"…I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child,
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now.

Where has my heart gone?
An uneven trade for the real world,
I want to go back to
Believing in everything and knowing nothing at all.

I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back,
Somehow it seems colder now.

Where has my heart gone?
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger,
I want to go back to
Believing in everything…"

Evanescence Fields of Innocence

Chapter 17: Simplicity

I inhaled sharply, wincing as the hot wave of pain cascaded through my torso. After some amount of consciousness was gained, I surveyed my current situation. I was lying down, not on the hard rocky surface of the cave I had been expecting, but instead on a slightly softer material that might have passed for a mattress. My rib throbbed with pain, but not as much, I felt a slight pressure around my skin, but was unable to discern the cause for the time being. My left wrist was set straight with a splint, and wrapped up tightly. I must have broken it after all. But…why was I here? Why wasn't I happily floating along in the halls of Mandos at this moment in time? Did we…did we win? But how did we survive, did help come? Why would anyone answer such a call for help? Why would the Uruk-Hai be defeated so easily?…And why the hell was I topless?

I opened my eyes, shutting them again and squinting as the morning light hit me. I was in a room, it was fairly small, and I was alone except for the blonde figure that sat at the side of the mat, a roll of bandage in one hand, the end of which was wrapped about my upper torso. I looked at her questioningly, not even trying to speak.

"Yunalesca. I'm glad you have awoken at last." She said simply, her eyes shining.

"How…" I cleared my throat, my voice raspy and hoarse from the night's activities. "How long was I out?"

"Long enough for me to get you nicely stitched up. Quite a fight you put up last night I hear." She punctuated 'stitched' with a nod to my right thigh. I suppose that wasn't really a cramp after all. I tried to sit up to better assess my state, but the pain in my ribs pushed me back down. "Wait, you shouldn't even be trying to get up now, you've broken two of your ribs."

"That's never stopped me before." I eased myself into a sitting position and breathed out slowly, experimenting. I saw a long gash, stitched expertly near my hip, where a long tear in my leggings exposed a little more oddly tanned flesh than I was happy with. I examined the splint on my wrist, my fingers could move all right, though not without some measure of pain. I glanced at the bandage that was being tied off around my ribs.

"I'm sorry for…you know, but I didn't think you'd mind that much, after all, you could have been dying so I doubt you'd have minded me removing your top."

"Oh, that. Well, I'm just glad it was you and not some old mercenary medic…if you don't mind me asking, where are the other injured? I know for a fact that there were many more."

"Oh, they're in a sort of makeshift infirmary. This is just a side room. I wasn't about to strip you in front of the rest of the soldiers." I smiled.

"Thank you. Where…where are the others?"

"The others? Your companions? Oh, well, they're…" I half expected her to say something like 'lying at the bottom of a bloody battlefield outside.' Or simply: 'all dead.' But instead… "…Not here now, they left earlier today, heading towards Isengard, I was told."

"Isengard…" I rolled this around for a while, finally coming to a conclusion. "How long ago did they leave?"

"Earlier this morning, I'd say four or five hours."

"I can catch them up." I planted my good hand firmly on the mattress and brought my legs round, trying to effectively stand without breaking anything else.

"What? You cannot be serious. You are in no condition to even be standing, let alone riding!"

"That's never stopped me before." I repeated, easing myself up, cursing lightly as the now familiar pain shot through my ribs. I reached for my top, turning round upon feeling the urgent hand on my arm.

"Please don't. You were almost killed last night, what was the point in surviving if you're just going to die as soon as you get the next opportunity." She sounded oddly sincere.

"No offence, and I know this is going to sound incredibly heartless and ungrateful of me, but…why do you care? You've only known who I am for under a day."

"I talked to you enough to know that you are a good person."

"Haldir was a good person…" I whispered, more to myself then to her.

