Intara woke slowly. Smoke drifted on a gentle breeze and filled her nostrils. It was acrid and burned her lungs as she slowly filled them with air. She stared up at the sky for several minutes wondering what had happened.

…..lye nuqernuva sen e dagor

Haldir's fall replayed itself in her mind. She repeatedly saw his eyes lose their light, his blood running warm and slick on her hands. Her mind churned over and over the image of the orc plunging the ax into the back of his head. She felt bile rise in her throat and she wanted to retch.

….. I'narr en gothrim glinuva nuin l'anor.

She had gone on a rampage. She remembered picking up both her sword and Haldir's and then moving across the battlement killing anything that moved.

Spinning, turning, slashing, cutting, and hacking; she was a force to be reckoned with. She remembered the exact moment the cold took hold in her chest and hardened her heart as it had been hardened when she'd first left Lorien. She would not let anyone break that now, not again.

She would die, and she would die alone.

"The sooner the better" She had thought as she ran one of the blades through an orc's middle.

Death was her only answer. She vaguely remembered throwing Uruk-hai over the walls, breaking their ladders, breaking their skulls against the bricks. She plunged recklessly into the swarming mass of orcs as they tried to make their way to the keep. She'd killed Uruk-hai until just before the dawn had broken, even though they had over run most of the fortress. Just as the sky had turned a soft shade of gray in the early light, she blacked out.

She stared at the sky and felt the gentle warmth of early spring wash over her tired body. It was early afternoon and eerily silent but she couldn't bring herself to care about what had happened between dawn and now.

She looked to her left and gazed into the cold, dull eyes of a young boy, no more than fifteen years old. His face had taken on a sickly gray shade, his mouth pressed in a grim, brave line. Intara sighed. He had seen none of the world. How could she live on and on and one so young, one with so much hope, die?

Why should she, without hope, live on?

She closed her eyes and turned her head to the right. Every bone popping loudly against the stiffness. When she opened her eyes she was gazing face to face with an Uruk-hai. She jumped slightly, the permanent snarl on the creature's face slightly unnerving her. She did not move much as a burning sensation tore through her body. She moved her hand down along her side until she found the broken blade embedded in the chain of her armor. She looked at the creature's hand where the other half of the sword was held. She clamped her jaw and grasped the bit of steel in her hands to pull it out. She felt blood pour out of the wound and make her fingers slick with it. Slowly she sat up and looked around her.

She could not see the battlement for all the bodies that riddled the walls. Pennants snapped in the morning breeze, seeming to dance with the smoke that also blew in the wind. She pulled herself unsteadily to her feet and looked out over the field.

Uruk-hai littered the valley. Fires burned and the men of Rohan were hard at work pulling the corpses of the Uruk-hai into them.

Did we win?

Her mind was slow to function and her thoughts danced from the fires below to Haldir and to her own existence. Intara staggered through the corpses slowly, occasionally stopping beside a fallen archer and staring at the plaintive face of an elf taken from the world, eyes locked on the sky but with none of the light of their people shining in them. She came to the spot where she thought Haldir might have been, but could not find him. She hoped the Uruk-hai had not taken his body.

She staggered across the Hornburg, avoiding the confused and shocked stares of the few people lingering among the dead. Intara kept her eyes locked on the fortress above her and moved on. She knew they were questioning how she had managed to survive and why she should live and their loved ones should fall.

The agonized cries of men echoed in the vaulted halls of the keep and Intara stayed focused on the sound. She needed to get there in order to find supplies to mend the gash in her side. The wounded lay in the roadway, some moved slowly relying on their comrades or their women to support them. Some hobbled proudly by on make shift crutches. Intara did not make eye contact and went into the keep.

She saw a healer standing to the side of the room talking with a few women.

"Obviously" Intara thought "Look at the blood on his clothes…."

She approached him slowly and did not wait for his conversation (which was trivial at best) to come to an end.

"Have you horse hair?"

