The boat came to a stop and they heard a voice from the dock.

"Late as usual! Pirate scum! There's knife work that needs doing."

Dúvainiel looked at Legolas as she reached for her sword, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Come on you sea rats! Get off your ships!"

Aragorn leapt over the edge of the ship and down to the docks, followed by Gimli, Legolas, and Dúvainiel.

The orcs standing on the dock paused, not realizing that they were not the pirates they had been waiting for, and as the four of them moved towards the orcs she heard Gimli.

"There's plenty for the both of us," he said to Legolas. "May the best dwarf win."

Dúvainiel grinned madly as she moved forward with her sword drawn. The Army of the Undead appeared from the ships and charged the orcs. Dúvainiel began her own count as she worked her way through them.

She used her sword instead of her bow and arrows, and made quick work of the orcs coming at her. The Army of the Undead helped them immensely, and she was thankful they had decided to stand with Aragorn.

They fought their way towards the White City, and Dúvainiel noticed riders from Rohan mixed in all the fighting. As they got closer to the city, she also noticed that they weren't just fighting orcs, and the Oliphaunts ridden by the Men of Harad were proving to be a vicious force used against them. In one sweep, one Oliphaunt took out seven or eight horses and their riders.

"Legolas!" Dúvainiel heard Aragorn's voice, and turned quickly at the tone of panic. She was relieved to see that it had only been a warning of an Oliphaunt moving towards Legolas, and he quickly moved to not only avoid being hurt by it, but to climb it. Dúvainiel quickly turned back just in time to defend herself against an orc.

She started backing away, moving closer to Aragorn's side, and as she turned to find him, she saw an orc raising his weapon behind the Ranger. Dúvainiel pulled a dagger from her waist and threw it at the orc, hitting him square in the neck. Aragorn turned and saw the orc fall and then turned back to Dúvainiel, and quickly nodded his thanks, before he pulled his sword back to attack another enemy. Dúvainiel, herself kept swinging her sword, and all around her, orcs were falling.

She heard the mournful moan of an Oliphaunt and turned just in time to see it crash to the ground, close enough that the weight of the crash made the ground shake under her feet. Legolas slid down its trunk and hopped to the ground, and then gave her a look that said, 'Well… nothing to it then.'

"That still only counts as one," Gimli hollered at the blonde Elf.

Legolas pulled an arrow and began firing once more, and the battle raged on.

Some time later, the Army of the Undead was finishing off the enemies who were retreating and Dúvainiel looked around. The ground was littered with so many men, and orcs, and horses. She looked around for Legolas- it had been a while since she had seen him. She found him with Gimli. They were sitting on the back of an orc who lay dead. She walked up to them.

"My count was 73," Legolas said proudly.

Gimli looked at him and grinned, "73? 73?? That's not bad for a pointy-eared elvish princeling. I had 75."

Dúvainiel stifled a giggle at the dwarf's words, but grinned and shook her head. She pulled a small dagger from the sheath inside her boot and threw it at their feet. They both looked up at her in surprise.

"I had 89," she told them smugly. Both of them looked at her in awe, and she giggled then turned to more serious matters- first, to look for Aragorn. Once she saw that he was safe, and apparently uninjured, she began looking at the faces of the men who lay dead on the ground as she walked around them.

A quiet settled over the field as the clouds gave way to the sun. Briefly, Dúvainiel looked up at Minas Tirith, and couldn't help but think that it was beautiful. She reluctantly turned to the bodies once more.

She spotted a face she recognized, and gasped.

Théoden lay on the ground under his horse- he was dead.

Dúvainiel turned back to find Aragorn, to tell him, and saw that he was speaking with the King of the Undead.

"I hold your oath fulfilled," Aragorn said. "Go. Be at peace." The King smiled and the entire army disappeared on the wind.

Dúvainiel noticed that Gandalf had emerged from the city, and her heart swelled with happiness to see him alive. He had been watching the exchange with Aragorn and the Undead, and when Aragorn looked at Gandalf, the wizard bowed to the man. Dúvainiel knew, by claiming the oath of the Undead, Aragorn had stepped into his unwanted role of the King of Gondor.

Just then she heard a gut-wrenching scream, and she turned to see Éomer, who dropped his sword and his helmet and ran towards a figure laying on the ground.

Dúvainiel gasped again when she recognized who it was.

"Éowyn…" she whispered.

