Part 13

Posted: September 2003
Author: Khylaren

*****

Aragorn returned to find them laughing, and his grim expression lightened somewhat. He glanced at the twins, who raised their eyebrows in mirrored looks of amusement, and he shook his head.

"No, Merry," Erin was laughing. "I don't have any sisters." She looked up and saw Aragorn approaching, followed by Elladan and Elrohir, and got to her feet, brushing the grass from her leggings.

"Pity," the hobbit said with a sigh.

Aragorn stopped at Merry's feet, giving the hobbit a bemused look.

"How far are we from Edoras?" Erin asked, noting that the others of the company were already in preparation to leave. She could hear the jingling of bridles and harness, the sound of weapons being sheathed as they were checked, the low murmur of conversation among the riders as they quickly mounted their steeds.

"A good day's ride and more," the Ranger replied. "Scouts saw sign of a party of orcs to west."

"Orcs?" Erin said with trepidation. "Will we try to avoid them?" *I hope*, she added silently.

Aragorn shook his head. "Theoden does not want them roaming free across his land, and I do not wish to have them join their strength to Sauron's. We can not leave them to wreak what havoc they will on the farmlands of Rohan. They must be stopped."

Erin nodded, her stomach sinking. "I understand," she said, trying to swallow her fear. "I'll try to stay out of the way." She heard Elladan laugh behind her and she turned to watch him approach, leading their horse behind him. Elrohir and Melaphríl followed closely.

"You will stay here, with Merry," Elladan said, springing easily onto the stallion's back. "Melaphríl will remain behind to guard you as well, in case there is trouble."

"Take me with you," Merry insisted, his hand on the pommel of his sword. "I can fight."

Aragorn did not smile, but dropped down to his knees, his hand on the hobbit's shoulder. "I need you to stay here and help protect Erin, in case something happens. I need to know she is well protected."

"Aye, laddie," Gimli added, giving the hobbit a smile behind his bushy beard. "Keep her safe now."

Merry's chest puffed slightly and he nodded. "Oh. Of course." Aragorn clapped him on the shoulder and rose. Legolas and Gimli rose as well, and the elf stopped in front of Erin for a moment, looking down at her.

"I would very much like to hear who it is that has taken your heart," he said finally as she fidgeted under his keen gaze. "But it will wait until we return." He gave her a brief smile, before turning to follow Aragorn and Gimli toward their horses.

She shook her head as she watched him walk away, barely disturbing the grass with his passage. There was no way she was going to confide the personal details of her life with him; it was bad enough knowing that most of the elves that had left Helm's Deep knew, apparently, what had occurred between herself, Rúmil and Orophin.

Erin turned and saw Elrohir embrace Melaphríl lightly, before mounting his horse. Neither elf said a word, but the look that passed between them spoke volumes, and she looked away, not wanting to spy on what seemed to be a very personal moment.

The blonde elf came to stand next to Erin, leaning on his bow as they watched the men of Rohan and the riders of the Grey Company depart. She glanced at him and saw his eyes were fixed on Elrohir's retreating form.

"I'm sorry you had to stay here and protect me," she said quietly, feeling badly for him. "I know you'd rather be going with them."

Melaphríl gave her a quick look, then smiled. "I do not mind, lady. It is not the first time we have been parted thus." He shrugged eloquently, moving away to kick dirt over the smoldering coals of their campfire.

Merry sighed, plopping down on the grass once more and looking up at them. "Do we have anything else to eat?"

Chuckling, Erin shook her head. "All our food went that way," she replied, pointing in the direction the riders went. "Unless Melaphríl has some Lembas stashed somewhere, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until they return."

"Oh," the hobbit said, and heaved another sigh. "Well now what do we do?"

"We wait," Melaphríl replied, glancing up at them, his green eyes glinting in humor. The fire was out finally to his satisfaction, and he leaned against the rock behind him, his bow resting carefully and within arms reach at his side.

Erin sat next to Merry on the grass and looked up at the sky a moment, noting the gathering of clouds above them. "Looks like it's going to rain," she commented.

The elf glanced up and nodded. "Yes."

"That'll be fun," she said with dry amusement. "Can't wait to ride soaking wet in the cold rain."

Merry snorted, his fingers carefully weaving three strands of tall grass together.

Erin drummed her fingers against the grass and looked at the sky again. And waited.

*****

Theoden led his men towards where the orcs had been spotted last, his face grim beneath his helmet, his ears filled with the roaring thunder of the Rohirrim. A cloud of dust told of their passage, but he was not worried. He had no doubts that the orcs already knew they were coming.

They crested the rise of the hill above where the orcs should be, feeling the adrenaline surge in his veins as he lifted his sword in challenge. The foul creatures below them roared in return, and he heard the voices of his men take up their cry.

"Forth Eorlingas!"

They swept down the hill and met the oncoming charge of the enemy, their cries mixing with the howls and roars as weapons clashed, each side eager to spill the other's blood. Bows sang out and struck their targets, bringing swift death to their enemy. Swords flashed brightly as they cut their way through the flesh of their foes, their brightness darkened by the black blood that flowed from the foul creatures they fought. Again and again, Theoden heard his men give their cry, and heard the cries given by the men and elves of the Grey Company as they sought to destroy the evil before them. The enemy's numbers were many, but they were no match for the forces that sought to destroy them utterly.

