A/N: First chapter of the third book! If you're new to this story, none of this will make any sense, so go back and start with "Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History" and then "Well Behaved Women Seldom Kick Butt".

To old readers, tell me if there's enough doubt between Amy and Legolas. I mean, giving up eternity isn't a willy-nilly thing, so I think Legolas would harbor some doubts over true love. Anyway, tell me what you think. Not much Lizzie POV, I promise I'll make up for it in the next chapter. But sometimes I reeeealllly just want to slap the little thing.

A stiff gray breeze tousled her curls as she looked out over the inlet of land that was visible from the mighty walls of Helm's Deep. A mere two feet to her left was a sheer drop, easily seventy feet down, where the explosive had hewed a gap in the impassable stone. Before her, she saw nothing but death and decay. Flies were buzzing stickily as they chewed at the rotting Uruk flesh. The monsters were even more ugly when they were dead; their armor bloodstained, teeth bared in ugly grimaces frozen horrifically onto their faces. The men of Rohan had been gathered, their bodies prepared for proper burial. Behind her, she heard women still sobbing their hurts to the uncaring winds and the sneering black mountains which surrounded the city. She felt awkward whenever she was around them - she gave comfort readily and easily, but she had lost nothing. Sam was alive, Aragorn was alive, and Gimli was alive. They had all lived, pulled through the battle. But more importantly, Legolas was alive. She dropped her gaze automatically whenever she thought of the blond Elvish prince. She realized her mistake now, realized that she was only hurting herself more by allowing herself to be attracted to him. He was an elf. Immortal, undying, eternally handsome. He was off-limits, and she was only torturing herself by allowing her her heart to blend with his. But she laughed so readily around him; he made her smile, made her feel beautiful, if only for a moment. The way he looked at her, the way he always tucked those irritating curls behind her ears, that smile that flicked the corner of his mouth - it was all so familiar. The way he kissed her - he hadn't allowed her to pass by with only a peck on the cheek, now had he? Didn't that mean something? But things were different now - he had survived. Replaying the scene in her mind, she decided she didn't regret it. Neither of them had thought they would live the night. In an insane world, it had seemed the sanest choice - but now, a new dawn was arising, and their relationship had changed. Things were different.

He watched her on the walls, watched her red curls tumble around her face. She looked so serious, so solemn - that wasn't the Amy he knew. He knew her little habits, the way she chewed on her nails, her constant worry for people she loved, her concern for all living thing. She was gentle, soft, sweet. But war had changed her, hardened her, filed off her soft edges and made them slightly sharper day by day, chipping her into a statue of marble with razor sharp edges. Her green eyes, the color of new leaves coming out in the spring, were distant and lost, gauzed lightly with pain as she stared at the corpses beneath her. She had bathed and rested, changing clothes, but her scrubbed face couldn't hide the dark circles beneath her eyes, nor her new clothes give her the appearance of the beautiful young woman she was. The wind increased, howling angrily around the hidden crevices in the mountainside, whistling and ringing its triumph to the heavens, but still Amy stayed, staring out at the foggy horizon. A new day was dawning, he realized. They had both changed. Neither of them would ever be the same, both changed forever by the War of the Ring. The war which was not yet over, the war which was only just beginning. Amy had survived terrors most women would die from, and yet she stayed strong. He felt a warm prickle sweep his body as he continued to watch her - of all the ellith which he had entertained, none had compared to her. And she was nothing compared to most ellith - she was short, with fiery red curls and a tender disposition. The ellith his father wanted him to marry were beautiful, with long, slender bodies and doe eyes. They would love him, he knew, and they would stay loyal. But they weren't what he wanted. And he wondered idly, distantly, on the windswept wall, why he was attracted to her. They made the most unlikely pair - but then again, he never would have put Arwen and Aragorn together at all. He was attracted to Amy, he knew that - if her kiss had meant anything at all, she felt the same way. But did he love her? Was he willing to give up eternity to spend a few years with a mortal woman?

Both of their serious thoughts were interrupted by Sam climbing up the steps. Legolas turned because his fine Elvish hearing could pick up almost anything - Amy turned because she knew instinctively when Sam was around. Legolas stepped into a stairwell, not wanting to interrupt Sam and Amy's talk, but not before he got a brief glimpse of Sam. Sam's new race suited her - in the week they had spent rebuilding Helm's Deep, her body had grown taller, slimmer, harder. Her ears were pointed, but almost constantly hidden beneath her shaggy brown hair. Even that familiar aspect was changing, however - her hair was getting longer, reaching the middle of her back. She wore a crimson tunic, belted at the waist by some dark strip of leather, and some sort of ambiguous leggings beneath her thigh-length tunic. Her Cheshire-cat grin was curving the corner of her mouth, and she nudged Amy on the shoulder, gold-brown eyes flickering animatedly as she surveyed her friend. "Hey," Sam said simply, and jerked her chin at the battlefield. "Gross, isn't it? Why are you looking at something so morbid?"

