Okay, now that finals have begun (at least at my school), I'm going to copy the same thing I did for my midterm marathon. Except this will be the finals finale. (Yes, I do know that I'm not in the "finale" of My Fairytale but I needed a name.) So, same deal as before – for each of the next 4-5 days of finals, I'm going to post a new chapter. Again, thanks to all of my readers/reviewers for sticking with me this far!

Chapter Thirty-Two

~ Estel ~
I fastened the cloak I had received from Lothlórien around my neck and sighed. Well, this is it. My preparation for battle was short and rather small. Eating, getting into some chain mail, strapping on my bow and quiver more securely – and that was pretty much it.

I closed my eyes. Ten thousand strong. The legends say that the armies marching against us are ten thousand strong at least.

I knew that, according to legend, Rohan did hold off the Uruk-hai from Isenguard. The wall collapsed when the sewer – the only weak point – got blown up, and Rohan had been forced to move into the keep, but in the end, when the sun had risen, at last hope had come back. Théoden and Aragorn had led charge out of the keep just as Mithrandir had ridden in with the reinforcements – namely, the Rohirrim under Èomer.

I sighed and opened my eyes. This time, we were forewarned and we were ready. But are we really ready? Can we pull off this miracle once again? I mean, the arrival of Eldarion and me had nearly killed Aragorn on the way to Helm's Deep – what was to say something like that wouldn't happen again?

And who will it be next time? Not Aragorn again; the Valar need him, otherwise Eldarion and I wouldn't exist and Middle-earth would fall into chaos without a leader who could unite Men.

Gimli? My hands clenched into fists at the thought of Gimli leaving. He too had more roles to play in the future.

Eldarion? But no. The Valar had sent my brother here for a purpose; surely – hopefully – they didn't mean for him to go out with the same kind of bang he had come in with, if his telling of his arrival in Lothlórien was true.

That leaves . . . me.

I took a deep breath to think it over logically. I had escaped death many times, so in Mandos came calling this time . . . well, surely it wouldn't be that hard to accept it? Eldarion knew what would happen as well as I did, so he could guide the others as well as I had.

No, wait. There is one more. Legolas? My heart clenched suddenly at the thought of the golden-haired Elf dying in this battle. History had never told what had happened to Mirkwood's prince; he had sort of . . . faded out of the picture, although rumor had it that he had taken Gimli and sailed to the Undying Lands . . . eventually.

I prayed that that legend would ring true here as well.

"~Am I interrupting something here?~"

I started, whirling around. Legolas himself stood in the doorway. "Valar, Legolas, what is it with your fascination with scaring me by appearing silently and asking a question?" I demanded when I'd finally gotten my breath back.

He gave me a brief smile. It was then that I noticed he was holding something in one of his hands. As I squinted at it, I realized he gripped a sword and sheath.

I glanced from it to him and frowned. What's going on? As far as I knew, Legolas used his bow in most cases. And if he didn't, he was using his twin blades, which were just as deadly. "~What's with the sword?~"

Legolas straightened from where he'd been leaning on the door and offered the sword to me. "~It's for you,~" he explained. At my confused glance, he continued, "~I know that the Lady gave you a bow, and you have plenty of arrows. But if and when the fighting comes to close quarters, they will not do you any good. You'll need a sword.~"

I took it and drew the blade out. To my surprise, the sword fit pretty well in my hand, and it was more or less balanced. I swung it experimentally before sheathing it again. I had was better with my bow then with a sword, but I knew the elementary basics of wielding one, and if the fighting got into close quarters, I knew that even if I panicked, there would only be two people I would hurt – the Uruk-hai who would be crowded around me . . . or myself.

"~Thank you,~" I told him, starting to buckle the whole thing at my waist. "~But how did you manage to scrounge up a spare sword – and one that was light enough and of the right proportions for me – so quickly?~"

He smirked, crossing his arms. "~I have my ways,~" he said mysteriously. "~I am an Elven Prince.~"

"~Yeah, well, as long as you don't go telling me that you were flirting with some of kitchen maids to get the sword, that's fine,~" I mumbled, fumbling with the clasp for the sheath and holding back a curse. I hadn't fastened on a sword for years, and this one was being particularly stubborn . . . or maybe it was just old. Either way, it was being difficult and I did not appreciate that.

