Teal'c always considered himself brave.

It was a quality that a jaffa must have if he hoped to survive. Fear, doubt, self-consciousness, these were qualities that a soldier was not allowed the luxury of having. It was cut out, methodically and exactly, over years of hard training starting at the age of ten. Some jaffa, those of low rank and uncertain future, slipped through the cracks with these flaws intact, but as First Prime he was supposed to possess none of them. Sitting as he was now, he had his doubts about the successfulness of the process.

In his experience, it wasn't the dead one had to worry about. The dead couldn't hurt, couldn't give warning to their comrades. The dead couldn't speak, or move. If their spirits managed to reach the afterlife they had no more hold on this plane of existence, no abilities to harm those who had passed on.

The beings he found himself traveling with now, disproved his old assertions.

The army… he still wondered at it, an entire army of spirits, from archers to pikemen to calvary, moved easily behind him and his companions. He fought the urge to look over his shoulder, to make sure those spectral shapes didn't move any closer. And if they did? The only one who seemed able to stand against them was Aragorn. An army of the undead, cursed to walk this earth until their oaths were fulfilled. Even the punishments of the false gods paled in comparison to that.

"You look how I feel," O'Neill said at his side, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"Indeed," the jaffa answered, suppressing a shiver. It was unusual, this…fear. He hadn't actually feared something in a long time. Not for himself, at any rate.

The colonel sighed. "How is that we're the soldiers, but Daniel seems the most at ease with the weird stuff?"

Teal'c did look back then. Daniel was riding along with the spirits, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that he could see through them, or that they were three thousand years or more dead. He had a small flip book and was writing furiously as they spoke to him in turn. The archeologist always rushed in where a thousand soldiers would tread very lightly. Whether it was challenging the goa'uld themselves or reaching out a hand where the more prudent would retreat.

"Daniel Jackson is unique," he answered, leaving it at that.

O'Neill grunted. "Unique in the head."

"Does he not worry for his own safety?"

Jack laughed outright at that. "Daniel? Safety? The man doesn't know the meaning of the word."

The larger man agreed. Daniel was reckless at the best of times, too passionate by half. Still, he had enough courage for a battalion of jaffa, courage that had saved their lives more than once. "Perhaps this will be enough to triumph in Gondor."

"It better be," Jack muttered. "The deadliest army in the world, Aragorn called it. Give me five titan missile and a couple 50 cals. any day."

Teal'c would have preferred his staff weapon, perhaps a few dozen death gliders to strafe the field from the sky. He eyed the wicked looking blade one of the dead soldiers carried, hanging from the sheath on his horse. Soldiers, unable to be harmed, but able to inflict damage on others. A frightening concept; an army that was invincible in every way. His eyes flicked to Daniel, and the ghosts around him. He was engaged in conversation with one, while the others looked on, some hostilely. His eyes narrowed. If one of them tried to harm the archeologist, he would find out just how much damage he could inflict on something already dead.

Daniel glanced up when he felt eyes on him. Jack and Teal'c were both looking at him with equal concern. They gave him a final once over before turning away.

Sigh.

"And that was how the battle of Madrafar really ended?" he asked.

The ghost next to him nodded gravely, the helmet it wore bobbing on the skull. "If it wasn't for Harrid, we would have taken the field."

Daniel jotted it all down, every scrap he could wring from them, whether it was about simple living conditions to major battles. He'd always wanted to speak to spirits, to learn what they knew. Only the dead truly knew what had happened in eons past. There was so much he'd wanted to know about the pyramids, everything really, that could only be known to someone who'd actually lived during their construction. Unfortunately for him, the only beings with that knowledge were all dead set on enslaving the earth again, and using him and his friends for pin cushions. He was left wanting what he'd always thought was impossible, while sifting through what remained for clues as to what happened.

Now he was finally getting his wish.

After getting around the most disturbing part (the fact that they were actual people; half decayed, see-through, but somehow still alive for all of that) he found himself drawn to them, to their knowledge. Most had looked at him skeptically, as if unsure of what he was hoping to find. Others took the opportunity to tell their tales. They spoke of families that had been left behind, farms and children long since lost to time. Others spoke of living as a soldier, and how that changed since their dying. All had the same despair though; the despair of men who abandoned their duty, and had paid a heavy price for it. His tape recorder and tapes, which he only had because he always carried them in his vest, had served him well through their journey. The fifteen small tapes were full, and that left his flip books, four of which were filled with cramped shorthand.

