So, funny story. I posted a second note on here to update everyone on what's happening, right? Explaining how I was looking for a new beta-reader because Verity was too busy and hadn't contacted me in a while? Well... a few minutes after posting it, she messaged me saying she is able to get back into betaing - *insert face palm* SO, she went through this chapter and finished about two days later, then I got super busy and didn't manage to edit the chapter accordingly - *insert another face palm* but hey, here's chapter 13 in all it's glory, FINALLY! Also, Verity is going over chapter 14 this week ;) and I have chapter 15 almost halfway written. Thank you Verity!

I hope you forgive me for the insane wait and enjoy this chapter!

I love every single one of you!

Legolas POV

I feel a surge of anxiousness, and want to hurry with our business in Edoras. I want to be able to meet up with Harry sooner. However, I know that this cannot be done, and am left staring at the guard blocking our path to King Theoden. I slip a hand into my tattered clothes to slide my dagger out, and then I handed it over. Hama takes it carefully with a grateful smile as I reluctantly hand over my bow and quiver also, with a barely there frown present throughout the exchange. While I am certain in my own abilities without them, it is still strange to hand them over.

"Keep them unharmed, for they are gifts to me from the Lady of Lothlorien."

There's a smile threatening to escape as Gimli glared up at the Doorwarden, his axe held firmly as though ready to attack. Gandalf looks unfazed by the request, though Aragorn also wears a deep frown which looked almost as if it was etched into his mouth.

"It is not my will to allow Anduril into the hands of others," Aragorn states, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.

"It is the will of Theoden," Hama replies smoothly, patiently waiting for the rest of the groups weaponry.

"I am the heir of Gondor, and friend of the Theoden King."

I make sure to keep my face blank, the amusement that wants to show is hard to restrain when listening to Aragorn's words. There's puzzlement in the Doorwarden's gaze now, as though trying to figure out how to get Aragorn to relinquish the weapon. The expression is gone a few moments later as the male points his own weapon towards us, barring our path even more.

"This is the house of Theoden, not Aragorn." He seems to want to say more, but Gandalf speaks before Aragorn.

"It is useless to refuse Theoden's demand, for he shall have his way in his own hall. Whether that will is folly or wisdom," Gandalf stated, though Aragorn still hesitates in complying.

"I would comply if this were only a woodman's cot, and I had any other but Anduril."

I almost felt like sighing, for this is just prolonging what we came here to accomplish. By taking longer to finish this, we prolong the time it will take before Harry is back with us. The weight of his wand is heavy in my pocket, hidden to everyone but myself. If I focus on it enough, then it will feel as though it gets warmer through the fabric. Truly, despite Gandalf saying the young wizard is okay and headed for Helms Deep, a knot of worry continues to grow deep inside me. Anything could happen by then, or could have already happened. My chest throbs at the thought, and I quickly focus back on the conversation around me.

"If you do not lay your sword here, then you will fight alone against all of Edoras." Hama states, gesturing where my weapons lay against the wall.

"No, not alone!" Gimli growls out, glaring heatedly at the guard.

"We are all friends here, or our only reward shall be the laughter of Mordor!" Gandalf cuts in, "Here is my sword, goodman, Hama. It is named Glamdring for it was forged by Elves long ago. Keep it safe." Gandalf hands the sword over.

Hama takes it gently, and places it with my own. Gandalf looks expectantly at Aragorn.

"Come now, Aragorn," he urges the stubborn man.

"Very well," Aragorn slowly releases his sword, but still keeps Hama from taking it, opting to put it next to Glamdring himself. "Do not let anyone touch this sword, or draw it from it's sheath. For if anyone other than Elendil's heir were to do so, death would find them – swiftly."

I absently wonder if Aragorn is enjoying himself, a little, or maybe a little too much. I notice a small smirk in his eyes as the Doorwarden pales and steps back from the weapon. Hama's eyes are filled with awe only moments later, and I have to swallow an undignified snort at the change in reaction.

"It seems that you have come on the wings of a song, out of the forgotten days. It shall be as you command, My Lord." He turns to Gimli next, who is still glaring, but shrugs.

"Well, since it will have Anduril as company, then my axe may stay without shame." Gimli lays his axe on the floor next to Aragorn's sword, and we all look at Hama expectantly. The Doorwarden hesitates though, glancing at Gandalf's staff.

"The staff Gandalf Greyheiml, it too must be left behind."

"Such discourtesy! I am old, and if I may not lean on my stick then I will wait here until Theoden decides to hobble out himself."

I smiled faintly, Aragorn's laughter ringing out around us as he speaks, "Every man has something which is too dear to impart to another. Would you part an old man from his support?"

"My Lord, a staff in the hands of a wizard can be more than simply a stick to lean on. Yet I believe you to be friends and not here with an evil purpose. You may pass." Hama left the entryway, allowing us to pass through, his weary gaze, however, did not leave Gandalf's staff.

We all stepped inside, the guards watched from the edges of the room, as we neared they eyed us warily. The air was heavier than it had been on the other side of the large doors. I gazed around the large hall, noting the dancing shadows cast by dim lights and bright sunbeams streaming through the eastern windows. As my eyes adjusted, the floor beneath our feet became clearer, showing runes and diverse colors. The large pillars were beautifully carved, shining with similar colors along with rich golden leaf. Aragorn's gaze had fallen to the artfully wrought tapestries hanging upon the wall, glued to a young man on a white horse whom blew a great horn; clearly charging into battle.

"Behold, Erol the Young!" he said, a smile twitching at the corner of my mouth. "Thus he rode out of the North to the Battle of the Field of Celebrant."

