Chapter 5

SARAH, Adrienne, Erin, and Kavila held their breaths as they watched Vilad carefully place the last piece onto their giant crossbow: the saw mechanism. The moment he stepped back, the four girls broke into cheers, laughing and embracing each other. Their great project was finished, after nearly thirty-six hours of mentally and physically exhausting work.

After several minutes of congratulating themselves on their finished work ("Those arrows look very straight, Sarah." "Thanks. That beam there is very well cut, Adrienne."), Sarah changed the subject. "What time is it?" she asked.

"'Tis hard to tell," Vilad replied, glaring at the featureless black sky. "I would guess 'tis early afternoon."

"That's why I'm so hungry! We worked straight through lunch!" Sarah exclaimed, drawing a chuckle from her friends. Vilad immediately withdrew into the building, emerging several minutes later with a celebratory lunch of bread, dried meat, cheese, and ale. "I've no water in the storerooms," he apologized to the girls. "You shall have to retrieve some from the fountain."

All four girls were staring hungrily at the food. "We'll get it after we eat," Kavila said decidedly, and the others showed their agreement by tearing into the proffered meal.

Once the food was devoured and their thirsts quenched, Vilad rose and moved toward the giant crossbow. "We ought to test it," he said finally, rather reluctantly. The others did not reply; they were all thinking the same thing. What if all their hard work was for nothing? What if it didn't work, or broke when they tried to fire it?

"Wait!" Erin exclaimed suddenly. "Megan should be here!"

"Where did that lass get to?" Vilad chuckled.

"She's probably back in the room. I saw her leave earlier this morning," Adrienne replied. "I'll go find her." She left, and silence fell over the rest of the group as each tried to assure themselves that their hours of labor would prove successful. When Adrienne returned twenty minutes later, the silence was still unbroken.

"Well, well," came a well-known but unexpected voice from the doorway. "I see you have indeed built the weapon you designed." Everyone looked up with surprise and joy as Gandalf swept into their midst, followed by Adrienne and Megan.

"I met him on the way to the room. He was headed there to talk to us, but luckily I found him and told him we were here," Adrienne explained when she received several questioning looks.

"Where were you, Megan?" Erin asked.

"I met this healer, Lindir. I helped him take some things back to the Houses of Healing, and then I stayed there helping him and the other healers get ready." Megan replied.

"Get ready for what?" Kavila asked.

"The wounded who shall be arriving from Lord Denethor's…defense of Osgiliath," Gandalf replied harshly, obviously disapproving of the battle.

His comment was met with silence, as everyone realized the sobering truth: the battle for Minas Tirith was begun. Even as they worked here, people were fighting and dying. Erin tried to recall how long the battle of Osgiliath had lasted in the books, but could only remember that it had been very few days. They didn't have much time before the battle would be at the city walls.

"I will get an arrow," Kalva said quietly, rising. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible as Kalva loaded the weapon, and together he and Vilad worked to aim and draw it. There was a moment of hesitation, filled with all the hopes and uncertainties each had harbored throughout the construction of the weapon, creeping by as slowly as an age, and then Vilad pulled the lever.

The arrow released with a loud crack!, flying with such power and speed that none of the girls could follow its passage through the air. Not even a heartbeat passed before the arrow embedded itself in the upper edge of the target with a sound of splitting wood.

Erin looked back at the giant crossbow with concern, but it was intact. There were a few moments of silence as the realization sank in, and then Adrienne exclaimed, "It worked!"

That was all that was needed to break them out of their silent wonder. Cheers, louder and more heartfelt than before, erupted from their throats. Even Gandalf was smiling as he congratulated the group on their work.

Suddenly Kavila stopped, looking once more at the splinters of the target. "Wait…it didn't hit the middle!" she wailed.

"That is merely a matter of aim, lass," Vilad replied with a hearty chuckle. "All that matters is that that target is no longer usable for archery practice."

Gandalf cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Since this first weapon has proved so effective, think you that a second one could be constructed in time?" he asked.

"We've already built one, and it'll be easier the second time," Erin mused aloud, brow creased in thought.

"Who'll shoot the second one, though?" asked Sarah.

There was silence for a few moments as everyone contemplated Sarah's point. "Kalva and one of the girls could man the first weapon, and I could operate the second with another lass, m'lord," Vilad suggested.

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, that is a fine idea. See that it is carried out."

"Yes, m'lord. Kalva, would you purchase some materials for us?" Vilad asked, and Kalva nodded and left. "I shall order the metal parts forged, m'lord." Vilad said, bowing to Gandalf, and followed Kalva out the door.