Éomer took his sister in his arms, and cried as he looked around the field as though hoping that someone there held an answer to his pain. Dúvainiel ran over to the siblings. She ran her hands over Éowyn and then looked at the man, who was now cradling the shieldmaiden in his arms.

"Éomer," Dúvainiel said to the distraught man, "she's alive." He looked up at her, his eyes filled with hope. "We must get her inside the city."

Éomer lifted his sister into his arms, and they made their way as briskly as they could into the city. Once inside the gates, a Gondorian guard led them to the Houses of Healing.

Long into the night, the others searched for survivors out on the Fields of Pelennor while Dúvainiel worked feverishly to save Éowyn's life. Éomer never left his sister's side. Dúvainiel wondered if he knew his uncle was dead.

When there was no more that she could do, she turned to Éomer, and hugged him briefly, and then moved silently on to the others who were wounded.

In the early hours of the morning, before the sun was up, Legolas came in carrying Merry. Pippin walked with him. She was busy working on one of the Gondorian men, but she saw Legolas find a place for the Halfling, and then Pippin tended to his friend. Dúvainiel turned back to the man, who had a broken arm and two arrow wounds. The arm had already been set, and the wounds tended to, but the dressings needed to be changed. He flinched in his sleep as she cleaned the first wound and then opened his eyes and looked at her.

"You're an elf," he croaked.

She turned slightly and reached for a glass of water and helped him sit up a little to drink.

"I am called Dúvainiel," she told him.

He laid back down, and she redressed the first wound, then cleaned the second.

"I'm Faramir, son of Denethor," he said, his voice now more clear. She looked at his face, startled. Her eyes met his, and she entered his mind, searching for confirmation.

"Remember this day, little brother," she saw Boromir tell the man.

She pulled out of his mind. "You're Boromir's brother."

A look of sadness crossed his face and for a moment, she regretted bringing up the name.

"I lost my brother in battle, too," she said as she dressed the second wound. "But we will make them proud, won't we?"

She didn't wait for his answer as she got up and moved to the next wounded man. The emotional exhaustion was beginning to wear on her.

The loss of Boromir, of King Théoden, Éowyn and Evenstar both on the brink of death… Haldir. And all the ones whose names she didn't know, laying out on Pelennor Fields, and all the elves she did know that died at Helm's Deep. Right then and there, it all seemed so senseless as the weight of the losses hit her and she sniffled as a tear prickled the corner of her eye.

A hand fell on her shoulder, and she jumped.

"Come," Legolas said when she looked at him. "You're exhausted. You need to rest."

She started to protest, but he cut her off, "You're no use to anyone in this state. It's better to rest for a while. You can come back."

She nodded, knowing he was right, and allowed him to lead her away.

She wondered where they would go, but he seemed to know, as he led them up to the top of the city. They walked into the Citadel, and she noticed the King's throne. To the right of the throne was an archway with stairs just through it, and that was where Legolas led her. At the top, he turned left, and they walked over a balcony, which looked down on the throne room. He turned right and entered a hallway.

"This is the royal wing," he said as he led her down the hall. Servants were bustling about in a flurry to impress their new leader. Just then Gandalf rounded the corner at the end of the hall, and Dúvainiel smiled when she saw him.

"Ah, Dúvainiel," he said as he walked up to them. "It is so good to see that you are well."

Dúvainiel gave the wizard a fierce embrace, and echoed his sentiments. She had been quite relieved when she saw him emerge from the city gates.

Gandalf pulled away from her, but held her by the arms and looked in her face, "It's time for you to rest, my dear. You are much too weary." He looked at Legolas, standing beside her. "I see you are in capable hands," he said, his eyes sparkled knowingly.

He squeezed one of her arms and let go, and continued on his path out of the hall. Legolas took her arm, and ushered her into a room.

She noticed immediately that someone had brought her weapons and pack to the room. She vaguely remembered having taken them off in the Houses of Healing.

The beauty of the room nearly took her breath away. She had not imagined that Men were capable of such intricacy, not only in the engraved stone walls but also in the furniture. In every part of the room, the Gondorian emblem of the white tree was present- engraved in the wood of the four poster bed, and desk, as well as carved into the stone walls. The velvet bedding was colored in rich purples, and a vase filled with flowers set on the bed table. She immediately felt the feminine presence in the room, a princess of old. She smiled.

