"Get horses ready. The fastest you've got." I snapped, the woman blinking at me as if I was mad, but I tried to shake off the drug. Whoever had done this was a dead man. I had to assume it was a man. I didn't want to believe that a woman would betray us right now like that. "I need water. Um..."

Moving forward, the ground swayed under me, I almost tipped forward. Merry was up and grabbing me straight off.

"It's too late, Wendy. They left without us." He was really dejected and depressed. "We're not good enough."

"Bullshit." I searched for bow. "Merry, grab us some armour, okay?"

"But-"

"We have to leave. Eowyn asleep or not."

When no one moved, not Merry, not the woman, I wanted to kick something. Punch someone. Do something assertive and manly. "Where is Gandalf when I need him! Seriously! Horses! Armour! We don't have time to chat about the weather!"

This long sentence was enough to create a fresh wave of vomit, right on the fur, causing the woman behind me to let out a little shriek of horror. I felt terrible about it but I didn't bother saying it. Witchking. Eowyn was supposed to kill that stupid ...Nas thing. Nascar? Nope, wrong word, I was sure of it. "Get the horses or I do it again!"

Holding the fur rug hostage. This apparently worked. She vanished within seconds. \\

"This is a ...vision thing, isn't it?" Merry said, very softly, his hands still helping me stay steady and upright. When I nodded, he squared his jaw and stood up straighter. For once I was glad he wasn't a child, glad that for all his cuteness the hobbit was actually a grown man, because he didn't bother asking any questions. "Right. Okay. I'll get the armour."

"I don't know how we're going to do this except to ride like crazy." I shut my eyes. "Someone drugged us."

"Legolas and Boromir. They were talking about keeping you safe." Merry eyes were avoiding mine. "I-" Merry hesitated. "Overheard. I didn't mean to. Don't tell them. They also said-"

"What?"

He looked completely guilty now. "I didn't mean to overhear."

"What?"

"About you. That you should ...stay away from both of them until... you decided."

Till I decided who I'd stay with? Like I hadn't already slept with Legolas enough to show him that I was with him? Okay, okay, I was still unsure, and maybe I'd never be sure of this. Who the hell did they think they were deciding this? Now those two were partners in crime, now that Legolas had forgiven him? A low growl rumbled in my throat, a growl that impressed me, as I grasped another thing of water and drank away more vomit. Those two were in DEEP DEEP trouble. "I won't." Why the hell would they do that?

"I didn't think it was a good idea. I was going to tell you. But you were asleep when I snuck in."

"And he did Eowyn too?"

"Yeah. She was really sad. Boromir gave her a drink. Wanted to protect her too. It was his idea but Aragorn agreed. All four of them left in that path after."

I really shouldn't have told him who she was going to marry. Really shouldn't have told him.

When my body threatened to go back to sleep, I grasped Merry before he could leave, and added, "And... water. Some of that kings foil. Tins foil?" I wasn't trying to be clever. It was literally the only herb I knew in this place.

"I'll see what I can find."

"Hurry." I remained standing, leaning against a chest in the tent, staring outside. Most of the good horses would be gone by now. Come to think of it, all of the good horses would be gone by now. Oh man. This was really bad. "What I'd give for a flying eagle or a dragon right now."

Panic threatened to flood me. I felt overwhelmed suddenly by all of it. Eowyn here. Boromir alive. Boromir, drugging his future sister-in-law, probably because I told him who she was going to be. Yeah. I'd screwed up some things in this world pretty badly. Some of my grogginess was starting to fade though.

Now that I was awake though, I found myself back in a dress, my hair combed and braided, Legolas necklace still there. So someone had clearly changed me. Would it be him? I didn't think so. I suspected it was more likely Eowyn's maid- she'd probably be used to helping. I tugged irritably at the soft creamy white of the dress, much like Eowyn's style, and went to rummage around for more practical clothing. The braid wasn't a big problem though- it just kept my hair out of my face. For once I didn't care in the slightest who saw my mutilated ears. They were just ears and I could still hear.

As I slid around the tent, I checked in chests, moving dresses, shoes, and things around. Nothing. No pants, no shirt, nothing of use. I did find a letter with my name on it and ignored it for now. If this was an apology from one of the men then I'd carry it with me and make them read it. Out loud. In front of everyone.

"My lady?" Merry dropped things down. "They are smaller but there wasn't much left. I'll go back for the rest."

"They might not fit well but they'll have to do." I muttered. "Don't forget yours too."

"Me?"

"You're coming, of course." Wasn't it obvious? I bent to lift my bow up, felt the world start to move again, and decided that I'd have to stay as upright as possible for a while. I was already dreading the ride down the cliff road.

Merry actually lit up a little, a warm smile across his face, clearly surprised. "Thank you! Um. Here. I found it. I think Strid, I mean, Aragorn, I think he just crushes it and puts it in water. You should drink it before you do anything."

He was right. I poured another cup, my third, and crushed the herb things into it. Straight down the hatch and ...did I feel better already? Or was that my expectation? Frankly... I didn't care. It was working. When Merry was gone I used the chamberpot, too distracted to care, and headed out.

Frustrated, I slipped out the tent and went to the other tents, one by one, still fighting waves of exhaustion and nausea. I didn't really care who I was taking this from. I found Aragorn's tent and the clothing they'd given him. It was well made. Not really surprising, given that he was outed as the future King of Gondor, so that worked. I didn't want the fancy silky soft stuff. The rougher practical stuff was perfect. Some for me, some for Eowyn, I'd give it back when we were done.

