The Edge of Night

The Battle of Pelenor Fields

They reached the shores of the river, watching the boats come closer and closer. "You may go no further." Aragorn calls out, his voice commanding. "You will not enter Gondor."

The sailors laugh. "Who are you to deny us passage?" One captain calls out.

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear."

"Mind your aim." Gimli warns. Legolas pulls back the bow, arrow notched in place. Just as he fires, Gimli knocks the end of the bow with his axe, causing the arrow to miss its intended mark and sink into another's chest. He falls back, screaming in pain.

Gimli gasps, playing shocked at the turn of events while the others just share an exasperated look. "That's it. Right. We warned you. Prepare to be boarded." The sailors laughed again; they really shouldn't have.

"Boarded? By you and whose army?" The bosun calls out again.

"This army." Aragorn whispers and the ghosts from the mountain appear behind them, charging onto the boats and ransacking them, killing anything that gets in their way.

The boats make their way down the river, towards Minas Tirith, where off in the distance, Elfwyn can hear a horn. "Rohan... they have arrived." She whispers, her voice carrying on the wind to her traveling companions.

"Your family will be safe." Haldir assures her.

"You can't be sure of that." There isn't much time to dwell on what was happening across the plains as the ships were coming up to the dock.

"Late as usual, pirate scum!" The Orc commander yells. "There's knife-work here that needs doing. Come on, you sea rats! Get off your ships!"

"I'll take that as an invitation." Elfwyn jokes as they jump over the side and advance towards them.

"There's plenty for the both of us. May the best Dwarf win." Gimli says, excitedly.

"You wish." The army of the dead joins them and they are able to make quick work of group at the shore and hurrying to join the throng of fighters outside the doors of Minas Tirith. Through the chaos and killing, a loud screech pulls Elfwyn's attention from the Orc in front of her. The resounding cry that followed was one that was not foreign to her, having heard her cousin cry herself to sleep at night many times during their childhood.

Elfwyn runs through the field and comes upon a scene that was sure to haunt her for the rest of her life. Laying broken under his horse was her father, growing paler with each passing second. Standing before her was the Witch King who was holding her beloved cousin above the ground, choking her.

"You will not touch her!" Elfwyn shouts, raising her sword towards him. He throws Eowyn to the side and Elfwyn breathes out a sigh of relief when she hears her cousin gasping for air.

"This is no business of yours She-Elf."

"If you touch her, you will die!"

"No man can kill me. You will die now." He rasps. At this precise moment, Merry had crawled over to them and stabbed the Witch King in the leg, distracting him and bringing him to his knees.

"Well, I am no man." She says defiantly, thrusting her sword into the black chasm behind his helmet. She watches as he convulses and his helmet bends and cracks before he falls to the ground, nothing left but the shell of his cloak and armor.

She walks over to her father, Eowyn not far behind, and collapses beside him. "Papa." She whispers, gently brushing his hair from his face.

"I know your face... Elfwyn... Eowyn. My eyes darken."

"No." Elfwyn cries out, grabbing ahold of him, hoping that will keep him here with her.

"I'm going to save you." Eowyn whispers to him.

"You both already did. My body is broken. You have to let me go. I go to my fathers... in whose mighty company, I shall not now feel ashamed."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of Papa." Elfwyn whimpers. He gently touches her face one last time before his eyes bore into hers, unseeing.

Grief consumes them and they fall upon his chest, sobbing. It is in that moment that Elfwyn feels her body become weak, too weak to move, to stand. For something as pure as the Eldar to come into contact with something as dark and twisted and evil as the Nazgul, it takes its toll on the mind, the body and the soul. She falls to the ground beside her father, the world turning black.

She comes to in the Golden Hall, although it is unlike the Golden Hall as she's ever seen it. Golden probably was not the right word to describe it anyway. The fixtures were silver and the wood was white. It was beautiful. A fire was going in the center of the room and the sweet breeze of the plains grass was coming through the open windows. The front doors open and she whips around, ready for an attack. Instead she lets out a cry, as her beloved brother walks through the door. "Theodred." She breathes out before running to him, throwing her arms around him.

"What are you doing here, little sister? You were not supposed to make this journey for many, many years?"

"How am I here at all? This choice was taken from me." He runs a hand over her now pointed ears.

"Much has changed since I left."

"This was my choice."

"Is he a good man, at least?"

"Well, he's no man at all. But he is good, and kind. Stubborn too but a lifetime dealing with you and Eomer prepared me for opinionated men."

"Are you happy?"

"Happier than I have been in a long time. Though I fear it may be short lived. Seeing as how I keep dying."

"Elfy, you're not dead."

"Then how am I here?"

"I am not sure. But I am thankful for this, even if it's just a moment. But you have to go back. That was the deal you made."

Tears well in her eyes. "I know. And I knew then what I was giving up but seeing this, seeing you, it has not made this decision an easy one."

"You will have a long life, a beautiful life. That is all any of us here wanted for you. Mother, Father, me."

"How do I live without you, any of you? Who am I if I'm not Elfwyn, daughter of Theoden, twin sister of Theodred, princess of Rohan?"

"That's the exciting thing, isn't it? You'll have the rest of time to figure that out."