Gandalf spared the giant crossbow one last glance. "I too must leave; the battle nears our gates, and I am needed in their defense."

Before he could turn to leave, Adrienne spoke up. "Gandalf, could I talk with you for a moment?"

"Very well." Gandalf replied, and led her back into the armory building. "Of what do you wish to speak to me?"

Adrienne's calm expression suddenly changed, dropped like a veil. "I want to know what plans you've got for us after this battle is over. Right now we're all busy with this project, but when we're finished with this, we aren't going to have anything to do! We aren't equipped to live in Middle Earth; we don't know its customs, or any skills we could make a living out of." Gandalf attempted to interrupt her, but Adrienne was on a roll, and wasn't going to be intimidated into silence by anybody, even the formidable wizard. "Oh, and one more tiny, little detail," she continued in a sarcastic tone. "Are we ever going to be able to go back to our world? Middle Earth has its advantages, and I'm sure it's a great place to live, but we don't have anyone here except each other. Our families are all back home, probably worried sick about us. Are we ever going to see them again, or at least be able to tell them we're okay?" Finally she finished, breathing hard in her anger. The stress and lack of sleep during the past couple of days had taken its toll on her self-control and shortened her temper, which was admittedly not terribly long in the first place.

To her further annoyance, Gandalf smiled at her, as if she were a child who didn't quite understand what it was talking about. Alright, so I don't know much about magic and inter-world travel, Adrienne thought. As far as I know, neither does he! And how the hell could he possibly begin to understand how I feel? It's not like he's lacking in friends here, and he knows this world a whole damn lot better than I do.

"I cannot answer many of your questions," Gandalf replied. "I do not understand how you and your friends arrived here, nor do I have any idea how or if you will be able to return. As for your lives after the war, that will depend on the outcome of this battle."

Adrienne had to try very hard not to scream. She didn't want her friends charging in here, worried that something bad was happening. But goddamnit, she felt like racing outside and letting loose the loudest scream ever to pierce the skies of Middle Earth! Gandalf would have had a perfect career as a politician or political spokesman; he could dodge questions better than most politicians Adrienne had ever seen, and answer them in such an ambiguous way that by the time you figured out what he was saying (and that it didn't really answer your question) he was too far out of reach to be asked again.

Just as Adrienne was about to press him for more detailed answers, a man dressed in Gondorian livery came running into the armory. "Lord Mithrandir, I bring grave news of Captain Faramir," he exclaimed, breathing hard. He immediately gained Gandalf's full attention, much to Adrienne's exasperation. "The battle goes ill, my lord. If he wins back at all across the Pelennor, his enemies will be on his heels. They have paid dear for the crossing, but less dearly than we hoped. The plan has been well laid. It is now seen that in secret they have long been building floats and barges in great number in East Osgiliath. They swarmed across like beetles. But it is the Black Captain that defeats us. Few will stand and abide even the rumour of his coming. His own folk quail at him, and they would slay themselves at his bidding."

"Then I am needed there more than here," said Gandalf, departing at once from the armory in a flurry of robes.

Adrienne went back outside, seething inwardly. As soon as her friends saw her expression, most of them decided to let her alone. Kavila, who didn't know Adrienne and her moods as well, asked, "What did you talk to him about?"

Adrienne shook her head, murmuring "Nothing," in a tone that quite clearly said "I don't want to talk to anybody right now." She was left alone to brood in silence as they awaited Vilad and Kalva's return.

AS Erin had predicted, it was easier to build the second giant crossbow than the first. By midnight that evening, the second structure was three-quarters finished, lacking only the metal parts and a few other small pieces, as well as more arrows. The girls were just about to head back to the inn when Vilad said, "I've some blankets in the back, and some space inside. If you would like, you might sleep at the armory tonight. We could begin earlier in the morning."

The girls wearily agreed, having dreaded the dark, cold walk back to their rooms. And so they spent the night on the hard plank floor, huddled beneath several blankets each to protect against the biting cold. The temperatures didn't really drop at night; after all, there was no change in the atmosphere, no sunlight to warm the air during the day.

The next morning, they awoke cramped and depressed. Gandalf had left for the Battle of Osgiliath, and Faramir remained there. The perpetual gloom of Sauron's Darkness and lack of sunlight dampened their spirits. The tension and fear in the air was tangible, as the people of Minas Tirith continuously gazed north towards the ever-nearing battle. Gondor's army was being pushed back, slowly but steadily; the menacing red fires of Orcs grew larger and closer as the day wore on, until they reached the wall about the Fields, the Rammas Echor. There Faramir held them for a few hours, though many explosions and yells could now be seen and heard, if one had sharp eyes and ears. And yet still no tidings came.