I jumped when cool fingers suddenly brushed mine out of the way and nimbly fastened the sword so easily that it seemed as natural as breathing. Instinctively I made to push the hand that the fingers belonged to away, but only succeeded in grabbing it. Legolas started in surprise, stumbling against me.

"Uh . . . Is this a bad time to interrupt?"

Legolas whirled around, and I saw him stiffen immediately. His blue eyes went from mischievous and teasing and relaxed to suddenly tense and wary and full of fire. His hand tightened on his bow, as if he was in the middle of battle – not the in middle of preparation for battle.

I leaned around the Elven Prince, slightly confused – what could make Legolas out of all people nervous and tense? – and then I too froze.

I understood exactly why he had reacted so strangely.

For the person who had spoken was Boromir Denethorion.

~ Boromir Denethorion ~
The Elf stiffened at once when he saw me, and his blue eyes erupted into wariness and threatening fires. His jaw tightened, as did his hand upon his bow.

Lady Estel leaned around the Elf and started in surprise, her eyes going wide. She was dressed for battle, I saw, but not completely – most likely the Elf had interrupted her and they had spoken and now I had further interrupted her.

"Boromir." The Elf's voice was flat and cold, even colder than the ice blue orbs his eyes had become.

Lady Estel put her hand on the Elf's arm, gently, as if telling him to relax. Then she stepped around him to face me. "So, you have returned," she said softly. Her voice was gentle, but with hints of wariness, for which I did not blame her in the slightest. But her expression was neutral, impartial, as if we were merely acquainted who had just met.

"Yes. I would . . . speak to you . . . alone, my lady. If I may be so bold," I added hastily.

The Elf's eyes narrowed even further. "Why?" he demanded flatly. "What have you to say that cannot be said in front of me?"

Lady Estel murmured something under her breath.

The Elf responded sharply, the tone sounding too harsh for the musical voices of Elves. But he did not take his eyes off of me, watching me as though he was a hawk and Estel his chick and I a deadly snake.

I didn't really blame him either.

Then Lady Estel pushed the Elf lightly, almost teasingly. She said something, her eyes flickering to him, but I couldn't understand; most likely she spoke now in the Elvish tongue.

The Elf wasn't happy with it; that much I could tell, even without understanding his language. But then his jaw unclenched somewhat, and he murmured, "As you wish." He squeezed her hand gently before turning and leaving, his stride graceful and even.

Lady Estel turned to me, then, and crossed her arms. "Against my better judgment," she said slowly, "I fear I must repeat Legolas's words – why do you wish to speak with me?"

For a long moment, I couldn't say anything. I could barely believe she had consented to be alone with me after what I had done to her.

Finally, I sank to one knee and bowed my head. "Only to come and apologize and to beg your forgiveness, my lady, even though I realize that what I have done is beyond mitigation or repair or forgiveness. In my defense, all I can say is that I was not in my right mind. But that is all I can say."

"Do you realize why you were not in your right mind?"

I swallowed. "Yes," I said reluctantly.

"And yet you strove for the Ring all the same?"

"Yes, my lady."

I heard a soft sigh, and then her hands were pulling me up so that our eyes could meet. "Boromir," she said quietly, "you need not ask my forgiveness. I forgave you a long time ago. As long as you understand why things happened and have learned your lesson – then, I am content."

"I did you irreparable harm, my lady," I argued.

She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you simply learned a lesson about humility."

I bowed my head again, ashamed at her simple words.

"But I am glad you are here; there is a battle coming, and we will need all the warriors we can get. . ." Her voice trailed off, and I looked up to see a troubled expression on her face – but, thankfully, her worry was not because of me.

"I will fight."

"I know," she replied. Then she looked at me again. "And do try not to get yourself banged on the head or killed, will you? I don't have enough time to go and seek revenge on your behalf."

Despite everything, I managed to crack a small smile as I mock-bowed. "My lady's wish is my command," I murmured.

"I mean it."

"As do I."

"Then cut it out. I'm no lady to be addressed as such."

"You are now," I said quietly.

She rolled her eyes.