"We're almost to the Havens," Aragorn's called over his shoulder. It was eerie, how clearly his voice carried. He should have had to shout it to the first line, and had the message carried to the back of the nearly three thousand men traveling with them; shouted and gestured over the creaking of leather, the clop of horses and the conversations of the men. But there were none of these things. The ghosts moved silently, only a few quiet conversations could be heard like distant murmurs.

Daniel nodded. It would be nice to see something other than sheer rock faces and shrubs. He turned his attention back to Jaro. The man had been well over fifty when he died, and the list of battles he participated in seemed endless; from minor skirmishes to full on wars.

"Yo, Daniel, why don't you ride among the living for a while?"

The archeologist looked up. Jack was half-turned in his saddle, watching him expectantly.

"You should go, lad," Jaro said, gesturing with a skeletal hand. "You're commander has need of you."

More like a need to get me away from you, Daniel thought as he tucked his flip book away. "Maybe we'll talk again," he offered.

The specter nodded. "You're the first person in a thousand years who hasn't shushed me when I started talking," the grizzled ghost admitted, his features twisting in what might have been a smile. "The dead get sick of their own, in time."

Gimli watched Legolas, who was making a point of not looking in the direction of Samantha. A very obvious point, if you paid attention. The way he attempted to keep away from her since the celebration at Edoras, even when they were practicing. The dwarf turned his eyes to the human woman, who turned and focused all her attention on the path ahead. She, at least, wasn't pretending that Legolas didn't exist. In fact, she seemed to be attempting to catch his attention, attention the elf seemed determined not to give. This was a new trend in the relationship he and Aragorn had been observing. Usually the two of them pretended not to notice the other.

The dwarf ran a hand along the haft of his axe. He knew little about the taller races of middle earth. They were strange, and it was his opinion that the added height addled their brains. But, despite that height, there were some things that were common to all the races.

"My mother used to say that you shouldn't do things at night that would embarrass you in the light of day," Gimli said the words in a conversational tone, focusing on not falling off the blasted animal he was balanced on. He didn't need the elf whipping his head around, making sure no one else had heard the dwarf's quiet words, to know he hit the nail on the head. The elf, for his part, kept his eyes forward, though his hands tightened on the reins until his knuckles were white.

"My father admonished me to keep my ears out of business that was not my own," Legolas countered. "For fear someone might cut them off with an unkind word."

Gimli snorted. "Then you should be thankful my ears aren't nearly as large as yours. And dwarves usually tell each other when their being idiots."

The hands tightened further.

"You're hurting her more than yourself, you know." Gimli kept his tone even. "Whatever your reasons, it's not right." He let his hand move to his axe again. "If I weren't traveling with you both, I would be called upon to defend her honor."

That did get a reaction. The elf turned his head slowly, the only part of him that did turn. His eyes were hard. "Then thankful you should be that Samantha's honor needs no defending." His head jerked back around so swiftly the dwarf wondered for a moment whether it had turned at all. That, and whether the wry twist to the elf's mouth had been his imagination.

Gimli shook his head. His friend might be older than any single creature had a right to be, but he was acting like a fool. He turned back to Samantha, who was watching the elf from the corner of her eye. Her eyes darted to him, then focused ahead of her again. The dwarf sighed, heeling his mount ahead of the now simmering elf. There had to be a way short of locking them both in a room to get the air between them cleared. And if not, if they survived Gondor, he was sure he could find a good small one to shove them in.

Legolas looked up at the bird wheeling overhead, the large white wings unfamiliar to him. They were coming close to the Ethir Anduin, the delta where the great river met the sea. The bird was joined by another, and its call froze him in his saddle, an odd, keening cry that tore at something inside him.

"Beware, Legolas, son of Thranduil. Long has your family denied the call of the Valar to travel the straight road. I fear the call of birds may carry your heart to the shining halls long before your body decides to follow."

Galadriel's words echoed in his mind, vying with the sound of the birds. There were more now, the closer they came to the delta. He had forgotten that warning after the elf queen gave it. Those few short weeks seemed months gone, a strange feeling for one as long lived as he. There was another call, and another. The elf grimaced as the pull returned, stronger this time.

"Are you not well, Legolas?"

The blonde started in his saddle. For the first time he noticed he was standing still, the ghostly shapes of the army floating past him. Teal'c was next to him, a concerned expression marring his normally calm features. The elf smiled, little more than a pulling of his features. "I am well, Teal'c," he reassured his companion, and heeled his horse into motion.

The trees parted suddenly, and he found himself staring at a wide, flat swarth that seemed to cut it's way north of them. Even his eyes strained to see the far end, where the greenery of trees began again. There were patches of vegetation in the wide, flat space, and tall, near branchless trees that towered above fields of thin, tall grass.