By mid-morning, all that was left to assemble on the second giant crossbow were the metal parts and more arrows. Acutely aware of the possibility of running out of arrows before the battle was through, Sarah and Kalva were constantly working to increase the stack. It looked almost like a giant stack of sharp firewood now, Megan mused, if one ignored the fletching.

Suddenly Sarah looked up. "Vilad," she called, and he turned to her. "Where are we going to shoot these from? And more importantly, how are we going to move them?"

For several moments there was a horrified silence across the practice field. "I knew we messed up on something!" Kavila exclaimed in a disgusted voice.

From her position in the doorway, Megan heard the rattle of a wagon passing by on the cobblestones outside. "Wheels!" she called. "We can build wheels on them!"

There was a silent yet tangible sigh of relief, as everyone realized that there was a solution to their problem. "We'll have to lift them up to get the wheels on, but I think we can do it," Erin said thoughtfully.

"Oh my god, you guys, don't scare me like that! For a few seconds there I thought we actually wouldn't be able to use them." Kavila said in an exasperated tone.

"I shall go find a cartwright," said Vilad with a chuckle, excusing himself.

"I'm going to go look outside for a minute," Megan said after he had left. "I'll see how close the battle is."

Erin gave her a forced smile, but the others just nodded or ignored her, lost in their own thoughts. Megan stepped outside with a sigh of relief. She was proud of the work they were doing, of course, and proud that she was helping, but the armory area had become very confining in the past couple of days.

There was a battlement along the opposite side of the street, and Megan crossed to it carefully, finding it easy to avoid the few carts and pedestrians wandering the streets. She looked out with a gasp, already hearing the sounds of battle. There, perhaps a mile away, she could see flashes of red light at the wall. The battle had already come so near!

Suddenly Megan's attention was drawn to the plain between the Rammas Echor and the city. There were a few wagons, followed by a white horse, slowly making their way across the dark grassland…that must be Shadowfax! Gandalf must be coming back! she thought.

Megan raced back inside, transferring the news to her friends. "Gandalf's returning?..." Erin thought for a moment. "I think he's coming back with wounded…right, Adrienne?"

Adrienne shook her head in bewilderment. "I have no idea. I don't remember this part specifically."

"Well, he's got to be back here to lead the sortie when Faramir retreats…I don't know!" Erin threw up her hands. "I would give just about anything to have a copy of that book with me right now."

"I'll go down to see what's going on," Megan volunteered, anxious to get out again. Also, if there were wounded soldiers in those wagons, the Houses of Healing would need help.

"I'll come with you," Kavila said. "I don't think I can do much here." The two girls departed at a run, rushing through the streets and attempting to navigate down a few levels without getting utterly lost. This was rather difficult, since their only memories of going between levels were foggy with sleep or exhaustion.

They had managed to descend one level when they met Gandalf. Lindir, the healer Megan had befriended, was directing the wagons toward the Houses of Healing, and Gandalf was preparing to leave to plan defense with Denethor and the generals. He caught sight of them just as they neared him, shouting "How goes the construction?"

"The second one's almost done!" Kavila yelled back over the clamor of the wheels. "We're going to put them on wheels!"

Gandalf nodded approvingly. "If you're not needed there, you may help Lindir get these wounded to the Houses of Healing," he called, then rode away, scattering passersby before him.

"Lindir!" Megan attempted to get the man's attention, but the wagons were loud on the cobblestone, the horses pulling them were agitated, and Megan had been cursed with a soft voice that she was hard-pressed to project over all the clatter. As she tried to force her way towards him, waving and calling, he finally noticed her. "Megan!" he called. "Could you lead these wagons to the Houses?"

Instead of trying to reply verbally, which Lindir surely would not be able to hear, Megan nodded. Lindir gave Kavila a quizzical look, but didn't attempt to say anything.

Megan waved at the wagon drivers and set off at a jog, Kavila right behind her. "Do you know where you're going?" Kavila exclaimed.

"We just have to go back the way we came. Once we get to the fifth level, I can get to the Houses of Healing." Megan replied offhandedly, then slowed. "Did we turn here?"

Kavila suppressed a sarcastic retort. "Yes," she answered, taking a deep breath as Megan started off again. Megan might be a cross country runner, but Kavila was most certainly not the athletic type, and this uphill running was not being nice to her leg muscles.