When I returned the rest of the armour was there, including Merry's small stuff, and Merry was trying to dress.

"Here. You help me, I'll help you. Once I change."

Merry went to leave, but I grabbed him, and shrugged. "Just turn around. Doesn't really matter right now... we've got to hurry. You pull on what you can."

"What about Eowyn?"

"When I'm changed, you stay turned around, and I'll change her." The thought did kind of embarrass me, and it clearly really embarrassed Merry, but there just wasn't time for it. If someone saw us changing then they might try and stop us. "Besides, we might get stopped, I don't think we're supposed to leave. So we have to stay in here." And if Eowyn's maid sent a guard... "So turn around! Keep watch."

Hastily I undressed, making Merry undo some strings where I couldn't reach, my usual 'body shame' put aside. No time. Dress, folded half-heartedly and tossed aside, I tugged on the loose pants, the belt making them easier, binding up my chest as tight as possible. At least Legolas and Boromir hadn't had the nerve to take my weapons. I was half tempted to take off Legolas' leaf necklace. He was in the dog house big time right now.

Then, with Merry watching the tent entrance, I stripped off Eowyn. Oh man. Would people envy me right now. I wasn't attracted to women but even I could see she was beautiful, all slender and willowy, with muscles I would have killed for. Those lean strong kind that looked thin but held a lot of strength in them. Endurance. Okay. I wasn't looking at her as a woman, not really, I was really seeing the warrior. And I admired it. She needed more belt than I did- I was, even after all this time, still pretty thick in the waist and hips compared to Eowyn. Compared to most women it seemed in this world.

But she was pale, as pale as she had been the first time I'd seen her, and her face was etched once more with grief. Aragorn must have told her. The poor woman. I shoved Aragorn into the doghouse with Legolas and Boromir, as I tightened her belt, because that hadn't been fair to Eowyn. The first hope she'd had and he'd only been testing out the waters.

"Nearly done?" Merry whispered.

"Nearly." Face reddening, I managed to bind Eowyn's chest too, abandoning the idea to skip it. The problem with breasts was that they were tender, they stuck out, and they were a pain in the ass when they got in the way. I tried my hardest not to see her breasts but ...well, it just didn't work, and I kicked my shame away. Shirt, buttons, and done. "Okay."

A hand clasped my wrist, suddenly, Eowyn's eyes snapping open. She sat up, swayed, and vomited over the side of the bed.

"What..." Eowyn took about two seconds to realise, as I had, that it was daytime and it was too quiet. Two seconds and she was trying to stand, swaying, heading for the door.

"Wait, Eowyn!"

"My lady!" Merry grasped her as she nearly toppled over him.

"I am ...dressed differently?" She nearly fell over. "The army is gone."

"You noticed faster than I did." Wasn't that surprising either. I grasped her arm, helping her stand upright, my own body wanting to join hers in trying to collapse. Quickly I summarised it for her. "We were drugged by our loving men. It's midday now."

Eowyn's eyes snapped from me, to my man outfit, to the pile of armour, Merry's body half covered in what he could get on alone, to the collection of weapons, and as groggy as she clearly was, she got it. "And you mean to chase them before we are seen. We are to hide as men?"

"Exactly. Here." I thrust the jug of water at her, crushed more of the kingsfoil stuff into it, and the mug. "Sit and drink. I've started to feel better so you will soon. The water probably gets rid of it."

"I had intended on this." Eowyn looked green, suddenly, and once again she'd vomited. This almost got me doing it all over again. Maybe this was our bodies way of getting rid of the drug? "I had planned it. My armour is... under my bed."

Merry and I helped Eowyn back to the bed. She sat down, not arguing as she started to drink mugfuls of the water as fast as she could. I drew out her things, where she'd hidden them, her spear, her sword, even her saddle. She'd been prepared.

"I'll put your boots on." Merry knelt before her, drawing across leather boots, and Eowyn let him as I dropped her armour over her head.

"You dress, Wenduin, we must hurry. Do not worry about water for me. I will sweat the drug out. The faster we leave, the better. My Uncle would have left at sunrise." Eowyn dropped the jug to one side as she tried to get the other boot on. Her hands were shaking as she did it.

Somehow the three of us managed to get each other ready. The heavier armour that Boromir had rejected yesterday, the sheets of metal glued and sewn to toughened leather, was what Merry had found and so it was what I put on over the lighter ring-mail. My arms were free- I could shoot arrows. That was what counted. I could handle being tired.

"My brother did not wish for me to come but he would not have done this." Eowyn was saying, as she knelt to tug my boots closed, her face much clearer than it had been earlier. "I think."

"Doesn't matter who did it. We just need to catch up to them and stay hidden."

"They will rest for a few hours each night- we will overtake them if we ride hard." Eowyn stood up. Merry handed her a helm, she slid it over her head, hiding her face. I slid one over my own head.

The three of us stared at each other, Eowyn and myself now looking like 'Regular Rohan men' in our dirty ring-mail and older leather tunics, with Merry clearly a hobbit. We only looked for a second, before we were slipping out the tent and heading for horses. I had to trust Eowyn's knowledge of horses to know who to pick. Tinkerbell? Not here. Someone must have grabbed her. I couldn't say I blamed them- she was a big strong horse. I was a bit disappointed though.

