To all who are reading this, thank you. Your continued interest has renewed my energy and commitment to this story. While it's not always easy, writing this fanfic has been, and continues to be, a joy. To all who took the time to leave reviews, know that I was thankful for each and every one.

Now onto the chapter…

CHAPTER LXXV

BY A THREAD

The night was eerily quiet, the sky devoid of stars and moon.

Earlier, there had been a rush toward the armoury, but now almost everyone was in readiness, including Annalyn, who had somehow managed to find leather armour and chainmail that fit her small frame. At first, she had expected strange looks from the men but given how they would soon be outnumbered, islanded in a sea of foes, no one had objected or told her to head to the caves.

As Annalyn stood by the parapet, waiting to catch a glimpse of the approaching army, she cast a sweeping look over the deceptively peaceful horizon. She steeled her nerves by grasping the pommel of her sword.

"You know the odds," she told Ninael who was standing to her right. "It is likely none of us will see dawn. You can still leave, you know."

But the elven soldier was stoic. "I am at peace with my choice. I will not leave your side, mellon nîn."

Heartened by the steadfastness of her friend, Annalyn faced the elleth, and clasped her arm.

Mirroring the gesture, Ninael said, "Since this might be our end, I want you to know that I am thankful you crossed my path. I am proud to be your friend, Annalyn of Rohan."

"I am thankful and proud to have met you also, dear friend." But Annalyn's smile was faint and fleeting. As a tremor went through her, she confessed, "I am frightened… Does that make me a coward?"

"If you were a coward, you would not have stayed with your people."

"I could not abandon them. Look around us, Ninael." As a lump clogged her throat, Annalyn sent her gaze around the Keep. "So many children… and old men, their courage hanging by a thread."

Over yonder by a wall, stood Galan. Clad in ill-fitting mail and armour, he was flanked by his father and other men from the village. So young. Too young to perish in war.

With death weighing heavy on her mind, Annalyn faced the horizon once more. In truth, she was reliving a bitter memory—the night she and Rúmil had spoken of the differences between Elves and Men.

"We Elves have dwelt in Arda for long ages," he had said. "Far longer than the race of Men. When Ilúvatar created my kindred, he fashioned us in two parts. The first part is our bodies. Rhaw it is named in Sindarin. Our flesh, our bones… they are made of the material of Arda. But the second part, our fae, what you would call a soul, comes from the Secret Fire of Ilúvatar."

"We, too, have bodies. We, too, have souls," she had argued.

"That is true. Yet you are merely visitors in Arda, here to experience it for a brief moment in time, before death releases you from its confines. Unlike us, you are free. You are meant to leave Arda, going where none of my kindred can follow."

Annalyn swallowed hard.

If I die on this night, I will never see Haldir again. Not even in death.

"Ninael," she began as her heart crumbled in her chest. "If I fall in battle tonight…what will it do to him? What will it do to Haldir?"

Annalyn sniffled, then blinked to clear her gathering tears. Before Ninael could frame a reply, she continued, "Rúmil told me that his brother would never recover from my death. He said that he will rage and he will grieve, but that Elves mate for life. In short, he told me that it would destroy him. Is he right?"

Ninael took a moment to weigh her words. "Of a surety, it would be very hard on him. He would grieve for you deeply. But one can never know the future. Haldir has much strength in him, more so than most Elves I know."

Holding to her friend's words, Annalyn heaved a sigh. "Would that the stars were out. I would have liked to see them." One last time…

With her sable hair blending with the blackness of night, Ninael looked skyward for a long moment. Then, with closing eyes, she broke out into a quiet song.

"Fanuilos heryn aglar…"

The hymn to Elbereth.

The melody was hauntingly beautiful. As Annalyn drifted on the notes, the elvish words revealed themselves in her heart and mind.

Snow-white! Snow-white! O lady clear!

O Queen beyond the Western Seas

O light to us that wander here

Amid the world of woven trees!

Gilthoniel! O Elbereth!

Clear are thy eyes and bright is breath,

Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee

In a far land beyond the Sea!

O Stars that in the Sunless Year

With shining hand by thee were sown,

In windy fields now bright and clear

We see your silver blossom blown!

O Elbereth Gilthoniel!

We still remember, we who dwell

In this far land beneath the trees

The starlight on the Western Seas.

Whether it was pure coincidence, or else a mysterious power was at play, the wind picked up a little. When a small cleft appeared in the clouds, just large enough to reveal a star, Annalyn spotted it at once, and gasped in awe. "The star of Eärendil…" She was certain of it.

Though its appearance was all too brief, the star's sparkling light reached into the very heart of her, comforting her troubled soul.

Could it be a sign of hope?

Of a sudden, a horn blew in the night, a note both strong and clear. Lasting a few seconds, it sounded twice, then yielded to silence.

Thinking that the enemy had arrived, Annalyn leaned over the parapet, and peered at the darkened landscape beyond the walls. Shapes she could see, coming up the ramp. A marching army for sure, but smaller than the great host they had been expecting.

Who are they?

