Summary: Harmen, the boy from Helms Deep, wanders through the city after the battle. Rated T by Caitie

March 15, 3019

(Text written in bold type is spoken in Elvish)

Blanched sunlight strained to peek through the thick clouds, Harmen could barely see the pale blue sky above. Crows were already starting to appear overhead, circling above the city and the plains before it. The eleven year old boy's weary body carried him towards the city. If he was being honest with himself he wasn't sure how he was still alive. All around him were the bodies of dead Rohirrim soldiers, grown men who knew what they were doing, and yet here he was, a child alive after a war.

Trudging past a dead Mumakil he thought of the Elf maid. "Arwen," he said aloud, remembering her name. She had killed the beast, he had seen the whole thing. It was something one would hear of in stories. Harmen remembered the fight at Helm's Deep, Arwen's husband had been there, he'd seen him several times in Edoras and then again with Arwen in Helms Deep, and one last time as she burned his body. She was strong for a woman, and she was beautiful.

Harmen decided then that he would find her. He started toward city, the last he'd seen of her was after she killed the Mumakil and made her way towards the white city. He passed men walking aimlessly, not knowing how to process what had happened; he saw women in the city sitting in the streets crying as they held onto their children, living and dead. When he passed a decapitated body of a child he lurched forwards and vomited in the street. The stench of ash and death was overwhelming in the city, more than once Harmen had to stop.

It took him hours to make his way up to the third level of the city. And when he arrived he found hope. An Orc was dead on the street, an arrow square between his eyes, it had to be her. As he traveled further into the city he saw more evidence of Arwen, he smiled a little when he saw a group of dead Orcs. There was no doubt in his mind now, she had definitely been here.

As he grew closer to the scene before him he heard something. His heart skipped a beat thinking it was an Orc, but as he listened closer he decided it was definitely not an Orc. It was a child, crying, a sound he was growing accustomed to. He rounded the corner seeing first the child on the staircase and then the body she was protecting. Long black hair cascaded down the steps beside her lifeless body. It was her. Arwen. He felt something inside of him shrivel, his hope perhaps. His hope that his world would be alright, that everything would be alright.

..::..

Gimli grunted, the steps in this city were too damn steep he thought as he climbed up yet another staircase. He grumbled the entire trip from the plains to the city and now he had to climb up to the top, with legs as short as his this was no easy feat. He cursed when he finally got to the top of the staircase he had just defeated. Bending over he huffed and struggled to catch his breath once more. "One down," he said through heavy breathing. "Only six more to go." He groaned and cursed the city once more, longing for his tunnels and mines back in Erebor.

The wind picked up and sent Gimli searching for the prospect of warmth. He knew to meet Aragorn and Arwen at the top of the city in the citadel. He looked up, the citadel was impossible to see from the second level. He grumbled as he walked alone through the city, flicking a dried piece of blood from his arm. He couldn't shake an uneasy feeling as he rounded a corner, and when he did go around the corner he stopped. His breath caught in his throat. A boy stood frozen still looking at the staircase, and a girl sat crying on the step holding a woman's head on her lap. Through the mass of black hair he could just make out the pointed tips of her ears, and the steps near her were weapons we recognized all too well.

"Arwen," he whispered. His helmet fell from his hand and collided against the stone ground with a resounding thud.

..::..

Aragorn wiped the sweat from his brow as he dragged himself through the field. Without caring he stepped through puddles of blood but made sure to avoid the bodies. Though his body was tired his eyes searched restlessly for Arwen. The promise he had made to Elrond to watch out for her repeated endlessly through his head. He had to find her.

The city loomed before him, a white mountain staring down at him imposingly. It looked down at him as if to say, "You're not good enough, you will never be like your ancestors, you are Isuldur." He sighed as he stepped into the city, for years he'd done his best to avoid it, to leave it alone as best as he could. "You will never be one of us," the city said to him as he took his first step through its walls.

He forced thoughts of his past and his fears from his mind and once again thought of Arwen. The last he had seen of her she had brought down a Mumakil. Its corpse lay not far from the city, it was perfectly reasonable to assume she made it to the city. He wandered through the first tier of the city, ignoring the corpses of women and children. His only thought was of his cousin. He approached a staircase and followed it up to the next tier.

Immediately there were signs of her. The corpse of an Orc lay in the middle of the street, an arrow with white and brown flecked feather protruded from the middle of his forehead. Encouraged that she had made it to the city he kept on. He looked down an alley between two small stone houses and stopped. There was a brown smear against one of the walls.