Éomer saw a warg rider charge the King, and spurred his horse forward, his sword already in motion as he decapitated the rider in a swift blow. The warg did not stop its charge, however, and he saw the King's horse, Snowmane, go down under its attack. He spun; sword raised to defend the fallen King, and heard the familiar sound of bows. Arrows pierced the side of the warg and it fell before it could reach Theoden. Éomer turned to see Elladan and Elrohir, their bows already notched again, and gave them a swift nod in thanks. Quickly he dismounted and knelt beside the King, and was relieved to see the blue eyes open.

He grasped Theoden's arm and helped him to his feet. "Are you hurt?" he shouted above the din of the battle, and the King shook his head. Snowmane stumbled to his feet, and Éomer was relieved to see that the horse still lived, though he was obviously injured and favoring his left forefoot.

"Éomer!" Aragorn's voice carried above the noise and the man lifted his head, searching for the ranger. He spotted the man riding hard, his sword swinging as he slew an orc that was closing in on them with murderous intent. Aragorn rode to a halt and slid quickly off his horse, his expression concerned.

"Legolas said at least three warg riders escaped, that way," he pointed in the direction they had come. "Your men know these lands far better and are faster riders. Will you go after them? I fear Merry and Melaphríl will not be enough to stop them should they find them."

Éomer glanced at the king, worried at the pain and weariness he saw on Theoden's face. "I will take three men with me and ride after them. We will catch them," he said, his face hardening.

"Go, and return quickly," Theoden said, leaning heavily on Aragorn as the man helped him mount Arod. "This battle goes well, but it is not yet finished." He took his sword from Éomer, giving his sister's son a brief smile. "Good hunting."

Aragorn nodded and turned, moving swiftly to intercept another orc before it could reach the King, his sword flashing in the sun as he cut it down.

Éomer bowed slightly and mounted his horse. Turning the animal, he gave a sharp, piercing whistle. Those that heard his call and were not currently engaged with fighting rode to his side.

"Hedrig,Gamling, Halig, ride with me." He set his heels to his horse, and the others followed, leaving the battle behind them.

*****

Melaphríl rose from his spot on the rock, his head lifted as his keen eyes searched the grassy plains around them, his senses searching for whatever it was that had brought him out of his thoughts. He had not heard anything, and he could see nothing, but he did not ignore the feeling of danger creeping along his spine. He lifted his quiver and settled it on his back, and reached for his bow, his green eyes still searching the plains. It was coming from the east.

"Something wrong?" Erin asked quietly and with rising alarm as she took note of his actions.

"Something is coming this way," the elf answered softly, without looking at her. "I think you and Merry should head for the trees."

Merry rose to his feet, quicker than she would have thought, and took her hand, tugging her after him. Melaphríl followed slowly, never taking his eyes from the east, where he could feel the danger approaching. He notched an arrow when they reached the edge of the wood, making sure Erin and Merry were behind him, and waited.

Erin fingered the handle of her knife and took a deep breath, drawing it from its sheath and holding it the way she had been taught. Merry had drawn his sword and held it in front of him, his small face pale and anxious as they watched the direction the elf was looking. They heard them only moments before they saw them, and Erin nearly screamed when the warg riders appeared.

Melaphríl's bow sang out as he fired at the leading rider, striking the beast between its eyes. The warg fell, throwing its rider to the ground, its legs still twitching in its death throes. His hands moved of their own accord, automatically reaching for another arrow and he fired it smoothly, striking the second warg just as it passed the first, sending its rider sprawling into the grass as well. He took a breath, another arrow already in place as the third warg topped the hill.

Merry saw one of the fallen orcs rise, shaking his head groggily for a moment, before spotting them by the trees, a scowl of fury on his ugly face. Melaphríl's attention was focused on the third warg, and he did not see the second rider rise also. With a fierce cry, Merry raised his sword and charged forward.

The third warg went down and the elf quickly trained another arrow on its rider, who had stumbled to his feet and was lurching in their direction. He shot swiftly, taking the orc down, and turned, hearing Merry's cry. The hobbit was foolishly and bravely charging two orcs, his small sword raised in defiance. He trained his bow on the nearest one, when a fourth warg charged over the hill and directly at him.

Erin's knees turned to water as she saw the huge wolf-like animal charge at them. Melaphríl's arrows struck it, but the animal swung its head and knocked him sideways into a rock, howling in pain before it fell. She screamed when the rider got off its dying mount and kicked the fallen elf, raising his nasty looking weapon to finish the job. Without thinking she charged forward, her knife raised to kill. The orc turned from the elf and met her charge with a surprised look that quickly turned to an anticipatory leer.

"Melaphríl!" she shouted, trying to raise the stunned elf, ducking the vicious swing the orc took at her with his weapon. She rolled out of the way, fear giving her speed, and crouched, her knife raised defensively before her. The orc circled her, sneering at her, licking his crude lips. She dimly heard Merry struggling with another orc, but didn't dare look away from her opponent. Silently she prayed for Melaphríl to get up.

The orc moved and she dodged again, barely missing his reaching grasp as she spun away, her knife meeting only air. She heard a low, guttural sound escape his lips and realized he was laughing at her.

A sharp cry of pain stole her attention for a moment and she saw Merry fall, blood pouring from his head. That was all the opening her opponent needed.

Pain exploded in her ribs when he struck her, knocking the breath completely out of her as his weight drove her to the ground. A slimy and incredibly strong hand gripped the wrist of the hand that held her knife, and it squeezed slowly, grinding the small bones beneath his grip until her nerveless fingers could no longer hold the knife.

