With equally heavy hearts and minds we finished the journey to Helm's Deep. It had felt strange to sit behind someone who was not Aragorn for the rest of the journey. My gaze stayed fixed ahead, staring at the horizon, the growing grey dot that was Helm's Deep, and the backs of Legolas and Gimli. Everyone was silent, save for the horses, who whickered softly, and thudded the ground with their hooves.

I felt his absence keenly, because I was the last to have seen him before the end. And then I had gone, 'shaking on the back of a runaway horse'. I shook my head slightly. The orc's words were buried in my head and I fought to not pay them any attention. Aragorn would not want me to focus my thoughts on how the horse had ran off and then thrown me. Such things were not entirely in my control anyways. He would want me to concentrate on how I had been using my sword well, and defended myself, and try to figure out how to improve even more.

I sighed, bitterly. It was no longer 'he would want' but 'he would have wanted'.

Helm's Deep grew and became more than just a grey dot to us. It became a stretch of wall, rounded and solid and made of stone. It stood before us, and I could understand why the people had both agreed to come here for refuge, and yet remained apprehensive about leaving. It was safe, incredibly safe and sturdy. A fortress in every sense of the word.

But it was also grey, and dim, and void of much of the warmth and color and light that shone off of the thatched roofs back in the village.

A fortress…in every sense of the word.

We approached, and Gamling gave the order ot make way for the king, where upon the tall doors were opened and our party was allowed through, entering with the faces of victory, and trailing behind us the feeling of loss, for we had lost many men to the wolves of Isengard.

People were crowding along the edges of the walls, people holding children close and covering themselves with wool blankets and watching as the men returned and eyed up the food that had made it safely to our destination.

We're all becoming like shadows in a graveyard again, I thought. I caught the dwarf and elf looking back at me, and caught their grim looks. Fali would have pointed out anything optimistic about our circumstances, and I felt her absence keenly. I smiled, forcing the corners of my mouth upward. It was important to realise we were not yet doomed, that with Helm's Deep there was hope and safety. We wouldn't have as much food as we'd hoped for, having lost some of it along the way, given our encounter with the enemy, but there would be enough.

I cast my smile down to the people curled up along the walls. Some of them, mostly women with their children, grinned back at me. The subtle communication of hope, the silent way of saying 'it could be worse' or 'we've dealt with grimmer circumstances before'.

To see those hopeful smiles was enough to push away the thoughts of death for a short while as we navigated through the fortress, finding stables for the horses, and then beginning to unload the supplies we had with us, and get aid for the wounded.

"So few of you have returned." I turned around to see Eowyn, who had followed the men and horses, and was now greeting her uncle into Helm's Deep. She must have had her hands full while we were not here. There were so many people and so much organizing to do, and somehow she had managed to get all of it done, right down to making cots in an empty hall for the wounded men.

"Our people are safe." Theoden said. "We have paid for it with many lives." He removed his sadness, briefly, to look about at the progress his niece was responsible for. "Well done, Eowyn. Thank you."

She nodded, and as they parted I looked over to Gimli. "Someone must tell her." I whispered. I took a deep breathe, when no one else made much movement, and prepared to go to her, but Gimli stopped me.

"I'll go." He said. "Is your head still troubling you?"

"No, not now."

"If he starts wobbling all over the place again, get a healer to look at his head." Gimli said to Legolas. With this done, he approached Eowyn.

I hadn't the courage to look at her face as she was told the dreadful news. I could already see images of what it may look like in my mind, coming forth no matter how many times I pushed them back. The widening of her eyes, the silent gasp of her mouth, the welling of tears.

I could not have any such images confirmed.

Silently, I withdrew myself from the crowds. Theoden took up Eowyn's role as leader, and began to make the final preparations for fortifying Helm's Deep, ordering a watch to be set on all sides. Eowyn removed herself from the crowds as well, going somewhere private to be spend a short time grieving for all the people we had lost before she would throw herself into working alongside her uncle again. I searched the internal halls, until I found a quiet, though narrow, space which resembled a tiny market or open barrack.

