"Every parting gives a foretaste of death, every reunion a hint of the resurrection."
-Arthur Schopenhauer

Amelia felt that her latest idea was both her best and her worst one to date. A neatly orchestrated escape attempt, to follow the king of Rohan, Gandalf the White, whom she still needed to talk to in depth, Aragorn, Boromir, Éomer, Legolas and Gimli, who had ridden off towards Isengard early the next morning, in the hope that they would reach Isengard the day after if they rode quickly. In the distance, in the direction of Isengard, one could see a column of rising smoke and Amelia knew that she would not be allowed to go with them if she asked. She played the role of the passive patient and let them ride off, but even with her arm in a sling and her body weak, she still managed to slip on her torn sweater, with some reluctant help from one of the nurses, sling her backpack over her shoulder and steal a horse, since no one were really watching who took which steed. Riding with only one hand available proved an immense challenge, but Amelia steeled herself and managed well enough, even if her steering was faulty and every step the horse took sent a painful jolt through her arm.

It took her more than a day to catch up to them, for she rode through the night even though she was exhausted. She knew that the seven riders were likely to rest in the night and thus she spurred her horse on, letting it rush after its fellows. It was a low, grey mare, but a fast one and she spotted the distant glow of a fire late in the night. She knew that if she had spotted the fire, Legolas would have spotted her in return, even from such a distance and in the darkness of the night, and she doubted that he would let the others ride on when he knew that she was following them. She slowed the pace of the horse with some difficulty and trotted towards the fire. It was at the edge of dense forest, nestled between two hills in a good position, and she slid off her horse to walk the final distance. Her arm ached and she had to resist the temptation to roll her shoulders. She knew that it would only worsen the dull pain.

Legolas met her halfway, taking the reins of her horse out of her hand.

"You should not have come." Amelia felt her ire rising at his gentle reprimanding.

"Well, I did. I'm not leaving either." Legolas smiled warmly at her and Amelia thought that she saw a hint of approval in his eyes.

"I should have known better than to leave you at the keep." He began walking towards the fire and Amelia followed, feeling the wind on her skin through the holes in her sweater. "You scarcely let him out of your sight for more than a few hours." Amelia blinked at him, feeling that his words were untrue.

"You know that's not true. I haven't exactly been able to nag him while I've been lying in a bed and resting, you know, like the good girl I am." Legolas looked like he was on the verge of laughing at her description of herself.

"One learns to know what to look for after you've lived for as long as I have." Amelia grimaced at him, disliking the direction of the conversation. "I am not surprised to find that you have followed us, though I was surprised to see you riding a horse. Boromir has said that you dislike riding almost as much as you dislike him."

"I don't dislike Boromir!" Amelia snapped at the elf, but then she realized that she had walked right into his trap and she shoved his shoulder with her good hand at the sight of his triumphant smile. "Shut up, elf." Legolas laughed, a soft, low sound and side by side, they walked down the hill. Aragorn stood up as he heard their footsteps and he immediately hurried to Amelia's side with a displeased expression.

"You should not have followed us."

"Are you really surprised that I did though?" Amelia sat down heavily in front of the fire, relieved to be able to shrug her backpack off. She had carried it on her good shoulder only. Aragorn sighed and sat down beside her, gently touching her arm. She hissed and made to pull away. He gave her a grim look.

"You might have undone hours of work by riding a horse. Sit still." He touched her arm again and she grit her teeth, obeying him for once.

"If I'd known you'd be such a mother hen about it, perhaps I wouldn't have followed you." She muttered grumpily and she heard Gimli chortle.

"I am unfamiliar with the term." Théoden was standing, with his hands resting casually on the hilt of his sword. He watched her with guarded, but not unfriendly eyes.

"It means he's a worrier, and that he pesters me about it for hours if I so much as break a nail."

"You've broken a bit more than a nail this time." Aragorn's dry remark made Amelia laugh a bit.

"Alright, alright. I'm fine. Don't worry, I am. And, I mean, riding a horse hurts, but I can do it. It's not like I have a choice now, is it?" She glanced at Gandalf's white shape, sitting on a boulder with his elegant staff leaning against his legs. He sent her a good-natured wink.

"Forgive me, I do not remember encountering you before." Éomer stepped forwards. He was in his armor, but without his helmet. Amelia shrugged with her unhurt shoulder.

