A/N
So sorry this chapter was late (by about three weeks!) Real Life seriously got in the way and when I actually had the time to write, I didn't have the enthusiasm. Anyway, enough excuses, on with the tale...

Chapter Twenty-Six - Victory Is Bittersweet

The first indication of something going awry in Mordor was the tremors that shook the earth, strong enough to cause crockery to fall from its shelving in some of the lower houses. The sky to the east had turned pitch black around an hour after noon and it had slowly encroaching on the White City. Around four hours after noon, the sky flashed orange and the ground shook. A second brighter flash followed before what seem like a bolt of fire shot above the peaks of the Ash Mountains. Dídauar ran towards the Eastern battlements just in time to catch sight of a third flash but this time it was electric blue in colour. The flash was immediately followed by a roar, louder than any clap of thunder every heard in Middle-Earth before.

"What does that mean?" asked a nearby guard. "Has Sauron played his final hand?"

"Yes," replied Dídauar with a smile that grew by the minute. "And lost."

"What?" exclaimed the guard.

"We've won!" replied Dídauar excitedly. "After 3000 years we have finally won!" The soldier was still staring when Dídauar sprinted away.

The Dúnadan Captain crashed through her cousin's door with such force that it ricocheted off the wall and sent the young man toppled backwards on to his bed, immediately cursing as pain shot across his chest. Merry, who had been acting as a crutch, turned equally startled.

"When you've placed the door back on its hinges, care to tell me what the matter is?" enquired Arahael as he attempted to sit up.

"It's over," said Dídauar simply.

"I noticed," replied Arahael. "Which is good because the earthquakes were doing nothing to aid my balance."

"No. It's over!" stressed Dídauar. Merry and Arahael gawked at her.

"The war?" the Man asked.

"Frodo managed his quest?" quizzed Merry. Dídauar nodded and ended up with an armful of Hobbit for her troubles. Using the small creature's momentum, she spun him round before hugging him tightly.

"We won," she said as Merry wrapped his legs around her waist. Her words finally sank into Arahael's mind and the young man fell back on to his bed. Dídauar set Merry back on the ground and sat beside her cousin who had thrown his arms over his eyes and whose shoulders were shaking.

"We won," whispered Arahael. Dídauar chuckled and scooped Arahael up.

"I ride to Cormallen in the morning. Is there anything you wish me to give Tarcil?" asked Dídauar.

"I take it that means I can't come?" smiled Arahael.

"I'm afraid not," replied Dídauar. "The healers are yet to release you from their care. They have however told me that you can venture outside if you want. Faramir and Éowyn will look after you."

"Just tell him to get a move on and get back here," replied Arahael. Dídauar smiled.

"What about me?" asked Merry.

"You would follow me anyway," replied Dídauar. "We ride two hours after dawn."

It took six days for Dídauar and Merry to reach Cormallen. Despite her protest that she would be fine on her own and that a single rider would be less likely to be a target than a troupe, Faramir had sent a detail of twenty soldiers with her. His argument had been that a single rider was also easy picking for an Orc that was hungry. Dídauar had accepted the detail more for Merry's protection than her own and it really wasn't a good idea to rebel against the one who was technically still your superior.

"It's like a little village," smiled Merry as the pair crested the hill and was presented with the mass of tents. Dídauar smiled at the analogy and, hugging Merry tightly to her with one arm, kicked her mare into a trot, the downward slope of the hill naturally encouraging the animal to speed up. Her entourage was quickly on her tail but it was obvious that they had been completely forgotten about.

"Look for a banner with stars and a tree," said Dídauar, reigning her horse to a walk.

"Why?"

"Because it means the King is alive," replied Dídauar.

"How does a banner tell you that?" asked Gimli suddenly. Dídauar quickly pulled her horse to a halt, the Dwarf having decided that standing in front of the creature was a good idea.

"Gimli!" exclaimed Merry. Gimli smiled and welcomed Merry's surprisingly tight hug when Dídauar set him on the ground.

"You didn't answer Gimli's question, Dídauar," said Legolas, mirth singing in his voice.

"A King's banner does not fly if he is dead," recited Dídauar. "So where is he?"

"With Frodo and Sam," replied Legolas. "The Great Eagle took Mithrandir to Orodruin to search for their bodies."

"No!" exclaimed Merry. "They are not dead! They can't be dead!"

"They are not dead," assured Legolas. "But they are close to it. Aragorn is with them now."