"Because," Amy said, voice slightly hoarse from not speaking for a while. "I wanted to see why so many people died. Why they threw themselves at these beasts if they knew they were going to die."

"If you want to know that," Sam said, voice sounding frosty, "you should turn around. They died to save their families. Women and children. People they loved. That's why." She paused, noticing that Amy hadn't turned around yet. "You okay?"

"Not really," Amy said, and wiped her eyes. She hadn't remembered crying, but the tears were drying on her cheeks and making her cold. "Why are we here, Sam?" she broke out. "Why are we here? How many people are in America - billions. And out of those billions of people, why us? What do we have that makes us any different?"

"Homesick, huh?" Sam said, leaning her elbows on the wall and propping her chin in her hands. Her eyes were half-closed, lazy looking almost, but Amy knew she was thinking. "I dunno," she finally said. "I don't know why we're here. I don't know why I'm an elf. I don't know why we're seeing stupid gods - or Valar, or whatever the hell they're called. I don't know why we could die at any second, and I don't know why there's a war going on, and I don't know why a dumb ring separated us. I don't know why, Amy, and neither does anybody else. We're winging it, we're going with the flow. If life changes, you gotta change. So we changed, and you don't like it. I don't know why, Amy. I'm sorry."

Amy looked bleakly over the fields of butchered corpses. For a long moment, neither of them said a word. Then she sighed, expelling a breath between her teeth. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid and morbid, you're right." She picked idly at a hangnail. "When are we leaving?"

"Well, Mr. Bossypants wants to leave soon," Sam said, rolling her eyes. "You know he gets itchy when there's killing to be done."

"Who, Aragorn?" Amy asked.

"No, Gimli. I wouldn't put it past him to kill something that was already dead. Now c'mon, Eomer's setting us up with horses and stuff." Sam said. The two girls descended the crumbling steps, avoiding the missing stairs and chunks of rock which were completely gone. Legolas waited a moment, his eyes closed, and then took a breath.

He and Amy needed to have a talk. The sooner the better.

The barn was dark and smelled of deliciously of hot horse and old hay, mingling together in a country smell that tingled the girls' noses. Shadows leaped from behind stacks of hay and bags of feed, stretching and warping the light until it was more shadow than daylight. The walls were smooth, whitewashed stone, carefully painted with a deft hand. Stalls broke the large barn into sections, and there was the muted sound of chewing coming from all corners. Glittering dark eyes peered from the darkness, surveying the two girls who were fumbling their way through the dim light. A few restless colts stirred, shuffling their feet, sending up tiny plumes of sawdust and hay which caused Sam to sneeze. There were no windows, but the horses didn't seem to mind; the girls could see halters and crude leather saddles hanging on the walls, along with currycombs and faded ribbons to be braided in their tails. A few of the stalls had a marking on it, symbols drawn hastily in Rohirric, and Amy could see they marked pregnant mares. A few of them had different symbols, and Sam could see the wobbly-legged foals resting in a tight bundle by their mother's hooves. The pathway was narrowly drawn, so Amy and Sam had to walk single file, which meant Sam bumped into Eomer first. "Hey," she said, backing up and causing Amy to walk into her. There was a few muttered scuffles, and then Eomer's smile broke the gloom. He had a broad, comely smile, and it suited his face very well.

"Forgive me, ladies, I was merely tarrying a moment to be sure your horses are ready for departure." he said, patting the neck of a big brown horse. The horse was large and beautiful, dark brown with a black mane and tail. It swished its tail lazily as it eyed the girls suspiciously, dark liquid eyes half closed. Eomer was loading up saddlebags on the simple leather saddle, filling them with flat packages and round loaves. The food looked scarce, but at least they would have something to gnaw on. Amy looked apprehensively at the horse, and Eomer caught his. "Not overly fond of horses, are you?" he asked with a knowing smile.

"No, no, I like horses," Amy said, patting the horse on the nose. "Just...I like them...smaller, is all."

"Well, I can assure you that you won't find a pony more docile than Glandur," Eomer assured her. "He's suited better to a larger horseman, but you'll be able to ride him just fine. Here, take his reins, I'll go fetch his brother, Alandur." Amy led the horse out into the weak sunlight and tentatively stroked his neck. The gelding tossed his head once, testing the air with his large, sensitive nostrils, and then allowed the petting to resume. Another dark horse, almost identical except for two white stockings on his back feet, was out of the barn, being led by Eomer, who seemed as though he was having a little trouble controlling him. Sam looked delighted at the thought of riding a rogue horse.