"That's because you haven't. Name's Amelia. I tag along with these idiots and get myself into trouble wherever I go." She threw her head towards Aragorn, Boromir, Gandalf, Legolas and Gimli, who sat sharpening his axe, his helmet on the ground beside him. "Introductions are unnecessary; I already know more about anyone here than I'd like." Aragorn finally stopped his inspection of her arm and resorted to sitting beside her, keeping an eye on her movements instead.

"I see." Éomer looked slightly unnerved by her strange introduction, but he didn't seem to outright dislike her yet. "Where do you hail from?" He didn't seem inclined to call her "my lady" and a small bit of relief appeared in Amelia's chest at that.

"You wouldn't have heard of it." Amelia looked down at the faded word on the sweater. "It's not exactly… close."

"Very well." Èomer nodded and walked over to sit beside his uncle, who still looked suspicious of Amelia.

"I talked to Éowyn before I left." Amelia suddenly said, carefully watching Éomer for his reaction. "She didn't seem too happy with you riding off again without her."

"It has been long a time since she was happy thus." Éomer answered nonchalantly and Amelia raised her eyebrows at him. Before she could say a word, Gandalf spoke.

"My friend, you have horses, and deeds of arms, and the free fields; but she, being born in the body of a maid, has a spirit and courage least the match of yours." Amelia smirked to herself at Gandalf's wise words and she looked at Aragorn, who had pulled out his pipe, electing to change the subject.

"So… Isengard?"

"What will we find there?" Gandalf asked her kindly, but carefully. Amelia saw no harm in telling him outright.

"Two of our favorite hobbits hanging out with a bunch of trees. They ought to have pillaged and plundered Saruman's private larder quite thoroughly by now." Gandalf snorted softly.

"Hobbits." His murmur made Amelia smile a silly smile.

"Yup. They basically just flooded the whole of Isengard. We'll arrive to see Saruman locked up in his tower…" She glanced over at Théoden. "With an old friend of yours for company."

"Gríma Wormtongue?" Aragorn asked her and she nodded at him.

"The one and only." She couldn't gauge Théoden's reaction to her revelation in the dim lighting. "I probably wouldn't have come if I didn't have the chance to see Merry and Pippin again though."

"You would have." Boromir spoke for the first time since her arrival and she had to agree with his statement.

"Of course I would." Suddenly, Boromir frowned at her.

"Did you steal a horse?" Amelia blinked at him and the hint of a blush rose in her cheeks.

"Well, you didn't leave me much choice, did you? Riding off without me and leaving me to stay put-"

"The rohirrim price their horses and steeds highly." Éomer interrupted with a deep frown and Amelia cringed a bit.

"Yeah, but I figured, since you lost more men than horses and I already rode that one," She nodded at the horse, at the outskirt of their camp. "I figured no one would be left to claim it."

"As much as I dislike your methods, Lady Amelia, I find myself inclined to agree with you." Amelia's eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets at Théoden's words. "Too many men were lost in the battle for us to bear those who would now use their things for good any ill will."

"Well… good then." Amelia stared at him, surprised by how he seemed to have forgotten their earlier disagreements, but then, she reasoned, the deaths of his people had to weigh heavier on his conscience than his own bad manners.

"You could have accompanied the Lady Éowyn back to Edoras." Boromir butted in again and Amelia gave him the look she had begun to reserve exclusively for him and his thick head. She was about to give him a sharp retort, but that wasn't the sentence that came out of her mouth.

"Would you really have come back for me?" She asked sourly, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, indeed I would." Boromir answered quickly and Amelia gave him a strange look, but then the moment was broken when she leaned over and smacked Gimli upside the head for snorting a loud laugh to himself at the sight of them.

"We all should get some sleep." Aragorn clapped her gently on her good shoulder. "You need your rest."

"Rest, rest and more rest is all I get nowadays." Amelia grumped, though it had barely been more than two days since the battle. She would never admit it, but riding after the men had tired her more than she had expected and she was glad to be able to rest with her head against her backpack, like she had done so many times before. For a moment, she was almost able to convince herself that it was the Fellowship resting around her, that Gandalf's battle with the balrog and the hobbits' abduction had never forced them to part, but then the moment was over and she was left in a strange land surrounded by a king, a ranger, a captain, a wizard, a marshal, a prince and a dwarf.

As Amelia found out, Éomer was actually a deeply pleasant man. He was polite, but not overly so, and it did not take much for one to reach a sense of familiarity with him. Amelia rode beside him in the procession, with Gandalf leading the way on Shadowfax, his horse, through the dense forest surrounding Isengard, and he was adept at making pleasant conversation to pass the time where Amelia was quite horrid at it. At Éomer's gentle prodding, she began to reluctantly tell stories from her childhood, but it quickly escalated into telling all about the various shenanigans she and Tobias had gotten themselves into. Sebastian had never been much of a troublemaker. The worst he ever did was when his younger siblings dragged him along into their adventures.