"Take me to them," ordered Dídauar. "Merry, stay with me. I will not have you out of my sight until I find Pippin."

Exactly how Frodo and Sam had survived Orodruin's eruptions was a complete mystery but frankly no one cared, they were just glad that the War was over and that the little heroes were alive, at least for the moment. It had been five days since the pair had been returned to the camp and while they looked a lot better than when they first arrived – covered in soot, stale sweat, blood, had fur developing on their tongues as a result of dehydration and were startling thin considering the 'good health' they had had at Parth Galen – they remained unconscious and for the most part beyond Aragorn's skill to pull back.

"Come on Frodo," murmured Aragorn as he once more passed some of his strength into the elder of the Hobbits. "You have past through fire, do not fall at the other side."

A violent sweeping aside of the tent material caught Aragorn's attention, causing him to swing around ready to tear a strip off the intruder. He had given orders that the Hobbits be undisturbed until they had the opportunity to say what guests they received. When he saw who the guest were however his voice died in his throat.

'Kalya!' he choked. Dídauar was straight into her brother's arms, hugging him tightly.

'You're alive,' she whispered. Aragorn gave a weak chuckle.

'Now she has doubts!' he exclaimed. 'Was it not you who told me I would make it through if I kept the ring and the Elessar?'

'You were needing hope and courage,' said Dídauar. 'And while I had not sensed any danger about you, other than the fact you were going to battle, I still had my doubts as to whether I had said goodbye and not farewell.'

'Now you tell me!' said Aragorn.

'How long have you been trying to pull them back?' asked Dídauar, moving out of Aragorn's embrace and casting a glance to both pallets, having sensed from Aragorn's returning embrace that he was at the limit of his endurance,

'Four days,' replied Aragorn. He even sounded exhausted. 'Elrohir tried the first day but insisted that it was my strength that was needed.'

'And your strength is now waning. Where is Pippin?'

'With Imrahil,' sighed Aragorn. 'That Hobbit has been a blessing during the last few days. For all of the men.'

'Have him sent for,' said Dídauar. Aragorn cocked his head. In response, Dídauar jerked her head towards Merry who had made his way to Frodo's side and was cautiously touching the dark-haired Hobbit's hand.

'It was family that brought Éowyn and I back, why not try it again?' she prodded. Aragorn looked at Merry for a few more minutes before sighing.

'It's worth a try,' he said. Dídauar gave him a small smile before ducking back outside to hunt for Pippin.

"Why is he cold?" asked Merry, having finally gathered the courage to grip Frodo's hand completely. "And what happened to his hand!?"

"Something bit him," replied Aragorn. "Though quite what it was, only he will be able to tell us. And the wound he received on Weathertop is still not healed completely. Even now, with the poison of Sauron and the Wraiths vanished, it is beyond my skill to heal."

"You will manage," said Merry with such conviction that the weary King almost believed him. "I have yet to see something you cannot do."

"Do not tempt Fate, Merry," chided Aragorn gently. "I am no powerful immortal that has the strength to challenge the gods. All we can do is hope that they will pull through."

"They will," said Merry with determination. Aragorn smiled before setting himself down between the two cots and held out his arms to the Hobbit.

"Lend me your conviction Merry," he said, pulling the Hobbit into his lap and wrapping him in an embrace. "I feel I may need it before the day is over."

When Dídauar had entered Imrahil's tent, there was what amounted to a scrum of warriors vying with each other to reach her first. In the end it was Éomer, who flung himself at the Dúnadan, causing her to stagger in an attempt to maintain her balance.

"And good afternoon to you too, Éomer," chuckled Dídauar returning the Rohirric King's crushing embrace. "But do you think you release me a little, I still need to breath!"

Éomer released her looking a little sheepish. Dídauar continued to chuckle, especially as she was then assaulted by Tarcil and Pippin, the Dúnadan colliding with her torso, the Hobbit wrapping his arms firmly about her waist.

"And you two," she said, dotting a kiss to Tarcil' temple as he lay his head on his cousin's shoulder, his arms firmly locked around her neck and shoulders. "But I am afraid the time for pleasantries is not yet upon us. Imrahil do you need Pippin for any immediate task?"

"Not that I can think of," said Imrahil, a boyish smile on his face as he watched the younger warriors faun over their childhood hero. "Why?"

"The King has need of him," said Dídauar. "Tarcil can you please let me go? I will find you at sundown but for now there is something that I must do."

