A/N: Here I am finally updating from the never-ending never updated story. Many many many apologies for letting this story slip through the cracks. For months the inspiration just wasn't there. I'm sorry if there are any mistakes.


Switching Sides: Part One

The night was approaching more quick by the minute and wintry feeling air touched everyone within its reach. Those preparing for the inevitable battle in their future ignored the cold; they did so to the point where it was no longer perceptible to them. Trepidation replaced sensations that would have normally been acknowledged. There was only one thing on the minds of soldiers both young and old and that was the adversary. The enemies constantly plaguing their thoughts, made some dread the absolute worst and others pray to the Valar that their families would be kept safe.

Aragorn stepped into this chilly night and being quite aware of what was going on inside of everyone's head, he chose to ignore it for the moment to sit on one of the many stairs in Helms Deep. Aragorn was troubled. The upcoming battle was beginning to wear down on everyone's nerves. Aragorn understood what something like this could do to anyone including himself.

It was why he purposely walked away from his friends before he could say anything too harmful. Aragorn did feel both hurt and angered by what Legolas had said to him in the presence of his people. It was as if Legolas had no faith in his people's abilities. Aragorn attempted to rid his head of distracting thoughts. He needed to only be focused on seeing to Rohan's victory. A part of him though, couldn't simply forget a very valid very real point Legolas had made; three hundred against ten thousand. They were all too clearly out numbered. He knew what Legolas had said held truth but he did not want to face that fact.

To give up and simply stop believing that Rohan could prevail was something that Aragorn could not afford. He felt that there was no time to linger on negative thoughts. He felt he had a duty to these people. Aragorn watched as everyone continued to prepare for war. Hope would not be lost to them.

A young man studying an old worn sword caught the eye of Aragorn as he sat perched on a stair. He could practically see the apprehension on the boy's face, and the confusion that emitted from him could be detected by anyone. It reminded him whole-heartedly of when Amara, his sister, had learned that she was to journey with the fellowship. He recalled to memory her franticness to learn to defend herself and her being among piles of books dedicated to fighting techniques. Most of all he remembered how frightened she was, just like this boy had to be.

Aragorn gave the confused and nervous appearing boy one more look before the want to help kicked in.

"Give me your sword. What is your name?"

At being addressed, the young man promptly went over to Aragorn. It was a quick sign of a good upbringing. There were lots of things the young man wanted to say and ask but no one would show him the courtesy of speaking to him. It most likely was because he was nothing more than a mere child in their eyes, even though he had been ordered to fight by their sides. When he looked at Aragorn he did not feel that if he were to ask him a question he would be shot down, nor reminded of his place.

"Háleth," the boy said trying to put a bit of strength into his words, but still only sounding like a child. "Son of Háma, my lord." Deciding to just take a chance and say what had been on his mind, he took a breath. "The men are saying that we will not live out the night. They say that it is hopeless."

Aragorn stood and testing the sword the boy had given him, he swung it into the chilled air expertly. For a moment Háleth's words went unacknowledged. Aragorn continued to wield the blade with knowledge beyond the boy's own. Háleth was looking for some sort of guidance. Aragorn saw that because his father did not look to be around, he could not get what he sought from him. Háleth at the moment was reminding him of Amara and how every so often she'd seek his opinion or advice.

It was true that he missed her, but she seemed to be on a crusade of her own.

"Are you aware of who I am?"

Háleth nodded. He often listened to the words that were spread amongst people especially now during these times. He knew Aragorn was the one who was said to be the king of men, but had long abandoned the throne.

"Then you must be aware of my sister." Aragorn halted in his actions with the sword to face the boy.

Háleth shook his head, "I had no knowledge of you having a sister my lord."

Aragorn understood that word might not have spread as quickly as he thought it would have. Other more important things beside him having a sister were happening. In a large way he preferred no one really knowing about Amara being his kin, especially now.

"Well I do. Her name is Amara and she is a few years older than you. Recently," Aragorn looked from the sword to Háleth. He fully believed that sharing this with him would help.

"Recently she stepped into harm's way to do what I believe would give us a much greater advantage."

