the moon before you are healed, Tarkil." Elrohir washed his hands after rebinding Tarkil's wounds.

"Haldon tells me you and your brother helped me when they brought me in. I want to thank you, my lord, both of you, for what you did. He says I would not have survived if you had not been here." Tarkil paused as he frowned. "But there is one thing I do not understand."

"What is that?"

Tarkil took a breath and finally looked into the healer's eyes, "there are whole days that I do not remember. Haldon says I suffered seizures from the infection; did they … am I … unfit?"

"Ah," Elrohir knelt beside his patient, "I see what your concern is. No, Tarkil, it is the body's way of protecting you; think of it as another of Eru's gifts. But you recognize your brother and us, and you can remember things from earlier. So no, I do not think you shall be found unfit. Do not trouble yourself about that." The Peredhel stood, "Rest, my friend; that is the best way to allow your body to heal. I will check on you again tomorrow."

Tarkil nodded and watched him stride off to talk with the healer's assistant. He finally settled back to stare up, watching the canvas of the tent ripple in the afternoon breezes. 'You can remember things from earlier,' Elrohir said. Is my mind sound? What I do I remember?

-

"Methedras – that is the last peak; we are nearly to the Gap of Rohan," Elrohir called out; soon they slowed their horses as the peredhil led them across the ford of the River Isen and quickly spurred their horses back to thunder across the Rohan plains until they heard a voice cry out from the gloom of the night, calling for them to halt.

The company pulled up on their mounts, and remembering Halbarad's orders, carefully kept their hands away from their swords so as not to threaten the guard of that land. They all breathed a sigh of relief once Aragorn approached and embraced Halbarad, as the Rohan warriors relaxed slightly. When they started moving again, they rode beside the Rohirrim, though they shared a few glances to see the wizard Mithrandir in their midst for it had been whispered amongst them that the peredhil had said he had fallen to the depths in Moria. And unspoken questions were also considered when they saw a hobbit lifted to ride with their Captain.

Aragorn held his horse back until he drew even with Halbarad and his foster-brothers and spoke for a while with them.

Tarkil, through his exhaustion, tried not to eavesdrop but he heard small snatches of conversation that caused a chill to run through him – "If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead." He chanced a glance at Haldon to see if he had overheard, but his brother gave no outward sign though he thought he saw Borgil and Meglin both stiffen.

When they finally arrived at Helms Deep, each man felt ready to collapse in exhaustion yet sternly they stayed to make sure their horses had suffered no hurt, taking the time to brush them down, and make sure they had water, then checked and cleaned their tack, knowing that in the morn they would ride hard once more, their journey only halfway over. When done, they finally followed the Rohan warriors to a great hall where the Dúnedain claimed a corner and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning they rose and thanked their hosts as they broke their fast together. The Dúnedain suppressed grins when they saw the many looks cast the Peredhil's way. They spent the morning gathered in a corner of the hall, cleaning their gear and sharpening and oiling their blades, especially after seeing the damage done to the Deep.

Tarkil sighed as Haldon once again pointed out the dangers he had volunteered to face as they mounted their horses on the green in front of the keep awaiting their Captain and kin.

"Look around you – do you see signs of an easy battle?" Haldon gestured over the battlements. "Did you hear the talk of what happened here over the last few days – ten thousand, perhaps more, they say attacked this place? And that is just a fraction of what we will face in Gondor!"

"I heard, Hal, and you made your point before." Tarkil turned from watching the fields. "I am more worried with the Captain. Have you ever seen him so worn?"

"He has just been through a great bloody battle, 'Kil. Of course, he is tired."

"No, that is not what I mean, this was more than just tired. He did not look so when we arrived this morning." Tarkil argued. "He was tired, I will grant you, but when he came back just now with Halbarad to speak with the King – there was a shadow over him – as if he had battled Sauron himself."

"Did you not hear where we head?" Meglin called from behind, overhearing Tarkil's comment. "Some place called the Paths of the Dead. Did you not see the Rohan King and his heir turn pale when he mentioned the way?"

"To find the oath breakers? That is a tale I have not heard in years. Yet we will follow where Aragorn leads us, Meglin, and we will not question his wisdom." Herudil sternly reminded their friend as he moved his mount beside them. "Do not trouble him, or the others, with such speculations."

"Oh, I shall follow the Captain; do not doubt that. He has to lead a great host to Gondor to fight Sauron and reclaim his throne – but from what I have heard, even without having to fight Sauron's forces, the Steward of Gondor will not give up his seat easily." Meglin continued, "Too long have they had the power of kingship without a crown, I have heard it goes to his head."

"Let us fight Sauron's forces first, and see if Gondor stands at the end before we worry about such things." Haldon grumbled. "That is all we would need – to win the war only to face battling our own kin at the end of it all."

And so they stood together on the green, patiently waiting, watching the dwarf and the elf wander by, and they wondered at the story behind the friendship of what were usually two enemies.

&-&

I remember that day so clearly, why can I not remember so many others? He turned his head and saw Elrohir talking with the healer's assistant and glance back at him. What is it you do not tell me? He sighed and let himself give in to his exhaustion and pain.

