I woke up early the next morning feeling much better. Looking around, I saw that Toury wasn't there and neither was anyone else. With a shrug I got out of bed and pulled a blanket around my shoulders. Eowyn lay in the bed next to me, fast asleep but looking healthy. Merry was nowhere to be seen. With a shrug, I turned and limped out the door.

I wandered around for quite awhile, quickly becoming lost. I had no idea what time it was because there were no windows. It could have been the middle of the night or afternoon for all I knew. Soon, I heard voices echoing faintly through the corridor. I followed them, feeling very relieved—my leg was really starting to hurt--, and pushed open a door to find a meeting chamber of some sort. Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and a few other men I couldn't recognize in the poor light were in the midst of a discussion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, starting to back out. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Sky!" Eomer exclaimed, getting up and hurrying over to take my arm. "Should you be out of bed? You're injured—and it's not yet dawn."

"No one told me not to," I said reasonably.

"Was anyone there to tell you not to?" he asked with narrowed eyes.

"I plead the fifth."

"What?"

"I'm not answering that question," I said amid hearty chuckles.

"Move aside, Eomer," said one man. "Let us see the famed Skylark of Rohan. I heard an interesting tale involving an oliphont and I must say, I was intrigued. The city folk are saying she can control animals and even the wind with just her voice."

Eomer snorted. "That's not so far from the truth. Sky could nag a wolf into giving up its kill."

He moved aside and I saw the man who spoke clearly for the first time. We stared at each other for a full minute and then I flew at him, shrieking, "Daddy!"

He stood up and caught me in a tight embrace, murmuring, "Dear gods, how is this happening? Lothiriel..."

I pulled back. "What?"

Daddy pushed my hair back from my face. Tears were in his bright blue eyes--my eyes. "Lothiriel...you were dead, I saw it..."

"My name is not Lothiriel," I said shakily, pulling away. "Daddy, why—why don't you know my name?"

"Because he's not your father, Lady Sky," Gandalf said, rising to his feet as Eomer stepped up behind me and grasped my shoulders. "This is Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth. Imrahil, she is not Lothiriel. She is not your daughter."

"What are you saying, Gandalf, of course she is!" exploded a man who'd been sitting at the far end of the table. "Look at her! That's my sister."

As he came out of the shadows, my jaw dropped. "Jack?"

He looked at me almost pleadingly. "Thiri, what happened? What's the matter with you? It's me, Amrothos."

"What's the matter with you?" I retorted. "I'm not Lothiriel, I'm Sky. And your my brother, Jack."

Suddenly everyone was talking at once. It was impossible. My family was here! They were all there...Daddy, Jack, Michael, and Patrick. And yet they were all insisting that my name was Lothiriel and that theirs were Imrahil, Amrothos, Erchirion and Elphir. Which was a load of crap, of course.

"Silence!" Aragorn boomed. He sat down, rubbing his face. "Gandalf, please, please tell me what is happening. Tell all of us."

"Lady Sky, why don't you sit down?" Gandalf suggested, gesturing to Eomer's seat beside Daddy—Imrahil—whoever the hell he was. "Now, first let me apologize for missing your wedding, but Helmsdeep could not wait."

"That's alright," I said faintly. "You missed Eomer lose a match by tripping over a dog, though."

"I am most disappointed," Gandalf said solemnly, but his eyes were twinkling. "After the battle of Helmsdeep and after we parleyed with Saruman, Peregrin Took and I came here to assist Minas Tirith. Imrahil arrived soon after with his company and I knew then who you reminded me of. I remembered hearing of his daughter's recent death, but I had never met Lothiriel. However, I had an idea of what she might look like. It was then that my theory was born."

"And this theory is...?" Imrahil prodded.

"I believe that in this world, there are pockets of people who have counterparts in other worlds. Lady Sky, I believe I am correct in saying that your mother died when you were young?"

"Yes," I said with a nod. I thought I knew where this was going. "Did Da—Imrahil's wife die, too?"

"She did indeed," Gandalf said gravely.

"Then, why didn't I die when Lothiriel died?" I asked. "Why was I pulled into this world, instead?"

"Wait a moment," Pat/Elphir said, holding up a hand. "I don't think I understand what exactly you're saying."

"I believe that these people who have counterparts in another world must coexist with their counterparts. If one dies, his or her counterpart dies also," Gandalf explained.

"So if my counterpart walks off a cliff, I'll simply die?" Pat/Elphir asked. He looked extremely disturbed.

"That's not quite the way it would work, if my theory is correct," Gandalf said. "Think of it as an intertwined fate, if you will. You are both destined to die at the same time."

"So why didn't Sky die when Lothiriel did?" Eomer asked, his hands tightening on my shoulders as if he was afraid that I might drop dead at any moment.

"I'm not certain," Gandalf admitted. "Perhaps Lothiriel was not supposed to have a counterpart or perhaps they were supposed to be reversed and Lady Sky was supposed to be here, not in the world she came from. Or perhaps it was simply her destiny to marry you and save Lady Eowyn's life."

