Disclaimer: If I owned any of this "Lord of the Rings" stuff, I wouldn't be sitting here, writing fanfiction. I own Arwith. Steal her for your own use, and I'll send small, furry animals to eat your socks.
Thanks for the great review from Insane Elvish Vampire Pirate And The Demented Hobbit Ninja. No, it's not the end of the story; just of the flashback sequence (otherwise this chapter wouldn't be here). Don't worry, we all have our idiotic moments! Teinesamoa gave us another review, for which we are so grateful.

"I've never seen so much death in one place." "That was awful." "Explains quite a bit, doesn't it?" These were a few of the comments exchanged the next morning.

"But what is she, really?" asked one man while he sat with his companions. "How do you reject every decent impulse you've ever had?" Said another, "How else, but to have your humanity beaten from you? From what I recall, she never had a chance." "But she came so close," added a third. "Where would that leave one now?"

Finally unable to stand it any longer, Frodo arose from where he had been listening to the conversation. He stormed down to the brook, where she sat alone, as always, splashing water in her face and refilling her canteen. Crouching down beside her, the hobbit said in almost demanding tones, "It's true, isn't it? The dream we all had, everything you saw and did. It was real, wasn't it?"

She turned back to what she was doing, but he grabbed her wrist and forced her to look at him. She snatched her wrist away, giving him an angry, almost indignant look, and he remembered that she had killed others for less. But she instead furrowed her brows and stared at him as though considering him for the first time.

Still staring at him, she calmly doffed her cloaks. She then took Frodo's hand and slid it up the back of her jerkin. He at first felt rather nervous, not knowing what her intentions were. But then his fingertips came into contact with many ridges on her skin. His hand drifted upward, feeling the scars from where she had been scourged. Somewhere near her shoulder blades, the skin felt thick and considerably more ravaged, and there were two distinct depressions in the skin. She slid her fingers through the neck of his shirt and felt the wound in his shoulder. They looked at each other with a quiet understanding before keeping their hands to themselves.

Aragorn was at a loss as to what to do. He had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but this was simply too much. Dreams like that did happen for a reason. Half the camp already mistrusted her and would probably want him to do something about it. He had too much to focus on as it was without people's complaints.

He voiced these concerns to Faramir and Gandalf, but it was actually Pippin who solved the problem. After hearing similar thoughts come from Merry, Pip turned away from his cousin and asked her simply, "Are you against us?" She shook her head without looking up from what she was doing. Pippin said sweetly, "That sounds good enough for me." Aragorn heard about this and decided to just let it be. Anyone who had a problem with his decision would have to keep it to themselves or produce a better solution.

After two hours or so, they arrived at their rendezvous, a large town called Peada. The remainder of the army had not yet arrived, so they were free to rest themselves a bit. Faramir was trying to convince the young man who owned the nearest pub that they could all pay for their food and drink when said owner noticed Aragorn talking to Gandalf. Turning to see him fully, the man said, "Strider?" Aragorn's eyes widened. "Lange?" Both men began to grin madly and caught each other in a fierce hug. When they released each other, Aragorn asked, "Lange, why are you here?" He answered, "I live here now. I've kept the pub since my wife's father died. And you, why aren't you skulking around in the woods?" Aragorn left his mouth open for a moment, then said simply, "I'm a king." Lange said incredulously, "A king? A ranger of the North is the King?" Aragorn shrugged. "A ranger of the East owns a pub." Noticing the strange glances they were receiving, Aragorn introduced Lange to his companions. "We were rangers together," he explained.

Aragorn and Lange lunched while discussing, among other things, Arwen, Eldarion, and Lange's new wife, Moire. Merry and Pippin were having a competition with a young man named Iden, trying to see who could eat the most. Surprisingly enough, Iden seemed to be pulling ahead. Legolas was teaching a few men how to improve with their fighting knives. Gimli and Gandalf were sitting idly by, smoking their pipe weed and listening whilst the girl and two men, Halig and Flynn, compared scars. "This one here," Halig said, patting his calf, "came from a wild wolf, tried to kill me when I twelve." She rolled up her sleeve and displayed a ragged mark extending from her shoulder to her elbow. She used her other hand to slice through the air while making a ripping sound. Flynn said, "Wait, I've got the best one, I've got the best one." He pulled up his shirt almost to his pectoral muscles and pointed to one of his ribs. "Right there. See it?" They leaned in closer and saw a scratch less than a half-inch wide. "I was seventeen. I caught my mother smoking from my father's pipe and she threw her best ladle at me." He and Halig collapsed into tears of laughter while she rolled her eyes. Gandalf muttered, "Someone remind me to not let them drink any more wine."