"Haldir? The elf? Did he…oh…" Her eyes dropped to the ground. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I was just…thinking. I'm used to death, but this was different somehow. Most of the people I've seen die were either being killed by me, or just random, plebeian soldiers who were going to die anyway. Haldir was just…one of those people you don't like, but can't imagine them not being there. Am I making any sense?"

"No, I understand that. I lost a few people I might have called 'friends' in the battle."

"It's strange." I continued, not really hearing her. "Elves rarely die, except obviously in large-scale battles such as those fought many thousands of years ago. When they do die, it just seems so unnatural. I'm rarely shocked by anything, but the sight of so many dead, their faces frozen in a picture of utter shock, and yet peace at the same time…it almost frightened me."

I shocked myself at this sudden display of emotion. Emotion, I had learnt a long, long time ago, through pain and heartache, was not my friend. If I cried, I'd be hailed as nothing more than a weak woman, not fit to fight. If I showed fear, I'd suffer the same fate. If I tried to care for someone, they'd be taken away. If I dared to love…I didn't even want to think about that. I wondered absently why I'd told Eowyn that. It wasn't as if we were close, hardly even acquaintances. And yet…

The way she looked at me, trusting, friendly, enthralled by everything I was. She was so quick to trust. Something, I was sure, she would learn never to do. I could see myself as I was so many years ago. Young, naïve, credulous, even ignorant. I never really understood the mechanics of the world, of the human and Elven mind, the things that made people hate, persecute, kill. I learnt of all this through many long and painful experiences. Too many to even think of.

The only family I ever knew…they were gone now, one half left the other abandoned, the other half unwilling to survive. I could remember quick snaps of their faces in my memory, choosing instead to remember the things that defined them. Their courage, perseverance, love, defeats, cowardice…

The only friends I ever had…killed, stolen, left. It didn't matter who they were, where they'd come from, they were never there for long. Maybe they were ripped to shreds in the thick of combat. That was the most common cause. Either that or the mortal life that 'plagued' humans struck. Sometimes, they just left. They just packed up their life and moved perhaps to Gondor, or another village where the life was better.

Sometimes, I just wished that I could go back to times long ago. Times of innocence, when the world didn't seem like such an immoral and bloody place to live. I longed, at times, for my rose-coloured glasses. Nothing could touch me when I was a child. Everyone I met was a nice, respectable person. Wars were a far-off and detached subject. I longed for my fantasies, stories, fairytales. Where the happy ending always came, no matter what happened before. Death didn't exist, no one ever left me, and everything had a happy ending…

But I learnt all too quickly that such things were indeed childish. There was no such thing as a happy ending. People died, cities burnt, and Good rarely triumphed over Evil. Life wasn't fair, it never was. I had killed far too many times to think of myself as innocent. And the darker portions of my soul slowly made themselves known, whether I liked it or not.

I could never go back to a time like that. When I was a child, wide-eyed and unaware, I was also ignorant of everything. I couldn't stand that ignorance once more. It would be like willingly forsaking everything good that came from the lessons I'd learnt. Well, if it could be called good. I knew far too many ways to kill something, human or otherwise, than could be considered 'normal' for someone like me. But then again, nothing about me was ever considered 'normal.' I was an outcast, always had been, always would be.

I suppose it was good that I liked my privacy, in that case. That was how it always was. No one got close, no one got hurt, and I didn't get hurt…

But then, Eowyn came along, being disturbingly friendly and unprejudiced to everything I was. She reminded me more of the Evenstar then of myself in that respect. Both shared the unmistakable beauty, grace and aura of kindness that made me fade into the background next to their flawless ivory skin, perfectly groomed locks of shimmering colour and their charitable and selfless acts. I was startled by the simple fact that Eowyn even tried to be friendly. That never even happened with Arwen. She just feigned indifference to my existence, all the while wishing I would just…go. That was a nice way of putting it, too many people just wished I'd crawl back into the hole I'd emerged from. I was the most unorthodox and peculiar person I knew. Perhaps that was why she was so fascinated with me…

"Please, please don't go after them. At least, not yet. Give your ribs a chance to at least begin to heal, and let your wrist be set properly." Her tone was almost pleading.