He grinned down at her, licking his lips again, and a new thrill of terror raced through her as she realized he was looking at her like she was something to eat. She struggled beneath him, arching her neck to head-butt him as she had done Elrohir, only with as much force as she could put into the blow. Their skulls cracked together sharply, and she saw him recoil. The look on his face would have been comical, if it hadn't been for the very real danger of her position, and she wasn't given any chance to enjoy it as he struck her with his fist across her face. She literally saw stars for a moment as her vision blacked, and she fought not to pass out from the blow.

His fingers gripped her throat, his long nails digging into the flesh of her neck, and he drew his blade slowly down the side of her face, savoring the taste of her fear as his tongue flickered out to taste the blood that ran down her cheek. She screamed, and his laughter was cut off abruptly as he stiffened above her, a thin line of blood trailing from his mouth before he collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the ground with his dead weight.

With breathless sobs, she pushed at his body, trying to get the foul thing off of her before she started screaming again, and felt its weight being lifted away. She cringed, fingers searching for her fallen knife and finding it as she tried to see the face of the shadow that loomed over her.

"Erin!"

**Oh my god! **

"Éomer?" She took a deep shuddering breath, and another, and another. His arms reached out to enfold her against him, and she lost it completely. Her knife fell limply from her hands as she clung to him, burying her face against his chest. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she heard herself saying, over and over, her breathing coming in short hitching gasps.

"Hush, it is over," he said, stroking her hair, her back, rocking her gently. "It is over now."

Shuddering, tasting bile in the back of her throat, Erin pushed away from him and turned, losing the contents of her stomach on the grass in painful, wrenching heaves. She felt his hand on the small of her back but didn't look up. She didn't dare until she was sure she wasn't going to be sick again.

Éomer waited, his hand resting on her back, and he felt her shudder again.

"Merry," she croaked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"He is wounded, but he will live," Éomer answered her softly, watching her struggle not to be sick again. "He managed to kill one of them before the other wounded him."

"Melaphríl?" Her voice trembled.

"Stunned, but not hurt," he replied, stroking her back gently.

"How?" One word sentences seemed to be all she could manage.

"Aragorn sent us. The orcs were seen headed this way." He saw her lift her head slowly, and when she turned to look at him, her face was pale, a thin line of blood running down the side of her cheek where the orc had cut her, and he saw several puncture wounds on her neck that were bleeding as well. Her dark eyes held a bruised look that made him wish he could kill the orc that had done this to her over again. "I am sorry we did not arrive sooner, lady," he said softly.

Her lips trembled in a weak ghost of a smile. "Me too." And to her complete horror, she began to cry. Harsh, deep wracking sobs escaped her, and when he pulled her into his arms once more, she did not resist.

Éomer settled her into his lap, folding his arms around her small form as she cried against his chest, the sound muffled as she poured out her grief and terror. He rocked her again, murmuring soft words under his breath, trying to take her pain and fear away. He felt her tears dampen his skin as he tucked her head beneath his chin, wishing there was a way he could take the last five minutes of her life away from her.

The others left the comforting of the small woman to him as they dragged the corpses of the orcs and wargs away from the trees, piling their bodies a good distance from where they were. The elf was working on the hobbit, ignoring the light bleeding from the wound on his head where it had struck the rock, concentrating his attention on the wounds of his companion.

Erin sniffled, raising her head and wiping her face with her hand, gasping in pain as her fingers touched the cut on her cheek. He pushed her hand away gently and examined her face, turning her head slightly towards the light of the sun.

"It is not too deep, lady," he said finally. "I do not think it will scar if it is treated." His fingers lightly touched the wounds on her neck, and she shivered at the sensation. "These should heal as well, so long as they are cleaned."

She didn't even want to think of the germs and bacteria the orc may have carried on its claw like nails, nor what other disgusting things that may have been on its blade. She didn't think this world had anything remotely resembling antibiotics. **It would be just my luck to survive an orc attack, only to die from the infection,** she thought half-hysterically. Pushing those thoughts aside, Erin became aware that his touch had lingered on her neck, and she looked up at him in surprise.

Éomer blinked, his blue eyes coming to focus, and he dropped his hand away as a shadow fell across them.

"I am glad to see you well, Erin," Melaphríl said softly. "I did not think to see Elladan and Elrohir's lessons put to the test so soon."

Erin looked up at the tall elf and gave him a weak and trembling smile. "Elrohir would have been disappointed in me," she said, pointing to her cheek. "I got distracted and dropped my guard."

Melaphríl crouched next to her, his fingers doing a cursory examination of the wounds on her neck. Erin was conscious that she was still practically sitting in Éomer's lap, and of his arms around her as the elf examined her, and felt a confusing rush of warmth as she realized how close the rider's face was to hers. When Melaphríl turned her head so he could see the one on her face, she could feel the warmth of Éomer's breath against the other side of her face.

"Elrohir should be able to help heal these," the elf said finally, rising to his feet gracefully. "They should not scar."

"How is Merry?" she asked, pushing away from the comforting strength of Éomer's arms to stand somewhat shakily next to the tall elf.

"He will live, though he is lucky to do so," Melaphríl replied with a brief smile. "Go and see him, he is worried about you."

Éomer rose next to her, and gripped her arm lightly above the elbow, guiding her beside the elf as they made there way to where the hobbit lay.