"Here." She was sliding reins into my hands, a big chested horse staring at me as it danced around. "Not as well trained but-"

"We're riding like bats out of hell, so it doesn't matter?" This horse, as beautiful as it was, was clearly very young and very jumpy. Okay. I'd have to try.

"Bats out of Hell?" Eowyn was tightening her saddle on another horse, a brown horse with the same big chest and jumpy dance.

"As fast as we can."

Eowyn nodded. She glanced past me, suddenly, as she heard her maid's calls and the clank of armour. "Yes. These two are young, never been in battle, but will run fast. Quick- My maid comes with guards."

"I hope you know the way!"

I mounted quickly, Eowyn doing the same, and she lifted Merry onto the horse in front of her. The horse hadn't even waited for me to mount before it started forward, Eowyn hurriedly kicking her horse to lead.

With our horses being so young and eager to run, we almost galloped down that cliff road, more than once I nearly got pitched off the edge of the cliff as my horse took each curve at a speed perfect for starting a heart attack. Eowyn rode ahead of me, her own horse fast, hooves sliding and skidding on the loose rock everytime we took a curve at a dangerous speed.

Once we were down there though, once we'd survived the ride, no one even looked twice. They probably assumed we had been drunk or something. Drunk men, trying to run to battle, not worth anything more than a dirty look. Eowyn rode ahead, her dark green cloak streaming behind her, my own pale grey clock from Lothlorien probably doing the same thing.

If Eowyn didn't know the way, it was obvious from the ground where thousands of horses had already charged, leaving a long clear trail for us to follow. The three of us rode fast and hard, heads down, our horses more or less given free rein with only us to point them in the right direction.

The day dragged out, the sun beating down on the two of us, with only the sound of pounding hooves and jangling metal in my head. I was thirsty, but had forgotten water, and didn't dare let go of Speedy's saddle long enough to feel for a water bottle somewhere behind it where there was probably saddle bags. Eowyn had some- so I probably did too. Speedy was thirsty too, all frothy, the smell of horse sweat and fur filling my noise and mingling with the smell of my sweat.

Boromir had been right about the weight of this armour. It was hard to wear. Hours of riding, sun beating on us, and I started to feel exhausted and worn out. It was sheer anger maybe that kept me going- or desperation, because I knew where Eowyn belonged, and it was partly my fault. Mostly. I should have kept my mouth shut.

It grew dark, cold, and we slowed, it was harder to see the trail at such a fast pace. Anyway, our horses were tired too, and probably needed to calm down.

Eowyn moved her horse back so we were side by side, some kind of slow run, calling, "These horses are not used to such long charges. We must ride slower for a time. Maybe rest."

"Okay."

"Are you tired?"

"Of course. Aren't you?"

She nodded, face pale and grim, Merry nodding in front of her. I hoped we'd catch up. Six hours ahead, give or take, didn't seem like much but it really was. I called, after five minutes over the loud hooves and metal, "Can we catch them?"

"Tonight? No." Eowyn called. "Tomorrow."

After some time, we had to rest, we didn't have a choice. The horses were threatening to throw us, they were so tired, and I was struggling to stay awake. I suspected Eowyn and Merry had the same problem.

"We will rest as well as we can tonight." Eowyn said, dismounting, tugging her helm off. She was o tired and sad looking. "Thnakyou for ...waking me. I may seem otherwise but …. it is good to have a woman on my side."

"No problem." I knew she had to come. It wasn't just because I knew she wanted to fight.

Merry vanished into the darkness.

"Even if you are not to be my sister." She added quietly. The words were heartbreaking and I felt my heart twist painfully for her. Eowyn looked away into the dark. She was the ice maiden again now. "I will accept this arrangement to … this Lord Faramir."

"No!" My soft protest made her blink at me in confusion. "It's not an arrangement. It was just something. It's not decided for you. It's your choice."

"My choice?" She smiled sadly. "Is it?"

"Yes. I told you. It was a vision of something... something that might happen. That might make you happy."

"I made a choice. Or I believed I had." She breathed out slowly, watching as Merry returned to us, adding softer, "Perhaps my judgement is not always to be trusted."

"No, Eowyn. If you don't love Faramir then I'd never, never let you marry him." I went quiet as Merry flopped beside us, curling up in his gery cloak, face white. "No matter what I saw." Even if it was fate. Or whatever.

She didn't respond. Aragorn went further into the doghouse, as far as I was concerned, Eowyn's face heartbreaking. Maybe it was the tiredness that made it so easily seen. I wished I had my phone to take a photo of her face, to wave it in HIS face, and kick him.

That night I slept, too tired to do much else, and when I woke it was already dawn. Eowyn glanced up at me as I sat up in a panic.

"How long have we slept?" I stared around me in shock.

"What we needed to sleep. Today's ride will be fast and hard once more. Tonight, we may not sleep so well." Eowyn responded. She stood up slowly and helped me to my feet. Every part of my body protested.

"Merry?"

"Getting us water." She nodded into the distance. "Get ready to ride. We will catch up to my kin."

"Or else!" Merry's call as he jogged back over made her face crack, just somewhat, break her grimness a little.

"Or else." I agreed.

Again we rode all day, rode fast and hard, our horses slowing faster today than they had yesterday. In and out, I drifted out of sleep, sometimes half-awake as I dreamed of nightmares, or of Boromir, or of Legolas, or Aragorn, sometimes even Frodo. Spiders. Elves. Circus clowns. It grew dark again and Eowyn did not slow down, so I didn't.

