AN: Dude the world has gone fucking insane. It all hit me really hard and writing has been tough lately but thanks to Camp NaNoWriMo, writing anything except my novel is a bit of a treat. This is one of the bits I was most looking forward to writing but I think that also makes it a difficult part- I have expectations. Hopefully this meets them. The song used here is "Blind and Frozen" by Beast in Black.

To anyone from Ukraine, I'm terribly sorry that you're going through such horrors. As an American I can't do much but I've called my congresspeople to ask them to support the Ukrainian defense and people, and donated to the Red Cross. If any others in democracies can call their representatives and/or donate to charities helping in Ukraine, I urge you to do so. Writing about war has taught me that war is a terrible thing no one should unwillingly suffer from. May it end soon and with a just result.

Chapter 46: Blind and Frozen

There's no telling how odd it was to be huddled around a phone screen again. Not even huddled but squashed together with the amount of people who wanted to see the music video my old team had made. King Theoden, Aragorn, and Gandalf, who had never seen such a thing as a mobile phone, were visually glued to the small screen.

Then Guerra pressed play and instead of Martin screaming into a microphone we got him turning on the camera with a shy smile, clearly sitting on the ground leaning on one of the buildings inside FB Salerno. "Hey all, Sergeant William Martin here. Like van der Zee and Murphy, I'm also leaving the USMC and this will be my last time filming in Afghanistan unless by some miracle I can return as a tourist in a few years," he told the viewers.

I was sure I heard a child's voice in the background but didn't say anything. The only children at Salerno were dead and in the ground.

Martin took a deep breath and let it out in a nervous chuckle. "Making and releasing this video has been terrifying because, well, it means exactly what you'll think it means. And once it's been on the internet, I can't take it back. So here's hoping, eh?" He gave a sort of helpless shrug and reached forward to shut the camera off.

This time I knew I heard a child's giggle. It sent a cold shiver through me.

Then the video began with Murphy's fantastic guitar work, York's drums, and I knew this song. My mouth dropped open as I glanced across the table at Martin.

He was very intently looking at the screen, so I turned my eyes quickly back.

Oh dear, he was starting with our first meeting: us getting into a fist fight because I thought he was the one who slapped my bum during boot camp. With her hair dyed, Astor did a good impression of me. "Once, I touched your heart," he sang in a higher pitched voice than usual, "Held you in closed arms. Built a haven for your love, until I let you fall apart… Please forgive me…"

Then the song got hard and the scene switched to us in cells opposite each other in the brig, first lounging and then getting closer until we were talking and laughing through the bars. I made a note to ask who had done the makeup portraying our black eyes and split lips, among other small injuries.

"God I miss you like hell! I was wrong, I can tell; for the heart can be blind and frozen! Now I live with the pain every night, every day, and I read those letters you wrote me! How I long for the time when your lips would kiss mine, and the promise was still unbroken! I will wait for tomorrow that may never come, I will wait in the name of love!" That chorus always hit me, but hearing Martin sing it while short scenes of our growing friendship went by made my throat close up. Us on patrol with York and Murphy, playing billiards, forming the band…

I couldn't help my laugh when I realized they had used actual video taken at the time of Martin's and my first fake kiss for a music video. We were in civvies on a small Baghdad street and he dipped me over his arm- then he dropped me. Whichever genius took that bit of video included Murphy's camera and his clear exasperation with us messing up while York pointed and laughed.

Then came our big special mission and how in the world had Martin been allowed to disclose that to the general public? I snickered when Astor only climbed a few feet of the sixty foot cliff and then it cut to her jumping up into the cave, covering the sleeping guard's mouth before she (I) slit his throat and dropped a ladder for everyone else to climb. I'd really gotten lucky there, I admitted to myself; if that guard had been doing his job I would have been toast.

There was just a split second of footage of all four of us getting decorated for that mission, Murphy and I grinning at each other. Did Martin really have that soft expression on his face when he looked at me then?

He must have, because York elbowed him with a warning look.

Of course the next thing to happen was my big Silver Star moment. Seeing a recreation of it was bizarre; had I really been pinned to the ceiling for a few seconds by the blast? Astor did so well with all the fake blood coming from her mouth and jerking and seizing that I thought she deserved a goddamn Oscar. Meanwhile York was shouting into his radio with his pistol pointed out the viewing port the grenade had come in, Murphy was firing his rifle, and Martin was doing what little first aid he knew. The sheer panic in his face as he wrapped limbs and applied pressure was startling; I didn't remember that.