There was a soft sound at the doorway, and I turned to see the Elf standing there again. His eyes flickered over us briefly, from the small amount of space between us to my expression to Lady Estel.

He said something, quietly, in the musical language that I did not understand.

"Ah. Coming." She paused, then. "You'd best prepare yourself for battle, Boromir. It's going to be a long night."

But before I could further ponder her words, she left. I inclined my head to her retreating back.

"Be careful, mortal," the Elf said suddenly.

It was the first time he had spoken to me, and I was startled by the harshness with which he spoke, as if he barely could restrain from yelling at me.

"What?"

His eyes narrowed. "Be careful. Lady Estel is too high a treasure for one like you to set your sights upon. And know that her brother and Lord Aragorn and I will all be watching you for what you do next. If you slip back into your old ways, make one mistake, or give me one hint that you might hurt her . . ." His hand twitched to the twin blades fastened on his back. " . . . you will find I am not forgiving at all. It is only for her sake now that you do not suffer for what you did."

Then he whirled around and stalked off, melting into the shadows.

~ Legolas ~
Estel glared at me.

I slowed to a stop and raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

"You were listening to us, weren't you?" she demanded. "Weren't you?"

"Ah. . . Um . . ."

She snorted and whirled around, stalking angrily away. "I can't believe it," she muttered furiously. "I sent you away from a reason, Legolas!"

I stepped forward, easily keeping pace with her. "Yes. And?"

"You're unbelievable."

I let her rant for a few minutes more, letting her get the steam out and begin to calm down. She was right to be angry, and I did not wish to provoke her any more than I already had. Besides, this wasn't just her being angry – it was her frustration and her worry and everything else that had built up within her coming out, and I had to give her some time to be . . . well, be human for once.

Finally, after a few minutes – and when we were away from any potential eavesdroppers – I grabbed her arm and wrenched her arm to face me.

She spun with a gasp, not expecting my movement and trying to fight it, but with little success.

"Estel," I murmured. "~You know I would not have left you alone to face Boromir.~"

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "~I know. But I had hopes. . .~"

I snorted. "~After what he did, you're lucky I even let you be the same room as him alone,~" I reminded her.

She pulled away. "~He can change.~"

"~So you think.~"

"~You don't trust my judgment?~"

"~Not where he is concerned.~" I touched her shoulder, letting my voice soften. "~You are much too compassionate for your own good, Estel.~"

She smiled slightly. "~If I lacked compassion entirely, would I be your friend?~"

I sighed and shook my head silently with an amused smile. So young and yet so compassionate, even for those who do her harm. But such a trait only made me want to admire and protect her all the more, not scorn her.

"~Estel. Be careful. Please.~"

She paused, caught by the seriousness of my tone. "~I know.~" Then she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she turned away. "~But you're right. . . It was so hard for me to stand there and look him in the eye and remember what he had done. . ."

I placed my hand on her shoulder. "~It's not your fault. . . You have every right to be nervous,~" I said softly.

She sighed again. "~Sometimes I think I'm too late to forgive, though. I should be able to look him in the eye and forgive him completely, and yet I can't.~"

I turned her around, gently, and raised her chin with gentle fingers. "~You expect too much of yourself, Estel,~" I chided lightly. "~You cannot be perfect. And knowing your flaws is good; you can work on them, which is more than most Men can say. . .~"

Estel merely looked down, a troubled look spreading across her face.

I cursed Boromir again for doing this to her – for tainting a young, innocent, beautiful girl and making her doubt herself.

Wait – beautiful? Where did that come from?

Just then I realized the rather compromising situation we were in. Sometime during our conversation, we had subconsciously stepped ever closer and our voices had become ever softer. And sometime during that, my arms had slid from her shoulders to her waist and her hands had appeared on my chest, gently keeping the distance between us. And sometime in between that, our faces had become even closer.

So close, actually, that all I had to do would be to lower my lips, and I would be able to kiss her.

Estel seemed to realize this at the same time that I did. Immediately, she flushed and we parted, putting distance between us yet again.

"I'd better find my brother," she murmured, still not looking at me.

As she walked off, I felt a strange sense of . . . of . . . of regret, for some reason I couldn't quite pin down. . .