I understand that the ending of Chapter 58 does remind some people of Twilight. Unfortunately, a lot of different series end up influencing my fanfictions, and so sometimes unexpected similarities pop up. This happened to be one of them.

On another unrelated note, school year is getting into full gear and unfortunately I have to announce that from now on, excepting the midterm marathon and final finale (assuming "My Fairytale isn't done by then), updates will be only once a week unless I have the time and inclination to write for twice a week. So . . . my apologies to all readers, but as of right now, I'm afraid I have no choice.

Now - on with the promised Chapter 59!

Chapter Fifty-Nine

~ Aragorn ~
The ships slowed to the faintest halt, so much so that I barely felt it.

Barely.

But I didn't have time to dwell on it. At once, a shout rose from the docks, gravelly and deformed, like the Orc who must have spoken.

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

Next to me, I saw Gimli tighten his grip on his axe, his eyes bright with anticipation for the upcoming battle. Behind me, Legolas's fingers curled around his bow, betraying the tension he sought to hide when he placed a soothing hand on Estel's. His eyes were filled with concern and comfort, antidotes to the fear and anxiety her grey-blue eyes displayed so easily. But his presence seemed to help, for she relaxed somewhat.

Something more had passed between them; I could tell. But what . . . that was a mystery.

But it seemed to help build the trust between them, so I was fine with whatever it happened to be.

Another shout rang out. "Come on, ya sea rats! Get out off your ships!"

Legolas's eyes flashed to me. I gave the tiniest nod.

We all leaped out, propelling ourselves over the side with as much force as we could and landing as best as we could. Gimli hefted his axe. Legolas notched an arrow. Estel drew her sword. And I raised the Sword of Elendil.

The Orcs weren't intimidated. Surprised, yes. Intimated? No.

Well, not yet.

Of course, Gimli went straight from anticipation mode to competition mode. "There are plenty for both of us," he exclaimed gleefully, shooting sideways glances at Legolas. "May the best dwarf win!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Estel roll her eyes.

Then we charged.

For the first . . . perhaps two seconds the Orcs stood their ground, grinning stupidly and raising their weapons, waiting for us to reach them.

Then the dead appeared.

By the time they noticed the army behind us, however, it was far too late for them to flee, slice us, or do anything remotely useful. One second they were grinning stupidly and the next they were screaming in terror. So, things were even easier than usual. We sliced through their ranks like a sword moves through a leaf.

~ Estel ~
I slammed my hilt into an Orc and backhanded another, slicing off the head of the first and continuing the blow to cut across the torso of the other. I didn't stop at that, though. I couldn't. I had to keep going, even though I was already beginning to tire. Sword work required a lot more energy than archery.

However, that didn't mean I couldn't be distracted.

"Legolas!"

When I heard his name, called in desperation and warning, I whirled around in fear.

A Mûmakil was running at him.

"Legolas, look out!" I screamed, fear stilling my heart with a coldness that surpassed even that of the ghosts. Legolas was immortal, but that did not mean he couldn't fall in battle. That would just make the separation a lot more permanent than if I died.

But Legolas ignored both shouts.

Instead of running away, as I had expected him to do, he actually ran towards the thing.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" I shouted.

My question was answered moments later when, with the dexterity only an Elf could display, he leaped upwards and began climbing the Mûmakil, using the ineffective arrows that had lodged into the beast's legs as handholds. Within seconds, he had made his way to the top and was picking off the riders one by one.

"Estel!"

Aragorn's shout brought me back to full awareness, and it was then that I realized I was just standing there staring at Legolas and not paying any attention to the battle itself.

Chagrined, I returned my attention to the battle. I could do more about my survival by fighting than by standing and fearing for Legolas. He would just have to take care of himself. Besides, there wasn't much I could do for him anyways if something went wrong.

By the time I had cleared a large enough area around me to safely look back, I only had time to hear a deafening death cry.

The Mûmakil had fallen.

As it fell, Legolas leapt nimbly on to the trunk and deftly slid down it, landing without so much as a bump in front of the dead beast.

I ran at him, scared and relieved. He returned my embrace gently, but with a slightly dismissive air. I knew it was his gentle way of telling me that there was nothing to fear and that he was fine.

