Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR characters, whose births are credited to J.R.R. Tolkien.

AN: I've realized that my chapters are short. They're short because I name my chapters by place setting, and my thinking and writing are organized by "what do I want to happen at this scene?" I don't think I'm going to change this style any time soon, so I hope I'm not too annoying!


I am lifted to awareness with the sound of clinking armor and rushed men's voices shouting commands and curses as they rush around the room. I raise my head and look around with bleary eyes, searching for someone I recognize.

"Good morning, my lady," greets Legolas. I smile in reply. "The king is moving Edoras to Helm's Deep, as planned. Aragorn is seeing Gandalf off, and then he will be here. I am here to watch over you."

I nod my head in understanding and sip some purified water from my wineskin. I still feel weak, so I lie back down and curl into a ball, in case I need to be transported. My breathing eases out again and my heart rate slows, lulled back to sleep.


The sounds of battle draw me from sleep again. The jostling of the wagon rocks me to awareness as a warg leaps into my vision. Instinctively I scream and my power slashes the beast diagonally from neck to hip.

The orc on top of it jumps onto the wagon and swipes at me with the sword in his hand. I duck and kick his feet out from under him. He falls heavily towards me and I take that moment to grunt and lengthen my toenails to gut him. I succeed in disemboweling him, but the orc grabs my ankle. His grip on his sword weakens and I take it from his hands. I swing down hard, beheading him. Black blood squirts from his neck and I step backwards to avoid it, only to fall onto the ground. The wagon passes over me as the mule pulling it rushes away from the carnage before me.

Most of the first-wave orcs are dead, shot down by Rohan's skilled archers. Riderless wargs feast on dead horses and bite off the faces of dead men. Wounded horses lying on their sides neigh with pure terror in their eyes, while their riders stand defending them from the carnivores. A few of the stragglers attack the defenseless people as they take a detour to their ancient fortress, with the younger unblooded guards trying to warn the beasts away with long sharp lances.

Legolas' golden hair stands out to me, even among the Rohirrim where blond hair is common. He expertly shoots down more of the orcs riding over the ridge in a second wave. The king is shouting commands for the rest of the riders to form up, as he fights off another orc.

"To me! To me! Form the lines! Lines!"

I can't see Aragorn or Gimli anywhere. Presumably, they are safe. Nothing of this level would be able to kill them. But the king's strength is waning, and the riders of Edoras are not as used to long battles as other éored's, having not had to defend the capitol against any major attacks.

I grab a bow and a full quiver of arrows from the body of a young Rider. I let my wings out and fly up so I can survey the battlefield and the next wave of orcs. The purified water has lessened the pain of unfolding my wings and slowed down the rot, but I still lose a few feathers on the ascent. A few of the orcs see me and attempt to shoot me down, but I avoid them easily.

When the second wave is just twenty paces from the line of lances and spears charging towards them, I start a low rumble deep in my chest. With my power, I magnify the sound so it is just enough to distract the wargs from the charge. Deepening the rumble, I disturb the wargs' equilibrium and some of them slow down enough to trip over the paws or be run to the ground by the wargs behind them.

The first of the Rohirrim clash weapons with the wargs. I breathe in deeply, and release a high-pitched scream that distracts all of the non-humans. The horses neigh and rear up on their hind legs. Legolas winces and cries out at the unexpected sound, while Gimli, determination renewed by the shrill battle-cry, pitches forward in battle as he finally wedges himself out of the animal carcasses piled on top of him. The wargs come to a full stop and cower on the ground as their eardrums burst from the sudden pitch change. The orcs unleash a battle-cry in response and the riders attempt to push their steeds onwards, while the fighters on the ground continue to attempt to shoot me down. I send the arrows tumbling down to earth with a powerful gust of wind from my wings.

I fly over the second wave and, letting rage mix with my second cry, I use my power to target the ambushing party; willing warg hearts to stop and orc ears to deafen and bleed. My power isn't enough to kill the rest of them, but paired with my sharpshooting overhead of them, those who I wounded were soon trampled to death by their merciless compatriots.

After emptying two more full quivers, I've killed enough so the king's company easily crushes the remainder party. I fall to my knees when I finally land, the exhaustion from yesterday's journey combining with post-battle lethargy and seeping rot whittling away at my strength.