Without thinking he started down the alley. As he got closer the smear looked ruddier until it was without a doubt the color of blood that had been sitting for some time. Worry slowly started to flood his mind as he raced from the alley and jogged through the neighborhood. He knew the next staircase would be close so he slowed as he approached it. Aragorn could see a helmet lying on the ground and recognized it as Gimli's. How had he made it to the city before him? Aragorn wondered.

The staircase was now just barely visible in between to shops. He was now just barely walking faster than a crawl as the scene of on the staircase was revealed to him. Gimli stood a little ways before the first step. In front of him was a boy on his knees, his head him low. And finally, on the steps was a small girl with light colored hair, she couldn't have been more than six thought Aragorn. She sat on the steps cradling a head on her lap. Aragorn shook his head I dis belief. It couldn't be her. The long black hair couldn't be Arwen's, the weapons strewn across the steps couldn't be hers. But it was impossible to ignore her face, her blue eyes were open staring lifelessly at the sky. Her left hand just a mere inch from one of Legolas' twin blades, just a mere inch from something that could have saved her life.

He felt his feet moving him towards her. He could see Gimli's mouth moving, but he couldn't hear the words all he could hear was the sound of his heart beating like a drum. His legs gave out as he fell to his knees beside her, not feeling the stone beneath him.

Aragorn brushed Arwen's thick dark hair away from her face and neck and saw the red slash across her throat. He choked on silent tears as the realization of her death dawned on him. He looked up into the child's eyes and without saying a word she nodded, her arms loosing from around Arwen's body. Aragorn pulled Arwen onto his lap, her skin was still warm and the blood was still fresh. He cradled her body against his, holding her head to his chest wishing that he could pass some of his own life into her.

Tears cascaded down his face and onto hers, catching on her eyelashes and landing falling on her cheeks. Her eyes were still open he realized for the second time. He found himself entrapped in her soft blue eyes, he could see the sadness of many years in their depths. Hesitantly, for he knew this was the last time he would see them, he raised his hand to her eyes and gently closed them.

Aragorn looked over at Gimli, his face red as he tried to hide his pain. He watched the boy too, the boy who had followed Arwen from Helms Deep. And finally he returned his gaze to the girl, the mother in Arwen had won over the warrior in her. He could see Alida in her small round face and knew that Arwen had seen the same.

..::..

Aragorn's feet felt heavy as he walked up the tiers of Minas Tirith. Arwen's body felt light in his arms as he carried her up the steps to the sixth tier of the city. All about him people rushed around, carrying the injured to the Houses of Healing. He wished more than anything that he could be one of them. He wanted nothing more than the run as fast as his legs to carry him to the Houses, to save her, but it was too late. The renowned healers in Minas Tirith could do nothing for Arwen, not even Elrond could have saved her.

All around him people wept, the wailing grew only louder as Aragorn came closer to the Houses. Women sat on the vibrant green lawns of the sixth tier embracing their children and holding onto hope that their loved ones could be saved. Aragorn wished he could share in their hope. His hopes were dashed with every step he took.

Looking up from Arwen's ashen face he saw a tunnel straight ahead of him. The tunnel to the Citadel. And right before that was a collection of white stone buildings. On one side of the stone pathway was the Houses of Healing, women in light grey dresses rushed about tending to the injured and the dying. On the other side was the mortuary, people were littered across the lawn beside and around it, delivering their dead and mourning their losses. Aragorn realized he was involuntarily holding onto Arwen's body tighter.

The smell of death and disease hung in the air like a thick curtain, snuffing out signs of early spring. As Aragorn grew closer he noticed a woman in a dark grey dress standing in the doorway of the mortuary. She watched his every step knowing that he was bringing her another body to care for. His steps slowed and became heavier as the reality of his situation fell upon him once more. He could convince himself all he wanted that he was bringing Arwen to the Houses but deep inside he knew that his steps were taking him to the mortuary.

Without even realizing it he began to ascend the steps that led to woman in grey. Her eyes were full of pity as he took that final steps towards her. She said nothing but motioned for a palette to be brought forward. Aragorn hesitated and cradled Arwen close to him. The woman nodded slowly as if to say "it's time". He knelt beside the palette and gently set Arwen's body down. He brushed the hair away from her face and rested his hand on his cousin's cheek. "Arwen," he whispered. "Rest well, until next we meet." He felt tears sting his eyes as he kissed Arwen's forehead.

Aragorn stood, not caring about the tears in eyes and the tracks on his face he looked at the woman. There was a deep sorrow in her expression, she knew what this death meant to him. "This is Arwen, the Evenstar of her people, the daughter of Elrond of Rivendell," he said her title with authority. "Take good care of her."