"There is no disgrace in staying behind, not when it's the right thing."
-Nora Roberts

Amelia didn't feel nearly as much of an ache in her thighs as she would have expected when she was finally allowed to dismount her horse, since the long procession had stopped their wandering westwards for a while, to tend to their children and their elderly and to allow the weary people a few hours of rest before they would have to move on. Amelia had been riding through the entire night and was thus relieved to finally get out of the position she had been sitting in for hours on end. She stretched and jumped a little on her feet, but was so tired from staying awake for a day and a night that it didn't take her long to find a comfortable spot on the ground, after pulling her backpack down from her horse. It had been tied to her, like a makeshift saddlebag. She used it as a pillow, as she had many times before and her eyes drooped as she looked up towards the sky.

Then, the sound of voices, low but intense, as if they were having an argument they did not want others to hear, reached her ears and she drowsily turned her head towards it. It looked like Boromir and Aragorn and Amelia vaguely wondered whether Boromir would be foolish enough to suggest that they turn towards Minas Tirith again, but dismissed the idea as nonsensical. She decided to ignore them, even as Aragorn gestured towards her, probably figuring that she had already fallen asleep. It did not take her long to do so indeed, but she woke no more than a few hours later when she was gently shaken awake. It was Legolas, his fair face hovering over her with a slight frown.

"We need to move on. Our rest has ended." He informed her and she groaned, swatting at him with her good hand.

"G'way." She mumbled and nearly fell back into the tempting realm of sleep once again, but he would not relent. He shook her again, a bit rougher, and she shook her head, finally sitting up with a tremendous yawn. "This is just inhumane." She grumbled as she looked up at the sky with bleary eyes. Dawn had broken, the yellow sun rising above the eastern horizon, but it was still early in the day and she shivered, rubbing her arms as she clumsily got to her feet.

"Here." A gentle voice said and she blinked, trying to clear her foggy vision. It was Éowyn, holding out a soft piece of dark bread. "Eat. You will need it. We still have a ways to go and you haven't eaten anything since we left the city behind." Amelia begrudgingly took the large piece of bread and bit into it. It was another thing she had noticed about Middle-Earth, a small detail, but one that she was reminded of every time she ate; since they couldn't filter their flour as well as what Amelia was used to, it wasn't uncommon to find tiny stones in the bread.

"Thanks." Amelia remembered to swallow before she spoke and cringed at the thought of spitting crumbs all over Éowyn. The shield-maiden nodded and turned away, off to find the next person in need of her presence. Amelia watched her go with a mix of admiration and resignation.

She was not pleased to mount her horse again, after she had ensured that her backpack was bound securely to the side of the horse, but she knew that she should feel grateful that she didn't have to walk like the majority of the other people in their abnormally long procession and did not complain for that reason alone. She shuffled uncomfortably in her saddle, readying herself for another few hours of boredom and numbness.

Amelia slid off her horse, slowly, and took its reins to walk beside it as she surveyed the chaos around her. About half an hour after they had gotten underway again, they could see faint trails of smoke rising to the west. Then, they happened upon its source and a profound silence fell upon the entire procession as they saw with their own eyes what had been done to the westfold.

The golden grass had been burned and was charred black and trampled. The sorry remains of a few farms, what had probably been no more than a small farming village, were only the stone foundations of the houses. Thin skeletons of the wood the walls had been made of still stood, charred black and ash grey. The smell of fire was heavy in the air and the smoke made Amelia's eyes water. The carnage stretched for miles, as if some manner of loathsome party had ridden through the riddermark, burning and pillaging wherever they went and pleased.

"Saruman." Éowyn's voice had grown cold again as she mournfully overlooked the burnt remains of the westfold. "His orcs and the dunlendings have caused deep wounds in these lands." Amelia glanced at her, grateful for any excuse to tear her eyes away from the horrible sight.

"Wounds can heal." She looked towards Théoden, whose expression had fallen grim. He didn't dismount his tall horse, but Aragorn and Boromir did, to walk alongside their horses.

Amelia had often wondered what the "burning of the westfold" entailed in detail, but she was nowhere happy with the answer that she received. The corpses of dead horses, even the burnt shapes of a few men, women and children lay strewn around like rag dolls, impaled on crude spears and burned to the point of being unrecognizable, even to close kin.