"Fine." I caved in, I knew just how unpleasant riding with a broken rib or three was. "I shall wait for a while before I travel to Isengard."

"Just out of interest, why do you want to go with them?"

"Isengard is just on the border of Fangorn Forest."

"And why would you want to go there of all places?" I sighed.

"Why must everyone refer to my home as some dank pit of despair?" I asked rhetorically.

"Wait, you…you live there?"

"Why not?"

"Well, it's just that…people—"

"…Know nothing. It's a lovely place, really, and the inhabitants are even nicer."

"The…inhabitants?"

"The Ents."

"They are real?"

"Yes."

"…Oh." The conversation ground to a halt for a moment or two. She was asking startled questions, expecting a reply like 'of course not' when instead she simply got a 'yes' as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was true, though. A good number of people near the forest were intellectually outclassed by dead sheep, It wasn't hard for them to continue their clueless existence without even bothering to think of the big, wide world around them. Besides the haunted forest was no place for any of them to even attempt entering.

"Don't worry about it, not many people know about them. It didn't used to be like that, but things have changed a lot." She nodded, the knowledge filing neatly into her mind.

"It's just…so strange. Why do you live there? Are there other elves?"

"No, just me, and I didn't want to live there at first, but after a while I actually liked it, so I stayed. Don't ask why I went there in the first place because…to tell the truth I don't really remember that much of my life before I was forty or fifty."

"I…I still can't get over how old you are. From the way you act, I didn't think you much older than me. Although it's obvious from how you fight that you're not."

"Are you saying I'm immature?" I laughed. It was a strange feeling. I didn't really have anything to worry about, for a while at least, and right now there was nothing I could do about it. I was such a release to laugh out loud, sincerely and happily for one of the first times in years.

"You know more about your kind then I do, I'm sure, but you know what most elves are like.

"No, I know what you mean. Some of them are a little too stuck up for their own good. The only thing good about egoists is that they don't talk about other people."

"And yet you still manage to be fairly humble."

"I agree, it's hard to be humble when you're as great as I, but somehow I manage."

I didn't know how I'd got here but sometime after sunset I found myself standing outside the makeshift morgue where most of the elves had, for a time, been laid to rest. The King must have overlooked telling the people left exactly what to do with these perfect creatures. I wasn't surprised to find out they were wary, even scared of coming in to contact with the bodies. To these people they were an alien race. The inhabitants had no idea what to do with them, how to pay proper respect of the people that had died valiantly in their defence. It was almost comical that even though most of them had died in such brutal ways, they still retained that elegance that graced them whilst living.

With a heavy heart, I slowly pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped into the small stone room. Unfortunately the elves where not impervious to decomposition as well. The stuffy air reeked of death. Laid out neatly on tables or on the floor were between twenty to thirty corpses. It was really only a handful of those that had entered into the gates of Helm's Deep, but I assumed there wasn't enough of the others to bring them here. Their deaths had not been pleasant, that was for sure. One missing a leg there, another an arm or in the worse case hacked in two. Others only had half a face; the other side either left out on the battlefield or reduced to shreds of flesh bone. It was brutal carnage, typical of bloodthirsty Orcs. But this was war, we no better.

I walked between the tables, the foul stench filling my lungs. What light there was came from several torches along the cold grey walls. There he was. Down to the back on a separate table lay Haldir. They knew he was the most senior of the Elven guard or at least the one in charge and so had made an effort to give him a little more room than the rest.

I could see that if the stab to the abdomen hadn't killed him then the blunt force trauma to the back of the head certainly would have. His glazed eyes gazed lifeless into the air, his hair tangled with rainwater and dirt. His lips were slightly parted, his last breath escaping them long ago. I stood beside him for a couple of minutes. We'd never been close. We'd hated each other…right? Then why did I feel such a huge lump rising in my throat? And why where lights getting so dim. It was only than I noticed the tears streaming down my cheeks and burning my eyes.