Háleth listened with rapt attention and not just because Aragorn was the only willing adult that would speak to him at the moment.

There were other things at play with Aragorn and it was almost like he had to tell Háleth what he was about to say. Almost like it was a step in a quite positive direction for him.

"When Grima Wormtongue, former aid to King Theoden was exiled from Rohan, Amara went with him. She never made her motives known to us, but I know she is risking her life with Saruman for everyone's benefit. And you do know how I know this right?"

Háleth shook his head, "No my lord."

"Because I still harbor hope within me as should you. My sister, my only sister, left what little protection I and our friends could offer her because she had hope that she could do something more than what she was doing. I believe she wanted to restore a balance between two sides, give us a fighting chance, so that others like you who had no hope would gain it. Should you choose to give up, should any of us choose to give up then Amara, princess of men," Aragorn for the first time used her title and did so with a bit of force and hints of being proud decorated his tone.

Each and every word he meant with seriousness he had not had in much time.

"Would have put herself in the hands of harm for nothing. Keep your hope Háleth, if not for your sake then for my sister. Nothing is hopeless."

Aragorn took up slicing the air once more with Háleth's sword. The only way he would know if he had gotten through to the young man was when he saw him in battle. After saying what he had to Háleth, he felt much more focused, more centered on what he wanted now.

Háleth let the words Aragorn spoke to him sink in. He was definitely going to heed them, not only because Aragorn had been the only one to speak with him, but also because he believed what Aragorn had said.

"This is a good sword, Háleth son of Háma." Aragorn handed Háleth back his blade.

No longer able to stay from his priorities, he left Háleth and made his way back to the armory to ready himself. Soon it was going to be time for him to step up and face what was right so that Middle Earth could gain more of a chance.

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As soon as Legolas spotted Aragorn returning to the armory, he made up his mind to go and speak with him and no dwarf could stop him. Aragorn had enough time to himself. Legolas felt strongly that he needed to apologize to the man. As soon as the words he had said to Aragorn left his mouth, he realized how insensitive and sadistic he sounded. Legolas broke away from what he was doing, grabbed up Aragorn's sword he had left behind and went to him.

Aragorn went forward with all intentions of preparing for battle. He was so occupied in his task that he did not sense Legolas come up to him. What alerted the man to the elf was the elf's shadow cast on the armor before hi m. Aragorn looked at Legolas and could see the regret in his eyes. It was rare for Legolas to let any emotion be displayed, but yet here he was.

At the moment, Aragorn did not have anything to really say to Legolas. He went back to putting on his armor, not mad for the moment but knowing he should have been. As a sign of trying to restore peace, Legolas held out Aragorn's sword to him. Once more, Aragorn looked up from what he was doing and then halted in his actions. He noticed Legolas holding out his sword to him. He looked between it and Legolas.

"Aragorn, my mind was occupied else where when I spoke those words to you."

"Legolas—," Aragorn started, accepting the sword but was cut off by the elf.

"I should not have spoken those words to you. It only seems to me that every step we take, the enemy is two paces ahead."

"Many thoughts are plaguing everyone during these times," Aragorn said, completely understanding. He placed his free hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You and I both know that the evil walking these lands will never prevail."

Legolas gave a slight nod. He still felt terrible for what he had said. It was just a great portion of him that kept reminding him of all that Rohan's small army was up against. He was getting aggravated with the entire situation and unfortunately his exasperation unleashed itself onto Aragorn.

"We have trusted you this far, you have not led us astray," Legolas said.

Aragorn half laughed. "The simplest thing can lead us astray. I myself have been feeling a little… disgruntled about everything. We must remain firm in spirit."

Legolas understood exactly what Aragorn spoke of. If anyone believed that doubt was afloat among their strong company and that they believed all of it was hopeless, then they most definitely fall in battle. Many eyes were on Aragorn as of late. Others were looking to him to find strength. Legolas felt like he had condemned everyone to death with the words he had said to Aragorn. He felt completely idiotic.

"Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

Aragorn smirked slightly. "Ú-moe edhored, Legolas."