The other half of the army arrived, and Aragorn, Gandalf and Faramir immediately shut themselves away with the appointed captains. Pippin sat, tapping on a tabletop. "I'm bored." "We could always make our own entertainment," Merry said. Glancing over, he added, "There's a pond; we could fish." "I've seen it," Pippin complained. "Nothing there but a gallopin' bunch of toads." Both hobbits suddenly looked at each, grinning. The two snuck away, snickering madly.

A while later, someone asked, "Has anyone seen my pipe?" He was the third man to ask in ten minutes, and it was really becoming quite bothersome to everyone except Merry and Pippin, who were nowhere to be found.

She had other problems with which to deal. "Just try it. What harm can come of it?" Gugwyn was all but dragging her towards his horse. She dug her heels in the ground and was leaving two trails in the dirt behind her. The horse snorted and didn't appear any more anxious to make her acquaintance. "He's the tamest stallion you'll ever meet. He's never before thrown off anyone." Legolas muttered, "There's a first time for everything." Ignoring the chuckles, Gugwyn said, "At least try it. Maybe you can make the elf eat his words." She stared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes, handed her sword to another, and allowed herself to be led.

She was saddled in moments later, and not looking too happy about it. Gugwyn smiled up at her. "Everything feels good, right?" She gave a short, discontented nod. "Exactly! See? Nothing to worry about," he said, and gave the horse a light slap on the neck. It promptly reared up on his front feet, and she was bucked over its head and into the pond.

Guffaws of laughter came from the shore as she surfaced and struggled back to land. She trudged over, shedding soaked cloaks and wringing out her hair as she walked. She reached out to one side and accepted her sword from the howling man while Gugwyn smiled apologetically. "Sorry," he squeaked. With eyes narrowed and lips thin, she looked anything but humorous.

She looked sideways at the men who were barely managing to stifle their chuckles and at Legolas, who was obviously fighting the deep urge to smirk. Still watching them, she leaned forward at the waist and shook herself like a dog. Cries of protest came from the men as they shielded themselves from the spray. When she finally stopped, they were almost as wet as she was. She looked at them again for a moment, then walked off, making a rough, throaty noise that sounded strangely like a chuckle.

"Where the blazes is my pipe!" Gimli screamed. Having had enough of this nonsense, a small party of men began searching people's packs in what they had comically dubbed "the great pipe hunt." "One has to wonder," Frodo told Sam, "where Merry and Pippin are during all this." Giving each other an exasperated look, they too began searching. Both teams were successful when they both hobbits and pipes and about two dozen toads sitting behind a thick patch of reeds. Each toad had a smoking pipe perched prominently in his mouth. The men were angry and slightly confused. "You've never done this before?" Sam asked. "It's simple," he said while the other three hobbits chortled and started removing the pipes. "You put a pipe between the toad's lips. It can't spit the pipe out, so it just sits there and smokes. After a while, you take the pipe out, put the toad down, and watch it try to hop away." What followed was hilarious at best: a small legion of smoke-emitting toads, trying to hop away and stumbling all over themselves in the process.

"It's decided," Aragorn said later that evening. The campaign had gone well, many orcs had been killed, and they would leave tomorrow to finish it in Mordor. They were all quite content to remain there for the night, but they were more excited at the prospect of nearing the end of their conquest. The air was filled with the smell of roasted beef and talk of what one would do upon arriving home. It would have been a much better way to end an evening were it not for what else filled the air.

