Chapter 8

ERIN looked out at the remains of Minas Tirith's great army, huddled together in the streets. Most of the men were physically unharmed, and a couple thousand were gathered here among the streets of the second level. But their courage and resolve had long been reduced to a tattered shadow of its former brilliance. It showed in their eyes, dull with weariness and despair. It showed in their stances, as they slumped against the wall or stood with heads bowed in defeat. It showed in the silence of the air around them, as they all looked inward, examining themselves in their last minutes of existence.

Each drumbeat sent shivers of fear skittering up Erin's spine, until she could barely hold herself in place. She wanted to run far away, as far as she could get from the stench and screams and terror of war. In moments the Orcs would begin to break down the second gate. However well the men of Minas Tirith fought, they would be pressed back to the third gate, and the fourth, and so on until they reached the Citadel itself, leaving a trail of brave, dead men behind them. Their resistance was futile.

Suddenly Erin heard sobs. She looked down to find a soldier, not much older than she, huddled miserably against the wall. Erin knelt at his side, placing a hand gently upon his shoulder. He glanced up in surprise, and Erin had to stifle her own tears as the man's terror-stricken eyes met her own. They widened when he saw who offered him comfort. "You…you're the…Gandalf's—"

"I'm Erin," she interrupted with a small smile.

"Galbin, my lady. Forgive me," he introduced himself, self-consciously brushing the tears from his cheeks. Erin decided to let the "my lady" part go. For now.

"For what?" Erin asked.

"I should not show such weakness," he answered, bowing his head as he tried again to control his emotions. Erin's smile disappeared as her heart melted in sorrow for the man. He was one of those who should not have fought, should not have been forced to witness war's horrors.

"You are no soldier," Erin replied. He was indeed very young, and certainly wasn't built strongly enough to have endured a soldier's training. "You weren't meant to fight. Don't be ashamed of your fear. You aren't the only one who wished to flee and leave all this behind you."

The man seemed surprised by her words. "But you…your song…" he stuttered.

"But we are not afraid, although we know there's much to fear…" Erin sang softly, and he nodded. She smiled a little. "You didn't see my hands shaking when I sang that, did you?" Galbin shook his head. "Well, they were." Erin held her hands up in front of her face, displaying them to him. "And they're shaking now. I'm just as scared as everyone else here, and I strongly doubt I'm hiding it well." Erin stood, and pulled Galbin to his feet. "But that song," she continued. "You know what the next line is? 'Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill,'" By now Erin had gained the attention of several nearby soldiers as well. "Lord Gandalf and Lord Imrahil are yet alive. As long as they stand, we have hope. And do not give up on the Rohirrim yet, either! They are not so faithless that they would abandon Gondor in her need. There is still hope, and we must hold to it, because if we succumb to despair then we are already defeated. If we are destined to die here, then let us do so in such a way that we may be sung of in later years when light and joy, not darkness and despair, reign over the land!"

As if summoned by her words, a chorus of horns broke out from the Pelennor Fields. "Rohan!" one soldier breathed, and soon all were shouting it like a war cry. "Rohan! Rohan is come!"

Erin shared a quick smile with Galbin. Suddenly there was a clatter of hooves on the street behind them, and the musical voice of Prince Imrahil called, "Open the gates!" His cavalrymen rode through behind him, and the men of Gondor followed with a yell. Hope was restored. The time had come for action, for a last stand that would be immortalized in song and book for many ages.

Erin found herself caught up in the flow, excitement racing through her veins like a drug. The fear was still present, but the energy of the moment forced it to the back of her mind. She let out her own yell as she drew her sword, rejoicing at the way the steel felt in her hand.

Suddenly Erin thought she heard an answering call from behind her. She turned, but in the chaos of the charge she could get few clear views. Had it been an echo? Her high-pitched voice certainly would have stood out among the men's deeper cries.

There was a flash of long, wavy brown hair and a familiar face, a glittering sword held before it: Adrienne. Erin tried to slow herself, to let the men swarm around her, or to fight her way through the crowd back to Adrienne. Adrienne in turn tried to push forward, and eventually they met, calling out swift greetings.

There was no time for more talk. The ruins of the first gate rose to either side of them, lit with the frighteningly abstract shadows of the men as they passed through like an army of dark spirits. Then they were through, out on the Pelennor Fields themselves, and Erin got her first close-up look at a real Orc.