She walked through it in silence, for she felt that any words of outrage would be inadequate and any words of comfort would feel hollow once they had been spoken.

"Did you know that this would happen?" Boromir sounded more resigned than accusatory, but his words set Amelia on defense immediately. He had approached her, dragged his horse forwards so that he could walk beside her and Éowyn.

"No. I mean, I knew it would, but… not the extent of it." Amelia quashed the urge to start an argument to get her feeling aired and shook her head slightly. "This is… unbelievable." She stepped over the remains of what looked like a broken fence.

"Have you never been in a war?" He asked her and it occurred to her that he probably believed that, even though Moria had been her first fight, she had probably seen war from a distance. It took a few seconds for her to answer.

"No. Never. Not even close. Moria was my first fight. This is my first war. Soon, I'll be in my first battle." Her answer did not seem to please Boromir, who frowned at her with that strange look in his eyes again, the one she couldn't quite place. The fact that she wasn't certain how to read him only served to irritate her. "What?"

"Should you not refrain from taking part in this… battle that you are sure that is to come?" Amelia gaped at him, as if he had suggested something utterly outrageous.

"No!" She exclaimed, refusing to remain in safety for the second time. "Aragorn already tried and I told him- Did he put you up to this?" She accused, knowing full well that Aragorn wouldn't dare. "And why are you so concerned all of a sudden? Wait a minute…" Her eyes narrowed at him as she realized, at last, what the feeling that she couldn't read was. "You're… actually concerned."

"Should I not be? You said it yourself; we shouldn't be here. The others may be fated to live or doomed to die, but we…"

"I know." The anger seeped out of her, leaving only faint annoyance behind. "Technically… No, I shouldn't tell you that. I can't tell you that. We're the enigmas in the fight, so… tell you what, I'll make you a deal." Boromir raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, you have my attention." Amelia grinned half-heartedly at him.

"I'll watch your ass, make sure to get you out of there somewhat intact. You return the favor." Boromir hesitated, but then he nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Very well." He agreed and Amelia's grin widened into a far more sincere one.

"Awesome." Silence reined for a little while, but then Amelia caught Éowyn looking at her with a strange little smile and she raised her eyebrows at her. Boromir ignored the both of them once again. "What are you smirking at?" It could hardly be described as a smirk, but Amelia decided to be optimistic for the sake of her new friend.

"Merely an old thing that I have seen many times before." Was the cryptic answer and Amelia rolled her eyes.

"Thanks a bunch. Very helpful. That explains so much." Éowyn nearly laughed, but then she disappeared behind her cold mask again and they were left to travel through the wasteland in silence.

To one not experienced with such things, it would seem as if the chaos of Saruman's forced would never see an end, but like all things it did and the hills began to grow steeper. It was nearing noon and Amelia could hear the distant churning of a river. The golden grass had become rather green and more boulders were scattered across the landscape than before. For some reason, it made Amelia uneasy.

"We will reach Helm's Deep soon." Éowyn reassured her. "Everything will be fine. You'll see."

"I know." Amelia mumbled, her eyes flittering about and she tightened her grip on the reins of the horse. Small bushes and trees were scattered around them and Amelia noticed that a little ahead of them, at the top of the tall hill they were crossing, stood Legolas like a statue, overlooking what lay behind the hill. Then, distant shouting and snarling reached her ears and she stiffened, suddenly remembering that they were not to reach Helm's Deep without their fair share of troubles. Then, an inhuman scream, probably from a dying horse, came from beyond the hill and Aragorn rushed ahead.

"Éowyn…" Amelia's hand shot out involuntarily and grasped Éowyn's. "It's wargs. Warg scouts. They're just behind that hill, we… we have to go!" The shrill scream of an orc reached her ears and she saw that Legolas had rushed down the hill, assumingly to kill the orc riding the warg with a well-placed shot from his bow. Amelia's horse suddenly pulled on its reins and made a loud, distressed sound and Amelia immediately let it go, scrambling backwards as it jumped and bucked at the smell of approaching enemies.

"Aragorn, what do you see?" Théoden called as he rode up to meet Aragorn, who was rushing back down the hill.

"Wargs, we're under attack!" Aragorn shouted wildly and Amelia felt Éowyn's grip on her hand tighten.