Next was me waking up, except that I clearly wasn't… right. Martin had to keep me from tearing my stitches out, yelling for nurses who then spilled into the room to restrain and sedate me. Murphy appeared with them and, shaking his head, guided Martin out of the room with an arm around his back. His next visit showed me healed a bit further but in a straight jacket and padded room, barely aware he was even there and smiling so tenderly at me.

"I would die for the love of mercy; Destiny, is this how it should be? No, no, no!" Suddenly that lyric sent shivers down my spine.

Then suddenly I was healed, back in uniform, and grabbing up the entire team in a group hug Martin pretended to bitch about before smiling. Another patrol was shown, this time with me and him talking, laughing, rather than me and Murphy. I remembered that first patrol after the hospital; they had treated me like glass until I threatened to shoot someone in the foot for it.

The last chorus was on, so I wondered how they would wrap this up. Surprise and a kind of dread filled me when I realized that this bit of video had me helping a very pregnant woman into a hut during the day, then the day was fast-forwarded to evening when I ducked out of the hut carrying a small bundle of cloth in my arms, smiling widely as I handed the newborn to his elated father. The way it was filmed said exactly what Martin had been thinking and I had to swallow to wet my dry throat.

Suddenly we were back on base and I had my rucksack over my shoulder, on my way to a waiting helicopter. Martin made some comment and, laughing, I flipped him off right before I got into the helicopter. There was a lingering shot on my face through the window before the scene changed to the guys standing in the Colonel's office, being shown a missing person poster with my picture on it.

Shell shocked, Martin shambled out of the office and slumped into a chair in the hallway. He pulled his ancient cell phone from his pocket and opened the text messaging app, then selected my name. It showed our last texts: "Just landed in Denver. I wish I was landing back in Kabul for how much I want to go to this reunion." He had then replied, "You'd wish you were landing in Kabul no matter where else you were landing; you love this place." Then a winking emoji, and, "Good luck, don't murder anyone and if you do, see if there's a pig farm nearby first." I had sent back a crying-laughing emoji, and that was the last of it.

Martin then put his head in the hand not holding his phone and his shoulders began to shake. Right above his hunched form was my missing poster, which it zoomed into at the very end of the song.

Then they were back in Salerno and he was back in patrol equipment, smiling sadly as he said, "And that's that. If anyone has information on the location of van der Zee or her family, please report it to the authorities. Thanks for sticking with us, everybody. And this is me signing out for the last time as Sergeant William Martin. Have a good night." He reached forward and turned the camera off for the last time.

In the sudden quiet, I barely dared move my eyes from the phone screen to where Martin stood rigidly, as if expecting some attack. "I think we need to talk," I told him quietly.

As if ashamed, he ducked his head and jerked it in a nod.

Some other people needed to hear this too (but not say anything) so I only strolled to the other side of the room with him. "That was some video. How did you convince Astor to dye her hair?" I asked.

"She wanted to be a redhead anyway. This was the perfect excuse," he answered, still not quite looking at me.

I chuckled. Then I looked back at Martin and let out a deep breath.

"I know that you're married and I have absolutely no right to come in and mess that up. It's why I didn't want Guerra to show you," Martin blurted out, face turning red, "Why rock the boat?" He gave Guerra a nasty glare, which was responded to with a sassy raised eyebrow.

My heart ached for Martin, knowing how important he was to me but not in the way he wanted for seemingly years. "If I hadn't ended up in Middle Earth, it could have been you," I confessed, "Who else in the world could I trust that much that wasn't gay or York?"

We chuckled at York's half-grateful, half-baleful, "Thanks, buddy!"

"As it is, like you said, I am married. And it hasn't been straightforward or easy in any meaning of the words, but I love Boromir and he makes me happy." I shrugged helplessly. "Are we still friends?" I offered a hand.

As soon as he moved, I matched him and threw my arms around his waist while his long arms went around my shoulders. A great deal of tension left me with that wordless declaration.

"Always," Martin promised, his smile real and fond when he stepped back.