Merry's head was bandaged, and he looked even smaller than before, lying on the grass with his cloak cushioning his head. The hobbit gave her a relieved smile when he saw her, and she found herself echoing it.

"What happened?" Erin asked, dropping to her knees beside Merry and looking up at Melaphríl.

"He took a blow to the head," Melaphríl answered, shaking his fair head slowly. "How he managed to survive it is beyond me."

Merry grinned weakly up at the elf. "Hobbits have hard heads."

"Aye, and thick skulls," Melaphríl replied easily, helping him to sit up.

"Can you ride?" Éomer asked them both, seeing Hedrig, Halig, and Gamling returning from their disposal of the orc and warg bodies.

"Aye," Merry answered, gaining his feet a little unsteadily.

Éomer nodded. "Then let us leave this place and join the others."

Erin rose with Melaphríl steadying her, and she gave the elf a grateful look. "You were amazing, you know," she said softly. "I've never seen anything like that before."

A small but pleased smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Thank you. I am only sorry that I did not get them all," he said with honest regret.

Éomer whistled for their horses, lifting Erin easily to his own horse's back before mounting behind her. He turned, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her, and saw that the others had mounted as well, with the elf behind Halig, and the hobbit in front of Gamling. With a final glance at the forest behind them, he turned the horse once more and headed west.

Erin clutched at the saddle, grateful for its presence to steady her. She was aware of Éomer behind her, his thighs pressing against her backside with the rocking rhythm of the horse's gait, his arm holding her securely against him. Part of her brain struggled to ignore the pleasure in the closeness of his body, the scent that rose from him, the warmth of his arm against her, just beneath her breasts. Her wrist and ribs ached from the attack, and her face and neck burned from the wounds. But her pain lessened with the embarrassing warmth that filled her, and she was grateful he could not see her face.

He felt her tremble against him as they reached the top of the hill, and the smell of burning bodies hit them with full force.

"Éomer, let me off now," she said, covering her mouth and struggling to get off before the horse had even stopped. Without asking why, he stopped his horse, and lifted her from the saddle.

Erin dropped to her knees, feeling bile rise in her throat once more as she struggled to give into her stomach's will, feeling her ribs ache with the effort. She took deep breaths, in through her mouth, out through her nose, willing her stomach to behave. She heard the sounds of other horses approaching, but did not look up until she felt a hand touch her shoulder.

"Here, this will help," Elrohir said softly. He held out a small handful of what looked like some type of herb.

With shaking fingers, Erin took the small bits of green leaf from him and eyed them questioningly.

"Chew them," he told her. "Hurry. It will settle your stomach."

Without needing to be told twice, Erin placed the leaves on her tongue and chewed, surprised at the immediate burst of familiar flavor that spread quickly through her mouth. It was peppermint. She chewed the leaves, swallowing the juices that formed, until it was gone. To her surprise, her stomach stopped its churning, and her head felt clearer.

"Better?" he asked softly, reaching for the small bag that held his healing supplies.

She nodded, swallowing the last of the peppermint leaves. She watched him dampen a small, clean cloth with water and flinched when he touched her face with it, biting her lip as he cleaned the cut. As soon as he finished, he repeated the process with the five, small puncture wounds on her neck.

Elrohir examined the wounds on her face and neck carefully and was relieved to see they were not serious. She had been fortunate indeed that Éomer had arrived when he had; from what the man had told him, the orc had been ready to kill her. From the hunted look in her eyes, she was very well aware of how close a call it had been. He dropped the damp cloth on top of his bag.

Erin watched with curiosity as he opened a small jar of some type of ointment, dabbing the creamy white substance onto his fingers. He reached for her face again and she pulled back.

"What is that?"

"It will help the cut heal without scarring," he replied, reaching with his other hand to hold her face still. "It will also help to speed the healing process." Holding her face with his opposite hand, he lightly dabbed the ointment on the long cut that ran from just beneath her eye to the edge of her jaw. He saw her blink in surprise and smiled faintly. "It has a numbing property to it, which will help with the pain." Satisfied that the long and ugly cut was tended, he gathered another small amount of ointment on his fingers and did the same with the wounds on her neck.

Erin gave a small sigh of relief as she felt the burning pain fade. She watched Elrohir wipe his fingers on the cloth, before placing the ointment in his bag. He turned to look back at her, frowning when he saw the bruises that had already formed on her small wrist.

"I don't think it's broken," she said, gasping slightly when he took her hand and gently probed the bones of her wrist with his fingers. It hurt, but she could still move it.

"It is not," he agreed. "Though it will feel very stiff and sore in the morning." He dropped her hand carefully back onto her lap and looked at her. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Just bruised ribs," she answered. "I'm fine," she protested, when he reached for the edge of her tunic. "I just got knocked down."

"I am a healer, Erin," Elrohir told her sharply, tugging the edge of the tunic out of her hands when she tried to pull it back down. "Let me see." He batted her hands away and lifted the ends of her tunic carefully, just high enough to expose her ribcage. He sucked in his breath when he saw the yellowish mottling on her fair skin, tell-tale markings of darker bruising to come. "Take a deep breath," he said, laying his fingers across the bones and pressing gently. He felt her ribcage expand and contract normally beneath his hands, and she gave no visual signs of distress. "Again," he said, and examined the other side, pressing with his hands, and this time she winced. He dropped the ends of her tunic and watched her tug it back in place, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

"Your ribs are bruised," he agreed. "Possibly cracked. I want to check you again in a few days. If they are cracked, your discomfort will not decrease. Tell me if you experience any severe pain or difficulty breathing."