"How is he today, my lord Elrohir?" Miriel quietly asked.

"His bones are healing and he seems to be in less pain. Have you told him about the extent of the injury to his back yet?" Elrohir glanced over at Tarkil as his patient finally closed his eyes and rested.

"No. He spends most of his time sleeping, he rarely rouses; that is the longest I have seen him awake." The healer's assistant spoke quietly to ensure her voice would not carry across the tent.

"He still seems to be in a great deal of pain. And we need to make sure he has enough nourishment, he has lost a great deal of weight from battling the infection." Elrohir watched Miriel nod as he started walking towards the entrance of the healing tent. "Just keep an eye on him, time and rest are the best remedies right now." He paused at the opening of the tent and looked back over the injured. "At least this tent is gradually emptying. You must miss Minas Tirith and having a more comfortable place to sleep, my lady."

She smiled up at him, "I have slept in worse places." She laughed at his upraised eyebrow, " Gondor has been fighting battles other than just this one and I have been sent to situations like this before. I do look forward to returning to the great city. I find this area is quite pretty though I worry about not having the proper facilities for my patients. But I understand we may be here for almost another month."

&-&

"How is he doing?" a familiar voice roused Tarkil from his slumber and he heard Haldon reply.

"His fever has broken, and he is talking sensibly now." He heard Haldon sigh. "I never got a chance to thank you for helping carry him here, Jorund."

Tarkil opened his eyes to see a Rohan soldier nod to him. "Hail, Tarkil, my friend. You definitely look more lively than the last time I checked on you. But you do not look as fit when first I talked with you as we rode to the Morannon."

Tarkil struggled to remember that week as Haldon hurriedly frowned and shook his head at the visitor. "He does not remember things clearly yet. The healers say the fever scrambled some of his memories."

"Having seen the quagmire he lay in, I'm surprised he survived the fevers. I was up to my knees in the muck; I nearly lost my boots when I tried to lift my feet from it."

"My brother is right, I only remember fragments of the battle itself, and the days before are a blur. " Tarkil croaked, so his brother helped him take a sip from a water skin as Jorund sat down beside him. "You say we met before?"

"Yes, we rode with your Grey Company for a while on the way here." Jorund reminded the injured Dúnedain.

Tarkil closed his eyes and tried to remember that week and ask he listened to the Rohan soldier's resonant cadence, fragments started flitting through his mind.

-

"I'll hold your horse for you, my lord, if you'll allow me." A young Rohirrim soldier offered as Tarkil dismounted.

Tarkil frowned at the soldier while Haldon also dismounted and a second Rohan soldier approached, grinning at the youth.

"He waits for your name before he shall hand you his horse, boy. Have you forgotten your manners in your haste to assist these men of the North?" Tarkil watched the second soldier with a critical eye, guessing them to be about the same age.

"I am Hildaf, my lord, son of Dúnhild of Dunharrow." The youth bowed hastily to Tarkil and his brother, blushing bright under his fair hair.

"Take care of their mounts, young Hildaf, for they shall soon be needed in battle. My lords, I am Jorund of the Westfold of Rohan. You must forgive his manners, my lords, but he is quite intrigued to meet the Men of the North. You have kept to yourselves so much of this journey and he grew impatient to learn more of you." The tall blonde soldier of Rohan put a hand to his chest and bowed before he tugged off his helm. "I saw you at Helms Deep in what seems to be an age ago but we did not have the opportunity to talk with each other. I was surprised to see you upon the fields at Pelennor given the road you took to get there."

The two brothers simply nodded at that and introduced themselves then set to the task of helping remove the Orkan monstrosity that had been placed upon the statue of the King by the Morgul Vale.

"So tell me, Jorund of Westfold, do you often allow such youngsters to ride into battle?" Haldon grunted as they pulled on the ropes to help guide the statue's head back into place.

"Hildaf is young, I grant you, but our youth are strong and raised to battle. It is necessary given the attacks we have had of late. Besides his grandfather is the chieftain of Dunharrow and he has been raised plotting strategy since he crawled. Do you not train your sons to defend their land? Or do you wait until they are full grown to let them hold a blade? Your men are stern and have a weathered look about them." He paused as he eyed the tall dark-haired men from the North who surrounded them, working without speaking and compared them to the banter of the golden haired Rohirrim. "From what I have seen you two are among the youngest of your company. Or do your people show their age quicker than the Rohan people? Perhaps you have not yet reached an age old enough to bed a woman?" Jorund suppressed a grin when he saw the younger brother's eyes narrow at the implication.

"He is teasing you, 'Kil." Haldon put out a warning hand and grinned back at the soldier as he saw his brother start to react. "You will have to excuse my younger brother. He has a bit of a temper, though I must admit it is a family trait. But he should be used to such teasing given our brother married a woman from your land. She is from the King's city of Edoras and is sharp with her wit as well." Seeing his brother continue to glower Haldon answered Jorund's challenge. "And our sons will be raised to hold a sword from the time they can walk, as well. We are not unfamiliar with Orcs and Wargs either, for long have we had to defend our land from the evil of the Dark Lord."