Glad that things were pleasant between them once more, and that their goals were both parallel to each other, Legolas was going to return Aragorn's smirk with one of his own, but the sound of clanking filtered through the room. The two of them looked towards the entrance at the source of the sound. There stood their stout portly friend in chain mail that drug to the floor.

A look of amusement crossed onto Aragorn face at the site of Gimli. Legolas had a similar look, but it was not as pronounced as Aragorn's own.

Gimli touched where the chain mail was across his chest and observed himself. He muttered something incomprehensible before mentioning how tight it was and that if he had time he would get it adjusted. Gimli didn't expect to find any chain mail for dwarves. He wished he had not crushed the notion of bringing his own.

"Gimli—" Legolas began but the sound of a horn interrupted. It was unlike any common horn one would hear being amongst the people of Rohan. It was dissimilar from the horns orcs carried that all were accustomed to. This horn had a much lighter sound and was much more mellifluent.

"That is no orc horn," Legolas said, proclaiming the obvious.

"No, I do not believe it is," Aragorn brushed passed both Legolas and Gimli, jogging outside. Legolas was soon to follow and then Gimli, dragging chain mail and all.

The three met King Theoden at the gates. He appeared a tidal wave of different emotions from astonished and grateful to curious and skeptical. No one person that has gathered around the gate was paying attention to the king though. They were all looking at the hundreds of elves that marched to the entrance of Helms Deep. A shine of awe could be caught in the eye of each and every one of Rohan's soldiers. Seeing the elves all dressed and prepared for war was like a gift directly from the Valar, whom they thought had abandoned them to their fates. Perhaps it was a gift.

Legolas took notice of the flag that the elven army came bearing. Loth Lorien's insignia clearly stood out against the darkened sky. It felt good to see his people once more.

As Haldir, Lorien's marchwarden, approached Aragorn embraced him, clearly glad to see him. He gave him a hearty slap on the back before releasing the elf.

"Haldir, my friend what is it that brings you to Helms Deep," Aragorn asked as if he did not know.

The smile Aragorn sported had not been as large as it was for weeks. They were all finally being given the help they so desperately needed. Why else had Loth Lorien's army arrived?

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between elves and men," Haldir proclaimed proudly. "Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

Haldir was pleased to note the appreciation he saw in everyone. He was elated to see friends again, he only wished it was under better circumstances. He knew he could not cross the sea with everything that was happening. Morally he just could not do it. Haldir was not the only one who felt that way and although the time of the elves was drawing to an end, it did not stop the rest of the world from living its life. No one felt particularly right in turning their heads during hard times, so they did not.

Before they could stand beside men and fight against Saurman and his army, there was one order of business that Galadriel wanted him to take care of. He turned around and motioned towards the one he had trusted to keep a certain object safe. Galadriel had specified that it that to be returned to its rightful owner. Haldir took the object from the elf and gave him a swift nod in thanks. Turning around, Haldir did not miss the look on his friend's faces.

"The lady Galadriel wished for this to be returned to its owner," said Haldir.

With delicate caution, Haldir held out a mahogany acoustic guitar.

To see the instrument once more made Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli think of Amara. It had been a while since they had seen her and even longer since they had seen her with her beloved guitar. It brought emotions to the surface that they had struggled to keep buried so as to deal with the war at hand. They had no way of knowing whether or not she was alive and well. Seeing her guitar brought back the very real fact that Amara just might not return to them as the instrument had.

She was not in the adoring charge of the elves. Amara was in quite the contrary.

Aragorn looked at is sister's guitar and for a moment he remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. She had come across as somewhat unusual, yet oddly familiar. He remembered Elrond sitting the two of them down to reveal that they were siblings and when Amara was to join the fellowship. He vowed to never take his eyes off of her. He had slipped up and forgotten how headstrong she could be at times. Aragorn was sure he was not alone in bringing Amara to memory.

He was most positive that Legolas had felt the haunting sensation of failure when it had come to keeping Amara safe. After all, Aragorn realized that Legolas and Amara had known each other well before he had even met his sister. Their relationship had reached to a place where Aragorn could not follow. Because of that Aragorn did not accept his sister's guitar and instead turned to Legolas. Aragorn had already found his inspiration so to speak and now it was time for Legolas to find his once more.