Gathering more energy, I walk to where Legolas and Gimli have gathered to heckle each other's battle tactics.

"I've killed twenty!" Gimli boasted.

"Are you sure? I could have sworn I saw you pressed under the corpse of Man, Horse, and Warg," Legolas grinned.

"I-! I was just planning a surprise attack!" Gimli answered indignantly. "We dwarves are good at that, you know. We blend in well with rocks. Where would elves or men hide among a treeless land? Nowhere! You'd be spotted instantly!" Gimli grumbles and Legolas smiles indulgently.

"How about you, my lady?" Gimli addresses me when he sees me.

I point at myself and mouth Me?

"I saw you flying up there, and every man, beast, and orc certainly heard that fearsome cry you let loose! How many did you kill?"

I purse my lips, thinking. I honestly don't know. I tap my heart and pretend to shoot arrows, then I shake my head and raise my hands in a shrug. I stopped hearts with sound just as much as I pierced them with arrows, but what about the ones who were trampled?

"Ah, yes, you used magic as well. Well, I prefer to count kills where you actually made contact with them," says Gimli. "I suppose the correct question would be: How many did you actually shoot down?"

I think hard back to the events of the battle. I mostly wounded them enough to stop their movement and then allowed them to be trampled or trip up others near them. But I doubt Gimli would accept another shrug as an answer. I hold up an number of fingers.

"Twenty-five?" Gimli asks.

I nod.

"A neat number, I suppose," he grumbles.

"She has you beat," Legolas laughs cheerily. "How many did you manage to slay after you were pinned beneath those animal carcasses?"

"Twenty-four," Gimli mutters.

"And the twenty-five is only an approximation! She's definitely killed more without having to touch them or strike them with her arrows! My friend, she has us beat," says Legolas.

"Aye, and you as well!" says Gimli.

"And I, too," Legolas agrees.

Gimli grumbles under his breath. "This won't happen again, I won't have it! An Elf killing more monsters than a Dwarf under open sky without the hiding spaces of trees or more arrow supplies! And while the dwarf was crushed by filthy beasts because he did not have the strength to remove himself, like an overturned turtle! This is an embarrassment! Next time, next time I'll best him."

I survey the field for the one face I hadn't seen yet. Legolas joins me, and we share a look as we both fail to find him. I scour the land again, closer, but still no sign of him.

Théoden rides over and asks, "Where is Aragorn?"

Gimli looks up from his mutterings. "Is he not with you?"

Legolas strides forward, intent on circling the battlefield. "Aragorn!"

Gimli calls out, "Aragorn!"

Just then we hear a raspy wheezing laugh from an orc lying on a boulder near the cliff. Gimli is upon him in an instant, axe at the ready. "Where is he? Tell me what happened to him! And I promise I'll ease your passing."

"He went for a little dip in the river," the orc laughs.

Several pairs of eyes look over the rocky jut. Legolas runs over and peers over the edge.

"You lie," hisses Gimli.

The orc laughs again, until it drops away suddenly and his face falls to the side, dead. Gimli strikes the orc with the blunt side of his axe, as if he is trying to knock the truth out of it.

Théoden gives orders to the men checking the dead. "We ride on! Leave the dead." Legolas looks at Théoden with piercing eyes. "We have no time to grieve. The enemy draws near. I must see my people safe." The elf looks at the waters underneath him, futilely scanning the white foam for any sign of his friend.

Théoden sees me watching him over Legolas' shoulder. He moves over and says to me, "I am sorry, my lady."

I bow my head. Théoden looks at me a moment longer, before mounting his horse to rouse his men.

"Move out! Helm's Deep awaits!"

I am walking towards Legolas to urge him away from the edge, when I feel Elvish power close to me. I hear a faint ringing, something calling out to me. Following the humming to its source, I find a white jewel closed in the dead orc's hand, the one who laughed about my son's fall. It is the jewel of the Evenstar, the one I often saw Arwen wearing in Rivendell. It surely belonged to my son. Without a word, I take it from the orc's dead grasp and coax Legolas and Gimli from the battle site.

Aragorn would not have died so easily from a fall such as this. He is destined for greatness, a legend for the ages. I would have felt something if Aragorn had truly died.