"Cowan, it's time to go to bed." "NOOOOOOO!" "Cowan, go to bed." "NOOOOOOO!" A four-year-old Cowan was standing outside and shaking his head, refusing to obey his parents' orders. Most of the fathers in the group shook their heads while others grumbled, the word "brat" being thrown about with ire. Little more than strong resolve and proper upbringing kept Legolas from folding over his ears and clamping his hands firmly upon them.

Unable to stand it any longer, she quietly slunk off and began to creep up behind the still protesting toddler. People watched to see what would happen. Crouching less than a foot from the back of the child's head, she shaped her hands into claws near her face, opened her mouth while curling back her lips, rolled up her eyes, and hissed. Cowan whipped around and was suddenly face-to-face with a hissing, marble-white monster with fangs, evil-looking claws, and pupil-less eyes, truly the thing of four-year-old nightmares.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Cowan screamed in absolute terror, then fainted away. She leaned over his unconscious form and waved one hand before his face before scooping him up with one hand and handing his tiny, twitching self to his parents. Said one onlooker, "I should have thought of that years ago!"

The following morning, Aragorn parted reluctantly tore himself away from Lange's company, and they made their way east. Aragorn described the stories he and his friend of old had exchanged, describing how nice it was to relive some memories and to be called Strider once more. "I've wondered about him before; I'm glad to know he's well."

Legolas, for some reason, looked rather uneasy at hearing this. After a few minutes of thought, he stepped nearer to her. They didn't acknowledge each other's presence, but he spoke as though she was listening. "A Lady Elemmírë once came to call on my father. During a lengthy discussion, she said that her youngest son, Aerandir, and his wife were expecting their third son. She also mentioned that their mother took delight in the knowledge that the two elder children could see what she could not." She continued plowing along, but nodded after a moment. "Beginning to accept, are we?" Gimli asked his elvish friend, who only glowered in response.

Balfor, man of almost thirty came running up to her. "My grandmother was deaf, you know. Around her, we had to speak with our hands. I remember some of it." When she failed to look at all interested, he made several gestures in the air. When he stopped, she made a few of her own. They exchanged a few more motions and she continued ahead. Balfor looked slightly crestfallen. "What did you say?" someone asked. "I said that, if she wanted to, she could tell me what she wanted to say and I could tell everyone else. When I asked if she wanted to do that, she said no. 'Why not?' I asked. 'Not one for words,' she tells me." "'Not one for words?'" his comrade repeated. "Sounds ludicrous. Most women I know have to be begged to keep quiet." "I know. Can you imagine?"

"That's a bit odd," Merry said suddenly. "What?" Pippin asked. "Aragorn said the reason she was held hostage in Mordor was because she could make a new Ring. Yet from I remember, she was simply a task he never completed." Both began to snicker. Upon receiving curious looks, they looked at her and said amusedly, "You lied." She shrugged.

Aragorn muttered angrily, "You did imply." She pointed to Gandalf and made a few signs, which Balfor translated. "She says it's his fault." Eyebrows high, the wizard said incredulously, "'My fault?'" Several gestures. "You said the name 'Sauron.' She never did. And she didn't lie." Faramir asked cautiously, "You truly can create the next Ring?" Gestures. "She knows how to, if she wanted."

Several days later, they arrived at the black gates of Mordor. Taking care to avoid detection, all figures of superiority left the army behind and studied the gates from afar. They were still tall, black, and menacing. But they had cracked, and the sentries stationed atop them looked as though they no longer understood the point and were there out of habit alone.

"There's still a guard. We can have Legolas remove them," Gandalf said. "But the crack in the earth is wide and runs deep. It will be difficult to get within range without being discovered." She had snuck up behind them and was watching as well. At Gandalf's words, she glanced at the walls. She put her hand on his arm, and tapped herself. "Do you know of another way?" She nodded solemnly. "Very well," Aragorn said. "We will make our way inside tonight."

At almost midnight, just after the night watch had arrived, she led the elf down a rocky clearing to a spot where he could properly execute them without fear of being sighted. While he went back to fetch the others, she stayed and stared up at the walls. It was the place of her first memories, where her most life-shaping events had occurred. She must have been lost in recollection, for she failed to realize Frodo's presence until he said, "Back again, hmm? Me too."

