The next morning, as the sun filtered in through Isolde's windows, she woke slowly. Her head hurt, having been filled with inescapable nightmares of fire and blood. Isolde's eyes suddenly flew open as she sat upright, grabbing her formerly wounded wrist. Her chest heaved as she thought back to that night. She stared at her bare wrist in disbelief. She carefully bent it and gasped at the lack of pain. Her eyes slowly fell to the ripped bandages and broken splint on the floor. Just as she started coming to terms with the events from the previous night, someone knocked at the door. Isolde scrambled to find the extra roll of dressings the nursemaid had left in her room to cover her wrist.

"Just a moment!" She protested, attempting to disguise the panic in her voice. She dug through her drawers hastily, finally finding the roll. The knocking started up again.

"Isolde?" A soft voice called out. She recognized it as her father's. "Isolde, may I come in?" he called again. She rewrapped her wrist, tearing the soft fabric with her teeth. Throwing the roll back into the drawer, she slammed it shut.

"Yes father, just a-," But before she could finish, he stepped in. They both hesitated a moment; Faramir unsure of how to begin; Isolde just trying to slow her pounding heart. Faramir finally took another step closer, shutting the door behind him. Isolde smiled lightly, trying to hide her unease.

"What did you want to talk about?" She asked timidly, knowing all too well the answer.

"I want to talk about you," He said, sinking into a nearby chair. Isolde's cast her eyes down before locking them onto the forgotten dressings and splintered wood. She sat on the bed, hiding the evidence behind her nightgown. Faramir leaned forward in his seat and continued.

"I know I have been busy with King Ellesar these past couple of weeks, and that I haven't paid you much mind. I abandoned you when you needed me most and I am so sorry. You are probably worried sick for Eldarion and King Ellesar…and for me. And you have every right to be. I just want you to know that whatever happens, none of this was your fault," Isolde looked at the floor, conflicted. Faramir got up and crossed the room. Isolde nudged the suspicious scraps of cloth and wood underneath her bed with one foot as her father knelt in front of her. He tilted her face up with a finger. Looking her in the eye, he grasped her unwrapped hand in both of his.

"Isolde," He murmured. "King Ellesar and Eldarion will fight today, not just to protect their kingdom, but to protect us, as their kin and dearest friends. They will fight to the death for you, and if it should come to that, so will I. Know this, and do not be ashamed that you cannot fight alongside them. We all know that you would," After staring at her saddened face for a moment, he kissed the hand enclosed in his and left the room. As the door closed, Isolde turned her head to look at it over her shoulder. Her eyes were filled with tears and she let out a barely audible whisper.

"You're right father. I will,"

Isolde kept unusually quiet all throughout her morning meal and secluded herself from the crowds of people who had gathered to bid their loved ones farewell as they readied themselves for battle. Most believed it was out of grief, both for the family that were leaving her, and for herself, unable to go with them. Only her Uncle Eomer seemed to suspect otherwise. He eyed Isolde carefully as she embraced Eldarion tightly. He saddled his horse nonchalantly not far away, glancing up at them every so often. When Eldarion left, he approached her.

"Isolde," He called out firmly. Isolde turned to him cautiously, tensing at the seriousness in his voice.

"Yes?" She replied nervously. He stepped toward her.

"What is bothering you?" He replied, locking his eyes to hers. Her face grew confused and worried.

"War," She said, the answer seeming obvious to her. When he didn't respond, she started to feel ill under his intense stare. She continued, casting her eyes down. "War troubles all, especially those who must watch their kin leave with the possibility that they might not return alive," Her uncle placed a strong hand on her shoulder and she met his gaze.

"You're hiding something from me. Your mother always had the same look about her that you do now when she was keeping secrets. I don't ask that you tell me, only that you do not let it interfere with this war," He hugged her and whispered into her ear. "Don't follow us Isolde. All you will find out there is pain and death," Although Isolde couldn't see it; she felt his eyes move towards her covered wrist. He pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "You deserve better than that," he murmured. He turned and mounted his horse, walking it over to King Ellesar. The horns of Gondor, Rohan, and other kingdoms blasted and Isolde took up her place by her father. Just as before, they watched as thousands of men poured out of the gates, their armor gleaming in the morning sun. Faramir led her inside with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Isolde was silent for the rest of the day. She sat out in the courtyard, wishing the sun would set. When evening finally came, Isolde retired early. In her chambers, she began to pack a bag. She snuck out to the stables and saddled a horse. She was ready to leave when she realized she had almost forgotten to bring food. She muttered to herself about what an imbecile she was and crept up to the kitchen. As she stole a few apples, the door suddenly opened, spilling light onto her clocked form. In her shock she dropped an apple. She grimaced as it rolled to two pairs of unusually large, hairy feet. Pippin picked up the apple and stared at her in surprise. Merry pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them quickly.

"Milady," he said softly, "I wouldn't think you would need a traveling cloak to grab a late bite to eat," Isolde looked down, a guilty look on her face. She lifted back the hood to her cloak.

"You're right," she said. "That's not what I'm here for," She slumped over to a nearby chair. They pulled up a couple more and sat across from her.

"If you're anything like your mother, then I think I know what you're doing," he said. "But I think it's crazy that you would go in the state you're in," He motioned to her wrist. She let out a nervous laugh and they both gave her a confused look.

"It's funny you mention that," she muttered, starting to unwrap her wrist. They watched, shocked as she began to roll her wrist around.

"Impossible," Pippin whispered.

"So it would seem," she replied, "And yet…," Merry took the hand of Isolde's healed arm into his own, looking up at her gravely.

"Do you have any idea what this will do to your father, should you fall?" he said.

"I know the consequences of war, Merry. I have accepted them long ago," she muttered, withdrawing her hand.

"And what of Eldarion? And Eomer? King Ellesar? Have you thought of how they would feel?" he whispered anxiously. Isolde stood, glaring at Merry.

"How do you think I've felt, watching them leave, never knowing if they would come back time and time again? I know this agony all too well! And before you start to patronize me, think back to your own life! You once felt the very same way, wanting more than anything to fight; to help your friends in their time of need," Isolde quieted, looking away. "It's my turn Merry," She whispered. Pippin looked to Merry, who had begun to nod his head. Merry glanced back at Pippin, and then to Isolde.

"We will help you,"