Here I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in me, and then unsheathed my sword and began to do practise by myself, hoping to ease my mind. I gave the exercises a good effort, but they did little to calm me. I could only focus on the absence of my instructor.

Eventually I gave up the use of the sword, and left to go look through the armoury to find something else to practise with. Something that wouldn't remind me of my friend. I managed to use my smaller stature an advantage, sneaking past the guards that were checking over the armoury and finding a bow, and a small bundle of arrows used for archery training.

I took these instead. "You did say you should have trained in archery." I muttered to myself as I snuck back to my tiny space.

I couldn't use much for a target except an empty crate that had just been emptied of dried fish earlier that day. I set it at one end of the space, and stood at the other. The bow I had chosen was a simple one, one for training more than anything. I reached down to the neat pile of arrows I had stacked by my feet and selected the first one, notching it onto the bowstring, and preparing to fire, taking a moment to aim at the crate.

Body sideways…

A breath, to ease away the memories of instructors that could not be here.

Left foot forward…

I took a final glance at my target.

Both eyes open now…

I fired, the arrow a bit too far to the right, but landing with a solid-sounding thud. I judged it as nothing exceptional, but fair. It was good to see I still remembered what I had learned of archery years ago, when I had tested out the bow as a weapon of choice. It had not been the saving grace I had hoped it to be, I had lost the taste for it after witnessing Kien, my cousin, take down a young stag. The poor creature had to walk a few paces before it fell and died. I had wanted it's death to be quick and painless but this was not always the case.

I reached down for another arrow, trying this time to fire it faster than before. This caused a fumbling of my fingers and the arrow was let loose before any decent aim could be taken and it struck against the wall beyond my target, the weapon bending upon the sharp impact.

Undeterred, I reached for another, this time firing it too far left. I was restless and reached for arrow after arrow, hoping the sound of them breaking into the wooden crate would help my mind go numb. It was of little use. My head still swam with the image of Aragorn, showing me where to step, and how I must hold my sword, and carefully correcting my actions. When I reached down for yet another arrow, and found that none of them remained in the pile, I sighed with exasperation. It was unfair. Unfair that someone who had such potential, who was such a leader by his very nature, was taken from us when we were starting to need him the most.

I picked up the arrows from the floor, and plucked them, perhaps a little harshly, from the crate. The one that had bent when it hit the wall I left discarded on the ground.

The wood cracked and tore as I ripped away another arrow. "Be careful." I was surprised to find I was no longer alone and jumped around to behold Legolas standing at the entrance of my private space. His step was always quiet, and my attention had been focused elsewhere, so I had no idea how long the elf had actually been watching me before he made his presence known. "You'll ruin the arrows that way." Legolas continued, making no mention of my surprised expression. "King Theoden will need every last one of them soon."

Finally I collected myself. "I'm sorry." I said.

"Your father taught you archery?" Legolas asked. "Or your Mother?" He knew of her too, and had fought before with her, on one occasion.

"No." I shook my head. "They could hold a bow, but neither of them excelled at it."

"Then your uncle, I'd assume." Legolas said. "He was the archer after all."

I stood myself back at my place at the other end of my training ground and restacked the arrows. "A close answer…" I said. "But he had his hands full with my cousins." I reached for an arrow, and notched it, taking aim more carefully this time. "It was my aunt who taught me." I fired, and it landed with a thud in the crate again, in the upper left corner. There was a brief silence, as I reached down to my pile again. "I am a little out of practise." I admitted, at last, breaking the silence. "She was brilliant though, and made a very patient instructor." I knew I was treading on unstable ground with the topic of my Aunt Tauriel. Mother had told me that the elven prince had once been very fond of her, but her heart was captured by my uncle first. There was nothing that could change her mind after that. It had been love at first sight, fast and fatal as lightening.