Legolas saw the beckoning look on Aragorn's face and stepped forward. At first, he thought the object being presented to his friend was too much for him to handle for the moment, but then Aragorn looked back to Haldir and said, "I am not the one who should accept this."

Haldir looked at Aragorn, an almost surprised look on his face, but spoke no words as he continued to hold Amara's guitar.

Theoden, sensing that this was more of a personal matter, waved his hand at the army behind Haldir, bidding them all to follow him. Haldir gave a quick nod of approval and the army behind him moved forward into Helms Deep. He thought that tying this matter up would be quick and instead it was holding back a whole army. Haldir was sure that when everything was said and done, they would look back on this moment in merriment, or at least he hoped. Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn remained rooted to their spots in front of Haldir. Both Aragorn and Gimli watched as elves mingled in with men as they entered the keep, but Legolas watched the guitar in Haldir's hands. A vision of Amara floated into his mind.

"Amara is not here." Whether he said it to himself or to Haldir he did not know.

"I know," said Haldir. "When she returns, you will make sure she receives her prized object."

Haldir's eyes slid to meet Aragorn's and he knew he was doing the right thing by giving the guitar to Legolas. He saw something underlying in Legolas that was missing from Aragorn. What it was he couldn't say, but the spark was gone in the elf. He could only hope that this guitar, an object that held little use to him, would help Legolas.

Legolas took the guitar from Haldir and felt the cool wood beneath his fingertips. Haldir walked passed Legolas to join his fellow soldiers. A pat on Haldir's shoulder from Aragorn had demonstrated the gratitude he felt for everything Haldir had done. Even Gimli had managed to pull from his gruff interior and gave Haldir the small equivalent of a smile. Once Haldir had gone, the two friends looked back to Legolas. Neither of them had the heart to tell him it was time to move along.

The guitar strings were touched lightly by the elf. Legolas moved his fingers down the coarse strings and tried to feel some sort of connection to Amara. Finding such a connection Legolas sought, however, was like trying to coax emotion from a brick wall. Yes, he had found memories of Amara with her guitar. He recalled how much she loved the damn thing, but it couldn't provide Legolas with the one thing he wanted, needed.

The cold wood in his hand only stood to remind him of what was at stake, of what he had to fight for. There was no connection that enabled him to feel her or even sense her, it was as if the guitar was rejecting him, or maybe…or maybe pushing him to where he needed to be. Clear blue eyes that were cast down on the guitar, switched from appearing with rarely shown emotion to a steely look, a look of realization. If he even wished to fulfill Lady Galadriel's request of returning the instrument to its rightful owner, he was going to have to defeat the enemy.

If he wished for Amara to even hold her much loved guitar, be able to see and hear her with it again, he was going to have to set his mind straight.

Put it back where it belonged.

He has to set his mind to where it belonged. Like he had told himself many times before, he had to ignore the decision Amara had made for herself. Forget the past and carry forward. With the image of Amara playing her guitar, her hair loose around her shoulders and the soft smile that was always on her lips when she plucked strings, he held on to his hope that he'd one day see her again, alive and as peaceful as she was in his mind.


No amount of lip biting could keep the scream from bubbling upward in her throat. Her teeth released their clutch on her lips and a terrible howl erupted from Amara. She didn't know how many times she had screamed or even passed out for that matter, but she knew the old wizard before her was keeping count. She was beyond loathing him for the moment. She pictured him stepping a few more paces towards her and her lunging forward to rip out his throat.

Alas, that was not to happen. She was paralyzed. Every limb she possessed she could not move, only feel and know that she was all there. She was in the same room Saruman kept his one and only link to Sauron in. Amara was once very aware of the sounds in the room, the cold dark walls that surrounded them. She was once aware of every small object in the room that could possible save her life.

Now she only wished she were away from the retched room and every damn thing in it. Saruman had woven some spell in which left her standing paralyzed against a wall. Her whole body felt fatigued and even though physically Saruman hadn't touched her, bruises that could only be left from an impact littered her body. A trail of blood ran down her chin from her lip, obviously from biting it so much. Scratches were spread on her face and deep blue eyes that were fighting to stay clear of darkness were losing rapidly.

