A/N: I was going to update sooner than this, just so I could say "Oh look, an update in record time!" but I got busy. Guesswhatguesswhatguesswhatguesswhat? I GOT A JOB! I mean, a real job, something that has to do with what I wanna be when I grow up (graphic design). This awesome advertising company offered me a summer contract, and I'm so happy! It's not full-time, so I'll still have time to update, never you worry. But YAY! I'm so HAPPY! What also made me happy was all your reviews, my dear readers. I got a bunch for the last chapter, and I want to thank you all for your awesomeness. I especially want to thank Mel, also known as 'crazyroninchic' for being another person who went and read the fic from the beginning to now; I can't believe two people did that in as many weeks. And Mel commented on my disclaimers, too! I'm actually very proud of my disclaimers, so I'm glad someone's noticed them.

Disclaimers: This piece of fanfiction is not meant to infringe upon, sidle up against, nor step on top of the rights of the dead author, the publishing companies to whom the rights were sold before or after the aforementioned death, or their subsidiaries, their pets, close relatives, distant relatives, and friends. Thank you.

Chapter 17: Still Preparing for Battles . . .

Treebeard took Merry and Pippin to a large clearing, where a bunch of Ents had started to gather. "This is a meeting of the Tree Herders. Many have come: poplar, oak, beech... We will all discuss the issue of this war you want us to join," Treebeard told me.

The Ents got down to business.

I waited.

And waited.

And waited, and dude, this is gonna take longer than I thought. I forgot to take into account that it takes half an hour for one of these guys to even groan out a whole sentence. Having a meeting could take weeks.

Uh, guys? I'm going to hop back to Helm's Deep and see if I can help them out, okay? You're obviously not going to come to a decision in time for that particular battle. I'm sure you can handle a big conference like this without my supervision, so I'm just gonna go.

I went back to Helm's Deep, where they were apparently implementing the draft.

Hey, Aragorn, how many soldiers have you guys scraped together? My idea's not gonna pan out in time for a battle tonight.

Aragorn swore creatively. "If we round up to the nearest hundred, we have around three hundred to fight against Saruman's ten thousand. Of those three hundred, about a hundred and fifty are not trained soldiers, but rather blacksmiths or bakers or carpenters or stable boys."

Legolas was nearby, looking distressed. "We cannot force these men to fight," he said.

"But we must, my darling, or Helm's Deep will fall," Aragorn explained gently.

Legolas was in no mood to take his 'gentle' crap. "You are sending them out to their doom!" he said, looking supremely pissed. "These men cannot fight! They are to frightened to even hold a sword steady! They will all perish out there!"

"Then I shall perish with them!" Aragorn replied, losing his patience. Which was a really, really bad idea, because now Legolas was pissed.

Legolas said something in Elvish about Aragorn's head and Aragorn's anal sphincter, then stalked off. The crowd of scared carpenters and stable boys quickly cleared a path for him.

Um, Aragorn? Want me to—

"Could you, please? Try to get him to understand that I do not want this either, but it must be done."

Oh, the things I do for you, without demanding payment or sexual favours in return...

I caught up to the little blonde whirlwind of violence and vitriol known as Legolas, and tried to calm him down.

Come on, Legolas, you know that this has to be done.

"But why? These "soldiers" are mere children, or men far too old to have such troubles put upon them. None of them deserve to die."

Well, see, here's the thing. If they don't go out and fight, the Uruk-Hai are gonna come over the walls and kill them all anyway. And then as a special bonus, the Uruks will destroy their possessions, rape their women, and enslave their children. This way, they'll at least go down fighting.

Legolas wiped his eyes quickly (and gracefully, of course).

Are you crying? Why are you crying? Why are you being so negative about this, anyway? Aren't you usually the one at the very front of the lines, wreaking hell and havoc?

"I just...it has not been very long since I thought I had lost Aragorn. I am not ready to lose him again."

Oh my god, you are such a sap!

Legolas glared, but didn't deny it.

God, Legolas, suck it up. People are actually gonna die in wars, believe it or not. Aragorn could, you could, and if we're really lucky, Gimli could. But you've still gotta fight. Holding a sword and doing some actual attacking on your own will probably keep you alive for longer than sitting around just waiting for the Uruk to swarm you.

"That is true..."

Of course it is. So take a deep breath, compose yourself, and get in there. And for god's sake, make up with Aragorn. If on the off chance one of you actually does die, do you want your last words together to have been "Your ass is so far up your rectal passage that the only light you see is coming down from your mouth"?

"I suppose not..."

Go find him, then. Oh, and when this night from hell is all over and done with, don't forget what I just did for you and how much you fucking owe me, okay? When everyone's all about throwing me into the Mountain of Fire, keep this moment in mind.

"I will," Legolas promised me before prancing off into the castle.

Night was beginning to fall, and the whole of Helm's Deep was twitching with nervous tension. Oh, but this was gonna be a loooooooooooooooooooong night. I followed Legolas into the armoury, where Aragorn was strapping on his chain mail while letting out manly grunts.

"Aragorn?"

He looked up.

"I apologize for my earlier outburst. I should never have doubted your ability to get us through this battle, as you have done so many times before. You know I would never run from a fight—"

To a fight, maybe.

"—But I simply did not want to see you hurt. I am, however, ready to fight at your side."

"My dear heart and soul, you know that I forgive you completely," Aragorn said, putting his hand on Legolas's shoulder.

Aww, now kiss and make up. Whoa! No, I said kiss, not—that is more than just kissing. Stop it. Stop it! Boys, get yourselves under control right this minute. You have a battle to fight, and there is no time for that!

Legolas and Aragorn finally tore themselves away from each other when the sound of a horn cut through the air. Legolas gave a delicate little gasp. "That is no Orc horn!" They ran outside to check it out, but I beat them to it.

What the fuck are those Elves doing here?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . TBC

A/N: What the fuck indeed. Those Elves certainly weren't there in the book... But, for the sake of continuity, I will stick with the movie's version of events, even if it means having to invent Haldir a whole part that he didn't have, and then killing him when he doesn't actually die.