She nodded, and watched him rise gracefully to his feet.

"I have others I must tend to now," he said softly. "Stay here."

"Le hannon, Elrohir," she replied, struggling not to cry again as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her. "I'm sorry I didn't do better."

"You did well enough," he told her honestly. "You kept yourself alive until Éomer came. Neither Elladan nor myself expected you to be able to do more than that."

She nodded, watching him move away to tend to Merry, and lay down on the grass, staring up at the sky, watching the rain clouds gather overhead.

*****

The sky opened up on them shortly afterwards, rain falling in cold sheets that quickly soaked everyone to the skin. Erin shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees and drawing them close to her body for warmth, hissing slightly as her ribs protested against the movement. Merry sat next to her, mimicking her position, as they watched the men and elves finish disposing of the bodies of their enemies.

It did not take long before her teeth were chattering, and she felt Merry shiver beside her.

"Merry," she said, lifting her arm up, and he scooted next to her to share her warmth with his. She wrapped her arm around his small shoulders, not minding the musty smell that rose from his wet clothes, fairly certain she smelled just the same. **That's one thing they never bothered to mention in the little bit I read in the first book,** she thought, feeling a little warmer with the hobbit next to her. **How nobody gets to bathe very often on these treks. **

"I think I'd kill for a bath, right about now," she said with a sigh, wiping the water that dripped from her hair out of her eyes. "A nice hot bubble bath and a cup of tea."

"I would settle for the tea and my pipe," Merry replied, pulling his cloak tighter around him. "Though I do have my pipe, it is far too wet to smoke it." He echoed her sigh, his small face turning up to look at her. "Would you really kill for a bath?"

"It's an expression, Merry," she replied with a small smile. "It means I really, really want one."

"Ah," he replied, nodding. "You did not strike me as the bloodthirsty lot." His eyes twinkled mischievously as he burrowed closer to her warmth, his cheek resting inches from the curve of her breast. "What does ‘cop a feel' mean?"

Erin's lips twitched briefly. "It's dangerously close to what you're thinking, Merry," she replied, feeling his small hand resting on her stomach. "Behave yourself or you're on your own."

The hobbit smiled sweetly at her, but his hand roamed no further. "I would never think of doing such a thing," he protested, his eyes wide, but the expression in them was playful.

"I'm glad to hear it," Erin replied with a short laugh, wincing as the movement pulled at the cut on her face. The reminder of her ordeal sobered her quickly, and she huddled next to Merry, her chin on her knees. **I got damned lucky,** she thought, trying to keep from shaking, though she could always blame it on the cold. **That orc had my number. If it hadn't been for Éomer…** She refused to think about it. Instead, she watched the others finish their work.

*****

Aragorn stood next to Halbarad and watched the bodies burn, the black smoke curling upwards, carried by the wind to the cloud cast sky above them, the rain making hissing sounds as it hit the flames.

"How many were lost?" Aragorn asked quietly, turning to look at his kinsman.

Halbarad shook his head. "Not as many as I originally feared. The men of Rohan were hit hardest, twelve in all. We lost five of our company, including one of the elves from Mirkwood."

Aragorn nodded; he already knew about Calen's death, having seen the young elf fall beneath the weight of a warg. "Legolas is with his brother, offering what comfort he can," he said softly, his expression grave. "I am sorry to hear about Emed."

The captain's eyes were dark with grief, and he accepted the comforting touch of Aragorn's hand on his shoulder. "He fought bravely, as befitting a ranger," Halbarad replied simply, having no other words to express his sorrow at having lost the youngest member of their company.

Aragorn nodded, dropping his hand away as he saw Theoden and Éomer approach the small hill they were standing upon.

"We will move on," Theoden said without preamble. "The healers have said the wounded may travel, and I do not wish to linger any longer in this place. Edoras and my hall await us, with what comforts it can provide."

"What of the dead, my Lord?" Halbarad asked.

Theoden's blue eyes expressed his sorrow. "We must leave them, captain, for time is of utmost concern, and we do not have the means in which to carry them."

Halbarad nodded and bowed respectfully, turning on his heel to gather his lieutenants, his gray cloak fluttering behind him.

Theoden turned to Éomer. "Gather the horses of the fallen, and ready the men to ride," he said grimly. "I wish to see the gates of Edoras this night."

Aragorn frowned. "Can we push that hard with the wounded?" he asked, hearing Éomer's piercing whistle as he called his horse to him, the rider leaping nimbly upon its back.

The King of Rohan nodded. "We will, for I do not wish to meet any more of the enemy until all of our riders have been mustered. Only then will be truly prepared to defend our homes against the evil that threatens it."

*****

The rain had let up a little by the time Elladan and Aragorn came for them, and Erin rose to her feet, feeling cold and miserable. Elladan slid from his horse's back and shook his head at her.

"Foolish woman, where is your cloak?" he teased, lifting her carefully, mindful of her injuries, and placing her gently on Thalion's back.

"Forgot to pack it," she snapped irritably. "It wasn't on my camping list, among other things. If I'd known I was going on the extended trek across the great wilderness, I'd have planned better." She gave the elf a scowl, which deepened when he had the audacity to laugh.