Two slender arched windows allowed her a view down to the bottom of the city and across the plain, and she walked over and looked out, just as the sun was rising. Legolas walked over and stood behind her, and in the silence of dawn, they looked at the quiet city. It was hard to believe that such a battle had taken place only yesterday. Dúvainiel felt sorrowful, knowing that it was not over for them. She turned slightly and leaned into Legolas, who put his arms around her and kissed her head.

"Come," he said. "You must rest."

She did not argue as he led her to the bed. She pulled off her cloak, breast plate, and vembrances, and lay down.

She watched as he walked away from the bed towards the door, and then stopped to look back at her from the doorway. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, and closed the door as he walked out.

She stared at the door for a few minutes, wishing for his company, before she closed her eyes and fell to sleep quickly.

The sounds of footsteps and female whispered woke her, and she opened her eyes and watched as women went in and out her door. She sat up and saw a tray of food sitting on the bed stand in place of the vase of flowers, which had been moved to the desk.

"My lady," a voice said softly.

She turned and saw a woman standing near the doorway. She bowed to Dúvainiel.

"My lady, your bath is ready."

Dúvainiel had no idea what she was talking about, but she pulled herself off the bed and allowed the woman to lead her to a small room adjacent to the bedroom, which appeared to be a bathing room.

"I am called Avelina," the maid said.

The bath water was filled nearly to the top, and the smell of the salts filled Dúvainiel's nose. It was a pleasant and soft flower aroma that reminded her of merils (roses).

Avelina left her alone, and Dúvainiel stripped off her clothes and lowered herself into the warm water. By the time the water had cooled, she was clean and felt refreshed once more. The sleep she had needed, but the bath really helped to rejuvenate her. She reluctantly pulled herself out, knowing that her elven skills would still be needed in the Houses of Healing, and she quickly dried herself and dressed in a dark blue gown that had been left for her in the bathing room.

She went back into the bedroom once more, and found a pair of soft, slipper-like shoes that had been left for her, and though they were slightly large for her small feet, she wore them anyways, and then ignoring the tray of food that had been left for her, she headed down to the Houses of Healing.

She had not seen Legolas since dawn, and was disappointed to see that he was not in the healing room, but she got to work anyway.

A nursemaid pointed out the most seriously injured- the ones who could really use her elven skill, and she spent the next hours working to save their lives. She had been told that the warriors with less serious injuries had been moved to a different hall, but was saddened to see that injured men were still being brought in from the fields. She noticed that Éowyn was no longer being kept here and briefly wondered if she had died while Dúvainiel was resting. She prayed that was not the case.

Silently, Dúvainiel worked, until she heard soft steps walk up behind her. She was sewing a deep wound in the man's torso when she breathed in the familiar scent of sandalwood and fir. She smiled.

"Hold this," she said to Legolas, not even looking at him as she pulled the stitch taut and handed him the needle. He took it without question, and she began a second stitch to hold it in place. "Thank you," she looked at him and smiled as she took the first needle back from him.

"The King has requested the council of the Fellowship," Legolas told her.

"Of course," she nodded. "Let me wash my hands."

She walked to the nearest basin and cleaned herself up, and Legolas led her back up to the Citadel and into the throne room, where she saw Gimli, Gandalf, and Éomer. Gimli sat in the Steward's chair, smoking his pipe.

"Where are Merry and Pippin?" she whispered to Legolas as they walked towards the throne.

"Merry is still in the ward," he responded. "Pippin refused to leave his side."

"I didn't see him."

"He was moved to the other ward. He should be up and around by this afternoon," the Elf said as they came to stand by their companions.

She looked at Éomer. His expression, as usual, gave nothing away.

"And Éowyn?" she asked, bracing herself for the worst.

Éomer's face softened almost imperceptibly. "She will recover," the man told her.

Dúvainiel breathed a sigh of relief and put her hand on Éomer's arm. "I'm sorry about Theoden," she said to him.

He looked as though he was going to reply, when Aragorn entered the room.

"Has there been any news of Frodo?" the king asked.

"None," Legolas replied.

"Gandalf?"

All eyes turned to the wizard, who looked away from the group and then closed his eyes. The hall was silent as they waited, and he finally turned to the group, who each looked at him expectantly.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," he said. "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had The Ring, we would now it," Aragorn insisted.

"It's only a matter of time," Gandalf responded. "He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."

Dúvainiel's throat tightened at the wizard's words, but they didn't seem to faze Gimli at all.

