The fortress was enormous, even bigger than Marian had imagined. Many cried out in relief as they came within view of the great stone walls; their pace quickened almost subconsciously as they drew nearer, wrenching the doors open and flooding inside to meet the refugees who had come from other villages. Marian looked around as the people cast off bags and sacks of supplies, chattering with renewed spirit. Éowyn stood by her, staring sightlessly into the crowd.

"Make way for Théoden!"

Both women turned at once to the source of the shout. A clattering was added to the din as horses surged through the gate, their hooves echoing off the cobblestones. Éowyn stepped forward as her uncle rode through, surveying the scene with wide eyes as wounded men were helped from their horses.

"So few," she said, so quietly that Marian nearly missed it. "So few of you have returned."

Théoden looked at her with something like consolation. "Our people are safe," he replied, dismounting. "We have paid for it with many lives."

"My lady."

A low voice spoke at Marian's side and she turned to face Gimli, who was looking up at Éowyn. His helmet was off, giving him a look of vulnerability- or maybe that was the expression of great sorrow on his face as he met Éowyn's eyes.

A slow, painful understanding seemed to dawn on her. "Lord Aragorn," Éowyn faltered. "Where is he?"

Marian felt someone watching her and looked up, locking eyes with Legolas, who stood a few paces away. Joy surged through her at the sight- but then, she noticed the hollow look on his face, and the way his arms hung limply at his sides-

"He fell."

Marian wrenched her eyes away at Gimli's words, staring down at him with disbelief as a horrible sinking feeling filled her stomach. Surely that did not mean- surely Aragorn had not-

But as Éowyn cast her gaze on Théoden, who looked on at her stricken face for only a moment before turning away, Marian understood.

Aragorn was gone.

"So he's not just... lost somewhere? You know for sure?" Marian asked, casting around for some small bit of hope.

After Éowyn had gone, pushing through the crowds and insisting that there was work to be done, Marian met Legolas by the gates. He was holding a beautiful necklace that shone brightly, seemingly all on its own.

"This was Aragorn's," he replied, showing Marian the jewel. "But first it was Arwen's."

"And you know he's gone for certain because-?"

"He never would have taken this off!" Legolas said, tightening his grip around the chain. "If the orc had it, then…"

He slumped back against the wall.

"Who's Arwen?" Marian asked tentatively.

Legolas looked at her then, searching her face. "They were together," he said after a moment. "But she is gone now."

"Because… she died?"

"No, because Arwen is elf-kind, and Aragorn is a man, and it cannot be. Such relationships are doomed to fail." He spoke bitterly, almost carelessly, and Marian found herself incensed for some unknown reason.

"Oh," she hissed. "I see. That's good to know. Not that I needed to hear it, but I'm glad to know your stance on things."

"Mari-"

She ignored him, sweeping through the sea of people and out of sight.

Legolas stood on the battlements, cursing himself. He had spoken rashly, accidentally voicing thoughts he didn't even know he was having. And Mari…

Her face appeared in his mind, flashing with hurt and anger. Other memories, too: watching her appear from the shadows in Meduseld, the sound of her wild laughter as they sped along on horseback… her eyes, reflecting the stars as she sat deep in thought.

He cursed again.

These were not the thoughts he should be having with a battle approaching. It was distracting, pointless, and-

As her face rose up in his mind once more, he realized that she had freckles on her nose.

And somehow this image broke through the wall- all his careful avoidance was gone, and he was left with the truth: she meant… something to him. He would have liked to chide himself and talk his way out of this less-than-convenient choice, except it wasn't really a choice at all. It simply was.

Perhaps the timing was not so terrible after all. Granted, they were entering into a battle, nevermind the larger battle for Middle Earth itself- but if they might all be dead within the next few days, wasn't this the time for reckless honesty?

Legolas frowned, staring out across the plains. And if they didn't die… would still he want whatever this was? Would Mari?

A small shape appeared over the horizon, driving away all of his previous thoughts. He blinked in amazement, gripping the wall in front of him and leaning forward as if to see better- but his eyesight was as good as ever.

It was Aragorn, bloody and bruised, head bobbing with exhaustion- but still Aragorn. Alive.

Legolas pushed away from the wall, hurrying down the steps toward the main hall.

People stared as Aragorn rode through the gates, and he heard a shout rise up: "He's alive!"

Someone took the reins of his horse as he dismounted, a little unsteady on his feet. A great roar of astonishment overtook the villagers' voices, and Aragorn saw people being jostled to the side as Gimli burst through.

"Where is he? Where is he? I'm gonna kill him!" Gimli spotted him then, and a grin overtook his face. Aragorn smiled back, thinking that he had never seen the dwarf so enthusiastic.

"You are the luckiest, the canniest, and the most reckless man I ever knew!" He pulled Aragorn into a hug. "Bless you, laddie!"

And though the reunion was joyful, an image of the vast Uruk-hai army lurked in the back of his mind, prompting Aragorn to pull back.

"Gimli, where is the king?"

Reaching the hall, Aragorn walked swiftly toward the doors, so preoccupied that he almost ran headlong into someone. A voice spoke in Elvish.

"You are late."

Looking up, Aragorn came face-to-face with Legolas, who regarded him carefully.

"You look terrible," he added in Westron.

Aragorn broke into a smile, laughing as he clasped his friend's shoulder. Reaching into one of his pockets, Legolas brought out something that gleamed silver, and Aragorn realized it was Arwen's necklace. Her voice seemed to echo in his ears as he took the jewel in his hand.

The light of the Evenstar does not wax and wane. It is mine to give to whom I will... like my heart.

"Thank you," Aragorn said in Elvish, locking eyes with Legolas, a silent understanding passing between them.

As the pair turned toward the door, Aragorn wondered how Théoden would propose they fend off such a massive army.