Aragorn's lips twitched as he hid his smile, lifting Merry onto Arod's back. That was the Erin he'd come to know. After seeing Merry settled, he reached into one of the saddle bags and searched through it a moment, before pulling out another cloak, which he wordlessly handed to her. It was one of his older ones, worn through in many spots and patched in others, but it would serve, and he could tell as she wrapped it around her shoulders that she was grateful for its additional protection and warmth.

"Thank you, Aragorn," she said, giving him a small smile. She stiffened slightly when Elladan mounted behind her, his arm sliding around her middle, but relaxed when she realized he was careful to avoid putting pressure on her bruised ribs. He tucked the ends of the cloak around her, forming a cocoon of warmth, before turning the horse to follow Aragorn's.

Within moments, the Rohirrim and the Grey Company rode out, leaving the charred remains of their enemies behind them, their own dead burning in a smaller pyre, well away from the still smoldering orc and warg bodies..

*****

Erin was not awake to see the gates of Edoras as the call went out from the guards that the King had returned. Elladan had put her to sleep shortly after the sun had set; he could feel the weariness and pain emanating from her, growing worse with each league they crossed. It had seemed the best course of action to say the words that would put her into a deep sleep, to temporarily relieve her of her pain in that fashion. He did not know that she dreamed of dark and terrible things, until she began to mutter in her sleep.

"No, don't. You're supposed to." She gave a low, frightened moan, and stiffened in his arms, and he nearly lost his hold on her as the sudden movement took him by surprise.

"Erin," he called her name, shaking her lightly to bring her awake.

"You can't go," she cried, slumping completely against him, shaking her head. "That's not the path."

The others rode past him as he brought Thalion to a stop, shaking her again with growing concern. Her face was pale and sweating, and her eyes had opened, but they looked at him without seeing him. "Erin!"

She looked straight at him, and her voice was a hoarse whisper. "Aragorn must take that path. Not you."

His heart felt like it had stopped a moment at her words, and he turned her, gripping her arms. "What do you mean?" he asked, and saw her blink, her eyes slowly coming to focus on him.

"What?" she asked, watching the others ride past them with confusion. "Where are we?"

Elladan sighed, feeling his heart begin to resume a more normal pace. "We are in Edoras. You were dreaming, and talking in your sleep." He looked at her, his expression serious. "Do you remember what you were dreaming?"

Erin's brow furrowed briefly in thought, before she shook her head. "No. What did I say?"

He regarded her a moment longer, before turning her forward, cueing Thalion into a slow walk, rejoining the others as they made their way into the city of Edoras. "You said ‘Aragorn must take that path, not you'," he replied quietly. Her words had unnerved him more than he wanted to admit; as far as he knew, Erin knew nothing of Aragorn's indecision over whether or not he would take the Paths of the Dead. "Does that mean anything to you?"

"No," Erin replied uneasily. "Should it?"

Elladan's dark gray eyes rested briefly on his foster-brother riding ahead of them, his tall form swaying slightly in the saddle as he rode beside Halbarad and Elrohir. "I do not know, lady," he said finally. "Perhaps it means nothing at all." She had been looking directly at him when she said ‘not you', but her eyes had not been focused on him at all.

*****

Éowyn hurried down the stone steps, pulling her cloak around her shoulders as she reached the great doors of the hall.

"Brother!" she cried, and felt herself being swept up into Éomer's embrace, his beard tickling her as he placed kisses on her cheeks. He set her down and she reached up, holding his face as she smiled at him. "My heart is glad to see you again."

"Mine as well," he replied, looking at her with joy and warmth. He took her hands in his and held them briefly, squeezing them affectionately before releasing them. "Always it is a joy to return. How fare you, dear sister?"

"I am well, now that you have returned," she replied, her expression turning to one of concern as she looked at him closely, seeing the tell tale marks of blood and battle. "What happened?" she asked, her blue eyes flying to his.

"We met with a party of orcs to the west," he replied easily. "They were destroyed to the last."

She nodded, and watched as others began to trickle into the hall in groups of twos and threes. "Where our uncle?" she asked. "Where is the King?"

"Here, my dear Éowyn," Theoden replied, accepting her warm embrace with one of his own. "All is well?" he asked, when she released him.

"Yes, my Lord," she replied. "The city has filled with riders who have come to answer your call."

He nodded, and gave her a brief smile. "You have done well, my niece. Though I did not expect any less."

She started to reply, but her attention was taken by the entrance of one who had occupied too much of her thoughts of late. The tall and handsome ranger entered the hall, and his eyes met hers briefly across the distance. She gave him a shy smile of welcome, and he nodded, touching his brow lightly with his fingers, before turning to speak to his companions.

"Lord Aragorn has returned with us, joined by his kinsman and company," Éomer said quietly, noting the direction of her gaze. "There is another with them that I think you will be pleased to see."

Éowyn turned to look at him, a question forming on her lips, but he simply smiled and gestured. She turned her gaze to the doors, and a gasp of surprise escaped her when she saw a person she did not ever expect to see again, leaning slightly on the arm of a beautiful dark haired elf.

"Erin," she exclaimed, and saw the woman smile with delight.

"Éowyn," Erin replied, relinquishing her hold on Elladan to greet the lady. "It's great to see you…oof!" Éowyn's quick embrace stole her breath.

The fair lady stepped back, and her happy expression quickly vanished as she looked at her friend, taking in the wounds on her face and neck, and her overall bedraggled state. "What have they done to you?" she asked, glancing up at the tall elf beside her with a frown.