"Let him stay there," the Dwarf said. "Let him rot. Why should we care?"

Dúvainiel looked him in disbelief. Did he truly not understand the seriousness of the situation?

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," she told him. She looked to Gandalf for confirmation. Dúvainiel noticed how old he looked as he closed his eyes and shook his head slowly.

"I have sent him to his death."

Dúvainiel's heart went out to her friend and she longed to comfort him. But before she could say anything, Aragorn beat her to it.

"No," he said. "There's still hope for Frodo."

Dúvainiel looked at him questioningly.

"He needs time," he went on, "and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli asked.

"Draw out Sauron's armies, empty his lands," Aragorn responded. "Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

"We can not achieve victory through strength of arms," Éomer commented. "Not for ourselves," Aragorn said, focusing on the other man. "But we can give Frodo his chance, if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." "Of course," Dúvainiel added. "Keep him blind to all else that moves." "A diversion," Legolas cut in.

"Certainty of death," Gimli said from the Steward's chair. "Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?'

Dúvainiel grinned at the dwarf.

"Sauron will suspect a trap," Gandalf mentioned. "He will not take the bait." "No, I think he will," Aragorn said confidently. "We ride at dawn." With that, the decision was made and he strode past the group and to the stairs that led to the royal quarters. Gandalf followed, calling his name. "I'm going to visit Éowyn," Éomer muttered. "Éomer," Dúvainiel called to him as he walked away. "May I join you?" "Of course, my lady." She looked at Legolas, and nodded, telling him with her eyes that she would see him later, and then jogged the length of the hall to catch up with Éomer, who held his arm out to her. She took it and the two returned to the Houses of Healing, where he led them to the ward of the less seriously injured. Immediately, she noticed that Éowyn was not alone. She sat propped up on the cot, her eyes sparkled and her soft laugh filled the room, as Faramir sat next to her, speaking in low tones. Dúvainiel was pleased for the woman- Faramir seemed genuinely taken with her. "Dúvainiel!" She stopped when she heard her name, and turned towards the speaker. Two little Hobbits ran up to her and hugged her fiercely. Éomer continued his walk to his sister's side, and Dúvainiel noticed that Faramir shook the other man's hand and then abandoned the chair next to Éowyn, so that her brother could sit with her. "How are you feeling, Merry?" Dúvainiel asked, turning her attention back to the little folk. "Never better," Merry replied. "Well, there was the time when we…" Pippin started, but was interrupted by a man's raised voice, and the three of them turned to see Éomer and Éowyn having a disagreement. "You're NOT going, Éowyn, and that's my final word," Éomer was saying. "Your final word?"' Éowyn said incredulously. Éomer stood and walked away, his face contorted in anger. "Stupid, stupid girl," he muttered loudly as he stormed out of the ward. Éowyn looked crushed at her brother's words, and tears slid down her cheeks as she began to sob. Dúvainiel was torn between comforting the girl or having a word with Éomer, and when she saw that Faramir returned to Éowyn's side, she went after Éomer. "Excuse me, my friends," she said to the Hobbits, and rushed out of the ward. "What was that about?" she heard Pippin ask before she was out of hearing range. "Éomer!" she called once she was out of the building. Éomer continued walking as if he had not heard her. She quickened her steps to catch up to him and grasped his arm when she reached his side. He stopped and looked at her, his expression still stormy.

"I understand that you are angry with Éowyn," she started.

"Angry does not even begin to explain how I feel, Dúvainiel," he said, turning and walking away from her once more.

"You must be relieved by her recovery," Dúvainiel said, falling into step with him once more.

"Of course I am," he replied. "But the foolish little girl wants to join the army in the march on the Black Gates. She has learned nothing from the Battle at Pelennor Fields."

"Éowyn is not a little girl, Éomer," Dúvainiel said, suddenly feeling like she was speaking to her own brother.

Éomer stopped and grabbed Dúvainiel by both arms, "Éowyn has no more business out on the battle field than you do."

Dúvainiel bristled at his words, "Excuse me?"

Éomer moved closed to Dúvainiel, and she felt offended by his invasion into her personal space, "War is no place for a woman. A woman's place is in the home, to make life comfortable for her husband and to keep his bed warm."

Dúvainiel jerked herself free from Éomer's grasp, shocked by his suggestive tone. She reached her arm back and firmly slapped him across his face, so hard that her hand stung from the force of it. The anger in his eyes darkened.