They were hideous, twisted creatures, yellowed teeth protruding from between their black lips. Their hair was black and stringy, matted with grime. Their dark skin, similarly coated in filth, bunched like crinkled paper as they moved their weapons.

Their very dangerous-looking weapons.

Erin suddenly had second thoughts about fighting in this battle. She moved closer to Adrienne, finding that Adrienne had done the same. Erin may have fantasized about this day for years, but here…it was different. Before, with her crossbow, it had been easy to kill them from a distance. But to slay with her sword, she would have to get close, and she would have to purposely inflict wounds on another. Close to their twisted, snarling faces, within range of their sharp, hooked weapons. This was hand-to-hand combat.

The tide of men swept Erin and Adrienne forward until they could no longer avoid the Orcs, who were only feet away and grinning ferociously. Erin froze in fear as the Orc directly in front of her jabbed his sword forward to impale her. At the last moment she managed to recall the correct block, bringing her sword around in an arc to knock the Orc's to the right. As the music of the swords' meeting reached Erin's ears, all her doubts were dispelled by the fury of battle. The Orc used the momentum of her block, swinging his sword into position for an overhead strike. Erin reversed her block and swung her sword up to meet it. However, she could bring little strength to bear in this move since her weapon was in an odd position parallel to the ground, and the Orc forced her sword almost to her knees. She disengaged, and before the Orc could make another move, she brought her foot up into its throat. The Orc fell back, choking; her arms might not be all that strong, but she was angry and she could definitely put some power into a kick. Before the Orc could react to her move, Erin lunged forward and jabbed the sword into his chest, putting all her weight behind it. It slid in halfway, and Erin watched in horrified fascination as the weapon shook with the death spasms of the Orc's chest muscles. Then the Orc collapsed bonelessly and Erin lost her grip on the sword. She grabbed it again, placed her foot on the dead Orc's chest, and pulled as hard as she could. The weapon came free, followed by a spurt of black blood that made her want to throw up. The lower half of her sword was crisscrossed with dark lines of blood, and Erin resisted the urge to wipe it clean.

Suddenly Erin remembered Adrienne. In the fog of battle, she had completely forgotten about her friend. She whirled, a shout on her lips, to find Adrienne only a few feet away.

Adrienne was standing over the body of one dead Orc, and had engaged a second, her brows knitted in concentration as she blocked and parried. She was truly a magnificent sight, her eyes wild and long hair flying about her head as she ducked and moved.

Suddenly movement beneath Adrienne caught Erin's eye. The dead Orc beneath Adrienne was not, it seemed, completely devoid of life. Even as Erin watched, it pulled out a knife and, with a last breath, plunged it into Adrienne's leg.

Adrienne let out a scream, her mask of concentration shattered. She looked down, and screamed again when she saw the knife in her leg.

The Orc she had been fighting seemed to snarl in glee as his opponent was distracted, moving to deal her a deathblow. Erin cried out in horror, leaping forward. With a yell of anger she brought her sword around in an arc, embedding it in the Orc's back, hearing with a morbid satisfaction the crack of its spinal cord. It collapsed instantly.

Adrienne looked up at her in relief which quickly turned to horror. "Behind you!" she screamed, even as Erin realized what must have caused her agitation. Erin whirled, meeting the eyes of the Orc bearing down upon her. Its sword came around in an arc, towards her left side. Erin tried to block it, but her own strength was too little to completely stop the Orc's momentum. The Orc blade sliced her side, sending a wave of pain and nausea shooting through her upper body. With a great effort Erin thrust his blade from her side, almost feeling the strength drain from her as blood spurted out. Suddenly a sword appeared between the Orc's ribs, disappearing just as fast. The Orc collapsed, revealing a tall, blond-haired man. He moved on without stopping, slaying as he went, crying "To me, Rohirrim! To me! Death!" Erin realized with a start who had just saved her: Eomer, newly christened King of the Mark. As if to confirm it, another soldier bearing the banner of the Rohirrim followed at his heels. He took it, planting it firmly in the ground at the top of the rise only meters from her.

"Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising

I came singing in the sun, sword unsheathing.

To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking:

Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!"