After her single moment of confusion, Megan found her way easily. Minutes later, the wagons came to a stop before the Houses of Healing. A flurry of activity ensued as healers flooded out of the Houses, quickly transferring the wounded from the wagons to beds within. In the chaos, Megan and Kavila were split up, each helping carry a different patient indoors. Kavila felt panic rise within her the moment Megan disappeared down the corridor, but she couldn't let go of the wounded man she was helping to bear. By the time they reached the man's room, Kavila was so lost she could not have found her way back to the entrance without a guide. Unfortunately, the moment the man was set on a cot, the healer who had been helping Kavila carry him raced back outside, before Kavila could ask for help.

She looked around the room hurriedly, hoping there was someone else who wasn't busy and could help her get out. The stench of sweat and blood in the room was nauseating, and only contributed to the sick feeling in her stomach.

There were two healers in the room, tending to the wounded men, and both seemed harried, busy with their work. Before Kavila could call to either of them, the man whom she had carried inside groaned, "Help me…please, help me."

Kavila looked down in surprise, kneeling when she saw he was speaking. "Please…bind it so that I can…return to the battle…" he moaned, his pain obvious in his voice.

Kavila just stared at him for a moment, shocked that someone would want to return to the battle after being injured. Then he let out another groan of pain, and Kavila stood, calling to the healers. One was too busy to reply, but the other woman looked up briefly and said in a strained voice, "You can bind a wound, can't you, child?"

"Well, yeah…" Kavila replied without thinking, instantly cursing herself for doing so. "But…should I put something in the wound, some, ah, herbs…?"

"Ah, here," the healer nodded toward a bowl sitting on a nearby table without looking up from her work. "Clean the wound and spread a bit of that paste into it, then bind it."

Kavila quickly retrieved the bowl, grimacing at the green paste within. She returned to the man's bedside, scanning his body and quickly finding the source of the wound: his lower left side, just below the hip-bone at the joint of the left leg. She peeled back the blood-soaked layers of cloth to reveal a very red, painful-looking slash, struggling not to let it affect her already unsettled stomach. In an attempt to slow the bleeding, Kavila tied a strip of cloth just above the wound, hoping to restrict the blood flow at least partially. She noticed a bucket of water not far from her patient's cot, and found a rag inside, which she used to wipe some of the blood clean. The water looked like a bucket of blood by the time she was finished.

Kavila knew what to do now; she had been taking an anatomy class back in her world, and remembered quite a bit of what she had learned. With careful fingers she smeared some of the green paste over the wound, which had largely stopped bleeding by now. In an effort to distract her patient from her painful work, she began to talk. "It's a long cut, but it's shallow, so it's a bit less serious. It'll heal faster, at least."

"That's good," he bit out, teeth clenched in pain as she began to wrap a strip of clean bandage tightly around his leg. The strip wasn't long, and in a few seconds Kavila had finished. "It's done," she told him, trying to force a smile for his benefit.

He grinned back. "May I return to the battle?"

"You want to go back out there? After getting hurt?" Kavila exclaimed.

"My city needs me," he replied simply.

Suddenly the healer who had give Kavila the herb paste came up behind her, appraising her work. "Good work," she said to Kavila, then addressed the man. "You should remain in the city, though you may leave the Houses. The battle will come to you soon enough, and perhaps you will be a better soldier if your wound is healed somewhat."

The young man (for Kavila noticed now that he appeared not much older than she) looked slightly disappointed at the prospect of having to watch the battle from afar. Personally, Kavila thought this was the best way to watch a battle, if one needed to be fought at all, but the soldier definitely did not agree. Though Kavila couldn't relate, she could see that he, like most of the other men of the city, felt a deep loyalty to his city and his people. As long as Minas Tirith needed him, he would fight.

Suddenly Kavila felt a desire awaken within her to do all she could for these brave soldiers who would sacrifice everything for their people, even if it meant their lives, and even though the odds of victory were heavily against them and they knew their sacrifice might well be in vain. She jumped to her feet, quickly catching up to the healer woman, who had been leaving the room. "What else can I help with?" she asked.

The healer glanced back at her, faintly surprised at the girl's offer, since she obviously was new to the art of healing. "You could assist me, I suppose, —" The healer gave her a questioning look.

"Kavila," she said, and the healer smiled as she repeated the unfamiliar name. "Kavila. I am Raliwen." Suddenly she made a quick turn into another room, where only one healer was working.

"Raliwen!" the man exclaimed. "Your assistance would be much appreciated here."

"Where can I be of aid?" she asked.

"You can begin with that side of the room. I haven't cared for any of the men there." The man answered, and Raliwen motioned to Kavila, who followed her to the farthest cot, bracing herself for a long, exhausting afternoon.