"If you were a man, I would strike you for that," he said in a low tone.

"Don't let that stop you," she snapped.

He didn't reply, but the anger in his face faded after a few moments, and the expression was replaced by one that seemed remorseful.

"Éomer," Dúvainiel said, trying again. "No matter what your belief about a woman's place, Éowyn desires to fight for the freedom of Middle Earth. Our fight is not over. You are all she has left now, and you just told her that you are going to battle once more. It is likely that none of us will return. Do you really want to leave things the way you just left them?"

Éomer sighed. "I'm sorry, my lady, if I offended your honor," he said to her, and then turned and walked back in the direction of the Houses of Healing.

Dúvainiel stared at his retreating back in wonderment. Men were so flighty! She turned from him and made her way back up to the top of the city in search of Legolas.

After a lengthy search, she gave up and walked to the tip of the uppermost level of the city and looked out towards Mordor. The clouds in the distance were grey and every so often, an angry orange light flared in the reflection of them. Dúvainiel shivered involuntarily. Tomorrow they would take their last stand. Dúvainiel wondered how many of them would fall by way of Boromir and Theoden.

She sighed deeply.

"My lady," a deep voice said from behind her.

Dúvainiel turned to see Aragorn.

"Your Highness," she said and bowed to the king.

His mouth puckered slightly in annoyance, and Dúvainiel bit back a grin. Poor Aragorn would never feel comfortable with his title.

He came up to stand beside her and they both looked across the fields toward Mordor.

"Will you be staying here tomorrow?" Aragorn said after a long moment of silence.

Dúvainiel looked at him, surprised by the question.

"They could use your elven skill in the Houses of Healing," he explained.

"My duty is to the Ringbearer," she replied. "I will stand beside you at The Black Gates."

He nodded his head, seemingly satisfied by her answer.

A comfortable silence fell between them, and for long minutes, they stood in the quiet of the evening and watched the orange reflecting in the clouds in the distance.

"Do you really think it will work?" she finally asked, her eyes still focused on the clouds in the distance.

He looked at her for a long moment. "Yes, I do," he answered, then turned back to look towards Mordor once more.

"What if we fail? What if you don't return?"

"Destroying The One Ring is all that matters," he responded.

She looked at him then, and he turned back to her. Determination filled his features, and Dúvainiel felt hope well up within her. She nodded at him, and placed her hand on his arm. She gave it a light squeeze and let go, and turned back towards Mordor.

"I shall take my leave now," he told her. "Losto vae (Sleep well), Dúvainiel."

"Losto vae," she responded.

Aragorn turned to walk away, but before he got more than a few steps, she reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Elessar," she said.

He looked at her face questioningly.

She looked into his eyes and paused, wondering if she should tell him what was on her mind. Deciding to go ahead, she said, "We'll save her in time."

He gave her a surprised look, but then his expression changed to determination once more. He didn't ask her how she knew about Arwen, instead he nodded and turned and walked away once more. Dúvainiel sighed. She took once last glance toward Mordor, and then turned and followed Aragorn towards the citadel.

She wondered around inside looking for Legolas, but couldn't find him. She wondered where he had been all day. She decided to go back to her room and bathe and ready herself for the next day.

Avelina was in Dúvainiel's room when she arrived.

"My lady," the maid said, and curtsied to the elleth.

"Good evening to you, Avelina," Dúvainiel said.

"I brought you a sleeping gown, miss," the woman replied.

"Thank you."

"Is there anything else I can get for you miss?"

"No, Avelina. Thank you," Dúvainiel replied.

"Good night then, miss," the maid said.

Dúvainiel said nothing, but watched as the woman left the room. She walked over to the bed and picked up the nightgown that had been left for her. She then decided to skip the bath, and changed her clothes and laid down on the bed. She faced toward the window, and looked out at the stars. She missed Legolas, even though she had seen him earlier that day. She had hoped to spend the night curled in the comfort and strength of his arms. Who knew what was going to happen once they reached Mordor?

She must have fallen asleep, because it seemed some time later when she felt the bed shift. An arm reached around her and stilled her movement as she tried to turn to see who it was. The scent of fir and sandalwood filled her nostrils and she relaxed in her prince's arms.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his arms and put her arms around him. "Le melin," she whispered.

The prince kissed her lightly on her forehead and as she drifted back to sleep she heard him whisper, "Oltho vae (Sweet dreams)"

TBC