"So there I am, holding up the ladder while Tobias is placing the bucket in place and Sebastian is standing guard when he suddenly starts yelling that mom is coming, yeah? And I just completely panic and I let go of the ladder and of course it falls. Problem was, Sebastian hadn't placed the bucket on the door yet and when he falls, the bucket falls with him and we all get this shower of worms and bugs and insects, it was…" She grimaced with an overly exaggerated shudder. "Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced. So, when mom comes in, all she sees is her three kids, covered in mud and insects and gnats and she just makes this helpless sort of 'why?'-gesture at us." Éomer laughed slightly at her and Amelia turned her head to see Aragorn and Gimli grinning as well. "After that, I never really liked bugs much. I'm not scared of them, they just creep me out and with good reason. I was traumatized!" Amelia laughed at herself as her horse stepped over a fallen log on the path. She held up her good arm to lift a branch out of her way.

"My own cousin and I were much like you and your brothers." Éomer sounded much more casual far quicker than Amelia would have expected. She had gotten used to formalities. "My sister though, she always kept her…"

"Dignity?" Amelia grinned. "That sounds like her. She's hardcore."

"Since I am unfamiliar with the term I am inclined to agree with you." Amelia laughed again and adjusted her arm, the one in the sling.

"We approach Isengard." Théoden's call gave Amelia cause to sober as, between the treetrunks, a high wall approached. A massive hole was in it, leading into what remained of the gardens of Isengard. Two small shapes, with curly hair and large feet, sat upon it. They were smoking pipes and laughing at each other. Then, one of them waved energetically and stood up, throwing his arms out as Gandalf stopped his horse in front of them.

"Welcome, my lords…" Merry shouted happily. "To Isengard!"

"I shouldn't be surprised to see you two lounging about." Amelia called as she made her horse step forwards, to stand beside Gandalf's.

"You young rascals!" Gimli shouted and Amelia caught Aragorn looking like he was going to laugh at the dwarf. "You've led us on and now we found you… feasting and… and smoking!" He shook his finger at the pipe Pippin waved joyfully at him.

"We are sitting, on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Pippin corrected the dwarf and Amelia shook her head fondly. "The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" Amelia could see the dwarf's mouth practically watering at the words.

"Hobbits." Gandalf muttered again and Amelia grinned.

"Goddamn, it's good to see you two again." Her voice was warm and Pippin frowned at her arm.

"What happened to you?"

"I got blown up." Pippin raised his eyebrows in interest. "Bit of a long story."

"Well, we're under the orders of Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard." Merry declared proudly and Amelia sighed wistfully.

"Wish I could have seen the ents here. The look on Saruman's face must have been priceless."

"Indeed it was!" Merry cried and Gandalf led his horse forwards. Carefully, Merry was placed on the back of Éomer's horse and Pippin on the back of Amelia's as they rode into Isengard. A layer of muddy water covered the ground and the horses trudged through it, sloshing and splashing. Broken machinery and something that looked like a dead tree lay about, but Amelia's eyes were led to the giant shape slowly approaching them.

The tower of Orthanc, the tower in the middle of Isengard, loomed over them, tall and black, all jagged edges and black balconies and Amelia wondered to herself how anyone had ever thought that the tower was not a place of evil in the first place.

"Young master Gandalf!" A creaking voice spoke and Amelia turned her head towards the hulking shape walking towards them. It was a mix between a giant and a tree. It was covered in moss, leaves and twigs and its voice sounded like the creaking of treetrunks in a strong wind. Deep, thoughtful eyes looked down at them. "I'm…" He hummed, the sound creaking like branches in the wind, "Glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there is a wizard to be tamed here." Treebeard looked ancient and Amelia recalled Gandalf saying that he had wandered Middle-Earth for three hundred lifetimes. It that was the truth, then how old was Treebeard, to call the wizard 'young'? It showed on his weathered face, in his ancient eyes, how long he had actually lived. "Locked in his tower he is."

"And there Saruman must remain." Gandalf sounded quite intent. "Under your guard, Treebeard."

"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." Gimli's exclamation didn't get him much positive attention.

"No." Gandalf didn't even look at the dwarf. "He has no power anymore. We need him to talk."