He cried aloud these words, and Erin felt her heart leap with excitement, remembering those very lines from the book. Yet even in her joy, her strength began to fail her, draining away. She heard Adrienne's shout from beside her, but it seemed strangely far away, as the world tilted up to meet her.

-----AND now the fighting waxed furious on the fields of the Pelennor; and the din of arms rose upon high, with the crying of men and the neighing of horses. Horns were blown and trumpets were braying, and the mumakil were bellowing as they were goaded to war. Under the south walls of the City the footmen of Gondor now drove against the legions of Morgul that were still gathered there in strength. But the horsemen rode eastwards to the succour of Eomer.

Not too soon came their aid to the Rohirrim; for fortune had turned against Eomer, and his fury had betrayed him. The great wrath of his onset had utterly overthrown the front of his enemies, and great wedges of his Riders had passed clear through the ranks of the Southrons, discomfiting their horsemen and riding their footmen to ruin. But wherever the mumakil came there the horses would not go, but blenched and swerved away; and the great monsters were unfought, and stood like towers of defence, and the Haradrim rallied about them. And if the Rohirrim at their onset were thrice outnumbered by the Haradrim alone, soon their case became worse; for new strength came now streaming to the field out of Osgiliath. Some now hastened up behind the Rohirrim, others held westward to hold off the forces of Gondor and prevent their joining with Rohan.

It was even as the day thus began to turn against Gondor and their hope wavered that a new cry went up in the City, it being then mid-morning, and a great wind blowing, and the sun shining. In that clear air watchmen on the walls saw afar a new sight of fear, and their last hope left them.

For Anduin so flowed that from the City men could look down it lengthwise for some leagues. And looking thither they cried in dismay; for black against the glittering stream they beheld a fleet borne up on the wind.

"The Corsairs of Umbar!" men shouted. "The Corsairs are upon us! It is the last stroke of doom!" And some without order ran to the bells and tolled the alarm; and some blew the trumpets sounding the retreat. But the wind that sped the ships blew all their clamour away.

The Rohirrim indeed had no need of news or alarm. All too well they could see for themselves the black sails. For Eomer was now scarcely a mile from the Harlond, and a great press of his first foes was between him and the haven there, while new foes came swirling behind. Now he looked to the River, and hope died in his heart. But the hosts of Mordor were enheartened, and filled with a new lust and fury they came yelling to the onset.

Stern now was Eomer's mood, and his mind clear again. He let blow the horns to rally all men to his banner that could come thither; for he thought to make a great shield-wall at the last, and stand, and fight there on foot till all fell, and do deeds of song on the fields of Pelennor, though no man should be left in the West to remember the last King of the Mark.

And then wonder took him, and a great joy; and he cast his sword up in the sunlight and sang as he caught it. And all eyes followed his gaze, and behold! upon the foremost ship a great standard broke, and the wind displayed it as she turned towards the Harlond. There flowered a White Tree, and that was for Gondor; but Seven Stars were about it, and a high crown above it, the signs of Elendil that no lord had borne for years beyond count.

Thus came Aragorn son of Arathorn, Elessar, Isildur's heir, out of the Paths of the Dead, borne upon a wind from the Sea to the kingdom of Gondor; and the mirth of the Rohirrim was a torrent of laughter and a flashing of swords, and the joy and wonder of the City was a music of trumpets and a ringing of bells. But the hosts of Mordor were seized with bewilderment, and a great wizardry it seemed to them that their own ships should be filled with their foes; and a black dread fell on them, knowing that the tides of fate had turned against them and their doom was at hand.

And so at length Eomer and Aragorn met in the midst of the battle, and they leaned on their swords and looked on one another and were glad.

"Thus we meet again, though all the hosts of Mordor lay between us," said Aragorn. "Did I not say so at the Hornburg?"

"So you spoke," said Eomer, "but hope oft deceives, and I knew not then that you were a man foresighted. Yet twice blessed is help unlooked for, and never was a meeting of friends more joyful. Nor indeed more timely. You come none too soon, my friend. Much loss and sorrow has befallen us."

"Then let us avenge it, ere we speak of it!" said Aragorn, and they rode back to battle together.

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

SARAH and Kalva had long ago stopped shooting the giant crossbow. The Nazgul had retreated from the city; there was little point in attacking it, since the battle was on the Fields.