"Friggin' called it!" Amelia spat the words out, despite the fear she felt as she remembered the muscular, wolf-like creatures that the wargs were. As Aragorn reached them, Éowyn quickly handed him Brego's reins and he swung himself up. Panic seized the peasants alongside them and Amelia turned her head around wildly, intent on finding Boromir and Gimli in the crowd. She quickly spotted the dwarf attempting to get up on his horse, insisting that he didn't need any help, but Boromir was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Boromir?" She yelled, but no one heard her, too preoccupied with their own terror to notice her yelling. Distant barking caught her attention and her worry spiked upwards.

"You must lead the people to Helm's Deep and make haste." She heard Théoden say to Éowyn. He had ridden back to them, but Éowyn did not look pleased with his command as she attempted to mount her horse.

"I can fight…" She began hotly, but her uncle would hear none of it.

"No!" He exclaimed harshly, without looking regretful afterwards. "You must do this…" He lowered his voice as Amelia rushed towards Éowyn again. "For me." She heard him plead and Amelia felt a surge of anger towards the king, for his playing dirty. Then, Théoden turned away from his niece and rode up the hill once again.

"Follow me!" He called to the riders and Amelia spotted Aragorn riding towards him. Then, she caught sight of Boromir on his horse, riding up the hill as well and she bit her cheek in the frustration of her having made a promise not to get into any fights before the battle of Hornburg.

"Éowyn!" Amelia called and reached out with her good arm. The shield-maiden gave her a hard look. "We can do this. You can do this." Amelia tried to reassure her, but it didn't seem to work, as she was pointedly ignored.

"Make for the lower road! Stay together!" Éowyn called and Amelia looked back over her shoulder at Aragorn, Boromir and Gimli riding off to fight without her and, for a moment, she understood Éowyn in feeling like a bird in a cage.

"Christ on a bike, that damned man is going to be the death of me…" Amelia mumbled, feeling that the sentence applied to every one of her friends, before she rushed down the slope to catch up to Éowyn, who was helping an old woman up. She had stumbled and fallen and Amelia caught her other arm. Together, Éowyn got her back on her feet and then, there was only running, running and thinking and thinking led to worrying and worrying made Amelia irrationally angry. Angry at her friends for riding off without her, angry at herself for allowing herself to get injured and angry at the world for placing her into such a situation at all.

True to Éowyn's word though, they only had to run for about thirty minutes before they came down from another hill and they could see the solid structure of Helm's Deep, nestled in a ravine, ready to house and welcome them to temporary safety and refuge from whatever foulness might have awaited them, had they stayed out in the plains for much longer. The thirty minutes had been rushed and filled with frights and fear, and Amelia's side stung after her sprint, but the promise of safety made her willing to endure it for the small while it would take for them to enter the Hornburg.

The keep was massive and solid, strong and old and Amelia though that it looked like it had endured many hardships, but come out of them all the stronger for it.

"Wow…" She breathed with an impressed smile, but it didn't seem like anyone heard her. Cries of "Helm's Deep!" and "We're saved!" rang through the long procession and Amelia locked eyes with Éowyn, who gave her an exhausted, melancholic smile, nodded her head at her and then made her way down the hill, looking every inch a daughter of kings.

A pair of guards, clad in chainmail and carrying spears, pushed the large, heavy doors into the Hornburg open and it swung inwards to reveal high walls of stone and a statue, perched proudly on a high pedestal overlooking whoever entered the keep. He bored a helmet of rohirric design and a large horn at his side, making Amelia assume that it was a statue of Helm Hammerhand, the namesake of the keep. The refugees spilled inside, overjoyed to have reached their destination at last and, in a rare moment of thinly veiled weakness, Amelia leaned against a carriage carrying sacks of food and sparse medicine, mindful of her still sore wound, allowed her weariness to show on her face. She felt close to weeping at the loss of her backpack, since her horse had disappeared and her backpack had been tied to it. She felt gaunt and ragged, but she reminded herself that compared to those she had traveled with, she looked like a Lady. Then, she frowned, willing herself to indulge the thought, since no one paid her any mind for the moment and she didn't have anywhere to be.