Taking Aragorn's companions by their shoulders, I lead them to their horse waiting for them. I pat them comfortingly on their legs and smile at them in reassurance.

"Lady Lyraniel?" a quiet voice behind me sounds. Gamling holds two horse reins in his hand. One horse is obviously his, while the other is riderless.

"The king asked that I find a steed for you. The wagon has run off and we need the space for the wounded. This fine beast lost his master in the battle. His name is Mannon may he serve you well. He gives the reins to me and bows, then he gallops away to the head, undoubtedly to join the king.

Mannon is pawing the ground restlessly. I blow on his nose gently and let him sniff my hand while the other pats his neck and combs his mane. I hum a soothing tune, one I found out years ago was a favorite among horse kind. Even Legolas and Gimli's horse, Arod stopped his grumbling and stands still without complaint as his riders wait for me to mount.

I kiss Mannon twice under his eye. Another riderless horse trots by and nudges me. Then another, and another, until a small herd has formed around me. I smile at them and rub their chins. I unbuckle Amon's saddle and place it atop another riderless horse's saddle. I will ride bareback, like Legolas and Gimli. I chuckle when the other horses nudge my legs. I push them away gently and squeeze gently on Mannon's ribs to lead him to the rest of the king's men.

"He's not really dead. If he's dead, I'll find him and kill him again!" Gimli mutters gruffly. "But he's only a Man. Men are like cockroaches, popping up everywhere! And Aragorn's as resilient as they come! But that fall, that was a mighty fall. I don't even think the stoutest dwarf could have survived that fall. What do you think, elf?"

Legolas says nothing.

"Hmph," Gimli grunts.

We plod on to Helm's Deep in relative silence, interrupted intermittently by Gimli's loud snorts. Soon Gimli began tilting to and fro across the saddle. Frequently Legolas and I catch him just before he topples over, expecting Gimli to bluster through a weak denial of his obvious fatigue, but the stout dwarf did not stir from his rest. Legolas and I grin over the top of the metal helmet.

"Are you weary my Lady?" Legolas asks me in Elvish.

I shake my head.

"You are a powerful foe, indeed. I can see why my father spoke of you with much respect. I am glad to be your ally."

I bow my head respectfully and gesture to his bow and arrow. You as well.

Legolas pauses. "Do you truly believe he is dead?" There is no one else who he could be referring to.

I frown and shake my head again. I place my hand over my heart. I would have felt it if he had died.

Legolas seems somewhat comforted by the thought, and we continue the journey on in silence. I take this chance to listen to whisperings on the winds. From the North, beyond the shouting and metal clanging of industry from Isengard, I can hear the gentle whisperings of the familiar songs of Rivendell.

"He is not coming back. Why do you linger here when there is no hope?"

"There is still hope."

"Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief under the fading trees until all the world is changed and the long years of your life are utterly spent. Arwen, there is nothing for you here. Only death."

I gasp, pulled out of my scrying. Arwen, my faithful friend, may soon be leaving? "My lady," a gentle hand touches mine. Legolas stands beside me. We are in the middle of a bustling street sheltered in the shadow of a mountain. "We're here."

I dismount gingerly, gripping Legolas' hand tightly for support. I pat Mannon on his rump, and scratch his ears. A guard guides him away to the stables, passing the lady Éowyn standing stock-still after the retreating figure of her uncle.

"My lord! My lady!" Gamling strides over. "The king has asked for your presence."

Legolas and I share a look at I squeeze his hand. "What about Gimli?" Legolas asks.

"His presence has been requested as well."

Satisfied with this answer, the three of us journey up the ancient stone steps into the Inner Keep. Legolas supports me with his arm most of the way up.

"My lords," Théoden greets, "my lady," he bows his head towards me, "thank you all for attending. A moment of silence, please, for the fallen in today's ambush." We bow our heads in respect. "We've reached Helm's Deep, the stronghold of our ancestors. We will be safe here, the Enemy cannot breach these walls…" As the king gives a rousing speech to his knights, I listen to familiar voices on the breeze.

"The power of the enemy is growing. Sauron will use his puppet Saruman to destroy the people of Rohan. Isengard has been unleashed. The Eye of Sauron now turns to Gondor, the last free kingdom of Men. His war on this country will come swiftly. He senses the Ring is close. The strength of the Ring-bearer is failing. In his heart, Frodo begins to understand the quest will claim his life. You know this. You have foreseen it."