"Uh, I can take Alandur," she said, reaching up to take his reins. Eomer seemed hesitant about handing them over, but the conversation stopped when Theoden's voice broke through the air. The king was approaching them, Legolas, Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf behind him. He seemed irked that Amy and Sam were by his nephew.

"He is a spirited horse, child," Theoden-King said. "Have you much experience riding horses?"

Sam spat a breath between her teeth, scowling at Theoden. "Are you saying you don't think I can handle it?" she demanded. Theoden, apparently annoyed at being spoken to in this insolent tone, took the defensive.

"I did not think that women would be accompanying us into a possibly hostile situation." he said.

Amy buried her face in her hands. "Uh-oh," she breathed.

Sam was furious. "You better listen up, buddy, because I, a woman, can kick your sorry kingly butt from here to Mordor without breaking a sweat." she growled.

"I thought our situation was hostile, not our company," Aragorn said, trying to lighten the mood. Sam turned to him angrily.

"Oh, you think I'm hostile now, you just wait until tonight!"

Amy and Legolas exchanged exasperated glances. It was going to be a long ride if they didn't do something about this now. "Sam, he is a king," Amy reminded her. Theoden looked pleased that someone had finally remembered. Sam looked apoplectic with rage that someone had reminded her.

"King or no king, I can still kick his -" Sam said, but Amy cut her off.

"Yes, yes, we know, now get on the stupid horse before you get him really ticked off." Amy snapped, using an unusually annoyed tone. She wasn't usually this chafed at Sam's impudence and lack of social etiquette, but today everything was grating on her nerves. Sam gave her a surprised look before swinging herself on Alandur, settling herself on top of the horse. She glanced at Amy, who was still scowling, and then trotted a few paces away from the barn.

Amy had certainly changed, and it wasn't for the better. Sam hoped one day Amy would be the old, nervous, fussy Amy, not the new, annoyed, angry Amy. She wondered what was getting on Amy's nerves. It would be something to think about on the ride to Isenguard. Although, judging by the way Legolas was looking at her, she had a pretty good idea already.

Lizzie was up to her knees in mud.

Now, this wouldn't have been an overly dangerous situation, if she was in a spa with a healing facial mask on her face and the mud was warm. But in Middle Earth, she was wearing uncomfortable leather riding clothes, up to her knees in frigid mud that chilled her to the bone, and, worst of all, she hadn't applied her facial mask in over three months. It was enough to drive any girl crazy, but Lizzie decided she was made of stronger stuff. Ahead of her was one ratty-looking Orc who said he knew the way to Mordor, and behind her were six Uruks who she forced to accompany her. These were all that was left of the twelve she had started out with - two had been sucked down into the swamp, three had gotten into a brawl and ended up killing each other, and the last one had wandered off, never to be seen again. Lizzie had her work cut out for her just keeping them from eating each other, and this was largely accomplished by her ever-frequent blows to their shoulders, which was as high as she could reach. The Uruks, however, were rather surly, and they were staring at her as the mud kept sucking her down farther into the swamp. Not one of them had moved to help her; actually, the ratty looking Orc was looking at her with a rather hopeful expression on his face.

Using mostly her elbows, she dragged herself from the mud puddle. Spitting out a clump of blond hair and swiping her too-long bangs from her eyes, she stood on the mostly-solid pathway which the rest were standing on. She wrung out her pants as best she could, disliking the feeling of sticky, sweaty, muddy clothes on her body, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. She looked at the Uruk-hai with a growl, and then marched over to the Orc. It was a puny little thing, and it didn't take much for her to lift him by his shoulder guards and hoist him to eye level. He didn't weigh much, and it looked impressive. She had seen it in a movie once. "Next time," she snarled. "Make sure there aren't any mud patches in my way. Or else."

The poor little Orc didn't know what he was supposed to do if there was a mud puddle, but he didn't want to find out what the 'or else' meant either. Lizzie, after all, had a reputation. "Y-yes, Mistress. Not long to Mordor now, only a few days, Mistress."

Lizzie put him back on the ground and kept following him, teeth grinding impatiently. They had better reach Mordor soon, otherwise heads were going to roll.

And nobody wanted that to happen.

A/N: Yes, I shamelessly stole the quote "You think I'm hostile now? You just wait until tonight!" from My Cousin Vinny. That is a completely amazing movie, which I hope none of you young kids have watched. But when you're older (Like my age), maybe your parents will let you watch it. It's hysterical. :)