The rest of the fellowship were sleeping peacefully when Emily and Legolas returned. Gimli did not wake at their entry continuing to snore peacefully. Aragorn only briefly opening an eye and raising up at the sound of the door, only to lay back down when he recognized them. Emily smiled at him sadly for waking him again, but he had already closed his eyes and did not see. Boromir neither woke nor was sleeping peacefully. Even in sleep his face was lined with worry and his limbs twitched.

"Do not wake him, penneth," Legolas whispered. "He may lash out and I would not wish you injured." She nodded her understanding and moved to sit near, but out of reach of the man. While she still wanted to be near him, she had no desire to be hit by anyone ever again. Legolas watched until she sat, hoping she would take his advice and pleased when she did.

"Sleep well," he whispered, knowing that she would hear him before settling down in his claimed place once more and allowing his mind to wander while his body rested for the night. Emily watched as he sat and his eyes unfocused as his breathing evened out though his eyes never closed. Only then did she realize that he was sleeping. She couldn't remember ever seeing him sleep before. Not that I would have recognized it as sleep, she thought.

Even as she listened to the steady breaths of the fellowship, she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes and allow sleep to take her. The ease with which Legolas had found sleep and the way Aragorn had gone right back to sleep despite their waking him, again, told her they were exhausted. They needed rest. If there was another battle tomorrow and they were too tired, they could die. If she allowed herself to sleep and had another nightmare and woke them again, one of them could be injured and it would be her fault. It would be better for her to stay awake while they rested. As the adrenaline from her nightmare and argument faded further, exhaustion began creeping in. Despite her best intentions to remain awake, she could feel sleep trying to claim her.

About the third time her eyes drifted closed, her chin fell forward, waking her sharply. She rubbed her forearm over her eyes, wishing she could get a cup of coffee or go for another walk. Sitting alone in quiet room, she stood no chance against sleep. But even were she brave enough to leave the room alone, she wasn't certain she could open the door. She was about to rise to at least stretch her legs when Boromir twitched violently and sat up, her name on his lips and his hand going to his sword.

"I'm here," she muttered leaning towards him. "Shh, don't wake the others. I'm here."

"You were gone," he breathed, reaching out to touch her and stopping just short, his features clouding. "I could not protect you and you were gone."

"I'm here," she promised, closing the space between them. "I'm fine." He glanced at her still bandaged hands, his finger ghosting over the bandage and raised an eyebrow. "Fine enough," she corrected. "I'm alive. They didn't kill me."

"Not through lack of effort," Boromir argued, his fingers tracing the outline of the fading bruises on her cheek and throat. "They nearly did. Because I failed to protect you."

"It was my choice," she whispered, leaning into the touch and feeling a sense of pride and power for the first time since her capture rise to war with her frustration that they kept coming back to this. "I chose to save you. No matter what you think you should have done, or I should have done, I made my choice. You did not endanger me. I chose. And now It's over and there's nothing to be done about it. You're alive. I'm alive and apparently, we're to be married." She paused to sigh before continuing in a wry tone, "I still wish you would have warned me about that."

"There was no time," he replied, regret audible in his soft voice. "I did what I felt necessary to protect you. It was the only ready solution. A decision had to be made and I chose what I felt was the best option. I regret that it displeases you."

"Same as me," she countered. "I did the only thing I could think of to save you. Mine nearly killed me and yours bound me to you." He blinked at her owlishly for a moment before hurt entered his grey eyes that she would compare the outcome of her decision to his in the same breath.

"Is it truly so bad being promised to me?" he asked eventually, hurt coloring the words. "I know I have not protected you as I should, however, I still believed you had deemed me worthy. If I interpreted poorly then—"

"No," she cut him off, a bit louder and more shrilly than she had intended, causing Gimli's snores to falter and Aragorn to stir slightly. "No," she repeated more quietly. "It's not that. I do think you're worthy it just . . . I just . . . I wish I'd had a vote, you know. So much of what has been happening lately . . . it feels like I'm just caught. You know, like a boat in a strong current. I can struggle and . . . and move a bit. Avoid this rock or that log, but I can't get out of it. I'm being drug along however fate wants me and there's nothing I can do about it. I just . . . I feel . . ."

"Powerless," Boromir supplied when she trailed off. She glanced at him in surprise to see that he actually understood. "As do we all. We all feel as if we were led to this place at this time with little volition. Or at least it seems that way to me. There have been few choices of late. Even those that existed were false, at best. With you and the hobbits captured, there was no choice but to pursue and attempt to reclaim you all, even had we wished to do otherwise at assist Frodo. After we recovered you, we were obliged to honor our vow to Éomer and ride to the Golden Hall rather than continue the search for the hobbits. After your assistance to Théoden King in his own matters, he wished for you to come with the Rohirrim to war.