"Erith Anduin," he breathed the words.

"Looks kinda like the Mississippi," Jack said, somewhere to his left. "Without the shipyards, and factories, and oil pipelines…"

Aragorn was dismounting just behind the tree line. "We stay here the night," the Ranger said as he pulled his saddle from Brego. "Gandalf said the corsairs were moving along the coast. We should be a step ahead of them." He turned to the leader of the army.

The specter nodded. "We spare nothing but the ships, as you commanded, my Lord."

The ranger nodded in return. "And your runners?"

A ripple went through the green host, and ten separated themselves from the group. "We have delivered you message to the Duné dain, King Aragorn," one of them spoke. "And to what groups of rangers we found. All know to come to Gondor and fight under the banner of King Theoden."

"…like cellphones." The voice belonged to Daniel. The elf had a vague idea of what a cell phone was from one of their many discussion of the earth their companions came from, though how a small box could allow you to speak instantly with someone thousands of miles away was still beyond him. Legolas agreed. The ten were given orders before they left the halls of the dead to carry north.

"A hard ride will see them in Gondor before us," another transparent figure reported. "Most were already traveling to the Black Gates themselves."

Legolas busied himself unsaddling his horse. Gimli was getting help from Samantha, which meant he spent most of his time looking daggers at the elf. Samantha, for her part, was ignoring him now, which was just as well. She was still searching for a way to return to her home, and he wouldn't make her choose between him and where she belonged.

Go talk to him.

Go to hell.

You first.

Sam grimaced as she settled further into her blankets. A fire would alert the pirates if they arrived before dawn, so the only light was from the halfmoon. Her breath misted in front of her, and she sighed. As far as she could tell, it was sometime in early March. The weather was warm enough during the day, but the temperature dropped as soon as the sun set. At least it was warmer here than it had been in Edoras.

You should go talk to him.

Sam turned over, reaching in her shirt. She pulled out the small pendant, running a finger over the smooth edges of the leaf. She almost dropped it when it flashed, then shook her head. Of course it would flash, there was enough moonlight to cause a good sparkle.

Get off your ass or I'll never shut up.

The major growled and threw her blankets off. Teal'c and Gimli were on watch, and both turned to stare at her. Thankfully, it was too dark in the tree line for them to see the flush that was trying to crawl into her hairline. After pulling on her boots, and stumbling twice, she broke through the trees. And gaped.

The sinuous lines of the delta were silver in the moonlight, glittering with the current. They were on a small bluff, barely ten feet tall, but the few was phenomenal. A dark shape was outlined against that vista.

Legolas.

As quietly as she could she walked over to him. He was wearing his cape with the hood thrown back, and as she came alongside him she saw that his eyes were closed. All right, I'm here. Now what the hell do I say?

Her only answer was silence.

"You should be asleep, Samantha."

The major jumped. The elf's eyes were still closed, and he hadn't moved a muscle. "Nervous energy," she said nonchalantly, sitting down on the edge of the bluff. Curled up like this, with her cloak spread around her, was much warmer than standing up against the wind coming off the delta. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Elves need little sleep."

"Oh." Sam focused on a small black dot hovering over a small stream. The dot dived, disappearing under the silver water and reappearing a few seconds later with a thin shape dangling from it. "Kingfisher," she said absently. Or the Middle Earth equivalent of one. She looked up at the elf. "I wanted to talk to you about Edoras." There, that was direct enough.

The blonde elf did look at her then, then looked out over the delta. "I apologize for forcing my attentions on you," he said solemnly. "If I've offended-" The elf's words were cut off with a strangled yelp as he was jerked off his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Sam let go of his cloak. "Are you all right?"

In answer the elf folded his legs in front of him. "You had every right to do that." He didn't even sound upset. "I deserve that, and more, for what I've done."

Sam just stared at him. "So… I had nothing to do with that kiss?"

"Samantha-"

"I wasn't a completely willing participant?"

He flushed. "Please-"

"You just forced yourself on me?"

"Listen-"

"No, you listen." Sam poked the elf in the chest. "You weren't doing anything I didn't want you to do. Either time." She wanted to smile when the elf's eyes widened.

Legolas looked abashed. "The first time we were both unsure of our chances of survival." Sam rolled her eyes, but he continued. "The second we had imbibed far too much alcohol to-"

"Oh no." She poked him in the chest again. "You're not pulling a drunken prom date excuse on me." She noted his look of confusion. "You don't know the prom date thing, but you get the meaning."