"Gandalf…" Amelia vaguely recalled the damage that Saruman had wrought, even after he had been defeated at Isengard. "Don't underestimate him. He's not powerless, just kind of… beaten."

"I know all too well the power of Saruman." Gandalf didn't sound as confident as his words did.

"But…" Amelia sighed. "Ah, there's no use arguing with you." Gandalf raised his bushy eyebrows at her.

"Why, you've certainly changed, my dear." He mumbled and looked away again.

"Said Gandalf the White." Amelia's dry comment didn't get an answer and all they could do was wait uneasily, in silence.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden king, and made peace." The voice was so friendly that it instantly put Amelia on high alert. A white shape appeared at the top of the tower and though he was far up and out of their reach, Saruman's voice sounded as clear as if he had been standing beside them. "Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Amelia snorted in disbelief at his suggestion. The very thought made her balk. The memory of the devastation the dunlendings had wrought on the western Rohan was still fresh in her mind. Even though it felt as if a lifetime had passed, it hadn't even been a week since she had passed through the westfold, heading towards Helm's Deep. Even his friendly tone towards Théoden and his calling him a friend seemed preposterous.

"Dick." Amelia whispered, and felt a little better.

"We shall have peace…" Théoden's voice was grim, despite his words, but Amelia stared at him as if he had sprouted a second head. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the westfold… And the children that lie dead there" He raised his voice and there was no mistake to be made; it quivered in anger, but it was strong. "We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged!" He spat the final words out and Amelia's respect for the man rose ever so slightly. "When you hang from a gibbet, for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace." Amelia looked up at Saruman again and wished that she could see the expression on his face in that moment.

"Gibbets and crows…" Gone was all the warmth in Saruman's voice. Only an old, embittered voice, a voice of defeat, remained. "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess; the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the keys of Barad-Dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!" Amelia cocked an eyebrow, unamused and unimpressed.

"Your treachery has already cost many lives." Gandalf didn't sound angry, but he did sound firm. "Thousands more are now at risk… but you could save them, Saruman. You are deep in the enemy's council."

"Are you for real?!" Amelia's voice rang out like a sharp note in a harmonious symphony. "You think this fucker will actually cooperate?" Boromir and Aragorn hushed her, but she pointedly ignored them. "This, this… scumbag, this rotten twat of a turd, this asshole of all assholes… You'd show him…" Her face twisted. "Mercy?"

"So, you are not a merciful person by nature… Amelia Jones." Saruman had apparently heard her outburst and turned his attention towards her as her temper ignited and her nostrils flared. He sounded mocking, but curious about her as well.

"Hell no. Certainly not towards the likes of you." Amelia didn't catch the collective warning looks of Gandalf, Aragorn, Boromir and Éomer as she narrowed her eyes up at the white wizard. "Mercy? Altruism? Honor? Tablemanners? Them and I don't mix. I may be a bitch, but at least I'm honest about it."

"Honesty is not a virtue in itself." Amelia flicked a lock of hair out of her face.

"I didn't say it was. I'm no paragon of virtue. I've never claimed to be and I never will, but I know that, whatever I am, I'm a right lot better than your sorry self."

"Since when were you a…" Boromir sounded slightly chiding, but him drawing attention to himself while Amelia's temper was hot and burning was not a wise move.

"Since I considered killing you in your sleep after Amon Hen." Amelia didn't even glance at him, to gauge his reaction at her revelation.

"So, the woman in a world of men reveals her true colors. A fruitless gesture."

"There's no revealing. Everyone knew it before I said it. Now it's just out in the open." Amelia didn't let her voice or her face betray any emotion at all. "So fuck you. And thanks for asking." She looked away with a sour expression, her anger at the wizard flickering like a wild candle.

"You are a wildcard, Amelia Jones." Saruman sounded so patronizing that Amelia felt an intense urge to grab Legolas' bow and attempt to shoot him herself. "You are a mistake. A compromising frivolity Gandalf the Grey allowed himself." Amelia didn't answer him, but gave him a glare so dark that Boromir and Éomer looked away from her, despite not being the target of her anger. "You are not important."

"God, give me patience, for if you give me strength I will strangle this motherfucker with my bare hands…" Amelia's mumble did not go unnoticed by the hobbits, who seemed endlessly amused by her foul language and her hot temper, yet unnerved by her interaction with the white wizard as well.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth." Saruman held up a black orb of something and Amelia knew instantly what it was. She glanced over at Pippin to see his eyes fixated on it. "Something you have failed to see and something you will fail to stop." Amelia bared her teeth slightly at the istari. "But the great eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage!" His threat was desperate and nonsensical, made in a foolish bid to make it appear as if he truly had something worth bargaining with. "His attack will come soon." Gandalf led his horse further forwards, as if he wanted to show his reluctant interest. "You are all going to die."