MEGAN wandered the gardens of the Houses, marveling at each hidden grove or patch of flowers, gracing the soft grass dark with shadow like stars in the night sky. She avoided looking up at the gruesome, black clouds writhing in the sky; she didn't want to spoil this momentary peace.

After working with her most of the afternoon, Lindir had led her here and advised her to rest. Perhaps he had seen that she would be more comfortable and relaxed out here, away from the smells and heat and confinement of the healing rooms. He had left to take care of some last chores, perhaps half an hour ago. She had been exploring the gardens ever since.

She turned a corner, moving around a large tree to find a sheltered, secret little glade, with a small fountain in the center. An angel-like figure rose out of the water, spouting dark liquid from her hand, which was outstretched in a desperate plea to the heavens. It struck a chord within Megan, and she found herself kneeling almost unconsciously on the green lawn before the fountain. She brought her hands together in prayer, suddenly unable to speak, feeling all the emotions she had been suppressing the past couple of days, all the hopes and fears she had harbored, flowing up from her heart and soul and out through her hands in wordless supplication. She lost her sense of time as she knelt there, lost in the sensations of peace and surrender to emotion. When the moment had passed, and she became aware of her surroundings once more, she realized that her cheeks were wet and cold. She wiped them calmly, reveling in the tranquility that had taken hold of her heart.

She hadn't prayed since their arrival in Middle Earth, except for a quick grace before eating. Mostly she had been too tired upon their return to the inn in the wee hours of the morning. Now she realized how much she had needed that release of emotion.

In the quiet, blank trance of her mind, an image of her family suddenly appeared, perhaps brought on by her prayer. She remembered going to church with them, celebrating Christmas and Easter with them, and her peaceful state of mind evaporated. After her experience this afternoon, she needed their support more than ever. All the death and pain around her this afternoon had reminded her of her own mortality, and the frailty of the human body. It was frightening; she had never been a supporter of war, but neither had she truly understood the severity and agony of it. Never before had she watched, not on television but in real life, as another human being died. Never before had she knelt at a wounded man's side and reassured him of his recovery, at the same time watching the life drain from his body. Never before had she felt so frustrated, so inadequate, so helpless; she could do everything she was told, everything she had ever heard or learned of, and still fail to save someone's life. Even if she did not fight in the upcoming battle, there was always the possibility that Minas Tirith would fall, and that she too would die. She remembered Erin's words with frightening clarity: Who knows if the books will prove true or false?

And yet, while she had been reminded of Mankind's physical weaknesses, she had also seen their spiritual strength. She had lost count how many of her patients had asked to return to the battle field, or at least be allowed to help with some area of the war effort. Some had been sent off to help the fletchers or the armories, but most had been ordered to rest. Megan could see the frustration in their eyes at being helpless, at being forced to wait. She could see their anguish as the bodies of their fellow comrades were removed, vacating more cots for the new wounded that would soon arrive.

"Megan?" came a deep voice behind her, one that she knew well after this afternoon. Lindir came into the grove as she looked up, smiling. "I thought you were going to rest."

"I was trying to find a good place," she replied as he seated himself beside her.

"I see that you did," he chuckled, gazing at the fountain. "I've always liked this glade. It seems rather secret, almost as if there were an invisible barrier between it and the rest of the gardens." There was silence for a few moments, and then Lindir spoke again. "The woman in the fountain is thought to be Estë, healer of all hurts; those that can be seen, and those that cannot. Perhaps that is why it is so peaceful here."

The silence between them was not uncomfortable, merely calm and companionable. Megan lay back on the soft carpet of grass, a wave of lethargy washing over her, closing her eyes. She drifted in the sea of unthinking nothingness, perched on the cusp between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lindir looked down at her, a smile playing on his face. The girl looked younger, more innocent in sleep, the lines of care upon her face smoothed by dreams of better times. She seemed too young to be venturing out into the world, certainly too young to face the situations she had endured today. Lindir wondered idly where she had started from. Her skin was a dark bronze, uncommon in the lands of Men, so she must have traveled far. He wondered if her parents were still there, if she had any siblings, or if she had been orphaned years ago, tossed into his care by the seas of fate. For into his care she had come, even if she didn't realize it yet; he had already resolved to himself that he would watch over her. This was a dangerous time and a dangerous place, especially for a girl of her age.

Suddenly he heard a commotion outside the walls of the gardens. The sound of shouting drifted to him on the wind, then a single, clear note blown on a horn. With a sigh Lindir rose to his feet, bestowing a single kiss on Megan's forehead. She shivered a little in her sleep as a faint breeze passed through the glade, and he unfastened his cloak, laying it over her sleeping form. Then he turned and strode silently from the clearing, leaving Megan alone with her dreams.