Day 3 of my final finale! During this chapter, Estel and Eldarion will see the end of the Battle of Helms Deep – and bring about some more changes that, in turn, will lead to an even bigger surprise a few chapters down the road. . .

Chapter Thirty-Four

~ Aragorn ~
As Estel ran off, I continued relaying the message to fall back. There were still more troops, and not nearly enough commanders to relay commands. There was Théoden, there was Haldir, and there was me. And that was about it.

And that was nowhere near enough.

But at least the word was spreading, and more and more troops were falling back, archers feathering the advancing Uruk-hai with enough arrows to allow for the troops in the front to find their balance and scramble to safety before they fled as well. By now, almost all of the troops on the ground were evacuated; it was only the troops on the formerly safe battlement walls that were now in danger from the Uruk-hai pouring in from all sides.

At that thought, I looked up to find Haldir. Théoden had already retreated to the gate, attempting to hold it, so he should be safe.

As I watched Haldir continued to shout orders to the Elves. He was also doing what I had; trying to ensure that I was the last to retreat in order to help someone else escape the devastating slaughter.

But unlike me, he had more fronts to fight on – and no one guarding his blind side as Estel had protected mine.

So when the Uruk-hai came up from behind and raised his sword for a blow, Haldir didn't see.

I screamed his name and began running, but a little voice inside me whispered that it was too late; that I could not save him; that Haldir would fall, as so many others had, to this fight, to this battle, to this war.

And then, out of the blue, just as the top of the sword slammed into Haldir's neck, just as it was about to slice his entire back open, just as it was about to deliver the killing blow –

A sword went flying past me, spinning in a circle.

The Uruk-hai grunted in surprise as the sword buried itself in its side and paused.

I leaped up to the level then and lashed out, pushing the monster backwards and away from Haldir, who had collapsed just after the sword landed in his neck. Then I slew the creature with a few quick stabs – a merciful death it didn't deserve. Not after what it had done to Haldir.

When I turned around, Eldarion was kneeling by Haldir.

"~Come on, stay focused!~" he was pleading. "~Haldir, come on, you can live, just live, please don't die, stay here, don't die!~"

Haldir's eyes were flickering in and out of focus as I reached their side. It was only then that I noticed that Eldarion no longer had his sword.

So. He had thrown it. He was more reckless than I had thought.

But if his reckless move saved Haldir's life . . . I couldn't condemn it. Definitely not now. Not, perhaps, ever. A life saved was overshadowed a thousand complaints of recklessness.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "~Eldarion. Get him out of here.~" Eldarion spared me a quick glance, and I squeezed his shoulder once, gently, reassuring as I could within the span of two seconds. "~Go! I'll cover you.~"

Eldarion nodded, and with another two Elves that had run over, they carried Haldir off.

I closed my eyes briefly before making my way down to gate, where I suspected they might need help.

Haldir was the first to come to our aid. Please let him live. If it's in your power, Manwë, please let him live to see another day. Let him live to sail to Valinor rather than fade to Mandos. Please.

~ Estel ~
There were than a few wounded pouring in. I tried to devote some attention to the ones closest to death, but most of the time I simply had no choice but to send them to be laid in the healer's halls. When – or if – I was still standing at the end of this battle, I would tend to them then. But that was making a grave assumption as to how this battle might turn out.

I kept glancing to the window, hoping for the sun to rise. But it hadn't yet, and wouldn't for a while.

So I kept going, keep working, kept healing.

But I couldn't help feeling some hope when Eldarion appeared, soaked and dirtied and bloodied, in the entrance.

I ran to him, embracing him and not caring how soiled he was. Valar knew I wasn't in any better position than him at the moment. Except maybe a tad less soaked because I'd been out of the rain longer than him.

"Sister," he murmured, hugging me briefly.

I drew back. "What's wrong?" I asked. There was something off in his tone, and right now I could only fear the worst. "Are you injured?"

He shook his head, but anguish was clear in his pale blue eyes. "No, not me. . . Haldir."