She reached the surprising conclusion that, while she was plain at best by her own standards, by the standards of the men of Middle-Earth, she was in perfect health and not bad-looking. While the faces of the folk surrounding her were gaunt, their skin stretched over their bones, her face was bordering on curvy and, compared to their sallow complexions, she looked to be at the prime of her life, with reasonably clear skin and a healthy look about her. Her teeth weren't blinding, but they were clear and straight, rather than yellowed and none of them were broken. Her eyes shone clearer than the peasants', for she knew that she had more to look forward to in the future than another day working the field or bowing to a king. She had never truly considered how much her good nutrition, dental visits and soaps might have done for her as a child. The thought made her feel odd, though not in a bad manner, but did nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that had settled in her bones and she felt her eyes drooping, even as she stood alone, with only her thoughts for company. Éowyn was busy directing supplies and assuring the frightened women that their men, brothers and sons would return from the fight.

"Make way for Théoden! Make way for the king!" She heard the words shouted and she whirled around, the clench in her chest only growing worse as she did not recognize any of the men returning to the keep, save from the king on his white horse. She rushed after the procession, who had ridden inside the keep and swung themselves down from their steeds when they reached a small plaza, probably designed specifically for that. She tried to ignore the fact that the numbers of the riders had diminished somewhat, compared to the amount of riders who had ridden against the wargs.

"Our people are safe." She heard Théoden tell Éowyn, who was pale and had a worried look on her fair face. "We have paid for it with many lives." He helped an injured man off his brown horse.

"My lady…" Amelia saw Gimli, without his helmet, walking towards Éowyn and leaning on his axe.

"Lord Aragorn… where is he?" Éowyn asked carefully, as if she feared the answer she knew that she would get. Gimli's breath hitched slightly.

"He fell." His voice was mournful and solemn and, for a moment, Éowyn's face fell and she gave her uncle a desperate look. He did not correct the dwarf and before Amelia could assure her that the ranger was fine, she rushed away, her golden hair bouncing with each quick step.

"Gimli." Amelia stepped towards the dwarf, who sighed at her. "He's… Aragorn will… he'll meet us here later." Gimli's eyes brightened considerably and a weak smile crossed his face.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. I'm tired as heck too, but, well… that doesn't have anything to do with him. He just took a bit of a… a detour."

"Then at least there are some good news." She whirled around to see Boromir, with a large bruise blossoming on his jaw and her eyes widened.

"Boromir…" She took his face in her hands to inspect the bruise, gently tipping his head back. "What happened?" The bruise went down his neck as well, but his jaw had been hit the hardest.

"An orc nearly took his head off." Gimli chipped dryly and Amelia gave him an incredulous look. "Keyword being 'nearly'."

"I can see that." Amelia turned back to Boromir, whose face she still cradled in her palms. "God help me, if they'd taken your head off, shoulder be damned, I'd have ridden back to slaughter every one of the assholes myself." She stopped herself, confused at her strong words and the sincerity behind them. Boromir's mouth quirked slightly upwards.

"Then it's a good thing they didn't. Have you had a change of bandages yet?" Amelia blinked at him and her mouth formed a small 'o' as her hands fell to hand at her side.

"You know, I don't think I have. I might have to get that fixed, but I'm not about to drop dead. I'll wait until after the orcs come here." She had lowered her voice, as to not incite a mass panic in the people still surrounding them. "Until after the fight. If I'm dead by then, I won't need them. If I'm alive but others need bandages more, I'll wait until they've gotten what they need. Don't spread the word, but I don't think we have a lot of supplies, medicine and food, you know." Boromir looked worried at that prospect.

"If you catch an infection…"

"If I haven't yet, I doubt I will before tomorrow." Amelia crossed her arms, prepared to fight with tooth and nail for her right to put herself in danger of dying from a wound weeks old by then. Surprisingly, Boromir rubbed his face with his hand and sighed.

"I know better than to argue with you when you are being like this." He muttered and Amelia grinned triumphantly.

"Good to know that you're acknowledging my stubbornness at last. Now, I'm sure someone around here has something for me to do… and I should probably tell Éowyn that her latest crush is not, in fact, dead as dead can be. Catch you guys later." Amelia hurried off to find Éowyn, feeling Gimli's and Boromir's eyes resting on her for a while before she was sure that they had turned away, to tend to other matters. She didn't know where she ought to look to put herself to good use, but knew that there would be plenty of work to be done before nightfall. With her head held high, she sped her pace, studying each face and their hollow eyes closely as she passed them and a grim determination settled in her gut, that she would fight for them and perhaps die in the process, but it would be final, hopefully swift and worth it in the end.