"Come on Fresh Meat, let's go back to convincing the royals we're from the future," I teased and returned to the table.

"I think that was quite enough," King Theoden declared, shaking his head in amazement.

"If you are from the future, then why did you not warn us of this war?" Eomer asked sensibly, eyeing Aunt Libby especially.

"Because we're from so far in the future, everything about this time has been forgotten," she replied, "A tomb complex was recently discovered and everything we know about this time period is what's been found in the last few months from those tombs."

"But how did Rohesia get to the future?" the housekeeper demanded, clearly overwhelmed like everyone else. She scrubbed her face with her hands.

My mind went back all those years to when we first arrived in Middle Earth and Nan's confession. "She prayed for help from anyone who would listen- she offered anything if some deity would get her out of there. And the deal she made was that she would get out of here, and her descendants would take her place. That's us," I explained as best as I could, "You met our Nan; that was Rohesia as an old woman."

"And she's not coming back?" the housekeeper questioned, either not quite getting it or just desperate. Either way I felt for her.

"Not until she's about a hundred years old," Electra scoffed between bites of a sandwich. Where had she gotten that from? I wanted a sandwich now that the big drama was over.

The housekeeper rallied herself and, shaking her head, walked away muttering to herself about insane foreigners.

I choked back a laugh.

Then Aragorn eyed me keenly and asked, "Which tomb complex was discovered?" like he already knew the answer.

The laughter died immediately. "Minas Tirith," I said.

There was a moment of quiet where Aragorn obviously contemplated asking what was found. He then surprised me by saying, "Knowing the future is little use if we do not make the right choices to lead to that future. If there is something that we need to know from your knowledge of Rath Dinen, will you tell us?" He looked from me to Aunt Libby to Electra and back at me.

There was so much I could have said. I could have told them that I was pretty sure that was his skeleton lying with a hobbit on either side, and that there would be wars after the War of the Ring. But all I told them was, "Apparently they found my skeleton and I'll be kicking ass well into my sixties."

Electra and Aunt Libby snickered. "I'd be more surprised if you didn't," my baby sister commented.

"Alright, so we've sorted that we're from the future. Back to business," Aunt Libby suddenly said and the mood turned tense again, "Eomer got here right in time to save our bacon. Now what do we do?" She looked expectantly at King Theoden, Aragorn, and Gandalf where they sat at the head of the table.

Suddenly Gandalf looked very old indeed. "We must confront Saruman. He has fallen too low to be left as he is, no matter that he has been deprived of his great army," he said reluctantly but firmly, "He may yet see the error of his ways and tell us useful things, yet he has always been as stubborn as I." He took out his pipe and busied himself with that for a long moment.

"I need answers for his attacks upon Rohan," King Theoden agreed, "Saruman used to be a friend to us." There was a hint of loss in his face, the loss of a peace that could have been.

"I want to know why he tried to have Cass kidnapped," Boromir said, breaking his very long silence. His blue eyes were hopeful and yet ashamed when they met mine. Still stewing on Amon Hen?

Electra choked on the last of her sandwich and started hacking. "What?" she gasped as Aunt Libby beat on her back.

I bobbed my head from side to side. "Those goddamned uruks didn't even know what a woman was, they didn't have a chance," I scoffed, playing it down, "They tried taking Gimli too. Which reminds me: I'd like to see how our hobbits are doing."

"It's one thing hearing reports, it's another seeing what's happening with my own eyes. I need to know so Tharbad and the Senones can plan," Aunt Libby declared, going with the diversion.

Everyone quickly agreed that the day after tomorrow King Theoden, his personal guard unit, and the remains of the Fellowship would ride to Orthanc to confront Saruman. Until then we all needed to rest and clean up as best we could.

Once the meeting was clearly over, I grabbed Boromir's arm before he could start walking too quickly away. "I need to talk to you too," I told him.

His tense arm went lax and he nodded. Still horribly quiet, he followed me to an out of the way corner of the hall.

"That video was a bit shocking, but you heard what I told Martin. Are you alright?" I asked. I shifted my grip on his arm downward until I could grab Boromir's hand, intertwining our fingers.