I sat back. I felt like all the strength had been drained out of my body. "I thought—I thought I'd found my family..."

"And we thought our baby sister had come back," Michael—Erchirion—said with a sad smile.

"I think I want to go back to bed," I whispered. Eomer helped me up and I hobbled out the door, leaning on his arm for support.

"Sky," Eomer said, "why don't we visit Liadan? We found her on the outskirts of Pelennor after the battle...without you. I thought you'd fallen."

"Oh! Is she alright?" I asked anxiously. "We got separated somehow and I couldn't find her."

"She's fine," Eomer assured me. "A bit scratched up, but fine. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

Liadan was glad to see me. She nearly knocked me over with her snuffling and nosing. I buried my face in her neck to hide the tears leaking out of my eyes. The slice on my leg ached and my sprained ankle was throbbing, but that pain came no where near the pain in my heart. It felt like a tiger was trying to claw its way out of my chest. I wished I could go running or riding or—something.

"Eomer? Is there a stream—a cold one—anywhere near here?"

"Aside from the Anduin? I don't know...we could ask Faramir." Eomer looked at me closely, but kept his distance. "Why?"

"I need to ice my ankle," I said. "It'll heal more quickly if it's put in cold water from time to time. Brings down the swelling."

"Is it very bad?" Eomer asked. "I twisted my ankle once—I couldn't move properly for weeks."

"It's not that bad at all," I assured him. "If I ice it diligently, I should be alright in a few days. Not great, I guess, but okay. What about the cut on my thigh? How long will that take?"

"A week or two, no more," Eomer said. "It's only a slice, really. You know, there are also herbs to reduce swelling. It would be foolish to have to go out every time you need to ice it. How often do you need it?"

"Er—well, you're supposed to do it every twenty minutes," I said. Seeing Eomer's raised eyebrow, I hastily added, "But that's probably not going to happen. So herbs would be great."

Eomer opened his mouth to reply when a boy ran up and cried, "My lord, Ioreth sent me to tell you that your sister has awakened."

Eomer looked ready to run off, but looked at me first. "Sky, are you--"

"I'll be fine," I told him with a smile. "I'll meet you there. I'm sure this young lad wouldn't mind helping me."

Eomer nodded and hurried away. It made me smile to see him rushing off to see his sister, but it also made me sad. If I were in Eowyn's place, I would have had three brothers doing the exact same thing. Or rather, should have. I looked at the boy, who was really not that much younger than I was. Twelve or thirteen, maybe.

"What's your name?" I asked with a smile.

"Den, my lady," he mumbled, not looking at me.

"Well, if you wouldn't mind showing me the way back to the healing place, I won't take up any more of your time," I told him.

"That won't be necessary," came an all too familiar voice. Amrothos stood a little ways away with a determined look on his face. "I will escort the lady to the Houses of Healing."

Den nodded and all but fled, leaving me alone with one of the three men I least wanted to see.

"I mean no offense," I said softly, "but I don't want to see you right now."

"Lady Sky," Jack—Amrothos—said, running a hand through his curly hair. Something that Jack never did. "I know you are not my sister and I am not your brother, but—that does not mean we can't be friends. Or at least friendly."

"Why should we be friends?" I asked bluntly. "Every time we look at each other, we are reminded of those we lost."

"Because I need to get to know you," he said almost desperately, "so I can truly accept that you aren't my sister. Part of me still thinks that you are and I can't—I can't live with that."

I said nothing, realizing that he was right. I still thought he was Jack, deep down inside. I sighed.

"Are you going to show me the way back, then, or not?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

I stood on the ramparts with Eowyn and a nurse who was there to attend her. It was two days later and we were watching the men ride off to battle—again. Only, this time, Eowyn and I weren't going to join them. I, personally, was not all that upset about that part. I was more worried about Eomer coming back safely a third time. Eowyn, however, was distraught. It killed her that even Merry and his cousin, Pippin, were allowed to fight and she was not. It was useless to remind her that she was wounded, because it was true that they would not allow her to fight even if she were healthy.

"I should be with them," came a voice from behind us.

Faramir joined us, staring out at the retreating army with stony eyes. I'd met him the day before in the Houses of Healing. He was Amrothos's cousin, but he bore only a vague resemblance to any of my cousins, which was a blessing. Apparently his father, the Steward of Gondor, had gone mad and tried to burn himself and Faramir on a funeral pyre even though Faramir was wounded, not dead. He was the younger son—his older brother had died in battle to protect Merry and Pippin and their friends—also hobbits—from orcs. One of the hobbits, Frodo, had a ring that had to be destroyed in the same mountain it was made in or else Sauron would take over the world. He was trying to do this as we stood there and the army was riding off to provide a distraction.

Crazy shit going on here, man.

"You're wounded," I pointed out for the hundredth time. "Both of you. I, for one, am quite happy to obey my husband for once, even if it means worrying to death. I'd much rather worry myself than cause him to worry and get himself killed because he's distracted."