Sarah had watched with joy as the brightly armored Rohirrim swept into the fray. She could hear their singing, even this far away; it had been both beautiful and terrifying. She almost felt sorry for the Orcs, especially when the Rohirrim's ringing sword call had been answered by the charge of the Gondorians. Almost.

She had watched with dread as Theoden outdistanced his army, heedlessly charging ahead, consumed by the furious joy of battle. She had seen the Nazgul's attack coming, long before Theoden himself. She had shivered with horror as the Nazgul's death cry echoed from the stone of the city, reverberating through the streets like an avenging spirit. And yet, for the first time since the battle's beginning, the odds of victory actually looked about even.

Sarah noticed the clouds far to the South beginning to dissipate. The sight brought more hope to her heart; Sauron's power must be weakening, or perhaps the wind was sent by the Valar and had some power within it that drove back the interminable night. Surely it was a portent of good.

Then Kalva cried out beside her, pointing to the Anduin River where it came abreast of the city. A fleet of black-sailed ships appeared, moving quickly against the current, aided by a fair wind that had only just reached them. Kalva's face betrayed his despair. "The Corsairs have come!" he whispered. "We are lost!"

Sarah was just about to correct him, remembering from the books that it was only a deception, when the flagship cast out a dark flag with the symbol of Elendil glittering proudly in the new sun. The white tree reached out over the dark background, seven silver stars crowning it in shimmering beauty.

A great cry went up from the forces of good that still battled upon the field, as they recognized the emblem. The Enemy's army lost their confidence, and were steadily pushed back toward the river, where they found Narsil reforged, a bow of Lothlorien, and the axe of Gimli the dwarf waiting for them, not to mention an army of Dunedain and Gondorian warriors.

"The crossbow is of little use now!" Kalva called to her, starting off down the street. "Let us put Vilad's swords to work!" Sarah ran after him, down through the levels toward the main gate.

They had almost reached the battle itself when Sarah saw a familiar figure hobbling up the stone street towards her. "Adrienne!" she cried, racing forward, surprise and joy in her heart.

Suddenly she became aware of a bundle clutched in Adrienne's arms, and her gladness was replaced by worry. "Adrienne, what…" Sarah trailed off when she saw the face of the one Adrienne was carrying. "Erin!" she breathed, swiftly crossing the last few feet. "What happened?"

"We were fighting outside the walls. We both got hurt, but Erin collapsed. She got her side cut open," Adrienne managed, out of breath.

"Let's get her to the Houses of Healing! Kalva!" Sarah's heart contracted for a moment as he turned back toward her. "You go on! I'm going to get Erin to the Houses of Healing!"

Kalva nodded. "Do you need aid?" he called. Sarah shook her head, and he disappeared around a bend in the street.

Sarah grabbed Erin under the arms, and Adrienne took her feet. They had only gone a few meters before Adrienne's left leg gave out on her. She went down on one knee, a grimace of pain contorting her face. Sarah suddenly remembered Adrienne's earlier words.

"Adrienne, you shouldn't be carrying anyone! You're hurt too!" she exclaimed as she caught sight of the knife still embedded in her friend's ankle. "Here, I'll take Erin. You find something you can use as a crutch!"

Sarah leaned against the wall, her arms already screaming at the pain of carrying Erin. Erin herself wasn't terribly heavy, especially with such a loss of blood, but her weapons were bulky. Quickly Sarah placed Erin on the ground and began disarming her, both relieved and alarmed to find how light Erin was without the weapons. Luckily, the thoroughfare they were on had debris scattered all over it, and it didn't take Adrienne long to find a suitable piece of wood to lean on. She nodded when Sarah cast her a questioning glance. "Let's go. Erin needs help."

Sarah looked down at the limp form in her arms. Erin's face was distressingly pale, almost ghostlike. The sight made Sarah shiver. Please, God, don't let her die.

"MEGAN! Megan!" Lindir came up behind her and touched her shoulder gently. She looked up from the patient she was tending: a young man with a thigh wound. "Lindir?" she exclaimed, immediately noting the worried look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I have just finished tending to two of your friends!" he answered.

"Who?" Megan asked, finishing the bandage and rising from the floor. Kavila rose as well, eyes wide with concern.

"Erin—she was unconscious, a sword cut on her left side—and Adrienne. Sarah helped bring them in. She is sitting with them."