It was very late, I didn't know how late, when we finally saw their camp in the distance. Hundreds of tiny dotted fires lay across hill and valley, shapes moving, some flags reflecting the light.

As we grew closer we saw that men slept, thousands of them, little fires dotted across the plains. Eowyn slowed, nodding to me and gesturing to be quiet now, and slowly we traced our way through the crowd.

"We will leave the horses and rest." Eowyn said softly. She was dismounting. I did the same and saw my poor horse was just about ready to drop- Speedy was trembling, head and ears drooping, nose down. "Poor beasts."

"They did good."

"They will not last another day." Eowyn said quietly. She was undoing their bridles. "We must find horses here."

"What, someone elses horse?"

"There will be some spare. Merry, lead these two to the edge of camp and let them free." Eowyn pointed at the tree we stood beside. "We will wait for you here."

Merry nodded, taking the reins, and vanished for ten minutes. As I stood there, I felt my tiredness wash over me, the urge to just curl up and sleep overwhelming the 'we really need more horses'. Eowyn was struggling too. She leaned against the tree. It worried me- if she'd done what she was supposed to do, leave with the others, ride at the right pace, she might be fine for battle. What if she was too exhausted by the time we got there?

"We must rest." She said quietly, as if reading my mind. "But we must get horses now."

"I know."

When Merry returned, also as tired as us, we made our way to the edge of the camp where horses were tied up. Most, I'd noticed, had been left beside their riders. These ones were alone with just a guard. Merry stayed hidden, Eowyn's voice going rough, as she informed the man, "Our horses gave up."

"Already?" The man didn't seem surprised at all. "I've heard that six times tonight. Will be no horses spare by the time we reach the battle. Better make sure you care for these two. Next time you come to me, there'll be none left."

Eowyn nodded, heading inside, and led out two more horses. Two more brown ones, I guessed in the darkness of night, sleepy and placidly following us to where Merry had hidden. Only when we had them secure did we finally rest.

I lay there for five minutes, almost too tired to sleep, trying to ignore the feeling of hard ground, of hard armour digging into me, dirt, rocks, the smell of musky horses, sweaty men and, as a man peed somewhere, the smell of urine. My sword, although on my raised hip, made my belt tug at my stomach uncomfortably. My bow, which I held in my hands, seemed too bright, too obvious, too Elvish, and I kept wanting to cover it for fear that someone would see it wasn't standard Rohan stuff. When I did manage to sleep it was an uneasy one, filled with nightmares and broken frequently.

We got about an hour's rest before everyone was called to ride once more. It wasn't enough, Eowyn looked exhausted, I felt like I could cry almost, except that I had to pee. Somehow, we managed to pee without being caught, thanks to Merry standing in front of us, and then we blocked him from view.

I had to remind myself that it was lucky we'd caught them at all. That we'd gotten an hour's rest. Merry struggled to get up, Eowyn helping him, her eyes scanning the crowds.

"We must avoid that banner and that one." She said softly to me, nodding towards where a banner was held up. It was her Uncle, I had to guess, and her brother.

"Okay." I agreed.

Eowyn grasped my hand with one of hers, Merry's hand with the other, saying softly, "We can do this. Last a day before food and rest."

"We can." Merry agreed. "Together."

"We can." I repeated her words. I still felt tired though. I hoped we'd be okay.

It was amazing, as men re-mounted in the darkness of pre-dawn, how people just accepted us as being apart of the crowd. Either I or Eowyn looked like women now, we didn't smell like what they probably thought women smelt like, and even Merry they either didn't see or ignored.

The day passed, much too slowly, as if I was in a daze. I did my hardest to stay awake. It was impossible though, too often I'd feel my head droop or my body dip sideways, or I'd struggle to keep my eyes open, so that they were fluttering badly almost all the time. Anxiety about keeping Eowyn close, which she seemed to share as she was almost always bumping legs with me during the ride, kept me a little focused. My horse did not need direction though, thankfully, with so many horses to follow.

Aches, pains, bruises, they seemed to turn into a regular routine thing. The armour that Boromir had rejected pinched, rubbed and I could feel it rubbing skin away against my shoulder. The sunshine burnt my face where it slid in through the helm's face cover, burnt my hands, my legs kept cramping in the saddle and I could only just sit there and wait for it to stop. Halfway through the day I had to pee and when I saw a man relieve himself off the back of the horse, just point and squirt, it was less shock and more torture for me. Things weren't that easy with a woman bladder.

And the thirst.

I was too thirsty to be hungry. My mouth screamed for water, just the slightest bit of moisture, until I found myself licking my lips where my sweat had dripped. Salty sweat? Bad choice. But so tempting. It almost hurt to be this thirsty.

Beside me, Eowyn and Merry did not suffer any better than I did, one of Eowyn's arms permantly around Merry as he struggled to keep awake. She had to keep swapping arms, sometimes riding without holding reins, getting Merry to hold them. Eowyn would try and rub her aching muscles through the ring-mail top. But I suspected she wasn't really getting through it, she kept wincing and cringing, reaching down to rub her own thighs.

All morning I feared we'd be seen, that we were too obvious with our pain, but as I dared more and more to look around, I didn't see a single man on horseback who wasn't struggling too. Who wasn't exhausted, or dealing with muscle cramps, no one was comfortable. I saw plenty of head nods, or body slumping, and no judgement.