Erin managed to laugh. "Do not blame Elladan," she said. "He and his brother were burdened with me all the way from Lothlórien. I owe them, and your brother, my life."

Éowyn's golden brows drew upwards in confusion. "Éomer?" she asked, glancing at her brother, who was deep in discussion with the King and Aragorn.

"He saved me from the orc who did this," Erin replied softly, her eyes resting on the handsome rider. He glanced up, as if sensing her regard, and gave her a brief smile, before returning his attention to Aragorn and Theoden.

Éowyn shook her head, and looked at her friend. "I would very much like to hear this story, but you are asleep on your feet. Come, let me get you some dry clothing and show you a room."

Erin nodded, and looked at Elladan, who gave both women a brief bow, his hand touching his heart. "I gratefully relinquish my custody of the lady Erin into your gracious and lovely hands," he said to Éowyn, his lips curving into a smile that caused a flush to rise on the woman's fair cheeks.

"Good night, Elladan," Erin told him, hiding her smile as she saw her friend watch the handsome elf turn away.

Éowyn turned and looked at Erin, her smile envious. "You traveled with him all the way here?" she asked, her eyes darting away to follow his progress through the growing crowd of men.

Erin snickered when she saw Elrohir and Melaphríl enter the hall and greet Elladan, and saw Éowyn's blue eyes widen in appreciation. Her friend heard her soft laugh, and gave her an impish smile, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

"I most definitely wish to hear this story," Éowyn said finally, eliciting another laugh from Erin.

"If I can get a bath and something to eat besides Lembas, it's a deal," Erin replied as she followed Éowyn's willowy form towards the stairs.

*****

Aragorn sat on the stone edge of the window, the smoke from his pipe curling around his head as he watched the flickering light of the torches in the courtyard below him. The sky was beginning to turn a pale pink on the horizon as the sun began to make its ascent, and for the moment, Meduseld was quiet and peaceful, the majority of its occupants asleep within.

The barest hint of noise told him he was not alone, and he turned, giving Legolas a brief smile as the elf entered the room, his footfalls silent as he approached.

Legolas eyed the pipe distastefully before settling himself comfortably on the bed; a quick glance told him it had not been slept in, and he frowned, knowing his friend had been up all night with his thoughts.

"You did not sleep," Legolas said, his soft voice breaking the morning silence as he looked at the man.

Aragorn sighed, emptying his pipe of the ashes by tapping it against the stone of the windowsill. "I could not sleep," he replied. "My thoughts would not let me rest."

Legolas was silent a moment, his dark eyes mirroring his concern. Finally he spoke. "You have been troubled, my friend, since we left Isengard, and the messages your kinsman bore have done little to lighten your heart. Will you speak of it to me?" He leaned forward, his hair sliding across his shoulders with the movement as his dark brows rose, furrowing in worry. "Speak, and be comforted, my friend. Shake off this shadow! What has happened since we came back from that grim place?"

He placed his empty pipe in his pocket, glancing at the pendant he wore openly against his tunic, his fingers touching its brightness briefly. He looked up at Legolas, and his expression tightened.

"A struggle somewhat grimmer for my part than what we have encountered of late," he answered finally. "I have looked in the Stone of Orthanc, my friend."

Legolas' sharp intake of breath was sudden and swift. "You have looked in that accursed stone of wizardry?" he asked, his face paling. "Did you speak aught to – him? Even Mithrandir feared that encounter."

"You forget to whom you speak," Aragorn said sharply, his eyes glinting in the half-light of dawn. "What do you fear that I should say to him? Did I not openly proclaim my title before the doors of Edoras? Nay, Legolas, my friend," he said in a softer voice, his face loosing its anger. "I am the lawful master of the Stone, and I had both the right and the strength to use it, or so I judged. The right cannot be doubted. The strength," he paused, shaking his head, his jaw tightening briefly. "The strength enough, barely."

Legolas nodded for him to continue, his expression carefully neutral.

Aragorn drew a deep breath. "It was a bitter struggle, and the weariness is slow to pass." He shook his head again. "I spoke no word to him, and in the end, I wrenched the Stone to my own will. That alone he will find hard to endure. And he beheld me." He glanced up at his friend, his eyes glinting once more. "Aye, Legolas, he saw me, but in other guise than you see me here. If that will aid him, then I have done ill. But I do not think so. To know that I lived and walked the earth was a blow to his heart, I believe, for he did not know it till now."

"Truly, do you think that wise?" the elf asked softly.

"I do not know. The eyes in Orthanc did not see through the armor of Theoden, but Sauron has not forgotten Isildur and the sword of Elendil. Now, in the very hour of his great designs, the heir of Isildur and the Sword are revealed, for I showed the blade re-forged to him. He is not so mighty yet that he is above fear; nay, doubt ever gnaws at him," Aragorn replied wearily, running a hand through his tangled hair.

Legolas shook his head. "Yet he wields great dominion still, and now he will strike even more swiftly."

"The hasty stroke goes often astray," replied Aragorn with a wry look. "We must press our enemy, and no longer wait upon him for the move. I learned many things when I mastered the stone, my friend. A great peril comes to Gondor from the south, and it will draw all their strength in defense of Minas Tirith. If it is not countered swiftly, the city will be lost, ere ten days be gone."