The confusion melted away, leaving an expression of grim determination. "What would you have me say, Samantha?"

Sam rested her forehead on her knees. "Let's start with not placing all the blame on you." She looked up. The elf was watching her now. "Maybe you're not used to it, but where I'm from the woman has a say in the relationship. You've seen me fight. If I didn't want you to kiss me, I think I could have let you know." She grabbed his thumb and pulled it backwards to prove her point.

"Be that as it may," Legolas jerked his hand free and shook away some of the pain. "I have led you to believe something was possible that cannot happen."

That caught her attention. "Are you married?"

"No-"

"Betrothed?"

For a moment she thought he was going to say yes. The no that did come out was quieter than the first.

"Then what is the problem? What's wrong with this?" She gestured between them. In the back of her mind lingered the thought that they were on this journey to find the stargate and a way home. The further they traveled, the more she had time to juggle the complex equations, the more she realized that the chances of them getting home were on par with George singing I'm a Little Teapot and dancing around the base in a pink tutu. And if she had to stay in a strange universe, she should at least be happy.

The feel of a hand tracing her jaw brought the major out of her thoughts. Legolas was watching her. When her eyes focused on him he turned away.

"Elves can die of grief."

Sam turned her head. The elf was staring out over the delta again. When he spoke again his voice was hushed and hollow.

"Our bodies are designed to handle great strain. I can see farther, run longer, and swim faster than any human. It is our hearts that are our weakness. We cannot begin to love, and then stop. If you were to die, my heart would not bear the pain. Your death would kill me as surely as an arrow through the heart. Even if you were to leave, the pain of not having you near would have the same affect."

Sam sat, stunned. What were you supposed to say when someone told you your death would kill them? That if you were to leave, it would kill them? She'd heard it before, from some of her more melodramatic boyfriends, but this wasn't melodrama.

He looked towards the trees where their group slept. "Whether he wishes it or not, Arwen will suffer when he dies, forced to walk this world alone until her body cannot take the pain of her grief, and then she was pass to Valinor." His eyes crinkled. "Even then, she will be alone, for humans cannot follow us in the afterlife." He was looking at her again, his eyes sad. "Our future is not certain. Either of us could die tomorrow, or when we reach Gondor. I would not burden you with my death."

"So this has nothing to do with my morning breath?"

The question made them both laugh, banishing the worst of their melancholy. A bird cried, far off, and he turned towards the sound. "There is something else as well. My people are being called home by the Valar, called to Valinor across the sea, where no mortal can follow." He closed his eyes. "Most have gone, but I have denied the call for many long years, but none can, once we hear the waves." He smiled then, the expression full of loss. "It's like hearing a lullaby for the first time since infancy." The smile faded. "It seems we are not meant to be, Samantha."

The two of them stared out over the water for a long time, neither speaking or moving. Sam couldn't believe it. Somewhere karma was probably laughing her ass off. It seemed that no matter what, she wasn't meant to be with anyone. Martuf, Nereem, even her thankfully short infatuation with the colonel. There was always something in the way.

Not this time.

Without saying a word, Sam wrapped her arms around the elf and kissed him. For a moment he sat stunned, then began to return the kiss. She put everything she was feeling into it, tried to convey everything she could in that one moment. She pulled away to rest her forehead against his. "Do you care for me?" she asked. She would have said love, but she wasn't about to tempt the fates too much yet. "Don't tell me the reasons why we shouldn't. Do you care?"

"Yes."

If she could, Sam would have stood up and done backflips, but at the moment she wasn't sure her legs would support her. "Good," she answered after letting his response sink in. "Because I care for you. I'll make you a promise; I wont die if you don't. Deal?"

"Samantha-"

"Deal?" She rubbed the tips of his ears. She was still fascinated with them, even after seeing them for so many months. His reaction wasn't what she suspected. The blonde shivered, his arms tightening around her. "Deal."

"Good." She moved away, filing away the ear information for a later date. A bluff was no place to finish what they were starting. "Don't forget."

She practically skipped back to camp.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for reading all of this guys! I'm so happy that you're having as much fun reading as I am writing! As usual, massive apologies for taking so long getting this chapter out. Thank you to each and every person who reviewed and didn't give up faith that I would come back to this. A billion thanks!

Now, a few Author's notes for people who've read the book and are now calling for my blood.

I know I moved them from Pelargir to the mouth of the Anduin, but it worked for the final scene. And on the Dunedain, for those of you who don't know, are Aragorn's people, but I don't know how they would have gotten in touch with him, so that's improvised as well. Anything that doesn't fit, just take it as artistic license.