Before they had been transitioning between their natural color and a sickly raven color. All while being tortured she tried to starve off any hateful images and feelings that she was experiencing and most likely being fed, but being administered so much pain made that impossible. In fact it was becoming the exact opposite. Each time Saruman raised his staff against her she felt even more abhor for him and for what she had gotten herself into.

She was fighting a losing battle within herself and like an eclipse; something huge was making her sink into its shadow.

"You can not keep this up," taunted the wizard. He could see dark swirls battling the blue color in her eyes. It was exactly what he wanted and expected to happen. Each time he raised his staff to deal her a blow, he spoon fed her Sauron's will. No matter what, he was going to have her on their side. She couldn't withstand much more physical torture. Not without killing her could he do anything further.

The fight in her had to be squandered. Saruman decided that one more hit had to be risked in order to rip away her strength. The smooth alabaster staff was raised by its owner and surged forward. A small but powerful wind was produced from the end of Saruman's staff, but that wasn't what Amara felt. What she felt was a force as hard as concrete hit her cheek. Her head whipped to the side with such vigor that it struck the wall she was forced against.

Amara's face contorted in pain as she felt her head immediately begin to pound. There was no sound of her skull cracking so she assumed that she was alright. She felt blood trickle down from her hairline. This made no difference to her compared to the hurt her bruises were causing. To keep Saruman from being philanthropic with doses of pain, she decided to vaguely give him what he wanted, like she had been doing. She couldn't take much more. Just a little relief was all she wanted.

"Ult—Ultimately it—it doesn't work," she breathed heavily. Her eyelids half closed. "The weapon you cr—created will do dam—age, but it will not work."

"Tell me what it is you know," snarled Saruman with much force.

"For god sakes," Amara gasped out sharply. Her chest was heaving with trying to bring in as much air to her lungs as possible.

"I've told you the—the truth!"

Saruman turned from her and with a shake of his head; he told her that he did not believe in her words.

"I've told you the…truth! I've been telling you the truth!"

Saruman held his staff closer. The only reason he did not strike against her was to give her time to recuperate. Death was something he did not want to deal with for the moment being.

"Tell me you do not still hold out hope for the ones you care about?"

The wizard received his answer when Amara's wary eyes looked down.

"Does it bother you that your friends, the only family you have, care not about your well being?"

Amara looked up. "That is not true."

She had been deceived before and swore that it'd never happen again. Anything he had to say about the people in her life she'd fling right out the window. He knew nothing about her life with them. Amara wished she could push Saruman out of a window and watch as his flailing body impacted with the ground. She wished to witness the blood crawl slowly from him and spread across the ground, creating its own work of art.

Amara struggled to rid her mind at what as not the first of violent images. They were coming in faster and more frequent. She felt her body give an involuntary twitch. Saruman had not raised his staff to her. He only stared.

Amara tried to move her hand, hopeful that the spell weighing her down had lifted.

It hadn't.

"Or perhaps it is that they care too much," Saruman quirked an eyebrow and turned from Amara, beginning to pace up and down the large cold room.

The thought of him being up to something crossed Amara's mind. Her body gave an involuntary twitch.

"Perhaps they care too much," he repeated. "They left you in the stables did they not?" He stopped pacing to look at her for confirmation. When she didn't say anything he continued on.

"If I were in their stead, you've gone with me. I would have had you there to alert me of any misgivings. They were trying to protect you were they not?"

"Yes." She hadn't wanted to answer him but for whatever reason an answer came trembling out of her mouth.

"They do not believe in your ability."

It was not a question but the word no spurted from her. "No, the don't,"

"They do not believe in your ability to care for yourself."

"No, they don't," Amara said again.

"They only see you as a child who needs constant super vision," Saruman fed her.

At this she said nothing. Saruman stopped pacing once more and turned to her. With much more harshness he said, "They see you as a child!"

When she again did not say a word, Saruman grasped his staff and pushed it towards the pinned body on the wall. Amara howled in pain as her chest felt tight. She almost didn't hear Saruman's repeated insistent statement.

"They see you as a child."