They immediately snuck through the gates and into the most dangerous country in all of Middle Earth. They had to move quickly, or it would soon be discovered that the night watchmen were dead and that an army of men was creeping about. They trekked as quickly as they could without drawing any unwanted attention to themselves. It was nearly morning when they finally stopped, though the atmosphere was such that one could hardly call it morning. They settled down for a quick rest.

They arose a few hours later, feeling slightly refreshed. She was several yards away, searching for something among the boulders. She pushed one to the side with great effort and began to dig. She eventually unearthed what she had been searching for and brought it out. It was a glass vial, rather small and very old, and sealed inside was a piece of folded parchment. She carefully carried it over to Gandalf and handed it to him. Handling the artifact with care, he gently broke the wax seal and popped off the cork. He slid the contents into his hand and opened them. Reading the minute handwriting to himself, he studied the pages with interest.

One page took immediate hold of his attention. He glanced at her questioningly from over the top of the page, but kept going. The succeeding paper was what interested her. She pointed to the top, then to herself, and finally at him. Reading it again, he held his staff so that the crown was aimed pointedly at her chest. Gandalf then read in commanding tones.

"Ministra manumitto,

Erus cedo.

Vinculum custodia abeo!"

Nothing happened.

At least they thought so. After a moment, a bright white light suddenly came spinning along the staff and forcefully slammed into her chest. She flew back about ten feet and slid another five before coming to a halt. She sat up clutching the stitching in her shirt and letting out a breath. "What did that do?" Faramir asked. She stood up and looked herself over as though searching for a change. She walked over to Faramir, stood before him, closed her eyes, and let her head hang. Her breathing became very slow and concentrated.

Just as it was occurring to Faramir that this was much like what she had done after Gandalf had first questioned her, she lifted her head and opened her eyes. They remained silver. She closed and opened them again. Still nothing. "What did this do?" Faramir asked again. "I can't be entirely certain," Gandalf responded. "But I think I've just freed her from Sauron's service." Nodding, she walked over, took back the page, and offered her hand to him. After shaking it once, she turned to leave.

"And what of this?" Gandalf asked her, holding one page aloft. She tapped herself, shook her head, and walked away.

He continued to study the page with concern. "What does it say?" Aragorn asked. Handing him the paper, Gandalf said tiredly, "She wasn't lying." Aragorn read silently, face turning an unusual shade of white. "This is how one would create a Ring of power," he said. Gandalf nodded solemnly. "And what do you propose we do with this?" They glanced at each other. Too much harm had come from Rings of power. So the dry, brittle page was carefully refolded and burned to a black ash and crushed until it was little more than dust.

A few days later, after nearly a week of trekking through the most barren, godforsaken country in all of Middle Earth, they finally arrived at Mount Doom. Like the Black Gates, it was still tall and intimidating, but somehow it seemed a shadow of its former self. There was little visible activity.

Aragorn, Faramir, Gandalf, and two appointed leaders, Raedan and Verge, were discussing the best plan of action. "I don't like it," said Raedan. "Something about this just feels wrong, dangerous." "It is dangerous," Faramir said. "Before, we just wanted to defeat them. Now we're trying to exterminate them." "And we will exterminate them," Verge said fiercely. "We've beaten them back once. We can beat them out altogether now." Aragorn listened calmly, then said, "Verge, look at Mount Doom. It's like an anthill. There's so little happening on the surface; yet below, there is often a tumult of activity. It's not a situation to be taken lightly."

There was a moment of silence. Gandalf finally spoke. "I disagree with Verge. Let us attack in the morning, with full force." Aragorn agreed and announced the matter to the men. Gugwyn could be heard saying to Gwullyn, "This seems so final. It's as though I didn't think we would ever have to come here and do this." "Are you afraid?" the elder man asked. "Yes," the younger answered earnestly. "But I won't let that hinder me." "Good man."