His hand folded around mine and for a long moment he looked at it. Then his eyes met mine and my chest went tight with the self-loathing mixed in with the gratitude I saw on his face. "No, I am not alright," he admitted, "I still struggle with what happened. And now you turn down a good man, who has loved you for many years, for someone who-"

"Don't," I told him firmly, a warning in my voice, "Yes, those were your hands around my throat. It wasn't really your will behind them, and that's what matters to me." I then lightened my tone to say, "Plus I've put too much work into this relationship to quit so fast. Martin will always be one of my best friends and very important to me, but I stayed married to you for a reason. Now let's go do what we can to help."

I squeezed his hand in mine. It made me smile when Boromir returned the gesture.

A bit giddy, I stood up on my tip-toes to kiss his cheek. "See you at lunch, love," I told him and rushed off to find the healers.

Several hours were spent quite happily patching people up, strangely buoyed. Knowing that two good men were both in love with me tends to do that. Take that, assholes who said I'd never find a date! I chattered to patients as I stitched, bandaged, applied honey or liquor accordingly, and occasionally shouted at the healers to wash their damn hands. I was only stopped when an elderly woman mused, "Who would have thought the Hammer was a healer as well?"

My voice failed for a moment, remembering those words drawn onto the tomb wall: Hammer of the Uruks. "The Hammer, huh? I got a nickname?" I teased a bit hoarsely, carefully not looking up from where I checked her injured ankle.

"They say that you're Helm Hammerhand come again," the woman replied, "The men call you the Hammer of the Uruks for your victory in the deep tunnels."

Dumbfounded, I felt her ankle and wrapped it on autopilot. Wasn't Helm Hammerhand one of their most beloved kings? One of their biggest heroes? "I can't say how honored I am by that comparison," I got out while I was tying the bandage, "Really it was a team effort combined with a miracle. Your ankle is sprained but not broken, just stay off it for at least three days. Have a good day." I patted right above the bandage.

"Thank you, my lady," the patient replied with a little seated bow.

At least people weren't staring just because I was ugly, I thought with a snicker as I moved to the next patient.

The rest of the day was spent treating the injured, especially changing bandages and disinfecting wound areas. Aunt Libby had generously given King Theoden half off the price of the liquor the caravan was selling so that I could use it (sparingly) on the wounded, then handed me a bottle for free when it looked like I was running low. Have I ever mentioned how much I adore my aunt?

Part of my aim was to take over the difficult cases so that Aragorn could rest for once in his long life. After lunch I had literally elbowed him aside when he went to sew up yet another person, ordering him to go take a nap and threatening to carry him back into the castle. Thankfully Legolas had taken over, playfully threatening to drug our friend as he dragged the ranger away.

I had several children retrieving water, putting it on the boil, and bringing it to me the whole day so that I could wash my hands. At first a teenage girl acted as my assistant, but then we came across her father badly injured so I told her to spend some time with him.

"Do you need help?" Mackey's voice barely sounded like her, stuffy and hoarse. Her eyes were red and nose redder when I glanced up at her.

My stomach dropped and I couldn't believe I hadn't gone to find her immediately. Damn my own reluctance to get into sisterly emotional moments. I was a horrible sister. "Can you pour water for me to wash with?" I requested, replying to her question.

I scrubbed my hands, rinsed them, and then began my work on the unconscious young man in front of me. He'd gotten a pretty bad slice near the groin, but thankfully all his manly bits were still there and his guts were still where they belonged.

"We're burying Matt and Stithulf after dinner," Mackey said softly.

My stomach went tight with grief and anxiety. "I'm sorry that he died. Of all the people in the world, he's one of the last I expected," I told her, glancing up for only a second, "He helped save our asses."

"He did. It's what I told the kids- he died so we could live," Mackey said, grief heavy, "I wish he hadn't had to make that choice. I already miss him."

Suddenly I felt amazingly fortunate that I wasn't also a widow. Then I felt terrible for thinking of my own good fortune when my sister was right here and in pain. I was both irritated and grateful that I couldn't hug her right now, still inspecting the wound and cleaning it.

"It's not the same but I miss him too. He was my favorite brother-in-law." I smiled as I remembered the last time I saw him alive. He had told me that when things get bad, people become their best, and died proving it.

I bandaged the wound again, patted his shoulder despite that he wasn't awake for it, and rocked to my feet. Then I opened my arms and my big sister fell into them for several long moments. It was a relief to feel her alive in my arms again, after so many hours of fighting thinking I'd never see her again.