"We could have chosen to go against his wishes, and yours, but it would only have fostered ill will. It truly was a boon that you desired to come for I would have risked the ill will to ensure that your wishes were honored, even had they been opposite my own. The army of Uruks then necessitated our flight to Helm's Deep and if, by some miracle, we survive this siege, we will be obligated to continue to Orthanic and face the menace of Saruman. There has only been the illusion of choice of late." He paused a moment before he continued.

"Perhaps the same can be said of my decision to say we were betrothed," he said softly. "Had I not done so, they would have continued to make indecent proposals and may have grown more desperate as times grow darker. It was the only way to protect you from further harm that I could see in that moment. I still see no alternative that would have worked as well.

"I apologize that by saving you I have trapped you," he said, staring at her with such intensity that she felt his gaze like a physical touch. "However, I cannot bring myself to regret the act. And for that I beg your forgiveness as well."

"There's nothing to forgive," Emily muttered, a blush rising slightly at his continued attention. "I agree that it was the most eloquent solution. I just . . . marriage." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I never thought I'd get married. Not really."

"But if I have to get married," she said, looking up at him with a small smile, "I guess I'm glad it's to you. I could have done much worse."

"Aye," he agreed, a smirk crossing his face for the first time since he woke. "That sharp tongue of yours is more at home on a bar maid than a lady of breeding. You could have ended up with a drunkard rather than a Lord. Slept in a shack with the pigs for warmth rather than a heated room wrapped in firs. Been forced to bathed in frigid water. Or worse." She laughed softly.

"So I end up with a braggart rather than a drunkard?" she asked, scooting over to lean her head on his shoulder, his arm coming around her to accommodate her better.

"You wound me, my lady," he joked, bringing his free hand to his chest. "Many things I am, but a braggart I am not!"

"Really, because you keep promising me warm firs and fires and soft beds and luscious food and warm baths, but all you have delivered thus far is hard ground, cold water, dried fish and lembas," she teased.

"When we get to my city," he whispered, pausing to press a kiss to her cheek, "you will have everything I have promised and more, Emily. You will want for nothing that it is within my considerable power to provide. I will care for you if you will allow it. This I swear." At the sincerity in his tone she wondered if she had gone too far with her teasing and actually wounded his pride.

"I was teasing, you know?" she said, pulling back to look at him and having to look away at the emotion in his eyes. She wasn't sure she was worthy of such devotion, not after how much of a brat she had been that evening.

"Yes," he replied, guiding her gently back against him. "however, I was not. And you were correct. I have made you grand promises on which I must be prepared to deliver. And deliver I shall." She said nothing. Unsure of how to respond to such a declaration. He took her silence as the end of the conversation and placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Sleep well, Emily," he muttered before resting his cheek on the top of her head, his thumb stroking her side where his hand rested. As she lay against his warm chest, his steady heartbeat in her ear, her determination to resist sleep eroded by the moment. She was warm, safe, it was peaceful. As his breathing evened out once more, and his thumb stopped moving, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She only managed to force them open twice, and briefly at that, before exhaustion claimed her and she slept.

ooOO88OOoo

Emily awoke the next morning with a headache. Whether from sleeping too long or not long enough, she wasn't sure, but she was willing to bet that it was the latter. As she looked around, to see if the rest of the fellowship was awake, she realized she was the only one still in the storeroom. Maybe too much then, she thought. With no one there, the question of how she was going to access breakfast crossed her mind. No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than the door opened, and Aragorn walked in.

"Morning," she said offering him a smile. It was one that he did not return, offering her only a curt nod before turning to his own pack and rifling through it.

"Is something wrong with the siege?" she asked, wondering at his cold response to her greeting.

"It goes as well as these things do," he replied, continuing his search of his bags, his tone no warmer than his nod had been.

"Did you get enough sleep?" she asked, wondering if exhaustion was the reason for the change in his mood, and feeling regret for her part in it. Her mind flashed an image of him dead that she viciously tamped down.

"My rest was short but sufficient," he said, still not looking at her.

"I'm sorry," she replied.

"You are sorry?" he asked, turning to face her for the first time since he had entered. "For which transgression?"

"Keeping you up?" she said, wondering if that was what he had meant. The way his expression closed once more told her that it wasn't what he was seeking an apology for. "And for how I behaved afterward," she added, pleased when his expression softened slightly. "I shouldn't have made a fuss about you wanting to make sure I was OK. I should have just let you do it. You weren't trying to hurt me. You were just wanting to make sure I would keep being fine. Sorry."

"No, it is I who should apologize. You have made it quite clear that my interference in your affairs is unwelcome," Aragorn replied, a hint of sadness in his voice. "You have nothing for which to apologize on that count."

"I . . . what?" she asked, flabbergasted by his reply. It wasn't like she had told him to butt out. "How do you figure that?"

"You did not seek my advice on your betrothal to Boromir, from which I could have saved you the surprise of discovering that you now must marry," Aragorn said, agitation creeping into his tone to war with the resignation. "You have fought me every step of the way on your healing, refusing sound advice in favor of pride. You have rejected my suggestions on proper conduct for a young lady ever since your rescue.