The following morning, everyone arose early and ate slowly, many wondering if this would be their last meal. The stones in their stomachs turned to butterflies as Aragorn spoke. "Today, we end the conflict that has rained misery and fire upon us for more than one thousand years. Yes, we've defeated them. But they now have nothing left to fight for, nothing to fuel their fire, save their will to live and their hatred of all things. And like a caged or wounded animal, they will fight all the more fiercely, because they also have nothing to lose. So I bid you, Men of Gondor, here and now, to draw from your deepest reserves of courage and strength. Let this will be the last battle we need ever pursue against the forces of Mordor."

They now stood in plain view of the ruins of Mount Doom's structures. The orcs that had seen them had vanished, but many pairs of angry, yellow eyes looked out from the darkness, and an eerie, guttural growl followed. "Still afraid?" Gwullyn asked. "A little," Gugwyn said. "I don't blame you," his older friend commented. "I am as well. Blood. Monsters. Certain death…" Said Gimli as he wielded his axe, "Sounds good to me." She nodded and drew her sword. The archers then loosed their flame-tipped arrows into the nest of yellow eyes, and as it has often been said, all of hell broke loose.

Orcs poured from the crevices in the earth like water from a broken dam. Arrows were fired and blades were bloodied and the battle raged on as though it would have no end. Bodies covered the filthy ground and a red mist fairly hung in the smoky air. It was nearly impossible to discern friend from foe.

Fighting back to back, Legolas yelled to Gimli, "Nineteen!" Gimli yelled back, "Twenty-two!" "Do you think we're going to die?" Legolas spoke as though wondering whether it was going to rain. Gimli said, "I never expected to die in bed with gray beard." "Neither do I." That said, they threw themselves back into the bloodbath with vigor.

At some point, it came to notice that no matter how many orcs were slain, more seemed to come. It slowly became apparent that the army of men was losing. Half of them looked around despairingly, clearly thinking that the situation was hopeless. It truly seemed lost when Aragorn at one point said to Gandalf, "I think this may have been a mistake."

Just as they were all resigning themselves to destruction and death, a horn blew somewhere to the west. All turned and saw rows of men on horseback, swords drawn and spears at the ready. Eomer was at the head. "Charge!" he screamed and the army of Rohan fell on that of Mordor with a vengeance.

Aragorn limped over Eomer. "Truly is Rohan the savior of Gondor." Eomer grinned. "When Faramir wrote to me, I decided I didn't want my only sister to become a widow so soon. Besides, this is the greatest service that has ever been done for Middle Earth. I could not allow you to seize such glory for yourself."

"Gugwyn! Where are you?" Gugwyn's friends ran about, searching for their companion. They found him kneeling and cradling Gwullyn's body. He was rocking back and forth slightly and his cheeks were damp. "I fell," he said. "One of them tried to kill me, but Gwullyn stopped him. Then another found him and…" He trailed off sorrowfully.

Eomer had his arm around Faramir. "And how is my sister? Am I an uncle yet?" "In a few more months, yes." Eomer opened his mouth, probably to ask how many months, when he promptly had the wind knocked out of him. She had run into him and struggling to get back up. By the time she managed it, the two men that had been chasing her were almost upon her, so she had to turn and take a fighting stance. "Wait, wait!" Faramir said. "She's with us, she's with us!" The two men looked at her as though they very much doubted that. Bedecked in foreign garb, with a row of orcish earrings along one ear and a black war marking painted on the other side of her face, she looked anything but friendly. Eomer turned to Faramir and said, "Perhaps there's something you failed to mention?"

It was with heavy hearts that they buried their dead. The buildings were set on fire and all war machines were destroyed. When they finally left, there were few traces of the orcs' existence.

Several nights later, when Mordor lay behind them, they decided settle in a nearby town before going their separate ways. All anyone could discuss was how much they wanted to go home. To see their wives, to hug their children. They also remembered to help kith and kin grieve for their losses. They talked long into the night.

"This will be one of better entries in Gondor's history," said Aragorn's clerk, who had somehow managed to avoid slaughter. "Our proper king is returned to us, and scarcely a year after being crowned, he rids Middle Earth of orcs forever." "It won't be a complete waste for Rohan," added Eomer's record keeper. "Twice arriving in time to save a friend from defeat." "And that whatever she is," the clerk continued. "One could write entire chapters on her history alone."