She squeezed me and I squeezed her back, both wordlessly saying the same thing: "I'm glad you're still here with me."

That evening we buried Matt, Stithulf, and Iodocus a bit away from the mass grave where most of the Rohirrim were being planted. Andy and Mackey carried Matt on a stretcher to the location and insisted on lowering him down themselves, while I conquered my soreness enough to help Martin carry Iodocus and lay him to rest on Matt's left. Lastly Stithulf was settled into his grave on Matt's other side by two of his surviving family members as Dezzie fell to the ground wailing.

"Matthew Rothschild was amazing," Mackey stated in a sort of eulogy, "Reliable, brave, and always willing to help others. No matter how dark things were, he always saw a bit of light. I'll miss him and remember him fondly for the rest of my life, and I know that he'll watch over me and the children." She choked a bit as she finished, "Goodbye, Matt. I love you." She threw a few wildflowers into the grave, then helped the children do the same.

Dezzie was too distressed to say a word, or even walk away without being half-carried by two of Stithulf's aunts, so his favorite sister said a few words and sang a song in her own language. It sent a shiver down my spine.

Then it was Iodocus's turn, and we all realized belatedly that none of his relatives were here to say a few words for him. Aunt Libby took up the role. "Iodocus was always a joy to meet with. His smile was always a real one, like he was always happy to see us, and he loved his children and wife more than anything else in the world. He did what he thought was right, even if that was fighting alongside his former enemies to save their women and children. At the cost of his life. I'll forever be grateful for his sacrifice and his presence in our lives. Goodbye, Iodocus. Rest well." She took a handful of the displaced dirt and sprinkled it over him.

I followed suit for each of the three men being buried. They were all good men and deserved better than this. For a moment I let myself be overtaken by sadness and leaned on Boromir while King Theoden said a few words, thanking all three for their sacrifice and assuring them that it was not in vain.

Boromir's arm wrapped around my shoulders and I leaned into him with a sigh.

Time came to close the graves and despite the pain I was still in, I took up a spade. Without Iodocus I wouldn't be around the be in pain; I owed this to him.

Martin, York, and Murphy then took up their entrenching tools and began to shovel the dirt down into the grave with me. Mackey, Andy, and Stithulf's comrades began to cover the other men and we all worked in silence while the others left.

Well, it was silence until Mackey asked, "Remember how quick Matt got used to Dwarves being around? He didn't even blink twice when Magni came over in Bree."

Oh, the days when things were simple… "He and Magni got on like a house on fire," I added.

Andy, Mackey, and I talked and told stories about the deceased until we laughed and cried in the same sentence. It helped and hurt at once.

As the sun set, Gimli and Legolas arrived, each carrying half of a stone slab. "Such valiant men deserve a better marker than simply a tree," the Dwarf declared and at the heads of the grave, he bent his knees to let the stone down while Legolas pushed it upright.

I couldn't read the runes but I was still touched by the effort Gimli had put into the work.

"What does it say?" Mackey asked softly, eyes taking in the grave marker.

"Simply their names and who they were: men of the Rohirrim, Tharbad, and the forest," Gimli said gruffly, "There wasn't time for more detail, no matter how my mason's instinct tingles!"

It took everyone by surprise, but especially Gimli, when Mackey suddenly dropped to her knees to hug him around the waist, sobbing, "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Awkwardly he patted her back, eyes begging to be rescued. "It's alright, lass," he said over and over to the distressed widow.

Eventually Andy rescued the poor Dwarf from her twin, but I was distracted by Legolas. Gravely he offered a small seedling from his pouch. "You said the Wild Men plant a tree over their dead. Will pine do?" he asked, delicate hands gentle with the small plant.

I choked up and nodded. York dug a little pit over where Iodocus's chest would be then helped me to root the little seedling there, patting the dirt down gently around the little roots.

"Thanks," I mouthed to Legolas, then Gimli, before I leaned on Boromir. How I was even more tired than yesterday, I wasn't sure.

"Let's go to bed," I suggested.

"After dinner," he insisted and began walking with me, "You need to eat."

Oh, right. Docily I mumbled an agreement.

The Battle of Helm's Deep and its immediate clean-up were over. The War for Middle Earth had begun.