Being immortal, the time between her decision back then, and this moment now, must have seemed quite smaller to Legolas, though it encompassed my entire lifetime.

"Her sons would not accept her instruction?" Legolas asked.

"Oh, they did." I nodded. "But when they grew they were too fond of my Uncle, especially Kien, and they preferred to go out hunting and practising with him. Father-and-son bonding and the like of that." I smiled to myself, recalling younger years when I had seen the three archers wandering the halls together. "She let them, because she knew it meant the world to my uncle to have his sons adore him like that. They had many trials, bringing my cousins into the world."

"They should have trained more with your aunt, she was clearly the better archer."

I turned around, and began to defend my uncle. "My uncle was a great bowman, and just as good as my aunt. They were as matched in archery as my own parents were in swordsmanship." I shook my head. "Never mind the fact that I'm no longer any good at it, I'm probably her worst example of a pupil." I turned my attention away from him and picked up yet another arrow. "What would you know of her skill anyway?"

"I taught her." The words were almost snapped.

I felt a rather dwarven streak of stubbornness rise up inside me. "Even so, she chose to let my uncle train them." I fired, unsuccessfully. With a sound of heavy frustration I hung my head.

What had I done, pointing out rather bluntly who had gained my aunts favor?

"I'm sorry." I apologized. "She was very good. One of the finest I ever saw. I may have even been a good archer in time if I hadn't quailed so much at the sight of arrow wounds." I had a horrible feeling in my stomach, the feeling of having said something wrong and just wanting to erase the words I had said. I had never been good at conflicts, and it continued to stick to me stubbornly. Here I was, unable to stand my ground or properly apologize.

"Kien and Tauris did her proud though." I added, making a final attempt. "She may not have taught them all they knew about bows and arrows, but both of them and my uncle loved her like she hung the stars in the sky. " I shook my head again. "You don't need to keep watch over me any longer, my head stopped aching hours ago, I'm not going to faint or anything."

Silence, again. I broke it a second time, firing another arrow, this one smashing against the wall too, and bending out of shape. "Aragorn was right," I muttered. "I should be mastering swordsmanship first."

Legolas eyed the two broken arrows, and sighed. "You should be holding the bow closer to your body."

His show of patience was unexpected. I had a feeling that had I snapped at Gimli, the dwarf would have had some choice words for me. I supposed Legolas saw no reason to be annoyed or angered by my remarks, it was but a pittance of time in his life, and there would come a day in which I was long gone and such things would not even matter. Either way, his overlooking of my statement was an incredible show of restraint.

"What?" I knew it made me sound as though I had not paid attention, but some part of me needed clarification that he had not stormed away or bore me any visible ill will.

"You are holding it too far away, your hands shake and that is why you keep missing the center of the crate." He corrected me again.

I made the adjustment to my stance, and prepared to fire. "You need to draw it back farther." Legolas said before I could make the shot. "If you ever want to stand a chance of an arrow making it's way past clothing and chainmail, it should be able to pass through wood that thin."

I strained the bowstring, and took aim again.

"Farther." Legolas corrected again.

I gave him a look that read 'are you sure?', thinking that if I pulled the bowstring any more it would snap and lash against my face. The elf nodded at me. I pulled until the tension of the string could be felt keenly, digging into my fingers. When I tried to take aim again, the elf had further corrections. Before long the tips of my fingers had gone chillingly numb, the bowstring cutting into my unpractised skin, and my back was painfully straight, only making the entire stance uncomfortable. How my Uncle Kili managed this, or how my Aunt Tauriel ended up looking so graceful while shooting, was beyond my mind.

"Have you stood like this before?" Legolas saw the strain on my face. I still had yet to fire the arrow I had notched some minutes ago.

"I don't think so." I replied. I would have remembered the feeling, I told myself internally.

"Tauriel would have taught you correctly, she would have made you stand like this."