"Erin's unconscious!" Kavila exclaimed.

"Yes, yes…come, this way!" Lindir disappeared through the doorway. Megan and Kavila followed as quickly as they could, sharing looks of concern.

"How did you know they were our friends?" Megan called to Lindir. Since before the battle had begun, she and Kavila had been separated from their friends. Megan wondered what had happened to Erin and Adrienne for them to be close enough to the fighting to get hurt.

"They asked to see you!" Lindir answered briefly as he waited for two healers carrying a wounded man to pass by. He crossed another hallway and ducked through a doorway.

Inside along the back wall, Megan found Erin and Adrienne comfortably situated on cots. Sarah sat between them, protectively clutching Erin's limp hand.

"Oh my god what happened?" Kavila exclaimed, rushing to the side of Erin's cot.

"Erin found the battle," Adrienne quipped.

"You obviously did, too," Megan said, giving Adrienne's bandaged leg a pointed glance.

Kavila shook her head, exasperated. "Go back a little farther. I haven't seen you guys since before the battle! What happened to the crossbows, and Vilad and Kalva?"

Adrienne's gaze narrowed a little at the mention of Vilad and the crossbows. It was Sarah who spoke: "Kalva and I took one crossbow, and Adrienne and Vilad took the other one. Theirs was destroyed."

"Destroyed?" Kavila said incredulously.

"We hit one Nazgul, though! Don't think we killed it, but it didn't come back," Adrienne protested. "Then they figured us out and one of the Nazgul basically...tore it apart."

"You hit a Nazgul?" Kavila all but screamed, drawing attention from the other patients in the room. "And then it tore the crossbow apart?"

"Well, a different Nazgul, but yeah, that's about right." Adrienne said. Kavila was speechless with a mixture of anger and exasperation.

"You know, making an attempt to keep yourself healthy is a good thing!" she finally managed. Adrienne just laughed.

Megan put a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm Kavila down. She didn't particularly enjoy the stares they were getting. It was weird enough for them to be women wielding swords; they didn't need Kavila drawing more attention. "What happened to the other crossbow?" she asked.

"It survived," Sarah replied. "We hit two Ringwraiths, but none of them came after us. They were called away when the Witch-King was killed."

"Where's Kalva then?" Kavila asked, not quite innocently.

Sarah got a distinctly distressed look on her face. "He went down to the battle. I was going to go with him, but then I met Adrienne and Erin…" she trailed off, half-rising and reaching for her sword, which she had unbuckled and leaned against the wall behind her. "I ought to go down now and find him, since they're here."

"Sarah, I'm sure he can take care of himself," Adrienne put a hand on Sarah's arm, gently restraining her. "He's got a sword, and he knows how to use it."

"He's a bowmaker, not a swordmaster!" Sarah retorted. "Besides, I'm sure he could use someone guarding his back."

"You may not be the best candidate for that," Megan said in a teasing voice. "He needs to be able to concentrate on the battle!" Sarah's cheeks colored at Megan's meaning.

"Do I detect a blush!" Kavila covered her mouth in an exaggerated motion of surprise. Adrienne and Megan giggled madly as Sarah's gaze dropped to the floor.

"You're in love!" Adrienne managed, immediately collapsing once more in laughter.

"Maybe, maybe not!" Sarah retorted in a barely audible voice, expression torn between a pout and a laugh.

Suddenly Adrienne changed the subject. Talking about Kalva had reminded Adrienne of her own crossbow partner. "Megan and Kavila, have either of you seen Vilad?"

"No…" Kavila replied, looking to Megan, who shook her head.

"Should we have?" Megan asked.

"He's here somewhere…" Adrienne's brow creased with worry. "When the crossbow was destroyed, a piece of it fell on his leg. It looked pretty bad when they brought him in here. I went down to the battle once he was inside, so I don't know what's happened to him."

"Want me to see if I can find him?" Megan asked.

Adrienne nodded. "I was thinking maybe we could move into his room. Free up some space for more patients."

Megan smiled. "I'll see if I can find him."

THE hallways were crowded with the wounded continuously being brought in and healers frantically rushing from room to room. Megan passed a few cloth-wrapped bodies being carried out as she went from door to door peering into each room. She repressed a shiver, especially after seeing one go by that looked about the same size as one of her friends, much smaller than the average Gondorian.