"They see you as a child," he said again.

"They see you as a child."

'Yes," the answer came instantly from her.

He stepped closer to her. "Do you need consistent supervision?"

The question seemed to bring an absurd amount of anger forward in her. Of course she didn't need to be watched. She'd learned enough fighting to scrape by with her life.

"I do not."

Saruman watched the remaining black in her eyes grip onto what little rich blue color was left and hold on, squeezing life and sparkle out like a tourniquet. He turned to let her be and to make sure whether or not she had told him the truth. Her thoughts for the moment would be torture enough.

Amara watched him leave.

'Bastard,' was what she called him in her head. Terrible images of his corpse entertained her.

"No," she croaked out. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to let the dark images slide and fall behind her. Saruman was doing something to her. He had been doing something. What it was, Amara didn't know but it was affecting her mind. She tried to think about a Saturday she spent with Legolas. They had watched cartoons all morning and she and she gorged herself on peanut butter and Fruit Loops. Legolas had warned her that the combination could not be good for her, but she ignored him. What had he known about Earth food anyway?

She should have listened because she spent the other half of the day nursing an upset stomach and watching Legolas' 'I told you so face.'

Blood. Deep rich liquid spread across many lands.

Amara grunted trying to push the image out.

She tried to gather up the image of her brother. Yes, Aragorn. They had spent a rare afternoon together. Aragorn had been polishing his sword and he had told her what little he remembered of their mother. The two of them had talked for hours under the stars.

The image of thousands of arrows filling a dark sky interrupted the memory with relative ease. She imagined them hitting their targets each and every one of them. An uncontrollable sob sprouted from her throat, but she wouldn't let tears come. She wished she could rewind time and be that awkward teenager again. She wished her brother was with her. She wished she could see Legolas again without having to think of him.

Saruman came back all too quickly in her opinion. He stopped in front of her and Amara felt that invisible force holding her against the wall loosened, until it was no longer there. It took all of her strength not to fold under the pain. She stood stock still and looked at the wizard who was following evil ways.

He looked into the woman's now coal colored eyes. "I am not convinced of your loyalty." Saruman grasped her by the arm and dragged her forward, forward towards the orb that was concealed under a black cloth.

"You will show me where your loyalties lie," he spoke hauntingly before he pushed her to her knees in from of the pedestal. He whipped away the cloth and revealed his direct link to Sauron and in that instant Amara began to writhe in pain. The air in the room seemed to grow colder if that were at all possible.

Wormtongue entered the room at the earlier request of Saruman. What he wanted he was not sure, but he had been pretty certain it would have to do with the battle taking place. He entered the room feeling nervous and his nervousness only heightened when he saw Amara twisted in pain before the eye of Sauron. Sauron himself was in this very room. Wormtongue stayed rooted to the spot by the door.

He knew not what to make of this. An innocent woman with an exceptional gift was being tortured for their cause. Again the question entered his mind. 'Was it right?' Only after he could no longer look at the sickening image before him, did he make his presence apparent to Saruman.

"I know she is only speaking for the well being of those she holds dear." Saruman whispered once Wormtongue had reached his side. The wizard watched on as Amara felt what was a terrible pain. He knew Sauron was giving her pain that would have made her beg for what he had given her.

Wormtongue turned hesitant eyes back to the woman. His eyes began to water without his consent.

"Sauron has her in his grasp. He will make her see where I could not.


There was not one heart in Helms Deep that did not thunder with apprehension and choler. This battled loomed over them ever the closer. Both men and elves readied themselves and took their designated positions. The first objective being to defend Helms Deep was what King Theoden had instilled into everyone with ears. Should any enemy get passed them was not something affordable to anyone.

The women and children sheltered deep into Helms Deep were defenseless. They depended on every action against Saruman's army. They only had their imagination and the sound above to aid them in what was happening.

The sky had long since darkened, only to be lit every now and then by bolts of lightning. The sounds, the dreadful sounds of marching boots filled everyone's ears and those who were not defending the keep. Each harsh cacophonous step taken by the opposing army brought the deep inevitable feeling of dread. Some feared what they represented; others welcomed the army and the chance to prove to the enemy that evil could not prevail. Many were experiencing different emotions but not one of them vowed to give up when things got hard.