"This is Rohan…of course we have horse hair." He answered without looking at her.

"Then give me a few strands and that hooked needle." Intara demanded as she nodded at a tray behind him.

"If you need patching up, get in line." He nodded at the wall of men who still had yet to be tended to. By the stench, Intara reckoned that half of them were already dead. If they weren't, then they were close to it. She grew angry. Why should this man be allowed to shirk his duties as a healer in order to speak with the two pretty maids about the coming of the spring? She took a calming breath before speaking again.

"Give me the horse hair and that hooked needle and I'll do it myself." She repeated as she stepped closer to the man. "Or shall I sew your mouth shut?" The man's eyes widened and he grabbed the hooked needle and a few strands of boiled horse hair from a bowl.

"Here." He said thrusting the items at her. He watched, wide eyed as she moved away into the shadows and disappeared like a specter.

Intara stripped out of her armor slowly, appraising dents and punctures, assessing whether they could be repaired or not. The mail on her armor had been bent and several of the finely woven rings had been severed. The blade of the Uruk-hai had obviously been sharp enough to break the weld on the rings and press into the delicate flesh on her side. Her shirt was ripped and stained a dirty brown. A V shaped sweat stain ran down her spine and where she'd been cut, a large rusty blossom of blood was spreading. She lifted the edge of her shirt and tied it just high enough so she could see the wound in her side.

It wasn't quite as bad as she'd thought. It was a shallow cut, but in the worst place possible; just below her last rib, it was where she moved and flexed the most. She could see indentations where the rings of mail had pressed into her skin, causing superficial cuts in addition to the gash from the sword. She saw a basin of water with rags in it and grabbed one up before anyone could say something. She gingerly washed the dried blood away and cursed as her side seeped blood anew. She twisted the rag and bit down as she pushed the thick needle through her skin and drew the two sides of the cut together. The first push was the worst; she had discovered that long ago. She spit the rag out and kept stitching. Slowly, she felt the two sides of the cut come together. It was tedious and she often had to stop as a wave of nausea flooded over her.

She looked up as heavy doors swung open and Legolas and Gimli, followed by several members of the Rohirrim came out. They stood about just outside the doorway as the doors swung shut behind them with a dull thud. She watched the Mirkwood elf move slowly, a distasteful look on his face as he moved amongst the wounded. A blonde Rohan woman went to him and they spoke with one another for some time. Intara went back to her stitching. What did she care about the affairs of others?

Legolas sighed as he and Gimli looked at the destruction that had been wrought upon the people of Rohan. Aragorn and King Theoden were discussing certain issues in private.

They had ridden to Isengard earlier but had returned with nothing except a palantir and the two hobbits, Merry and Pippin. Saruman was locked away, isolated in his fortress and guarded by the ents. He'd be going nowhere any time soon.

Eowyn came forward and spoke to him, but he really didn't pay her much attention. He did not feel like carrying on an idle conversation when his heart was so heavy with grief. Legolas let his eyes drift as Eowyn went to speak with her brother.

So many had fallen yesterday; Haldir of Lorien among them. He and Aragorn had gone out before they'd left for Isengard and retrieved the body so it could be sent back to Lorien and laid to rest properly. Before they had left the high wall Aragorn had stood atop the battlements and looked at the fallen.

"It is not your fault Aragorn. They volunteered their lives for this task."

"I know." Aragorn shielded his eyes from the sun and looked at the thousands of bodies littering the Hornburg.

"You look for your cousin." Aragorn looked at the elf. It was not a question but a statement of fact and it irked Aragorn some that the elf had read him so easily.

"We must search for her body, Legolas." He answered after a time.

"We will, when we come back from Isengard." Legolas moved down the battlement, following the stretcher that bore Haldir. "We will all search when we come back later."

Now they were back, and they still hadn't made it out to the Hornburg to look for Intara. He did not know when they might make it out there and did not think they would make it out until tomorrow at the earliest. After that length of time, he wasn't even sure if her body would be recognizable. He did not want to dwell on the sorrow her death would deal to Aragorn after the loss of so many.