The truth was, as exhausted as we were, we weren't the only ones struggling. Myself and Eowyn wore thinner, lighter armour than most, and we were having trouble. They must have been exhausted.

The entire army was called to stop as the sun sank low in the sky. It was still fairly light though. As I dismounted near Eowyn, she moved closer to whisper softly, "The army must be tired. We would not stop so soon."3+

"We'd be leaving in the dark then."

She nodded. She looked so dejected and tired, reaching up to pull off her horses things, Merry and us taking turns to finally relieve ourselves. Food was handed out, food that I could barely eat, and when Eowyn took off her helm I half expected someone to notice she was a woman. No one did.

"My Uncle wrote to me." She was saying, softly, mostly to herself. "To rule Rohan in his stead. Did he know I would be made to sleep?"

"Maybe he thought you were just fast asleep." I tried. It sounded lame.

"And to smile." Eowyn had put aside her half-eaten stew. Now she was speaking to herself, gazing out. "How can I now?" She finished before Merry, standing, gazing away towards where her Uncle must have been in the distance. "Take heart Merry, Wenduin, for it will soon be over." She was so sad, so depressed, that it worried me. Eowyn was exhausted. Being forced to stay back, Aragorn's rejection, everything... Merry and I exchanged glances.

"My lady. You are fair and brave and have much to live for-" Merry spoke quickly, putting aside his food, no small thing for any hobbit to have done. She turned to stare at him as if she'd only really remembered he and I were there, as if she'd only spoken out of habit, some reignition returning to her eyes. "-and many who love you. I know it is too late to turn aside. I know there is not much point now in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan capable of great deeds…but I'm not. I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle Earth. I just want to help my friends; Frodo, Sam, Pippin. More than anything I wish I could see them again."

She smiled, and for once I saw some trace of warmth there, something as she stared at Merry. His words made me hurt.

I knew, I'd known when we'd started off, that I was riding into a hard battle. That we might not see them again. I wasn't exactly a warrior either. What if this was where I died? If, for once, Legolas had seen the right death? As angry as I was with him, with Boromir, with all of them, I felt a kind of sad longing once more. I wished I could see them again too. They weren't here to watch my back now. They weren't here to help me in battle. Even Eowyn would be separated from me in this, I knew that, and I knew I was going to be separated. On my own.

A horn made us all gaze up, a horn that was blown long and hard.

"To battle."

"To battle." Merry agreed.

Slowly, we stood, and got back on our horses. Riding through the night. This was it then.

I had never experienced any kind of ride like this before, never, this terrible anticipation that came with it. The time dragged out, and with it, my anxiety, until I just couldn't be sleepy, no matter how little sleep we'd had the night before.

I'd see lights, or think I did, think it was dawn, but it never was. Eowyn vanished during the charge. There was only me now, me, with the smell of sweat, horse, musk, the pain of metal rubbing against skin, legs cramping, and yet all of that was nothing compared to the fear. I was already afraid. Would it be wrong of me to turn and run? No one, if they knew I was a woman, would blame me. They would insist on it. All I had to do was reveal myself …

But I didn't do it.

I didn't know why. I just couldn't do it. It was this commitment, this thing I had decided to do, and ...I wasn't sure if I'd survive it or not. Some part of me wasn't sure I would. Legolas wouldn't have betrayed my trust like that without good reason. Nor would Boromir. As much as I wanted to view them as bad people right now, I knew them better than that, and …

If Boromir hadn't been such a stupid fool, I'd be in Gondor right now, risking death a whole other way!

Maybe, during the ride, I did sleep. I didn't know. But when I saw the first light of dawn finally on the horizon, when I first started to smell the smell of smoke, of blood, hear the rumble and feel the vibration of battle, I knew it was time.

Without a word, without an order, we suddenly had come over the edge of a slope, the horses moving into a formation without my aid. I was with strangers, men who were willing to die for an ally, the early morning light exposing pale faces, fearful grim ones, everyone fighting with the same urge to turn and run.

I was a few rows back, drawing out the sword, and then sliding the bow into a better position. That was what I was good at. As long as my horse ran in the direction the others had, I'd have free hands.

A horn sounded, suddenly, echoing across the sounds of battle just over the hill. A horn from one of us, I realised, announcing us. And as the horn sounded, the horses moved forward of their own accord, following the lead rider. Theodan King.

As we came over the clearing, I saw it, and fear came back. Not just fear though. Adrenaline.

Thousands of orc. The White City, burning, in ruins. Or lots of it. And in the distance, the great Elephants, bigger than I could have ever dared to picture.

Theodan was charging up and down, shouting orders, orders I couldn't hear. It was only when he started to shout that I heard the words, echoing back over me.

"Arise! Arise riders of Theoden. Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered, a sword day, a red day ere the sun rises!"

Spears rose around me, swords, and I raised my sword, copying. I wanted to pee suddenly. This was more, more than I'd ever seen, ever faced, and I tried to keep my mind, tried to not freak out here and now. War? I suddenly had the urge to spend the rest of my life raising cute baby bunny rabbits. Just bunnies. Who needed war?

Legolas' face flashed before my eyes, the last time he'd really smiled at me, and I tried to focus.

"Ride now, ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending! DEATH!"

The word was screamed out, all around me, and I heard my own voice screaming it as if it was no longer my voice. "Death!"