Not one of them would step away from those who were defenseless and what was rightfully theirs.

They took up final positions and all was quiet as the enemy made its way to them. It was just as King Theoden had said, 'Let them come.' Come they had, but they would not walk away with Helms Deep under their collective belts. Thunder was the only sound that mingled with the sound of stomping boots. It drowned out the calmness of the rain that had started some time ago and began to chill the skin of the soldiers.

Weapons made themselves ready as the stomping of the enemy stopped. The enemy was as close as possible, taunting them, daring them to make the first move. It was the mistake and fragility of an elderly man that sent an arrow soaring to the opposing side. Though ill timed the arrow was, it embedded itself well into the neck of an urk-hai, revealing a weak spot. For a fraction of a second there was utter silence and one could actually hear the rain. The urk-hai fell to its death and loud horrendous roars sounded into the night.

Though Theoden had long since uttered the words, 'So it begins' it had already begun, long when the Ring had been unearthed once more.

The battle to defend Rohan commenced.

There were those who tended to forget it was even a battle at all. Though they fought as fierce if not fiercer than anyone else, both dwarf and elf chose to gaze upon the whole scenario as a competition. In Gimli's mind it was dwarf against elf. Gimli unstuck his axe from the abdomen of an urk-hai and managed to spare a glance at Legolas before he swung his preferred weapon once more. Gimli had thought that receiving Amara's guitar would send the elf into dejection, but it had seemed to do quite the opposite.

Gimli caught his axe in the knees of and unexpected urk-hai and laughed quite heartily before dislodging his blade once more. There was a gleam in the eyes of Legolas that had before disappeared due to Amara's decision. He seemed more determined to shed the blood of the enemy. Whatever had changed in the elf Gimli approved.

What had changed in Legolas was the renewed hope of seeing Amara very much alive. When he held her guitar, the feelings at first had not been bright but if he were to return it to her, everything would be fine. He believed this strongly. Their future would be fine.

Their future.

It would be more than fine. It would be magnificent. After all of the fighting was over, he imagined that the two of them would travel to Mirkwood where he could introduce her to his father, and more of his friends. There were many times he dreamt of showing her Mirkwood's sights.

"Two already," a gruff voice called.

Legolas looked towards the voice while he pulled another arrow from his quiver. At seeing Gimli he smiled.

"I'm on seventeen," Legolas could not help but boast. No doubt at this startling news, Gimli was going to push himself harder.

Legolas unleashed a well aimed arrow at his target, then another. Gimli did not stand a chance against him, for Gimli did not have the image of one dark haired incredibly blue eyes woman in his head.

He heard the dwarf say something along the lines of not being outscored.

Legolas yelled his current number. "Nineteen."

A curse came forth and whether or not it came from the dwarf or urk-hai, Legolas could not differentiate.

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Aragorn was once more with elven archers trying to keep firing as long as they could to keep the urk-hai at bay. He ordered another wave of arrows to be fired at urk-hai below. He had not a clue how long he would be able to stay with the archers before he would be needed again below. A feeling he was experiencing told him to stay with the archers as long as possible. Something just did not feel right. Aragorn had learned to trust his instincts, especially when they were strong.

He ordered another round of arrows to be shot as he saw urk-hai trying to lunge forward. He witnessed arrows hail downward and meet their targets, but something in the crowd of enemy was moving forward at a great speed. When what it was finally caught his well trained eye, he thought the worst. One urk-hai followed by another, carried metal balls, large in size and a third ran with a torch behind the two.

In an instant he knew what their destination was going to be, the culvert. It was the weakest point within the keep. From the corner of his eye he saw Legolas coming forward. He had not the time to explain and even if he did, he did not think he could find the words.

"Togo han dad, Legolas. Dago hon! Dago hon!"

The command did not fall on death ears. With quick swift precision, Legolas found his target and notched an arrow. He pulled the taunt string back but went no further.


Translations:

Ú-moe edhored: There is nothing to forgive.

Togo han dad: Bring him down.

Dago hon: Kill him!