She had heeded little of what they were saying. But at this, she froze and her eyes widened. To someone who had obviously taken lengths to avoid being remembered, this seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Faramir took notice of her ill-at-ease expression and said to the pair, "Don't mention her at all." The two looked at him, then at their respective kings. Aragorn paused, then said, "Yes. Don't make any mention of her." Eomer seemed slightly perplexed, but nodded. She looked at the two leaders with a look of almost relief. She offered her hand to both, gratitude clear in her expression. Turning again to each other, one recorder said to the other, "That make it easier, in a way. How would we ever refer to her that much without a name to call her."

She paused in the doorway when this was said. After a moment, she faced them again and a voice was heard clearly in everyone's head. It wasn't high, but it was distinctly feminine. "Arwith." They paused in what they were doing and looked at her. Looking her in the eye, Aragorn said, "What?" "My name," the voice said slowly, "is Arwith." Still holding his gaze, she clicked her heels together smartly and gave a small bow of the head. Then she turned and walked outside.

"She's gone," someone said. It was true. It was now morning and no one had seen her since last night. "I wonder why," someone thought aloud. "What do you think?" Eomer asked Aragorn. He shrugged. "There was nothing holding her here. And she already knew we weren't going to pursue or keep record of her. Perhaps she is ready to forsake the woods and reenter the world of Men." No one dwelled on it. They bid those of Rohan farewell and began the journey home.

Several days into what was a much shorter trip, for what no reason at all, Merry said to Pippin, "It's strange, but I can't remember what color her hair was." Legolas said, "There was something different about her ears. I don't quite recall what." Faramir listened. After a moment, he began to chuckle silently. When asked what he found so amusing, he said, "It's interesting. At first, we wanted her name more than anything. Now we know it and no one can remember to use it." "It seems we can barely remember her," Gandalf added. "She didn't seem to want to be remembered," Aragorn commented. "I suppose this is our way of complying with that wish of anonymity."

It was a few more weeks before Sam was able to knock on his own front door and bid Rosie let him in. He was greeted with a kiss from his wife and a hug from his daughter, who seemed so much older already. He was ready to go inside when his gaffer came hobbling up the walkway. "Oh, Rosie," he called. "Is that my son?" "Indeed it is," she answered smiling. "And was that young Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck I saw sneaking up the path to Bungo Smials's farm?"

Sam was prevented from answering when said farmer's screams and insults followed Merry and Pippin as they came running once down the road, this time with Diamond herself in tow. They hid behind a tree on the far side of the road. "Diamond," Pippin said, out of breath, "let's get married!" "Oh, Pip, I'd love it!" Grinning like a pair of fools, the couple embraced while Merry said, "'Married?' If you get married, what am I supposed to do?" Pippin said, "There's always the barmaid." Merry opened his mouth to object, then looked as though maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. "Diamond, I can't believe you would do this to you own father!" The trio immediately tore down the dirt road, screaming, "Quick! To the Green Dragon!"

Sam watched this all happen while standing safely in his doorway, surrounded by the three most important people in his life. "So," his father asked. "Where did you go? What did you do?" "It almost doesn't matter to me," Sam answered. "It's just good to be home. Yes, it's very good indeed."

END

Yay! I finally finished! I know it took forever, and it ended rather abruptly, but I hope you all enjoyed it. I've so enjoyed being able to get your reviews. Thanks again to:

Calico Cat; Celebas, Silver Leaf; Cute Little Legolas; Eccentric Banshee; Gir The Insane Flamin Ninja; Iccle Fairy; Insane Elvish Vampire Pirate And The Demented Hobbit Ninja; Jennifer; The Lady Luthien; Lindahoyland; Melannen Amarie; and Teinesamoa for their reviews.

Please don't hesitate to have a lovely day!

P.S. The whole spell thing up there that you probably couldn't understand is really badly-thrown together Latin. Basically, what it means is:

"The servant freed,

The master resigned,

Link that binds them be gone."

Just in case anyone was wondering.