Movement in a corner caught Legolas's eye and he stared into the shadows. He clasped his hand on Gimli's shoulder and then moved towards the darkened alcove.

Intara looked up as the sparse amount of light in the alcove was abruptly cut off.

"You're in my light." She said looking up at Legolas.

"You should let a surgeon take care of that." Legolas said as she hooked the needle through her skin again and drew both sides together. Her fingertips were sticky with blood. He was sure it was her own, but dared not think on it.

"I don't need a surgeon." Intara grumbled through clenched teeth as the needle slid through her skin.

"Aragorn will want to see you." Intara grunted and ignored him as she finished stitching the gash in her side. She held the strands of horsehair tight as she looked around for a knife with which to cut the excess. Legolas drew one of his and handed it to her. She looked at him warily before taking it and cutting the horsehair.

"Is he well?" She asked as she leaned back against the cool stone wall behind her, taking a brief rest.

"He is." Legolas noticed the flatness of her voice and the dull look in her eyes. "You must be tired though, I'll have Eowyn find you a room and you can sleep…"

"I am well rested." Intara said sitting up again.

She reached for a roll of gauze and some lint that she packed the wound with before she bandaged the horrific gash. She slowly wound the bandage around her middle and covered the nasty cut. It would scar horribly, but Intara didn't care about that. She pulled her blouse down over her work and grabbed her discarded tunic. Her hands were caked in blood and in places her hair was matted with it. A heavy line of orc blood and what might have been brains ran beneath her chin and across her temple. Legolas grasped her arm and leaned as close to her as he could.

"You need to go clean yourself up before anyone else sees you. You're a mess." He said. "I only tell you this because now things are going to be happening much faster than any of us is ready for." Her eyes met his for a moment and then she looked down at herself.

Legolas was right. She was a wreck. The foul stench of orc rolled off of her and she felt slimy. She nodded her head slowly.

"I suppose you're right." Intara said. "A bath might not be a bad idea at all."

Legolas nodded and went off to convince Eowyn to prepare a room.

Even after a hot bath, Intara still felt dirty and cold. She didn't think it would be possible for her to feel warm again.

As she dried her hair out and looked at the tub of water she saw that it was black and murky. She didn't know it was possible for her body to have so much foulness on it. But she wasn't sure she had even gotten rid of it all, in spite of the way the water looked. She donned her simple ranger garb and went out into the corridor without looking in the mirror.

She went back to the main room and found Legolas waiting for her.

"Well, that's a vast improvement. At least you don't smell like orc anymore."

"I don't feel improved." Intara answered coldly. "Now where is Aragorn?"

As if waiting for her question, a door swung open behind her and a weary looking Aragorn came striding though it. He stopped cold and stared at her for a moment before rushing forward and grasping her arms, looking her over in disbelief.

"Shadow? Shadow, you're alive?!?" She stared into his gray eyes, not trusting her voice to answer her. She was alive, but she did not wish to live. He pulled her into a tight embrace that she did not return. She whimpered slightly as he squeezed the place she had stitched herself earlier. He pulled away and looked at her.

"Say something Intara…please?"

"What? What can I say?" She whispered, her face twisted as she tried to pull away from Aragorn. She grasped her side as she thought she'd probably have to re-stitch her wound.

"Are you injured? What happened?"

"I am not hurt grievously. And I'm not sure what happened." She looked down between them. "I don't remember much after …." She bit her lip and looked back into his eyes. "It doesn't matter though."

King Theoden came through the door Aragorn had just exited and was speaking quietly with Gandalf. Intara didn't believe her eyes. She shook her head and stepped away from Aragorn before drawing her sword.

"Intara, what's the matter with you?" Rohirrim soldiers surrounded the King as Aragorn tried to keep his cousin from being impaled by the men. "Intara, put down your sword!"