I took his hand into my own two, noticing how much bigger it seemed.

"You weren't supposed to go…like this." I said, my voice broken and raspy. "You were one of the good ones. You where meant for the Undying lands. Not to have a useless death here in this desolate place."

But the words meant nothing to anyone but myself. He was dead; nothing would bring him back.

"Namaarië, mellon en'haba. Aa'Arvandor creos'lle." Farewell, my friend. May the Halls of Mandos welcome you.

The following day, Eowyn declared me unable to ride, but I declared myself fully able. Saying my goodbyes, I made sure the bandage about my chest was tight enough for riding, and headed for the stables.

Instead of the usual pushover stable hand, there was a younger, slightly more intelligent-looking model who was brushing down what was left of the horse. Namely, Túlka, and five others. Túlka whinnied happily as I approached, probably glad that, unlike the others, she had not lost her rider. I glared at the bridle that confined her head, wondering where it had come from.

I reached her stall, and, conscious of the stable hand watching my every move, opened the door without a word and examined the bridle. One end of the reigns was tied to a nearby post. Now I was even more troubled. I untied her quickly and reached up to unbuckle the throat-lash.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Said a voice behind me. I turned around, a Look™ prepared on my face. There stood the stable hand, a typically 'sigh, women' look painted on his rather sharp features. He was one of those unfortunate people who smiled like a particularly evil bastard after just evicting a widow. His whole stance emanated raw pride. He was like a peacock in everything but beauty.

"Excuse me?" I asked, my tone as sweet as cyanide.

"That beast is a monster. No discipline whatsoever. I'm surprised she hasn't bitten your hand off yet." What a complete and utter—

"Really? The horse's owner should be informed of her terrible behaviour. Is that why she's tied up?"

"Yes it is, she wouldn't follow any commands, and was getting rather violent. And the owner? I'm guessing he's probably dead from the battle, like over half the soldiers."

"Interesting. What didn't she do?"

"That's none of your concern, woman, did you come to get some supplies for the healers? The supply room's down the hall."

"How thoughtful of you."

"If that's all, why don't you leave the horses to me. I'd hate to see you get hurt because of some disobedient mare." I finally snapped, I could hold it in no longer.

"No, actually, I was just coming in to collect my mare and leave for Isengard. Imagine my surprise when I found that not only has she been harassing ignorant stable boys, but she's also been tied up in one of these stupid bridles." I made my point by cradling her head as I removed the bridle, draping it over the side of the stall. I reached for a brush to clean away the dirt and sweat behind her ears, when he spoke again.

"Is that so? I'm afraid you can't take her or any other horse out until the King gets back. I've instructions to keep these here. And even if you could, you're a little late, they left yesterday. And don't you think you're a little young to be riding all the way to Isengard?" His tone was laced with open mockery.

"As a matter of fact, I'm over three thousand years old. If you have any problem with me taking my horse and going to Isengard right now, why don't you go talk to Eowyn? Or better yet, the king himself." Success. His eyes widened slightly, but I could tell he wasn't going to let go so easily.

"I still can't let you take this horse while she's under my supervision." I resisted drawing my sword, and instead opted for a verbal assault. I turned, slowly. A pitying look was etched on my face, the kind one gives to 'special' two-year olds.

"You know? I would like to take you seriously, but to do so would be an affront to your intelligence." I was slipping easily into high-register vocabulary I had picked up. It never failed to make the other feel incompetent. "If I want the advice of a retard, I'll slap you on the back of the head and wake up that little peg legged hamster that operates the drool-powered waterwheel of thought in there. Until then, sit in the corner and wait until I either speak to you or spit at you." With that, I turned and mounted my horse easily, smiling as she snorted in his face on her way out.