"Then I must not remember…it's rather uncomfortable, how on earth do elves make it look so simple?"

"You'll grow used to it." The elf nodded. He looked me over, scrupulously. "Your hands are still shaking, have you not found good balance yet?"

"Sorry, I can't feel my fingers any longer." I said. "I'm sure that's why I'm losing my grip."

"Take your aim and fire." He gave the order at last. I eyed up the center of my target and finally letting my arrow fly. It landed quite close to the center of the crate, the arrowhead deep in the wood. I hissed as sensation, tingling mixed with pain, flooded my fingers again as circulation returned. "That went well." I nodded at the arrow.

"It's not a horrible shot." The elf said.

"It's better than the rest so far." I replied. "How could it be any better?"

"You act like someone has cut off your fingers." Legolas nodded to how I was gently flexing my fingers.

Well…it was probably true.

"Try again."

"What?" I asked as I flexed my poor hand again.

"Fire another arrow." Legolas said, his face serious, like Aragorn's always was when he taught me.

What began as an argument dissolved into an archery lesson. Legolas would have me stand, arrow ready to be fired, for lengthy periods of time as he looked over my skill. Sometimes he would have me hold the position only to grow used to the discomfort it caused me. I would then fire, he would judge the arrow's success, and then order me to pick up another, leaving very little time for me to tend to the aching in my hands. I was beginning to think it was his subtle way of punishing me for my remark.

Eventually, our work became silent, and Legolas would simply raise his hand a degree to have me hold my arrow, and then lower it again to have me fire it. By the time the pile of arrows had been diminished, twice, my fingers were so pained I felt it was a miracle I still had then attached to the rest of my body.

I had the last arrow ready to fire, and when Legolas dropped his hand I did, managing to hit close to the center again, among the many other arrows protruding from the hole-marked box.

"Well done." The elf said.

"Shall we start again?" I asked.

"No, tomorrow will be burdened with work." Legolas answered. "Rest your hand."

With some difficulty I dropped the bow, my one hand seeming to have fused to it with it's grip.

As I was rubbing my tired hands together, Legolas spoke again, not facing me. "She's going to die, eventually, isn't she?"

I did not have to guess of whom he was speaking. "Yes, she will." I answered. "Eventually."

"I still don't understand why she chose such a life." He said. "Why she chose for there to be an end to her."

"The rest of forever would have been a long time to live without her family." I replied. "Great tragedy can kill elves, can it not?"

He nodded. I had a feeling that for Legolas, forever was an awfully long time to live without his friend.

Eowyn's words came to mind and I recited them as best I could. "Death is but the end of one thing…with mortality came freedom. She will have a debt to pay. But seeing as it gave her the family she has, I don't think she'll mind paying it."

I did not know when Legolas and my aunt had last seen each other, face to face, but I imagined her change in appearance, how she had aged and he had not, was a shock to them both.

Silence again, but this time softer, and bearable, as I quietly retrieved the arrows.

"I spend hours looking for you…" Our heads shot around to behold Gimli in the entrance, growling at us. "…and this is what I find!" He eyed with fury the arrows in my arms. "Archery!" He pointed at Legolas accusingly. "Of all things the lad could be learning, you find him and teach him archery!"

"He wished to learn." Legolas shrugged.

Now it was my turn to have Gimli's distaste directed at me. "So you want to extend your skills to other weapons, eh?" His eyes narrowed at me. "Did I not offer to teach how to wield an axe?"

"Well, yes Gimli, you did offer, but-"

"And now you've gone off and taken the elf as an instructor!" The dwarf huffed. He turned back to Legolas. "The next person to put a weapon in his hands and teach him out to use it is going to be me!"

"But-"

"We start tomorrow." Gimli announced.

We watched as the grumpy dwarf scoffed at the arrow target, and then stormed off.

"By tomorrow I won't have any fingers left." I sighed. We both smiled as we listened to the last of Gimli's footsteps echo away, amused.