"Most unfortunately, I have no husband to obey," Faramir said, giving me a swift smile. "And no husband to worry for."

"Then worry for mine," I told him.

"You do him a disservice, Sky. Eomer is one of the finest fighters I have ever seen."

"Yes," I agreed quietly, then grinned. "But I beat him with knives, once."

"You did not, you minx," he snorted.

"She did," Eowyn said, speaking for the first time. She had a faint smile on her face. "The look on his face was priceless." We watched in silence until Eowyn sighed and said, "Sky, sing something. It was good luck last time."

I considered for a moment, then sang,

"The minstrel boy to the war has gone

In ranks of death you will find him.

His father's sword he hath girded on

And his wild harp slung behind him.

"O Land of Song" cried the warrior bard

"Tho all the world betrays thee

One sword at least thy rights shall guard

One faithful harp shall praise thee!"

The minstrel fell but the foeman's chain

Could not bring that proud soul under.

The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again

For he tore its chords asunder.

And said, "No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and brav'ry

Thy songs were made for the pure and free

They shall never sound in slavery!"

As I finished, I noticed that both Eowyn and Faramir had tears in their eyes and the nurse was weeping openly. The song was a familiar one for me, but they had never heard it before and I could fully appreciate for the first time how powerful the lyrics were. And it was all too fitting for our current situation. No doubt there were plenty of boys, minstrels or not, down there who should be at home helping their mothers rather than marching bravely toward death.

"I see now why they call you the Skylark, my lady," Faramir said. His voice was rough.

"A more select group of people also call me 'jackrabbit'," I said forlornly, thinking of Eomer's eored and the guards of Edoras and Dunharrow.

"Why?" Faramir asked puzzledly.

"Because all she does when she's not training or riding is run and jump over things just because she can," Eowyn answered with a snort.

"That's not all," I protested. "I embroider those wretched tapestries—try to, anyway."

"You've done that perhaps three times since you married my brother and only because Ealia threatened you with no supper."

"Still," I insisted, then sighed and made a face. "I won't be training, riding, running or jumping anytime soon, anyway."

"Oh, you'll be well in no time at all," Faramir said dismissively. "You're not even limping any more and it's only been a few days."

"Only because I don't let myself limp and I'm nowhere near well enough to train or run or jump. Or even ride," I added grumpily. "Speaking of which, I should probably go ice my ankle."

"Take Grenlen with you," they chorused.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving them off, and went to find Grenlen, the guard Eomer had appointed to take me to the stream some distance from the city and wherever else I went outside the palace.

Grenlen led Liadan as I perched atop her back, feet dangling loosely. My ankle wasn't up to stirrups just yet. When we got to the stream, he helped me dismount silently and waited while I sat with my foot in the ice cold stream. In silence. I swear the man had no personality whatsoever. I mean, I've met rocks with more people skills than him. He was just—wait a minute, where was he?

I looked around frantically and saw him lying on the ground behind his horse. With an arrow in his chest. I carefully stood up and knelt beside him. He wasn't breathing. I felt fear wash over me like a bucket of ice. Scrambling to my feet, I threw myself onto Liadan's back and wheeled her back toward the city without hesitation. I found myself blocked by a dirty, greasy looking man on a mean looking dun pony. Another two moved in behind me.

"What do you want?" I demanded harshly, heart hammering against my ribcage. "Who are you?"

"Jes' honest rogues out to make a livin'," the one in front of me drawled, revealing yellow, jagged teeth. Gross.

"I have no coin," I said tightly. I ripped off a silver chain Eomer had given me. "Take this and go."

I tossed the chain and the rogue caught it, grinning. "Thankee kindly, lassie, but we'll be taking ye as well. And yer pretty horse."

We'll just see about that, I thought grimly, and kicked Liadan into a gallop. We charged right past the dun and its stunned rider, making straight for the city. I cursed the sturdy dress I wore for being awkward and my ankle for being completely useless, even when wrapped up. Which it wasn't, at the moment. In fact, my right foot was bare and I was galloping through a forest with no stirrups. Not the most intelligent thing to do, as it turned out.

We came to a fallen tree and we soared over it—but I kept soaring after Liadan had landed and hit the ground with a thump. Thankfully, my ankle was spared more damage but Liadan was long gone. A part of me was relieved that she at least had escaped. The rest of me was scared shitless.

"Fiery," a rogue leered. "Young, too. Fetch a pretty price in the island markets, she will."

"Tell us, lass," said their leader with an ugly smile. "Have ye been deflowered yet? Or are ye a virgin still?"

Something made me squeak, "Virgin," though I don't know why. Happily enough, it turned out to be the right thing to say, as they were more interested in the money a virgin would bring than in having me for themselves. The thought made me shudder. But I still had some hope, at least. I didn't know how long it took to get to wherever they were planning to take me, but I prayed it would be long enough for me to do something. Anything.