Half an hour passed; she had checked all the rooms for those requiring care of a few days or less, where multiple patients were housed in each room. Vilad's wound must be serious if they're keeping him in a private room, Megan thought to herself, pushing down the fear that had arisen when she had found no sign of him in the temporary wards.

Once Megan had narrowed the search to the private rooms, it didn't take long to find Vilad. A healer was with him when she entered, re-bandaging his wound. Megan caught a brief glimpse of it and winced in imagined pain. Serious indeed; Megan wondered just how heavy that beam had been.

"Yes?" the healer said when he was finished, in a voice both irritable and tired.

"I'm a friend of his," Megan said, gesturing to Vilad. "I heard he was here."

The healer nodded and went back to work. "Yes, he is here, and will be for some weeks. This leg will take time to mend."

Megan didn't say anything for a moment, stricken by the paleness of Vilad's face and the contrast it made with his dark hair. He had lost a lot of blood to look like that.

Megan cleared her throat, remembering Adrienne's request. "Sir, there are two more patients here, also friends of his. Could they be moved in here with him?"

"As long as you can find another to aid you. I am tired and have many to tend," the healer replied gruffly.

"Thank you, sir! I'll take care of it!" Megan said. The man nodded as he passed her and left, closing the door behind him. Megan cast one last glance at Vilad, still lost in the mists of unconsciousness. Then she hurried out to find her friends.

-----HARD fighting and long labour they had still; for the Southrons were bold men and grim, and fierce in despair; and the Easterlings were strong and war-hardened and asked for no quarter. And so in this place and that, by burned homestead or barn, upon hillock or mound, under wall or on field, still they gathered and rallied and fought until the day wore away.

Then the Sun went at last behind Mindolluin and filled all the sky with a great burning, so that the hills and the mountains were dyed as with blood; fire glowed in the River, and the grass of the Pelennor lay red in the nightfall. And in that hour the great battle of the field of Gondor was over; and not one living foe was left within the circuit of the Rammas. All were slain save those who fled to die, or to drown in the red foam of the River. Few ever came eastward to Morgul or to Mordor; and to the land of the Haradrim came only a tale from far off: a rumour of the wrath and terror of Gondor.

-The Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien

-----

BY nightfall all five girls were ensconced in Vilad's room. The swordmaster had woken twice, and both times either Megan or Kavila had tended him. Erin had also come awake, although she was still too weak to leave her bed. Kalva had not returned, and Sarah was growing more worried by the hour. Several times her friends had restrained her from going to search the Houses of Healing for him, since she had convinced herself that he would have come back by now if he were not wounded. She sat in the corner now, lost in her thoughts, unresponsive to her friends' attempts to engage her in conversation.

Suddenly the door creaked open. All looked up, expecting to see a healer bringing a fresh cup of broth or new bandages. Instead, Kalva's sweat and dirt-stained face peeked through, relief immediately showing at having found the girls.

For a single moment, Sarah's heart stopped as an immense wave of relief washed over her. Kalva had returned, and from the look of it he was unhurt. She knew not what deities had granted her this boon, but she thanked them fervently for it as she ran wordlessly to him and threw herself into his arms.

A dazzling smile broke across Kalva's face as he returned the hug. She drew back from him for a few moments, searching his body for injuries, and nearly sobbed with relief to find none. Kalva took her into his arms again with a soft chuckle.

"I was worried when you didn't come back," Sarah whispered.

"That's one way to put it," Erin said. "She's hardly spoken a word for hours!"

Sarah blushed as Kalva laughed again. He quickly sobered, however, when he saw that there were three bedridden forms.

"What happened?" he asked as his eyes passed over them, and Erin and Adrienne explained once again. Kalva's face was grave as he regarded the unconscious Vilad. "I've never seen him injured," he said. "What have the healers said?"

"It will be weeks before he can walk, even with a crutch," Adrienne answered with a grimace. Sarah understood; weeks confined to bed would be excruciating.

"And you two?" he nodded toward Adrienne and Erin.

"At least two days of bed for me," said Adrienne with clear resentment. "Then I can use a crutch."

"A couple days for me, too," Erin replied. "My biggest problem is weakness from blood loss."