"It still only counts as one!" I hear Gimli growl behind us.

Legolas smirked at him, and the Dwarf lumbered off, displeased.

"He won at Helm's Deep; I should have the win here," Legolas murmured quietly in my ear. Then I felt him frown with concern and surprise as he looked down at me. "Are you still scared, meleth?"

I tightened my grip. "I thought I was going to lose you," I whispered fearfully.

"I won't ever leave you," he swore softly. "And especially not like that."

I could sense the swell of emotion in his voice as he spoke his promise, and I knew that that was more proof to its binding quality than anything. Elves prided themselves on being as impassive as possible due to their longer life span, so a show of emotion – especially to one not of their race – was more binding than if Legolas has promised in with an unbreakable oath.

Well, okay, maybe an oath would have been better.

But I had no way of doing that so this was right now more than enough for me.

Legolas brushed his lips against my forehead. "Come, meleth; the battle is over. Let us find Aragorn and Gimli and the others, shall we? I daresay that we will be in need of your healing talents."

The thought of how many who would not be as lucky as Legolas and me in escaping the battle unscathed sobered me. Legolas could wait. He was safe, unlike many others. And he was right; my talents in healing would be needed. We had a great deal more warriors than healers right now, after all, so each and every one of us would be needed to treat the wounded.

I released him. "You're right," I murmured miserably.

His lips twitched into a smile, and he reached out to touch my cheek. "I won't leave you, remember?" he teased gently. "You shall see me when this is over."

~ Legolas ~
It took us a while to find Aragorn. For one thing, the Mûmakil had carried me a bit far from the main part of the battle. And with all the smoke clouding the fields, it was hard to see. Besides, it wasn't like we could ask for directions; everyone else was too concerned with tending to the wounded for that.

But finally we found Aragorn in front of Minas Tirith. Gimli and Mithrandir had already beaten us there, but when I realized what was going on, I was glad we hadn't beaten them.

The army of the dead stood before Aragorn.

Estel shivered by my side and drew back. I came to a halt beside Mithrandir, frowning at the dead. Very deliberately, I placed my arm around her waist and drew her closer to me.

"Release us," the dead king rasped, his voice still echoing despite the fact that we were no longer in the caves.

Aragorn didn't reply at once.

"Bad idea," Gimli said suddenly. "Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead."

The king hissed angrily. "You gave us your word!"

Aragorn finally made up his mind. He raised a hand gently. "I hold your oath fulfilled. Go, be at peace."

And . . . nothing happened.

I frowned. I had expected the dead to leave us and dissipate to a final death in the void. Aragorn had given them his blessing and had held their oath fulfilled, so why did they not leave? I didn't think it was because they wanted to continue serving us.

"You betrayed us!" the dead king screeched suddenly.

Suddenly, the Elessar gleamed again, flashing with the same powerful emerald light as it had twice before. My arm was pushed away from Estel, and I stumbled back. She, meanwhile, stepped to Aragorn's side, a strange and almost prophetic daze on her face, as though something inside her was responsible and she was only vaguely certain of what she was doing at this moment, and why.

"His Majesty, King Elessar, has not betrayed you," she said, her voice echoing almost as the dead king's did. But the echo didn't rasp against my ears as the king's did; hers glided effortlessly, like a bird soaring.

For the first time, fear entered the dead expression.

"What are you?" he hissed.

The Elessar flickered as he spoke, shining even more brilliantly, so that Estel seemed to be outlined in gleaming green light.

"I am Estel Elessariel, Queen of Gondor, Arnor, and Rohan," she said, her eyes glittering with the same strange light as the Elessar. "I am the last heir of Isildur. And by the spell of Isildur that bound you to the Elessar, I hold your oath fulfilled and I release you. Go."

Whispers sailed through the crowd of dead ghosts, like the whispers of the spirits among the trees.

But they did not confer for long.

The Elessar gleamed one last time and for a second as the emerald light fell upon them, I thought I could see them as they had used to be at the height of their glory, power, and youth.

Then the ghost king bowed his head to her, his gaze almost respectful.

A sigh drifted through the army, and as it passed, the ghosts dissipated into a strange wind that smelled almost sweet.

The Elessar's light shut off suddenly, and Estel collapsed.