I gasped and looked around him. Sure enough, two Elves were solemnly carrying their Marchwarden. Solemnly, but I could see the anguish and pain in their eyes. I knew that if they could have traded their bodies with his, could have saved him, could have taken the blow upon themselves, they would have. Even Eldarion would have done the same for him.

I directed them to a spare bed – well, it wasn't really a bed, but it was the best we could do – and knelt beside Haldir.

"Where was he wounded?" I asked.

Eldarion put his hand on my shoulder. "~The same place as was foretold,~" he replied.

I paused and felt my fingers curl into fists. "~I don't have the abilities to heal that kind of wound,~" I whispered, my voice breaking.

"~No. But you can slow it, until Aragorn can stop it.~"

"~How? I don't know anything! Only the King can use athelas to heal.~"

Eldarion sighed. "~Athelas is not enough at this point, and Elessar is busy.~" He met my eyes squarely as he lowered his voice. "~Estel. You have the Elessar. Use it.~"

The Elessar. I'd almost forgotten I possessed it. But now I found my fingers reaching up to touch the brilliant green gem set in the silver eagle's clasp that hung around my neck. The last and greatest of our line's treasures. The gem that healed Lothlórien before Lady Galadriel came to possess Nenya, the Ring of Water. The gem passed down from Lady Galadriel to Lady Celebrían and then to Lady Arwen before finally coming into the possession of King Elessar.

"~I . . . don't know . . . how,~" I whispered.

Eldarion stood. "~Try. For me. For Haldir.~" His voice dropped even more. "~For our father's sake.~"

I started, staring. But Eldarion merely walked away, not speaking.

Eldarion never joked about our father. If he had invoked our father, he was serious – both in the belief that Haldir could be saved . . . and in the belief that I could save him.

That, for some strange reason, gave me a small measure of courage.

I could, at least, try.

For Haldir's sake.

For my brother's sake.

For my . . . For my father's sake.

~ Legolas ~
Aragorn's angry voice broke through like a sword slices through water. All around it came the banging of the Uruk-hai on the door, the clamor as we fought to hold them back . . . and the screams of those who were dying. But Aragorn's voice carried clearly and strongly nonetheless, empowered by anger and rage for those who were dying or dead.

"You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it. They have died defending it!"

But Théoden wasn't moved. He was a daze, this king, and could not be roused.

Not yet, anyways.

Aragorn tried another tactic. "Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" he demanded.

There was no answer – from anyone.

"Is there no other way?" Aragorn demanded again, this time louder and harsher.

Finally, Gamling answered. "There is one passage," he revealed. "It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

Aragorn seized Gamling's shoulder and almost forcibly propelled him to the caves. "Then send word for the women and children to make for the mountain pass. And barricade the entrance!"

Théoden seemed to awake then, and soberly, absently, in a monotone voice said, "So much death. What can men do against such reckless hate?"

I stared. These words were a grave difference from the righteous anger and defiance the King had shown in making the decision to move to Helms Deep instead of staying at Edoras and defending it against the army. Privately, I wondered if Théoden had lost his nerve and his mind. It wasn't a nice thought, but I couldn't help thinking it.

Then Aragorn walked slowly up to Théoden and said, "Ride out with me."

Théoden turned, slowly, almost as if he wasn't surprised.

"Ride out and meet them," Aragorn said.

And to my great surprise, Théoden was responding to the low voice as he hadn't to the strong challenge. "For death and glory," he murmured.

"For Rohan. For your people," Aragorn said softly.

Gimli interrupted suddenly, and his words would have made no sense to anyone listening. "The sun is rising," he said gravely.

Aragorn, Eldarion, and I all looked to the window – and lo and behold, it was rising.

I remembered Mithrandir's words, remembered them so clearly it was like he stood beside me and was speaking calmly in my ear: "Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

But perhaps we wouldn't need Mithrandir.

For Théoden was assuming his kingship yet again; I could feel it, could hear it, could see it.