"And at Amon Hen," he said more quietly, sadness taking the place of agitation, "you could have given me, as the leader of the company and your friend, the note before risking your life as well as Merry and Pippin's and this entire situation could have been prevented. No, Emily, you have made it patently clear that my interferences are not welcome in your affairs. You are free to conduct them as you will, at least as far as Boromir will allow."

"I . . . I didn't mean to make you think that. That your opinion doesn't matter to me," she began, feeling ashamed for how her behavior had been perceived. She wanted to reach for him but wasn't sure how her touch would be taken at the moment. "It does. Really. You were one of the first people here to . . . to trust me. Hell, to even care if I survived. I see you as . . . as a friend but sometimes you really remind me of my dad.

"The disappointment I sometimes see when I make a bad decision . . . it's . . . familiar," she said, a wry smile in place. "And I appreciate it. I really do. It's just . . . back home . . . there's, I don't know how to explain it. There's an emphasis placed on being able to make your own decisions in a pinch and that's what I've done. It's not that I don't want your help, or appreciate it, it-it's just that I'm used to doing things, making decision, on my own. And most of those decisions were spur of the moment and the only apparent option at the time. It wasn't me deliberately trying to cut you out. I promise."

"Spur of the moment?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You know . . . impulsive?" she offered with a small shrug. "A decision had to be made and . . . well, I made it. Sometimes there wasn't time to ask for a second opinion. If it helps though, it did later occur to me that I could have tried to give one of you the note earlier. It just didn't occur to me at the time. I had to save him."

"Impulsive is a good word for it," he said with a sigh, his anger deflating. "You have been quite impulsive. I suppose it comes with being young. Though you are also quite—"

"Obstinate," she added. "I know. And I'm sorry. I've just wanted to make the choices I could. It feels as though I've had no choices lately and I can't fight fate."

"However, you can me," he nodded understanding the need to fight fate. "Just remember that I am not your enemy. I only wish you the best, though I have little control on the path of your life. Less now than you once gave me. Thankfully you did choose a noble man for your impulsive choice. He will be a good husband to you."

"I'll try to remember to consult you in the future," she offered.

"I am afraid it is too late for that," Aragorn replied sadly. "It is Boromir you now must consult. As your intended he rules your decisions now. If he fails to rule them fairly, come to me then and I will interfere as well as I am able. However, as merely a surrogate father and friend there is little I can do to protect you from an unforgiving husband. " She paled slightly at his statement, her expression one of confusion. It was then that he realized that marriage was a topic that she did not understand either. He was about to attempt to ascertain how the subject differed from the one with which she was familiar with when a great cacophony arose from outside.

"Stay here," he snapped before heading for the wall, drawing his sword as he did. He was pleased when she listened. Despite her words to the contrary, he was worried that her impulsivity would lead to her following him to see what was occurring. Once he broke the cover of the Keep, he was not sure that he understood himself. It seemed as if the forest itself had crept onto the field of battle, bringing mist and fog with it and blurring the lines so that the trees themselves seemed to move. Whatever it was, something about it made him uncomfortable. There was almost a feeling of malevolence and hatred emanating from the misty wood.

The Uruks, too, were discomforted by the moving mist. They were pressing in on the Deeping Wall, crushing their fellows in an attempt to distance themselves from it. The Rohirrim was not forsaking the opportunity provided. Instead, they were hurling spears, arrows even stones on the pressing Uruks and killing many. Still they came, more fearful of the mist than the weapons of the Rohirrim.

Aragorn soon spotted Gandalf, his white robes shining in the sun like a beacon and made his way towards him. "Is this your doing?" he asked, both hoping and fearing that the answer was yes.

"No," Gandalf replied, never glancing away from the battlefield. "This is magic far more ancient than any I possess. The siege of the Uruks will be broken soon. The only question will be if we survive his wrath."

"Whose wrath?" Aragorn asked, wondering who Gandalf referred to that was powerful enough to destroy the Uruk army and Helm's Deep.

"Fangorn, himself," Gandalf replied, watching with an impassive expression as what was clearly forest, pressed in on the Uruks. As the trees came into contact with the back ranks of the Uruks there was a great creaking sound, like trees in a great wind and a many shrill shrieks which rose before being cut off sharply only to be replaced by another. The noise continued to build until suddenly, eerily, it was silent once more. The silence continued as the men watched the trees in fear, wondering if even the wall would stop them where the army of Uruks had not. Then, with a faint creak, the forest began to retreat from the wall leaving no trace of even a single body in its wake where thousands had stood moments before.

"What was that?" Aragorn breathed, having seen nothing like the forest in all his years.

"Huorns," Gandalf replied. "Charges of the Onodrim. The Ents. Fangorn has awakened at last." As Aragorn watched the huorns move away, he thought that all the stories of the Rohirrm that spoke of the dangers of Fangorn forest were more justified than he had previously believed.