"Then I'll see you in hell." Amelia didn't let Saruman get to her and she gave Merry a reassuring look.

"But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." Amelia rolled her eyes at his tiresome babbling. "This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king."

"I think it's safe to say I'm the superior fortune teller here." Amelia mumbled the words quietly to herself, since she was unable to keep the words within her.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give to the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough." Gimli's voice was unexpected, but not unwelcome to Amelia. "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."

"No." Amelia narrowed her eyes at Gandalf at his forbidding of Saruman's death. "Come down, Saruman… and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" Saruman's snapping was most unbecoming of him.

"Well, you heard him. Let's call it a day and leave him in the loving care of the ents. Maybe they can find some amusement in this prick." Amelia hid a yawn behind the back of her hand.

"Saruman…" Gandalf sounded sorrowful, something that only served to get Amelia even more fired up than she already was. "Your staff is broken." With an abrupt bang, Saruman's staff glowed and shattered in his hand. A dark shape appeared behind Saruman, hunched over and barely looking human. Amelia's upper lip curled in disgust.

"Gríma…" Théoden called to the newcomer. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

"A man of Rohan?" Saruman repeated lowly as she figure bowed and made to move back into the tower and down to his former king. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink and reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?" Théoden looked outraged at the insult, but unlike Amelia, he was a man capable of controlling his rage. "The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horsemaster. You are a lesser son of greater sires." Unbelievably, it looked as if Saruman's words struck a nerve and Amelia found it necessary to step in.

"I don't believe this. The guy might be a… Actually, I don't think I'm going to say that word aloud, but anyways…" Amelia spat the words out without minding them or considering their effect. "He is ten times the man you are, though that's not saying much. You are vile. You make me sick. And you're not going to lose. You already have." A dark, triumphant grin bloomed on Amelia's pale face. "You say we're all going to die. Well, guess what? Wrong guess. You are going to die. There's no escaping it. No way out. Only death." She took a steadying breath.

"Gríma…" Théoden took the word again, though he looked slightly unease at Amelia's dark prophecy. "Come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman's exclamation made Amelia's blood boil. "He will never be free!" He turned, as if Gríma had spoken, and Amelia's eyes suddenly widened.

"Shoot him! Shoot him now!" She hissed as Saruman slapped Gríma and he fell to the ground. She wasn't even sure whether she meant Saruman or Gríma, but she was surprised when Legolas didn't hesitate or question her. Before Gandalf could so much as protest, a perfectly shot arrow pierced Saruman's throat and a horrible gurgling sound came from him. Amelia's face twisted in something between disgust and shock as the white wizard flailed and fell backwards, out over the edge of the tower. He fell and Amelia looked away as he was skewered like a fish on a large spike sticking out of the water. Merry cringed and Gandalf whirled towards her. He looked far more angry than Amelia had ever seen him.

"Hey. He was going to die like that anyways." Amelia forced herself to look at the body of Saruman, where blood was staining his white robes. "He had nothing more to say." Then, she sighed and let go of her anger, feeling it drain away like water down a drain. She looked up to where Gríma had gotten to his feet again. He was staring down at her in shock. "You owe me your life. I've given you a second chance, despite my better judgment. Don't waste it." The figure of Gríma slunk into the tower, presumably to hurry down to Théoden, who looked quite shocked at what had occurred.

"And who are you to dole out life and death?" He asked her harshly and Amelia felt a bitter feeling rear its head in her.

"No one. And I've never killed anyone. I didn't fire that shot." She felt that handing the blame to Legolas would be too dirty and continued. "Besides, and let me reveal a tad bit of trivia to you here, 'cause it doesn't matter in the long run anymore… Saruman was always going to die here. No way around it. He didn't have anything else to say, nothing that could be of use anyway. However…" Amelia glanced at the door into the tower. "Gríma was supposed to die here as well. I didn't kill anyone here. I didn't sentence anyone to die. I sentenced someone to live, even though I don't think he deserved it." Amelia scoffed at herself. "I guess I really don't give a damn about the consequences of anything anymore. That's probably a bad sign." Gandalf sighed and turned away without saying another word to her. Amelia locked eyes with Boromir and she did most definitely not like the look on his face. Amelia broke eye contact and rubbed her face as exhaustion settled in her. "What was I thinking?"