As Annalyn squinted to get a better look, she saw that they were hooded and cloaked. Not only that, but they were carrying pale banners she couldn't quite make out.

"Ninael, what do you see?"

When Annalyn glanced at her friend, the soldier's demeanor was not what she expected. In lieu of worry, there was a brightness to her face.

"Hope," she said. "I see hope."

Haldir was marching and staring straight ahead.

Built atop the Hornrock, the fortress of Helm's Deep loomed before him. Though scarred by previous battles, its walls remained thick and strong, the grey stones tinged in the blue of night. Over the parapets, men could be seen, but they were too few.

Holding to what he had seen in the Mirror of Galadriel, Haldir didn't quite know how to feel. On the one hand, he was desperate to see his wife again. But her being here—on the very edge of what could be a hopeless battle—filled him with such dread, he found it hard to breathe.

Wearing the stoic mask required of his station, Haldir led his soldiers up the great ramp. Their footfalls echoed in a precise rhythm. The banners of Lothlórien flew proudly above their heads.

Just as they passed over the Deeping Stream, he heard someone cry, "Open the gates!" Then another voice answered, "Open the gates!"

Marching through an archway, they found themselves in a circular courtyard, where mail-clad men watched them in wonder.

Haldir understood then, that the Elves' arrival had given them hope. But considering the forces that were now marching on Helm's Deep—thousands of Uruk-hai!—would five hundred Elves be enough to turn the tide?

Continuing along, they soon arrived in the inner courtyard, where they stopped near a set of wide stairs. Soldiers were clustered near the top, with children among them. Stepping forth was a man whose countenance betokened an elevated rank. If Haldir had to guess, this was Théoden, king of Rohan.

"How is this possible?" he asked as Haldir bowed.

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell. An alliance once existed between Elves and Men. Long ago, we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

Even as he spoke, Haldir spotted some familiar faces. Aragorn of the Dúnedain. Legolas of the Woodland realm. And Gimli the Dwarf.

As Aragorn ran down the steps, profound relief was on his face.

"Mae govannen, Haldir."

The two of them bowed, but then Aragorn closed the gap, and gathered him in a fierce and sudden hug. For the span of a heartbeat, Haldir stood in stunned silence. But then—with friendship in his heart—he returned the embrace with a small smile.

"You are most welcome," Aragorn said once he had released his hold.

Then Legolas stepped forth. As he and Haldir clasped each other's arms, the elven forces turned in unison, the clap of their feet and longbows echoing into the night.

Looking to Théoden once again, Haldir raised his chin. "We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."

Now the king lowered his head, his words heartfelt when he said, "My people thank you. I… thank you."

Thus it was that the Elves joined ranks with the people of Rohan. After conferring with Théoden and Aragorn, it was decided that the Galadhrim would form a line of defense atop the poorly-manned Deeping Wall.

"I will fight alongside you," Aragorn told Haldir.

"As will I," supplied Legolas in turn.

After Gimli had said the same, Théoden spoke once more. "It is settled, then."

With the battle arrangements out of the way, Haldir's thoughts returned to his wife. Facing the king, he meant to inquire about Annalyn when…

"Haldir!"

That voice—her voice—rang out from above, making him look up. "Haldir!" Annalyn cried again, and he saw her, peering over the parapet of the Keep.

His heart afire, Haldir held her widened gaze, and took a half step. "Annalyn!"

While he had known she would be here, seeing her with his own eyes nearly sent him to his knees.

As confused onlookers watched the unfolding scene, Annalyn suddenly pushed away from the parapet and disappeared. Moments later, he heard her echoing footsteps as she raced down toward the courtyard.

When she finally came into view, clad in leather and chainmail, Haldir fought the urge to run to her. Instead, he took a step, stopped himself, and waited while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest.

Annalyn was halfway down the steps now. She didn't bother to wipe the tears that were streaming down her face. When the two finally collided, in front of everyone, he lifted her off the ground, and spun with the momentum.

Annalyn was here. He was holding her at last!

"Firiel," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Haldir."

There are moments in one's life when time appears to stand still. For Haldir, this was such a moment. As his awareness tapered to exclude everything and everyone save his wife, their entire story flashed in his mind—from their first meeting in the Golden Wood, all the way to now.

If only, he thought, wishing their reunion had been under better circumstances. For here they stood, on the cusp of a war they might not win. A chance, he thought with sudden defiance. Despite the odds, there was always a chance. Galadriel wouldn't have sent us otherwise.

Having gathered herself, Annalyn eased away to catch his eyes. "How did you know to come?"

Haldir swept her tear-stained cheek with the pad of his thumb. "The Lady allowed me a glimpse into her Mirror. She sent the Galadhrim in your hour of need."

Annalyn's eyelids fell over a fresh surge of tears. Heedless of the stares, she embraced him one more time.

So this was chapter 75. The next one should be in Annalyn POV. I'll probably revisit their reunion, and expand on it—all from her point of view. Then I'll go on from there.

As always, thanks for reading! Reviews are writing fuel. ;-)