The fair elf blanched, and rose to his feet. "Then lost it must be," he said simply. "For what help is there to send thither, and how could it come there in time?" He threw his hands up. "Even the elves cannot pass the miles that swiftly, though Lord Celeborn rides even now towards Edoras with those that would fight."

Aragorn smiled grimly. "I have no help to send, nor, as you have said, will the elves arrive in time to come to the aid of Gondor. I must go myself." He took a deep breath. "There is only one way through the mountains that will bring me to the coastlands before all is lost. That is the Paths of the Dead."

Legolas sat back on the bed, his breath leaving him in a rush. "The Paths of the Dead?" he whispered, shaking his head. "It is a fell name; and little to the liking to the Men of Rohan, as you have seen. Can the living use such a road and not perish? And even if you pass that way, what will so few avail to counter the strokes of Mordor?"

"The living have never used that road since the coming of the Rohirrim," Aragorn said, his voice low. "For it is closed to them. But in this dark hour, the heir of Isildur may use it, if he dare." He looked up at Legolas, his eyes gleaming fiercely. "It is the only way. As for how few or how many? Do you not recall, my friend, the words of the seer?"

The elf nodded slowly. "Then I shall come with you, for you should not travel this way alone." His lips curled in a grim smile of his own, and his eyes glinted brightly in the growing light. "I do not fear the dead."

Aragorn rose from his seat and gripped Legolas by his shoulder. His friend placed his hand on top of his and looked up at him. "I do not ask you to come with me, Legolas," he told him softly. "But your company is most welcome, my friend."

Legolas smiled briefly. "I cannot wait to hear what Gimli will think of this," he said with a low chuckle.

Aragorn laughed. "Aye, mellonamin. I am sure the dwarf will have no hesitation to share his opinion when the time comes."

*****

Erin rose from her bed as the sun touched the edges of the quilt, wincing as she stretched muscles that had grown stiff and sore overnight. She glanced down at herself in bemusement, seeing the purple blossom of bruises on her wrist and, when she lifted the nightgown Éowyn had lent her, the black and blue bruises on her ribs where the orc had struck her. She looked a mess. **But at least I'm clean,** she thought, dropping the gown back in place. **And I'm not freezing my ass off.**

Her pack lay beside the bed and she stared at it for a moment, wondering when it had been brought up, and who had brought it for her. She had not heard anyone enter the room after she had gone to bed. She'd been asleep practically before her head hit the pillow. With a shrug, she opened it, and pulled out clean clothing, completely dry, thanks to the clever weatherproofing on her pack.

Dressed in her jeans and WSU sweatshirt, she reached for her comb to untangle her hair, when a knock sounded at her door.

"Come in," she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed, running the comb through her hair, which she noticed, had grown a bit since she'd arrived. It was now past her shoulders, and a few of the ends, she noted critically, were splitting. **No conditioner, no razor, no deodorant, and no toothbrush,** she groused with amusement, remembering last night how she had regarded her legs with something akin to horror when she realized just how much the hair had grown on them. Her armpits were no better. **Just call me Sasquatch,** she thought with a sigh, turning to see Éowyn enter. Her smile of greeting faded when she saw the look on her friend's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, dropping her comb back into her pack and rising from the bed.

Éowyn stopped her pacing and folded her arms, shaking her head with a frown. "Lord Aragorn and the Grey Company are leaving."

"Leaving?" Erin repeated, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "When?"

"By midday," the woman replied, her expression anguished. "Oh but that is not the least of it." She sat on the bed, obviously distressed. "They are taking the Paths of the Dead."

*If thou art in haste, remember the Paths of the Dead*. The Lady's words came back to her, as did the image of the black doorway, and Erin shivered suddenly, as if a goose had walked over her grave.

"No living person has gone there and returned," Éowyn said, her face pale in the morning sun. "He will be lost." The last was said in a whisper.

Erin sat beside Éowyn, and took her friend's cold hand in hers. "The Lady Galadriel herself told Aragorn to take the Paths of the Dead," she said softly. "She wouldn't send him to his death."

Éowyn's eyes widened slightly. "They say the Lady of the Golden Wood is a witch," she said, her voice trembling.

"Magical, yes. But she isn't a witch," Erin replied. "She is wise, but she is gentle and kind. She isn't a witch."

The golden head dropped for a moment, and her thin shoulders slumped slightly. "I am worried I will never see him again," she whispered, and Erin's eyebrows rose higher.

"Éowyn," Erin said softly, patting her friend's hand. "I've got to tell you something, because you're my friend, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

Éowyn's face lifted and she looked at Erin. "What is it?"

Erin struggled to think of a way to tell her friend that Aragorn's heart already belonged to another without hurting her, and realized, there really wasn't a good way to say it. She took a deep breath.

"Aragorn is already promised to another," she said finally.

Éowyn smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I know this. He has spoken of his love to me. He wears her token about his neck, and I asked him of it."

It was Erin's turn to be surprised. "Oh," she said, feeling foolish. "I thought…"

"That I was in love with him?" Éowyn answered, giving a light laugh. "Perhaps, at first, when I met him. But his heart belongs to another, as you have said, and it is obvious to me that he loves her. I care for Aragorn as I care for Éomer."

"Oh," Erin repeated. "Well, then." She shook her head, blushing in embarrassment over her mistake. "That's why you're so worried about him."

Éowyn gave her a brief smile and rose, pulling her friend to her feet. "Come," she said, her expression bright. "Let us find you some breakfast."

*****

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