Adrienne glared at her, but then her eyes widened in sudden realization. "I'm going to miss the Battle of the Black Gates!"

"I don't think any of us are going to make that," Sarah said.

"I wouldn't be so sure!" Erin replied indignantly. "I for one don't plan on missing such a historic moment!"

"What battle do you speak of!" Kalva asked. All five girls stared at him for a moment, unsure how to proceed. Kalva looked to Sarah, who tried not to flinch. She hadn't planned on revealing to her friends that she had told Kalva, not so soon. But some of her friends were noticing Kalva's gaze, and Sarah decided it was time to speak up. "You remember those books I told you about…" she started, bracing herself.

"You told him?" came the expected rebuke from Erin and Adrienne. Sarah nodded a little guiltily.

"Well? Do you believe us?" Erin asked Kalva. He nodded hesitantly. Before he could continue, the expectant silence was broken by a commotion outside the door: deep voices and the sound of many booted feet passing by.

"I wonder what that is," Adrienne said. Megan rose and opened the door, peeking out cautiously, prepared to offer her help to the passing healers. Instead, she saw Gandalf hurry by in a flash of white robes.

"Gandalf!" she exclaimed, unthinking in her astonishment. She hadn't expected to see him here! Then it occurred to her that he must have come to tend to the three who had been felled in battle: Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir.

Gandalf turned with a puzzled look that soon became a smile. Megan realized she was getting strange looks from some of the other healers following him, and she bowed her head awkwardly. "My lord—"

Gandalf's smile grew. "Oh come, Megan, you know you need not use titles with me. Tell me, how fare your friends?"

Megan nodded back toward the room. "Erin, Adrienne, and Vilad were hurt, but it's not too serious. They'll recover." She didn't want to worry Gandalf, nor keep him from those who needed him more.

Gandalf sighed with relief. "Good. That lightens my heart. But now, I must attend to graver matters. Three have been felled by the craft of the Witch-King, and I must do what I can for them."

Megan nodded in understanding. "Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir."

Gandalf sighed. "Yes. I must go to them. Farewell, for now." He was about to continue on his way when Erin's voice came, calling his name.

The wizard stepped just inside the door. "Yes?"

"The hands of the king are the hands of a healer," she said, her gaze meeting his intensely. Gandalf held it for several moments, his brow creased in thought. Then he nodded and stepped back into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor.

The moment the door was closed Adrienne burst out. "You stole Ioreth's lines!"

"Yeah, I know. I'm hoping Gandalf will listen to them and respond sooner," Erin answered.

"What was that all about?" Kavila asked.

"It has to do with the books. You remember the title of the third book?" Erin asked, and Kavila nodded. "Well, the person that title refers to is the one who will heal Eowyn, Merry, and Faramir."

"The king…" Kalva said suddenly. "That is who you refer to, is it not?"

"Yes, that is," Erin said, somewhat guardedly.

"But there is no king…" Kalva continued.

"Not yet. You'll see, come morning," Erin told him. She cast a sad look at Adrienne. "That part was supposed to be in the Extended Edition of the movie. We'll never see that, now."

"The Extended Edition? Oh, I know," Adrienne said. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Sucks?" Kalva's expression was one of utter confusion.

All five girls shared a long laugh. "Hm…" Erin started, trying to think of a way to explain this bit of modern lingo. "Well, when a situation doesn't turn out the way you'd like it to, or something unfortunate happens, you say it 'sucks'."

"Like being stuck in bed recovering from a wound that means I won't be able to see the Battle of the Black Gates." Adrienne added sullenly. "Which I refuse to miss, by the way!"

"Wait a second, was that the last battle?" Kavila asked.

"The one at the big black gates? Yep!" Erin answered with a grin as Kavila glowered.

"I wouldn't want to go to that battle!" Kavila said rather defensively. "There were all those horrible, freaky Orcs, and big, scary Trolls, and Nazguls! Lots of Nazguls!" She shuddered.

The mood immediately sobered. "I definitely have a new respect for them now," Adrienne said rather quietly.

Erin nodded her agreement. "I didn't get as close to them as you, but I saw the Witch-King when he was helping them break down the Gate." She shuddered. "God, that Black Speech is horrible."

An anxious, ominous silence descended upon them. For a long time each wandered in their own thoughts until sleep claimed them one by one.