None acknowledged Aragorn's words as we continued forward, beyond a burning hearth. We stopped at the far end of the hall, and there stood a dias with three steps which faced the north, towards the doors. I studied the man sitting upon a grand throne upon the dias; he was bent with age and had a pale, sickly parlour to his skin. His white hair was worn in braids beneath a thin golden circlet upon his brow and a white stone on his forehead. It was not how I had imagined King Theoden to look. The only reasonable explanation was the magic of Saruman.

Despite the tense atmosphere, I could feel my thoughts straying to a different path even as I remain aware of our surroundings. I tried to keep the other path at bay, hearing Gandalf and Wormtongue arguing, the guards becoming more defensive. Finally, the urge becomes to great and let my mind stray as those around me continued to talk and argue. The last thing I am aware of is the feel of Gandalf's magic swirling around us.

I can still clearly remember being told about the new visitor to Rivendell, however, I believed I was unlikely to even cross the guests path. I went to visit the garden and that was where I first saw him. He was sitting against the old Cypress tree, and I recall how his body tensed as soon as I was just a few feet away. Harry had piqued my interest that day; I hadn't made a sound walking into the garden, and yet he still noticed my presence even before I was there. I had thought that would be the only time we would meet, and I tried to shrug the interest away – I knew that it was likely there would be a group formed to destroy the ring and I felt that I'd be a part of it. So there was no point in lingering on the thoughts of a man I would never see again. Then his eyes met mine and my breath was almost taken away by the bright emerald green orbs. They were filled with warring emotions, I knew that he knew war, grief and loss, but happiness had been a part of his life too.

When Lindir had said that Lord Elrond wished Harry to join us, I felt relief that our meeting would not be cut short, but there was a curiosity about the strange guest too; a desire to know him more. Harry actually joining the Fellowship had been the last thing I had expected, as was the show of an odd sort of magic he had used to calm Frodo, and then again to get everyone's attention. His magic was nothing like I had seen before, and it filled me with a wonder I had not felt in the many long years of my life. The emerald eyed wizard had already left a deep impression inside me. I let those first days travelling together wash over me; the first night when Harry didn't eat or sleep, the second night when he woke in a panicked sweat not relaxing until he thought everyone was still asleep.

By the end of the first week together, he had barely said anything unless prompted to, ate sporadically, and only sleeping very little. That odd interaction with the snake – which I still haven't gotten answers to – made me more curious still. Then when I found out Harry slept better with some form of protection, the first time being my hand on his shoulder; a reminder that he was safe — as safe as any of us could be.

In Moria, though, I felt my affection steadily grow. His skill with magic was hard to get past, the determination like fire in his gaze, the tremble in his body every so often making me wonder what happened to him in the past. I was awed that it didn't completely break him. I have lost count how many times we have saved each other's lives or comforted one another.

When he had 'died' I wasn't sure what to do. The relief at knowing Harry would be okay was overwhelming and made me impatient for when he would open his eyes and heal completely. To be able to talk to him again, to be able to hear the truth from him and not from Death. Finding out that Harry is going to live a similar life span as me solidified everything that I had been trying to ignore, to hide from myself, Harry and the others. I wasn't afraid of having to watch him grow old and die; we could grow together for thousands of years, I could be with the wizard I had fallen in love with. The last question, a question that plagued my mind, did he feel the same?

Harry POV

Wiping sweat away with the back of my palm, I absently cast a cooling charm again. It's only been two days since the snake guided me out of the forest. I have had to rely on magic to be an extra set of 'eyes' and 'ears' during the day as well as night. Any extra protection I can get along with shield, disillusionment, and detection charms are used at their full capacity, especially as I rest when I am most vulnerable to attack. Between restlessness, nightmares and wishing to meet up with the others again, there hasn't been very much resting at all. I feel my body shiver faintly at the memory of my most recent nightmare - though thankfully it was not a real memory.

I quickly brush it away, replacing the images with thoughts of Legolas, memories of the last time I had seen him.

'Does he still have my wand? I doubt not keeping it safe would even cross the Elf's mind. Hopefully he has healed, though I needn't worry since the wounds had fully closed by the time my Protego had fallen. I'm just glad I woke up when I did, and the Uruk-Hai were being attacked by a different group of men. It was enough of a distraction for me to safely escape.'

I feel my magic snap around me, mingling with the natural magic that's rising to meet it, making it almost difficult to tell them apart. More anxious to reach Helms Deep and reunite with Legolas and the others, I begin running, hoping to close the distance faster.

After a few hours it becomes apparent that the extra distance traversed in that time was near pointless. A large group of Orcs reach the edge of my senses, the natural magic alerting me; the Orcs are moving quickly, too many to go up against my own. I don't have much choice.

'If I could just Apparate to Helms Deep, that would be very convenient.'

The group comes closer, and I stop running. There's likely a little less than half an army's worth. I wouldn't be able to outrun them, the invisibility cloak is an option,but they would likely sniff me out – I had learnt all I could about the enemies of this land, both in Rivendell and from Legolas. I frown, knowing there's no time. Their stench fills my nose, and my eyes snapped open. I am not sure when I even closed them. I watch the Orcs form a small ring around me, sniffing the air and grumbling about fresh meat. One thing I learnt is that they are carnivorous.

I scrunch up my nose, slipping my wand into my palm. I can feel it as many of them twitch with excitement, inching forwards.

'Sorry Legolas, I am going to be a little later than planned. Please be safe,' I think to myself as I pull out my sword. The Orcs converge on me like one giant wave.