"Yes," he said. "Yes!" he exclaimed, proudly, loudly. "The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep . . . one last time."

"Yes!" Gimli cheered. Then he clambered away, up to blow the horn once more, but my eyes were focused on the sight right in front of me rather than the Dwarf.

"Let this be the hour," the king was saying, "when we draw swords together."

And Aragorn nodded to him, and I smiled, and Eldarion grinned like a young boy again.

When we were all mounted and ready, the men began to step back and stop barricading the doors. I unstrung my bow and put it back in the quiver; because now was the time for blade work, not archery.

"Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath. Now for ruin. And the red dawn!" Théoden cried.

Then the horn of Helm Hammerhand sounded, low and deep and clear, a call to arms, to battle, to victory. The sound waves made every cell in my body quiver with anticipation and shared comradeship.

"Forð Eorlingas!" Théoden shouted.

Then the door broke open and we charged forward.

For the next few minutes – or was it seconds? – we laid waste to any Uruk-hai unfortunate enough to be in our path. I didn't pay attention to where we were or where we were going; I just keep fighting and fighting and fighting. Uruk-hai fell under my blade as others scampered away, but in vain; we were riding on horses and faster and armed. And we had nothing left to lose. There's nothing more dangerous than an enemy with nothing left to lose.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. . .

I did . . . kind of . . . have something to lose.

But then I heard a whispered breath of a name, and it filled me with hope. I looked up and – there!

Mithrandir stood on the hill, Shadowfax whining in triumph as he reared. And beside him was Éomer. As I watched, Mithrandir said something to Éomer, and the Man proudly retorted something to him.

And then he raised his sword and shouted a command that echoed over the hill: "Rohirrim!" There was a scant pause, and then – "To the king!"

With a mighty roar, the Rohirrim plunged towards us. The Uruk-hai barely mustered a defense, and when they did, Mithrandir raised his staff . . . and the sun rose with blinding power to shield the Rohirrim from the spears and swords of the now-blinded Uruk-hai. Dismayed and now outnumbered, they broke ranks and fled.

Cheering, the Rohirrim and what Men we had left joined together and chased the Uruk-hai out.

However, at least Éomer had enough sense to stop the wild chase when we reached the edge of the Fangorn Forest.

"Stay out of the forest! Keep away from the trees!" he shouted, waving his sword back for emphasis.

Thankfully, his Men headed his words. Eldarion pulled his own horse to a stop and watched with narrowed eyes as the last of the Uruk-hai scrambled and then vanished into the trees. I watched as well, lowering my blades. They wouldn't be needed – not anymore.

And then horrible sounds emerged from the forest, grinding and sharpening and death all rolled into one terrible drawn-out ancient scream.

I sighed. It was over. Finally. It was over.

All around me, I could see the thought sinking in. Warriors were relaxing, were congratulating and joking and slapping each other's backs. Eldarion let lose a sigh next to me, wearily sheathing his blade and grinning tiredly. Théoden visibly relaxed and smiled. Even Mithrandir smiled as he turned his horse and we all slowly started home.

When we were dismounting back at Helms Deep, a figure appeared at the top of staircase.

Èowyn.

She touched Aragorn's face, as though she couldn't believe it, and then they embraced tightly. Relief filled the young woman's face, and she closed her eyes and rested her head on Aragorn's shoulder.

It was then that I noticed the dark look on Eldarion's face as he watched.

For a moment, I wondered why he was upset. Aragorn was a grown Man and a budding heir to the King's throne; soon he would choose a Queen. Besides, if Aragorn hadn't, Eldarion wouldn't be standing here right now anyways. . .

But before I could question him, Èowyn suddenly pulled away.

"I meant to give you a message, I just . . . I forgot," she said hastily, her eyes still on Aragorn.

"What is it?" Aragorn asked, frowning.

"It's Estel." She paused, and then added lowly. "She says Haldir is dying."

In the next moment, the dark look on Eldarion's face and my questions for him were completely forgotten as we all took off running for the healer's halls.