The word, echoed, repeated over and over, and I screamed it with them. Last traces of exhaustion faded, fear vanishing under adrenaline, my senses heightening somehow. I couldn't explain it. Only, suddenly, I was aware of my horse's fast panicked heartbeat, the smell of fear coming from the soldiers around, clank of metal, heavy breathing from both man and horse. Merry and Eowyn's heavy breathing somewhere.

And beyond, I could see Theodan's face, I could see the hairs sticking out of the back of his helm, the sweat on his brow. These things appeared, as we screamed, and then suddenly the cry was called as clearly as if it was beside my ear.

"Forth Eorlingas!"

My horse reared, as did several others, as the charge began. It was slow at first, the horses still under their fear, I could sense it. But the faster we ran, the more their instincts kicked in, urged by men and horse alike. Ground shook under us, my nostrils and mouth filled with the dust kicked up from hooves, hair streaming from mane and tail.

I grasped my sword harder, hearing a shout that barely registered until there was a horse going down just a pace beside me, till an arrow whistled past my ear. Arrows. They whistled through the air, horses crumpling, or men falling, their horses continuing the charge even with their riders dead or dragged behind. The horror of this couldn't be faced. Suddenly, the first riders had clashed into the Orc, and I clashed too, sword out, slashing at any Orc close enough that had missed the horse's trampling hooves. We leapt, jumped, ran over body, both Orc and man, charging into the battle.

The further I rode in, the more Orc surrounded, but somehow I managed to hangon as I slashed, stabbed and smashed. This was all I could think of doing, I'd never had any other kind of training ever, and adding kicks seemed to help. To my relief, the horse seemed to add to it, rearing, slamming the stone-hard hooves into any Orc that dared come close, smashing back hooves in the similar way. How I stayed on, I didn't know, but I managed.

As many of Orc as there were, the truth was, we out numbered and powered them. I was never alone, there was always a man, two, five, all of us defending each other, charging, protecting. I knew I was getting injured, here and there, I felt it, but nothing seemed to be bad. They just couldn't get close enough to me to do much damage, not when I was so high up, not when the sword was long and the horse attentive to every hostile creature that tried to get close.

I didn't know how long I fought like this, I didn't watch where we rode to, only that the sun grew hotter as the day went on, that my arm ached, that I saw so many men and orc cut down, so many terrible things that after a while I lost all sense of fear. It was like I was burnt out on it. Emotions vanished. I couldn't feel anymore grief for anything anymore.

The Orc thinned out, slowly, until they were running away. Leaving. We had almost defeated them.

"Ride them to the river!" Came one cry, Eomer.

"Make safe the city!"

The big elephants.

It was the vibration, the sheer vibration of the Mumakil charging, that got everyone's attention. But when the men started to chant, the horn came, the fear I thought had gone returned, my face draining of blood.

The line, suddenly, was reforming, and somehow I managed to get back into position. What was I doing? I didn't know. This was stupid. This was...

The horn was sounded and I was charging. We were charging. The Mumakil at us, the horses to them, and the second the first wave of the line hit, I saw whole horses being torn from the ground, flung, the great horns and trunks of the beasts tearing up the line easily.

Time slowed. I rode forward, aware suddenly of the reins in one hand, my sword gripped in my sweaty hand in the other, corpses of men and horse falling, my horse swerving backwards and forwards to avoid them. Of the Mumakil's head swinging ahead of me, swinging to the right. I dragged my horse to the left, to avoid the trunk and tusks, barely being missed by the trampling feet.

Some part of my brain seemed to remember to try and slash, I tried, nearly loosing my sword as it got caught in the leathery skin without cutting past it. My sword got caught, snagged, and I lost it.

No time to glance back though, there were others, other Mumakil, and I could barely manage to get my horse to duck feet, tusks and trunk, led alone figure out how to get it damaged. The Orc stood and watched, from the sidelines, I heard the twang of bows from riders, and remembered that I had a bow.

I had to hope, I had to PRAY, that my horse would … run. Bow, arrows, I flung them as fast as I could, gripping the horse with every last muscle in my legs, arrows only adding to the dozens of arrows already sticking in and out of the thick skin. When a leg came within inches, I barely noticed, pointing my arrow at the rope holding the thing on the Mumakil's back instead.

It got it, fraying it, I felt only a trace of triumph before … something very large and gray slammed down in front of me, grazing my knees, close enough to hug. I was tipped forward into it, the entire body of the horse going ridget under my legs, my arms closing around the edge of the grey thing. Arrows dug into my arms, one past my face, the smell of dust and blood in my nostrils.

Then it was lifting.

I didn't understand at first. Not until I was lifted competely out of the saddle and realised what it was I was hanging onto. A Mumakil's leg. My horse had been trampled. Grief, guilt, it flooded me, and I couldn't bear to look backwards, I couldn't bring myself to see what had happened to my horse. The horror was bad enough, knowing that what I smelt was the horse blood, maybe brains, I didn't know...

Instead, I grasped harder onto the leg as it lifted, and slammed back to the earth, the world slowing. What should I do?

An arm wrapped around my stomach, dragging me off, and I was dropped onto the ground hard. I didn't see who it was, except that it was a strange man I didn't know, and he was already gone. Rohirrim helping each other. He wouldn't have even known who I was.

There wasn't time though, there wans't time to think or blink, because the second I was on my feet, there was other problems. Not just ducking the Mumakil, but arrows flying, Orc charging at those of us who had been dragged from our mounts one way or another, hundreds of them. I didn't have a sword anymore. I had a bow. I needed to get higher, I needed to get off the ground, I needed to be somewhere safe and sheltered.