My backside hurt. It hurt a lot. I had forgotten just how painful riding without much purpose or hurry for a day or so was. Especially when there was no one to speak to. Or in this case, bitch to. I was use to riding for long distances on my own, but over the past few days, maybe even a week or so, I had grown used to people being around to talk to. Now, I looked over the plains of Rohan, completely empty, devoid of life. I didn't have to concentrate much to get to Isengard, as a troop of ten thousand Uruk-Hai weren't exactly the subtlest creatures on this Valar-forsaken continent. They had left a trail of muddy footprints from the keep and back to the tower of Orthânc. Túlka's hooves only added to the mess of battered earth they left in their wake.

So as I cantered along, cheerfully ignoring the pain in my ribs, my mind swam with a thousand thoughts. Most of them were just random things that my overworked brain popped out with at inopportune moments. Some were focused on the masses of dead left at the end of the battle. The flames barely managing to stay lit in the unforgiving rain. The stench of the dead as the doors to the makeshift mausoleum were opened. I could still remember the half surprised, half pained look on Haldir's face as he was struck down. So close. He was so close to sailing across the sea with his Lady. This was probably the last errand he had to do before he would leave. How ironic. A great warrior such as he would make it so far in his life, only to be brutally killed by some nameless Uruk-Hai. I cleared my head of the morbid thoughts and decided to focus on something brighter.

But what was there? We had won the battle, but we were almost certainly going to lose the war. There was no point in celebrating such a fleeting victory. Gondor would be crushed by Mordor, and there was hardly anything to be done. My warped mind conjured up an image of two little Hobbits laying dead in a ditch somewhere, the ring on its merry way to Sauron. I banished this immediately. There was still hope, however pathetic it seemed at the time.

I wondered what had caused the Ents to go to war. They wouldn't have done anything if not for a direct assault on them personally. But Saruman wouldn't be that stupid to risk war with the Ents while his massive army was busy elsewhere. His tiny orcish minions would be ripped to shreds if they were up against the might of the enraged Ents. I would find out soon enough in any case.

Then another thought struck me. Merry and Pippin. Those two scoundrels had surprised me to no end when they showed up. I didn't make my presence known as Treebeard carried them off. I knew he wouldn't hurt them. I wondered how anything could hurt creatures so sweet and…charming.

Secretly, I looked forward to meeting them again. They always seemed to make me smile, as well as those around them. It seemed like such a stereotypical insult to all Hobbits, but these particular ones were indeed cute. Even though they were older than half the humans around them.

I stared hard at the horizon. It was fairly clear, and if I focused hard enough, I could just about make out the tower in the distance. Hugging Túlka's neck affectionately, I urged her onwards.

I slowed to a light trot as I got closer. The sun beat down on my neck, but the breeze cooled me enough for it to be comfortable. The tower was close now, I could see it clearly, the fine details of twisted black metal and the smoking craters in the earth. I got a little closer, and I could just about make out, with little surprise, two noticeably shorter figures amongst the group. I smirked. They had probably been half the reason behind the breaching of the dam. I was easily able to make out the different figures now. Legolas – no mistaking him – Gimli, Gamling. Aragorn glanced briefly in my direction and after a short word with an unidentified soldier, they both mounted and were headed to where Túlka ambled along dreamily. I sped up slightly to a fuller trot, and gave the most sincere smile I could manage as they neared.

"Ah. You made it." Aragorn spoke as they slowed. "From what I heard, it didn't look as if you'd be riding for at least a week, but then again, you never were one to follow good advice." 'The bloody cheek!'

"It was nothing really, just a broken rib or four." I chuckled, carefully evading the issue of my other numerous injuries. I glanced at the nameless man to his right. He had removed his helmet, revealing a round, tanned face framed by tangled, golden locks. My eyebrow shot up a fraction of a centimetre. His entire stance was proud, sure of himself, yet not in an overly arrogant way. His face and general appearance was rugged yet a little more refined than most of the scraggy soldiers. He appeared to be someone of importance.