"I will hold you to that," muttered the younger man as he reluctantly released his cousin and Captain. Dídauar inclined her head before crouching before Pippin.

"The King has need of you Master Hobbit," she said. Pippin drew himself to attention at the remark.

"My duty is to Gondor and her King," he said causing Dídauar to gawk at him.

"Éomer?" she asked, not removing her eyes from the Hobbit who seemed to have matured twenty years since last she spoke to him. The fact that he spoke a Rohirric style oath also confused her, considering Pippin was sworn to service in Gondor.

"He overheard Gamling and myself having an argument," admitted the Rohirrim. "Gamling swore the same oath to me just before we rode to battle."

Dídauar nodded, curiosity for the moment satisfied and got to her feet. "Tarcil, make sure Culas is with you tonight," she requested. Tarcil nodded before Dídauar guided Pippin out of the tent and back to the one where Frodo and Sam lay.

"Merry!" exclaimed Pippin five minutes later as Dídauar ushered him into the healing tent. The raven Hobbit pounced on his cousin, sending them both sprawling across the ground. Merry didn't add a vocal exclamation but his broad smile, and the why in which he held Pippin tightly made it clear that he was delighted to see his cousin.

"I have the better story to tell," proclaimed the younger Hobbit. "I fought beside Gandalf. Even saved his life once!"

'Here we go again,' chuckled Dídauar, sitting down behind Aragorn, wrapping her arms around his torso and resting her chin on his shoulder. 'Estel, when did you last sleep?'

'Can you not think of your own chastisements?' asked Aragorn, tilting his own head back.

'When you think of them, so will I,' replied Dídauar, kissing Aragorn's temple. 'But Lord Elrond's are always the best. Now answer the question.'

'Properly? The night you came to my tent before I rode to battle,' replied Aragorn.

'I am going no where till sundown, you can sleep now,' said Dídauar. 'Use my lap as a pillow and let me guard your dreams.'

Aragorn didn't resist and using his cloak as a blanket, settled on the ground, taking in the calming presence his sister had always offered while listening to Merry and Pippin detail their varying exploits, recalling when they were both together and explaining when they were apart.

'Sleep,' murmured Dídauar, running her fingers through Aragorn's hair.

Come sundown, Merry and Pippin, while no where near out of stories to tell, were beginning to lose their voices and their stomachs were beginning to protest at the lack of filling. Frodo and Sam had yet to wake up but when Elladan appeared to check on both them and Aragorn he reported that they were finally stabilised and would wake as soon as they were ready. He was also relieved to find Aragorn sleeping with both eyes closed and so soundly that the murmured conversation between Elladan and Dídauar did not waken him, nor did the motion of being transfer from Dídauar's arms into Elladan's.

'Tarcil and Culas are demanding where you are,' said the Elf. 'They are by the main fire.'

'Tell him where I've gone?' asked Dídauar, motioning to Aragorn who was sleeping like a babe, head in Elladan's lap.

'Of course,' promised Elladan. Dídauar inclined her head in thanks before collecting the Hobbits and hunting out both food and her kin.

Dídauar was practically flattened by her Commander and the young healer as she reached the fireside. She was certainly knocked off her feet and on to her back, both young men sprawled across her.

"Any one would think it has been years since we last met," laughed Dídauar as she wrapped her arms around the pair.

"Can you get off me?" she asked when neither man seemed inclined to move at any time in the foreseeable future. "Boys? Now!"

Tarcil growled at being called a boy and instantly released Dídauar, sitting back on his heels and glaring at her.

"I am twenty-nine! Not even a youth and you call me a boy!" he huffed.

"The way you are acting at the moment, you deserve such a title," replied Dídauar, the smile on her face taking the sting out of her words. It was then that she realised the Culas was shaking in her arms.

"Culas?" she murmured. When the youth only increased his grip around her neck, Dídauar grew concerned and looked up at the elder son of Halbarad in question.

"We lost two others," said the Commander. "And Nemír is badly wounded."

"What?!" hissed Dídauar, surprising herself at the strength with which she forced both herself and Culas into a seating position. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't Aragorn tell me?"

"Aragorn has been occupied with the Hobbits," said Tarcil. "He knows Nemír was taken down, and has seen his injuries, but doesn't know how badly he was wounded. He seemed fine before the Hobbits were returned. Culas has done what he can for his uncle but nothing seems to be working."

"Take me to him," ordered Dídauar.