Tarkil remembered journeying with the Rohan soldiers for the next few days as those who had horses were sent ahead of the unhorsed. And on the fourth day from the cross-roads, they watched as Aragorn spoke to the men as the fear of the land clutched at the hearts of some granting them leave to return to their homes.

"That is a smart move of the Captain," Gethron muttered so only the company could hear. "Better to let them leave to defend their homes than to force them to stand unwilling beside us."

Tarkil caught the sidelong glance Haldon gave him, and uttered only one word. "No."

-

"You helped us restore the statue of the king near Minas Morgul. At least, I think it was you. But there was another young lad with you, was there not? Hildaf?"

Jorund nodded, "Yes, Hildaf took an arrow in the fight at the Gate, but he is recovering. I hear you lost your horse, is that true?"

Tarkil nodded. "Nálo got hit with a troll's mace … but he had been badly hurt even before that." The memory of having to kill his horse to put it out of its misery stayed with him and he closed his eyes and frowned.

"A few of the Dúnedain lost their mounts," Haldon said quietly. "Gethron, Meglin, Vardamir …and quite a few more. Eventually we just let the poor things go – Gandalf set Shadowfax to lead them away from the battle once we saw we were engulfed. We found most of them later in Ithilien, though some will not be fit for battle again."

Tarkil looked at his brother, "I did not know that. Did you get Feinnail back?"

Haldon nodded, "He is fine, though he limped for a few days after we found him but Elladan and Elrohir tended him so he will be fit for the journey home."

Finally the healer returned and shooed the visitor away as she handed Tarkil a cup of poppy seed tea and rejoined him to drink it to the dregs which he did, though not without a grimace. He lay back on the palette then had to ask his brother for some help as the liquid reminded him of his needs.

"Hal?" Tarkil shifted to try to find a more comfortable position once Haldon returned. "I have noticed everyone else gets up when they need to relieve themselves. Even Gethron whose hip is broken -- they help him sit at least. Why am I still flat on my back? Am I crippled?"

"What have the healers told you?" Haldon shifted, looking uncomfortable while avoiding meeting his eye.

"They mutter things about waiting and being patient. 'All in good time' seems to get repeated a lot." Tarkil reached over and grabbed Haldon's arm. "Tell me the truth, Haldon. Am I never going to walk?"

Haldon sighed as he finally looked at his brother, "The healers are right, 'Kil. We do not yet know. There is an injury to your back and there is a great deal of bruising and swelling, according to Elrohir. The night they brought you in, you should not have been moved at all but it was bedlam that night, 'Kil. We had to move everyone away from the Morannon because we did not know if there would be more attacks. There were so many injured, and you were one of the last brought in. Everyone was exhausted."

"So I may never walk?" Tarkil closed his eyes and turned his head away from his brother, trying to shut out the thought of being confined to a bed the rest of his life.

"That is not what I said, brother. Do not go down that path. I said they do not know yet." Haldon grabbed his brother's leg, "Do you feel that, Tarkil?" He watched his brother nod his head once, "it is possible you shall walk again. Elrohir said you had damage; he believes it was from the fall you took when the fell beast dropped you, but he said that as long as you felt your legs there was hope. Do not give in to despair."

"I think I would rather not live than be so confined and be such a burden on everyone."

Haldon heard the misery in his brother's voice, and roughened his own in response, unconsciously adopting Halbarad's gruff tone, "Stop thinking that way, brother! You are going to walk again, you are going to ride a horse, and you are going to marry Poppi. Do not give in to your dark thoughts."

Tarkil stared up at his brother. "Poppi really is pretty, Hal. Do you not think so?"

Haldon watched Tarkil's eyes go dark as the drug took effect. "Yes, Poppi is very pretty. I am looking forward to seeing her when we get back. Maybe ask her out on a picnic or two." He grinned to see his brother attempt to glower at him but fail.

"Wha' dyou mean? She is my girrrl." Tarkil slurred.

"Not anymore she is not. You gave her to me – right after the battle. You told me I could have her." He winked at Miriel who came to check on his brother's condition.

"Did not … would not … give her … She is so sweet." Tarkil murmured, his head lolling to the side.

"Is he talking about his girl again?" Miriel asked as she checked Tarkil's pulse.

"Poppi? Yes. He wants to marry her." Haldon's eyes swept over the healer's assistant, not for the first time. "But her father does not approve of her marrying a Dúnedain."

"If I were the girl, I do not think I would let my father stand in the way of marrying him. And you? Does your wife wait for you back up north?" Miriel asked as she straightened the covers around Tarkil.

Haldon smiled brightly at her and winked when she glanced up, "I am not married." He waited for her to finish fussing with his brother and trailed along after her as she tended to the other patients in the tent, "Say, Miriel, I found this nice grove up on the hill overlooking the river. What say we get some food from the mess hall and have ourselves a picnic?"

"Picnic …" Tarkil muttered as he drifted off to sleep. "Do not let him take you on a picnic, Poppi…. You are not ready…."