"A friend of yours?" The voice. Deep throated, slightly husky, masculine. It was all I could do not to let my mouth hang open as the shivers ran up and down my spine. Hey, I could lust, couldn't I? It didn't mean anything after all, but this was one of the few occasions when I found myself rather liking the look of a human I happened to come across.

"Ah, forgive me. Éomer this is—"

"Yunalesca of Fangorn, it's a pleasure to meet you." I practically purred. Aragorn looked horrified. I winked at him. "And…your name is?" I sounded genuinely interested. It was strange coming out of my mouth.

"Éomer, son of Eomund, Marshal of the Riddermark." 'What a title.' Okay, normally this didn't affect me, normally. I cared nothing for titles, but in this case, it meant that he talked for just that little bit longer. He let a slight smirk work its way onto his cupid's bow lips. Aragorn looked incredibly uncomfortable, shifting in his saddle slightly. I let a sultry smile cross my face.

"The others are waiting for us." Aragorn interjected after a moment or so of eye contact.

"They?"

"We were about to meet with Treebeard. Until we spotted you."

"Oh, of course, how stupid of me, let us be on our way, then." I turned my horse with my hips, throwing a glance over my shoulder from under hooded eyes at the dirty blonde. It was a short ride, a minute or so, to the campsite.

I dismounted, stretching out my aching muscles when I was on the ground. I noticed him glance briefly in my direction. I 'absentmindedly' ran a hand through my braids, then shook my head, letting them tumble a good way down my back.

"Look, she's back!

"I told you she'd be back!"

"Let's talk to her!"

"Why don't you?"

"I said it first. Go on."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"Because she—"

"…Is right behind you." I interrupted their enthralling conversation. The two partners in crime turned to me slowly, their faces angelic and devoid of guilt. They were seated and immediately rose. To my surprise, they had grown at least a foot since I last saw them. Their eyes were now easily level to my…chest. Great.

"Hullo, Lady Yuna." They chorused in their sickeningly adorable accents.

"My you've grown. Treebeard didn't by chance give you anything, did he?" My voice went flat mid-sentence.

"Ooh, yes, some of that Entwash stuff, he said…" Merry drifted off hopelessly as my eyes narrowed dangerously. I opened my mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a loud hoom! behind me.

"Ah!" I yelped and spun round. When I was met with brown foliage as an excuse for knees, my gaze travelled upwards until I gained eye contact with the Ent.

"Bo hoom, Yunalesca—"

"Now, what have I told you about doing that to people, especially me." I started, taking a step back and planting my hands firmly on my hips. " It freaks the shit out of them." If it was possible for a walking, talking tree to have facial expressions, he looked unmistakably guilty. "And don't give me any of that about us being the younger generation and that's why you don't have to care. Because that's just downright rude. Do you know how many neck cramps I get because of all that looking up to you? I mean seriously. And what did you think you were doing when you let the Hobbits drink from the frickin' Entwash? Look at them! Just look at them! They're hardly Hobbits anymore, they're more like really, really short Men! They'll be lucky if they're even accepted in the Shire anymore. Did you even think about that?" He shook his giant head slowly, dislodging a few twigs and leaves. "For shame." I scolded, shaking my head disappointedly. "Anyway, there's some people here who apparently want to meet you and—" I turned around. Most of the camp had assembled in a semicircle exactly five metres away from where I was standing. When I turned around, they took a step back as one. "What?" I Looked™, walking off, a confused look on my face.

Twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting and talking to possibly one of the most attractive people in the campsite. Legolas was, of course, the exception, seeing as he was far prettier than me or any other in this particular area.

"So…you're Eowyn's…brother, right?"

"Aye." 'Not giving me much, here.'

"It shows. Lovely sister, by the way." He chuckled. A rich, deep sound that was possibly even better than his voice.