When I backed up into the body of a Mumakil, not even sure of when or how it had fallen, I didn't leave it. I forgot what it was, that it was a corpse, it suddenly just became a massive grey wall. It was warm still, maybe even alive, but very still. It was the closest thing.

Sliding my bow over my shoulder, I hoisted myself up, climbing up it as fast as I could. Something appeared, very sudden, a man with a pale face, frightened by my sudden appearance, face paint on, clearly not one of ours. Before I'd known it, something silver had crossed his throat as he'd lifted a sword, and I saw my own hand. Holding Legolas knife. Red dripping from the once clean blade. The man had fallen, eyes dead as they once again made eye contact with me, face still covered with a real genuine fear. He had been young. Fifteen years old, maybe. Just a kid.

I suddenly wanted to cry. I didn't understand it. I couldn't cry though. I was fighting again, the little slender knife, trying to destroy another life as another man threw himself at me with a pained scream that only one part of my brain could identify as being something about a brother. I just couldn't cope with it right now. Once he was dead, or at least fallen, I'd found myself pressed up against the side of the cage where the Mumakil had once carried men, the knife still clutched hard in my white hand, still dripping blood.

There, although I wanted to cry, wanted to break down, some part of me kept moving, kept going, the world still in 'slow motion'. Knife away. Bow out, arrow, fire. Arrow, fire. Arrow, fire. I fired at anything that wasn't on a horse, somehow managing to identify the difference between friend and enemy, the hood of my cloak over my head. I wasn't sure when that had happened. I only knew that I was hidden.

Here I could fire arrows, and I did, one after another until there was nothing left, and I knelt there, staring out for a minute or two, really seeing.

Hundreds of dead horses. Men. Orcs. Mumakil lay dead, some of them, most of them still charging through tbe battle. There were still yet hundreds of living horses and soldiers. If anyone saw me, Orc, Rohirrim, anything, they didn't go at me. I slid up, slowly, carefully peering over the edge of the great container that'd been used on the back of the Mumakil. There were dead in there, arrows in a man's eye, and great containers of arrows for the archers. The arrows barely fit my bow, it was small compared to theirs, but I managed to get enough and shifted.

There was another Mumakil under this one. Two of them, I realised, had crashed into each other. This was why I'd been so high up. One was dead, the other was breathing, but it was stuck under the dead one. It didn't try and get up- it just lay there, breathing hard, and I felt a pang of pity for it. It was like the horses. Just another beast used for someone elses war.

There was a scream, something slamming into my head, knocking me clear off the top of both Mumakils. I lost my bow, felt my own blood trickling down my head, dazed as I was knocked a good four metres down beside the struggling Mumakil.

Something fell beside me, the bow, and then one of the enemey who'd been on the Mumakil. I grasped my knife, standing, shaking, nearly knocked to my side as a horse and rider were thrown at us by one of the Mumakil still able to attack. I wasn't lucky enough to have it hit the enemy, instead, one of the hooves nearly hit me. But it did land between us and I scrambled backwards, as the man headed for me with a cry, his sword raised.

When he struck my knife, it nearly knocked it clean out of my hand, the force of his strike enough to do something painful to my shoulder, knocking me to my knees. He was raising it again when something terrible, absolutely terrible, screamed over us, a shadow passing us, the man crying out in fear and pain with me, falling to his knees, hands over his ears as a nasgal thing swooped towards something. Someone. I knew who it'd be. King Theodan was about to die. I just hoped Eowyn was nearby.

He'd raised his sword again, this man, and then … he'd seen I was a woman. I knew it, I could tell, there was this flash of hesitation, his arm lowering somewhat, and then he was trying to raise it again.

I fumbled for something, a bow, someone elses bow, drawing the heavier tougher object at the man as he tried to bring his sword down. I was faster, letting go of the arrow once I'd drawn it as far as possible, the arrow sinking into the man's chest.

Others had seen me now though. I ran, suddenly, a burst of energy rushing through me, heading away from the once safe shelter of the Mumakil, half blinded by blood that still poured down my head.

Where? I had no clue. Another Mumakil? It charged past with an Elf dancing on it. He didn't even see me. Legolas hadn't even seen me. This was a first and one I was very glad of right now. I barely stopped to watch him climb it.

Okay. I lied.

I did stop to watch him. He was sexy, he was incredible, and he was taking on a Mumakil thing all on his own.

Watching Legolas was a really stupid move.

Something really sharp and nasty found me around that point, right from behind, and before I knew it I was on the ground, rock digging into cheek, some Orc dragging his blade out of my torso and rushing at a man still somehow on a horse. I wasn't even sure where it'd gone in, only that somehow it'd been bad enough of a place to suddenly disable the whole entire damn body.

I lay there dazed, tasting blood, struggling to draw in breath. It felt like my shoulder had been stabbed, only it hadn't, my heart was racing like mad all of a sudden. Thud thud thud thud... or was that the horses rushing past? When I tried to lift myself up, I gasped with the agony of it, one entire half of my body just refusing to move. I collapsed back down and stared at the thousands of bodies between me and the White City. I was just another injured.

Green rushed past. Should I call Legolas for help?

Not after he drugged me. He had to beg for mercy first.

The army of the dead seemed to hiss like a steaming kettle. That was weird.

I shut my eyes for just a moment.