"It's the white wizard! What's he doing here?" Intara asked looking from Aragorn back to Gandalf.

"Aragorn, I think I know what is happening." Gandalf said calmly as he pushed past two of the soldiers. "I take it you told her of my fall?"

Intara's brow furrowed as she tried to understand what was happening.

"I did." Aragorn said.

"But did you tell her of my return?" The wizard said, mirth spilling into his voice in spite of the gravity of the situation.

"It never came up…" Intara answered, eyes locked with Gandalf's. Aragorn turned quickly to Intara.

"Intara…"

"You died." She said coldly, without looking at Aragorn, gaze still centered on the wizard.

"I did. And now I've returned." Gandalf said stepping close. "I'm back as Gandalf the White."

Intara stepped back quickly, keeping Gandalf at sword point. "You are a trick sent from Saruman. He is the White wizard!"

"No. Saruman has lost favor." Gandalf locked his eyes with hers. "Look deep inside yourself, Intara. What does your heart tell you?"

"You have no right to ask that." Intara whispered. "My heart is dead."

"Intara, look inside yourself. Look into my eyes and believe…."

Slowly, she lowered the sword and stared at the old istari. "How did you do it?" She asked weakly. "How were you able to come back?"

"I know not myself. Only that a higher power had a hand in it." Intara sheathed her sword and bowed her head.

"Forgive me. I should not have acted in such a brash manner."

"Do not worry. All is forgiven." Gandalf said as he put his hand on her shoulder. "You have had a trying day child…go and rest. We will be able to catch up in time."

Theoden and Gandalf moved away, followed by Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas. Intara remained where she stood. A shaft of golden light descended to her right from a skylight in the ceiling and illuminated the polished floor. So much had changed….she was not sure she was ready to face it.

Intara stood on the battlements of Helm's Deep for the last time. She'd be going to Medusaled with the other members of the fellowship and the rest of the court. She stood looking out over the plains as the soldiers continued to burn orc corpses and families started the return journey to their homes.

"You wonder if I could bring him back. You wonder if there is something you could do." Intara turned into the wind, allowing it to whip through her tangled hair. Gandalf had come up behind her and she stared at the old man with defeated eyes. "It is useless Intara, it was his time."

"When is it my time?" She asked abruptly. "What is it that I am failing to do?" Her brow furrowed deeply.

"When is it any of our times?" He heard her sniffle and a tear trickled down her cheek.

"Is it because I failed to protect my mother? Or my Uncle? Or my cousins?" She asked, her voice growing shriller with each question. "Is it because I spent so many years picking fights and trying to get myself killed? Is it because I did nothing to save him? What is it that I have done so wrong?"

"You have done nothing wrong, Intara." Gandalf said as he stepped closer to her. Her back straightened as he grasped her arm in a fatherly gesture. "I think your rest is close at hand. The war for Middle Earth has just begun." She looked into the old man's eyes, a flicker of hope in the dull emerald depths. One last tear trickled down her face.

"Do you promise?" She asked, her voice barely audible above the brisk breeze.

"A wizard never promises…things happen as they're meant to in spite of what we might say or do." He smiled when she scowled at him. If she had still harbored doubts as to his identity, they were gone now. He patted her arm and then moved back down the stairs. "Whenever you're ready, we are prepared to leave." The wizard's voice echoed back to her and she followed soon after.

The elves were returning to Lorien, bearing their dead. Haldir had been washed of all blood and laid out on a cart. Intara walked past him and looked down at his calm face. He looked as if he were asleep, and that at any moment he would rise up and take her into his arms. Tentatively she reached out and touched the cold skin on the back of his hand, half expecting it to be warm. The breeze sighed through the keep and seemed to carry with it a deep voice murmuring

"Very soon, meleth. Very soon, you and I shall be together again."

Intara stepped away from the corpse and mounted the horse she'd been given. She kept her eyes locked ahead and did not look back. She did not wish to see the sad procession of elves with their carts of the dead.

It was time to move on.