"I suppose so. And yourself?"

"Hmm?"

"Any siblings? Family?"

"Me? No. Nothing you could really count as family. Unless you count the Ents of course, but I'm guessing you wouldn't because that's just wrong and you know what? I'm going to stop talking now…" He laughed again. 'I'm good at this.'

"So you…live in Entwood?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. Before you go on, I got pretty much the same response from your sister. You two really are very similar. You even look the same. As for me, I'm glad I don't have any sisters. I wouldn't wish my looks on anyone else." He looked disbelieving.

"That's not true. You look very…exotic." Now that was a new one. It wasn't the kind of tone you got when you told someone they looked…nice! then cracked an uncomfortable little smile, this was far more sincere. It was as if he was actually searching through his vocabulary for a word to aptly describe my impression. It was, in a word, sweet.

"…Thanks." I started. That is, before a shadow loomed over both of us.

"Yuna, the Ents request your presence."

"Ah, Legolas. Kel'lle. Sii." Go away. Now. I said sweetly, my teeth clenching together on the last sentence. Éomer glanced up to him, then to me. He rose from the grass and offered me a hand. I took it thankfully, relishing the callused yet smooth skin of his palm.

"If you must leave, then I hope dearly that we shall meet again, my Lady." 'I'm his lady. I rule.'

"And I also." I gave a half smile before sauntering off, leaving a self-satisfied Éomer and a rather confused Legolas who followed a moment later.

"What was that about?" He asked. I gave him my most annoyed Look™ and said nothing. He took the hint and remained silent.

"So I guess this is it." I said to Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas flanking him. "I can't really say I'll miss you, but just…try not to go and get yourself killed." He smiled. I leaned to his right, eye to eye with Gimli, well…almost. "Oh, and by the way. The bet? Let's just say you lost." I turned to Legolas. "Both of you."

"Bah! Preposterous!"

"Oh? And what was your tally?" Legolas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I lost count at the first hundred." 'Maybe that was exaggerating a little, but I was easily over both of their scores by at least fifty in any case.' I looked over my shoulder; the Ents were waiting for me. "In any case, I'd better be going. As much as I'd love to go to Gondor with you, my duty lies here. Agdor (-farewell-), Gimli, and Namaarie (-Oh come on…-)to you, Legolas. You still owe me your head on a platter. I suppose you could call it a fight, but we both know it won't be like that." I grinned. "And Aragorn. What is there to say? Your destiny awaits, do Mankind a favour and be there when it happens." With that I spun on my heel and jogged over to where Quickbeam stood. Halfway there, I heard a meek voice.

"Goodbye Lady Yuna." I stopped in my tracks and turned to see two grief-stricken Hobbits.

"Oh, Forgive me, I'd almost forgotten you two, no matter how tall you've become." I leant down slightly, more to achieve eye contact with Merry than anything else. He seemed to be enjoying the fact that his current line of vision gave him a lovely view of the rounding of my chest. How cute. "Don't get yourself into too much trouble, like you always seem to." I smiled. It seemed to be happening a lot these days. "I guess this is goodbye from me, then." I leant down to plant a quick kiss on each of their foreheads. Merry reddened, Pippin just grinned stupidly. With that, I closed the distance between me and Quickbeam. I'd left Túlka to make her own way to Entwood as she was more than happy to have some measure of freedom. The young Ent lowered his hand to the floor; I clambered up his arm and perched on his shoulder as he turned to head back into the forest. I waved a hand in a final sort of goodbye, and disappeared into the dense woods.

A.N. Oh god, the Éomer bug has just bit us in the ass. Dear god, have none of you seen him in Xena? Wearing nothing but a loincloth and a pair of great big…wings? And don't forget the bow, oh, did we mention he's cupid? Silly us. We now have a powerful urge to turn this to an Éomer romance, but no, we shall stay true to the Elvish wonder that is the son of Thranduil. Review. xx