"I do know this. But I do not intend to help my people to destruction alongside Men."

"It is the risk we all took."

"It is the risk we took when we first faced Sauron, all those decades ago. The Elves have long since fulfilled our role."

"In the gathering dark, the will of the Ring grows strong. It works hard now to find its way back into the hands of Men. Men, who are so easily seduced by its power. The young captain of Gondor has but to extend his hand, take the Ring for his own, and the world will fall. It is close now, so close to achieving its goal. For Sauron will have dominion over all life on this earth, even unto the ending of the world."

"The time of the Elves is over. The time of Man has come. It is their world now, we need only to give it to them."

"Do we leave Middle-Earth to its fate? Do we let them stand alone?"

A sudden convergence of winds from the north and south sweep into the closed hall and I am hit with more sounds. But most clearly, I hear one clear sentence: "The Ring will go to Gondor."

And the shouts of fighting creatures drown out the rest. But not before I hear the tell-tale sign of rushed hooves and heaving breath make its way towards the fortress. I immediately tug on Legolas' sleeve. He looks at me questioningly, but he follows when I pull him towards the gate. I hear it open and, letting go of Legolas' hand, I run down the path towards my son.

I stop when I see him, having ridden the horse to the center of the fortress. He's just swung down when I leap on him, hugging him close. His arms come around me and pats me gently, mindful of the poison. I brush his hair back and look him over for major injuries. He looks as though he should have a bruised rib and a concussion at worst. The blood of Man is strong in him.

He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of my hand. "I'm alright, Mother," he says softly, voice laced with exhaustion. I slip Arwen's gift into his hand and he looks at me in surprise. I smile encouragingly. I support them, after all. Aragorn hugs me first this time, and it is my turn to pat his back.

Gimli's earthy voice rises through the murmurs of the crowd. "Where is he? Where is he?! Get out of the way, I'm gonna kill him!"

When Gimli finally makes it to the head of the crowd, he says in shock, "You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless Man I ever met!" Bless you laddie!" Then he rushes Aragorn and hugs him just as tight as I had.

Aragorn smiles. Then he asks, "Where is the king?" Gimli, with glistening eyes, nods at me. I take his arm into mine and we walk back the way I had come. We are stopped at the door by Legolas, who has not moved since I left him.

"You're late," he greets Aragorn in Elvish. There is a humorous silence between the two as they exchange unspoken words. What did you expect? I imagine Aragorn grinning. Legolas looks him over, shoulder to shoulder and a slight furrow appears before his brows. "You look terrible," he says in concern. Aragorn laughs and Legolas chuckles. They exchange shoulder pats, gripping with strength and clenching with happiness.

Legolas steps aside and Aragorn pushes upon the mighty doors of Théoden's hall. Surprise is written all over the king's face. He stands up slowly, as if seeing a ghost.

"You survived the fall, then," Théoden states.

"Yes, my lord."

"How did you get here?" Théoden asks.

"Brego, my horse, found me and found his way home. And on the way here, I saw something. My lord, I come bearing grim tidings. I have seen a great host marching here. A great host of orcs."

Silence. "Clear the hall!" Théoden orders his men out until all that remain are Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, his new steward Gamling, and me. He looks into the fireplace. "A great host, you say?" Théoden asks stonily.

"All Isengard is emptied," Aragorn answers without hesitation.

"How many?" Théoden's mind starts strategizing.

"Ten thousand strong, at least." Aragorn answers honestly.

Théoden whirls around and whispers, "Ten thousand?"

"It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall."

Théoden comes to a decision and strides out of the room belligerently. "Let them come."

We all share a look. I nod at Legolas and Aragorn, look pointedly after the king, and they understand. They follow him out, no doubt to plan the difficult battle ahead. I walk out to stare across the plain, at the curve of the mountains. The wind blows against my face and I can smell rain upon the wind. Suddenly I feel another presence watching me. Not evil, but familiar. I breathe deep, and a forest smell enters my nostrils. I take a sip of my starlight water. I know who is watching.


Yes, I did transcribe Elrond and Galadriel's monologue, and then edited them to fit my story.

Reviews are always welcome! Because I'd love to know what you guys think about what's happening!