Something, a very sharp pain in my leg, woke me once again, but when I finally convinced my eyelids to open, I didn't see anything and wondered if Id imagined it. All I could see were dead bodies.

I blinked- another long blink that took minutes.

When I opened them again, I didn't see anything except for those bodies, the white wall of the city, and a beetle crawling over the armour of a man who lay very still and crooked. Maybe he'd been crushed. I didn't know. I tried to breathe and found it still as difficult as ever.

Okay. I wasn't really a warrior.

I felt cold though. Really cold. My heart thudded, it was rushing, I felt short of breath and kept coughing. I knew I was bleeding somewhere- it was dripping, tickling my side, and my entire leg felt numb.

Another blink, which took so much energy that it almost didn't seem worth opening my eyes again, the cold becoming unbearable. When I opened my eyes this time it was dark suddenly. Just like that- it went from daylight to night time. Some part of me knew I was going to die lying out here. Maybe I should have called for Legolas. Magic Elf hearing and all that. Now I didn't have the energy to lift my head.

Stupid pride. I should have called for help for once. Now the pain was so bad, this stabbing pain that ran from my shoulder to my back, that I couldn't move a muscle. Not even a toe. It was like my body had just shut down.

The lights of the White City glowed along the remains of the silver-white stone walls. I gazed up at it, or what I could see of it over the heads and bodies of the dead, between the occasional movement of people. Boromir had been right. The city was beautiful. Even now, even half ruined, I'd never seen anything like it.

Suddenly, I was standing in a massive Hall, still dirty and bloody, off to one side from a white throne. It was so beautiful. I looked down at myself, still in armour, still covered in black, brown and red, as filthy as I had been when I'd been lying dying. I wondered if I'd died. That would suck.

Aragorn was saying to Gandalf, "He will come."

Legolas was staring at me. His face was draining of blood, I'd never seen anyone go so pale, every muscle in his body tense and frozen where it had been when he'd seen me. His eyes met mine, his skin not far off from the pale grey of his eyes, and he sucked in a deep breath of shock.

Then he moved for the door as fast as he could, Gimli's armour in one hand, dragging him behind. I hoped he'd bring Boromir. I wanted to kick Boromir's ass too.

The idea of dying didn't bother me at first. Not until I really saw Legolas. Now suddenly it hurt and I was opening my eyes once more, once again lying alone on the battle field, my heart hurting with the sheer grief I was already feeling. I didn't want to leave him behind. He had ten, twenty years of making up to do first.

I lay there, staring at the dirt, at the corpses, the smell of blood and death in my lungs, willing myself to stay awake. To stay alive. Had he seen me? I was sure he had.

Something got my attention. A soft glow, white, a face from a woman who was bending down in front of me. I thought it was Galadriel at first. Only this woman was tireder, more drawn, some differences in her face clear. Her eyes went over me to something else, something moving up beside us, the sound of leaves crunching under shoe.

What leaves?

Galadriel appeared, suddenly, and I found myself lying on the forest floor in Lothlorien. Wasn't this where Frodo was supposed to be finding himself? I hoped I wasn't taking over his 'Galadriel appointment time'.

"Stand up." Galadriel was saying, softly, a smile warming every inch of my cooling body. Her eyes met her daughter's eyes. "Take our hands. My daughter would not see you suffer like this."

I expected pain when I moved my arms. There wasn't any. I grasped hands, soft hands, warm hands that pulled me onto my feet with amazing strength, smelling jasmine and lilic instead of blood and death.

"My daughter and I would like to walk you to the White City."

"What about Frodo?" My own voice surprised me- I wasn't aware that I was able to speak anymore. My voice was raspy, drawn, dry, but it still worked.

"Do not worry for him. I have not forgotten him."

I became aware that I was again standing in the battle field, somehow upright, like half my mind was with Galadriel and Celebrien, half of it still in the battle field. I walked slowly, my body light, carried by them over the ground, and I didn't feel anything.

Celebrian was saying something in Elvish. Galadriel laughed, such an amazing sound in this weird duel-reality, and said, "My daughter asks you to give her love to Elrond."

"Elrond?" I didn't know what they were talking about. Confusion was starting to return. I started to feel my weight returning, feel the agony every footstep caused, the Lothlorien forest fading and the beautiful smells with it. The horror of the battlefield was returning, the cold of my body, like every step towards the ruined gates of the White City was a step away from the warm comfort of Lothlorien. I felt the agony- the stabbing pain from shoulder to back once more- and the grief of dying. I was dying.

Some part of me wanted to stop walking. To turn around and go back to the comfort.

"Keep walking, Wenduin."

I saw a child walking ahead of us, apparently oblivious to the death around him, stared at him as Galadriel and Celebrian continued to help me. Dark warm blonde hair. He twisted around, to look back at me, laughing, an orange butterfly on his head. Vivid green eyes. I'd seen him before once. In a dream. I'd seen him in a dream about Legolas.

Then he was gone again, vanishing, fading away like smoke, and so was Galadriel and Celebrian.

The weight of my injuries crashed into me once more. I didn't even have the energy to sit down. I stood there, shaking, the ten or so metres to the gate suddenly looking like a hundred. When something smacked into the ground beside me, I blinked at it, sleepy, stupid. A burning arrow.

An Elvish arrow. Burning.

Legolas had seen me.

The relief I felt made everything in my body let go. I fell, fell towards the ground, and out of my own head.