Míriel hurried into the house of healing right behind Éomer who was carrying his sister in his arms. Legolas and Aragorn hurried behind Míriel, and Gimli had fallen behind long ago. Éomer placed Éowyn on a small bed in a room where other men were tended for their wounds. They were really surprised to see a woman amongst them, a woman who had obviously been injured by the fight and was wearing men's clothing. Éowyn had been foolish, but so very brave. Míriel didn't know that when she told Éowyn to follow her heart, that the girl would go out to war and slay a wraith.

Míriel took a seat next to her friend and examined her dark wound and realised that it was really bad. Míriel had promised to help Éowyn survive, and she was going to keep that promise no matter the consequences. Míriel had not seen such darkness or evil since she helped heal the Dwarf Kíli from a Morgul wound, and this was even worse. Whatever was keeping Éowyn ill was evil itself, a part of the Witch-king that had etched itself onto her. There was nothing left to do except Míriel trying to use her powers, there was no time to wait for Gandalf.

The last time Míriel had tried using her powers for something this complex, she had accidentally cursed Legolas. She did not want something like that to happen again, but what choice did she have but to try? Míriel told none of her worries to the people surrounding her because they would try to talk her out of it and Éowyn was far too important.

"What is this?" a nurse asked Éomer and glanced at Éowyn.

None of them answered the nurse and she continued to tend to another injured man who seemed to have lost his arm in the battle. Míriel tried to concentrate on nothing else than Éowyn because she needed to focus. She eyed Éowyn's wound and could almost see the sickness inside of her.

Míriel closed her eyes as her hand slowly caressed over Éowyn's arm, and soon behind her closed eyelids she could see the Witch-king of Angmar. He stood there, tall and powerful and Míriel felt the bitter taste of fear in her mouth. Voices began whispering in her ears, strange languages that she did not understand but that she was certain of that they would end with her death. This would surely destroy her for good, or turn her into something so dark that Saruman would have squealed with joy.

If it were not for a white, strong light suddenly enclosing around the Witch-king, Míriel would have surely failed. Suddenly there was nothing left of him but a puff of smoke and when Míriel opened her eyes again she felt as though she was going to pass out. Míriel found herself staring into Legolas' eyes and his lips were moving, but no sound escaped his lips.

"What-" Éomer whispered while his eyes were widened with fear.

Míriel glanced down at Éowyn arm which was now turning into its regular pale colour again. Míriel smiled; she had done it. For once she had been able to do good with her power, enough to defeat such a dark being as the Witch-king of Angmar. She was now but a shadow of her former, scared self, now she was the Chief of the Maiar; Ilmarë.

"You did it, Míriel," Legolas said in awe.

"Ilmarë did it," Aragorn said with a small smile.

Míriel returned his smile as they suddenly heard a gasp. It was Éowyn who had woken up and was staring right out in front of her, confused as to where she was. Éomer hurried to her side, grabbed her hand and kissed in affectionately. Míriel stood up and walked away to let the siblings have their moment together. Legolas grabbed her arm and lead her out of the House of Healing.

For 2000 years Míriel had been scared of her own powers and she had been told numerous times how dangerous they were for her. Now she had finally been able to prove that she was more than just a fading Elf, one whose powers had always overshadowed her own greatness. She was a Maiar, and from that moment on Míriel swore to never escape it. Her name would forever be known as Ilmarë.

"Míriel, are you well?" Legolas asked, worry in his voice as he grabbed her hand.

"I am better than I've ever been," Míriel said and smiled. "Legolas, I'm not Míriel anymore. From now I will go by my true name; Ilmarë."

Legolas smiled faintly and then sighed.

"Well I certainly hope that you as Ilmarë still have a place for a common Elf like myself," Legolas said, almost jokingly. "I wanted to apologise for everything that I said in Edoras. I was hurt, but it is no excuse. I still, and will always, love you, Ilmarë. No matter your name."

Ilmarë smiled as she felt her insides go all warm. Even if she had changed her name, even if everything felt so different now, her feelings for Legolas were not. There was no one she would rather spend eternity with, and to finally have the chance to do so brought her more happiness than anything else could.

"Well, say something," Legolas said and chuckled.

"I love you too, of course I do," Ilmarë said and smiled.

"Then will you marry me, when all of this is over?" Legolas asked. "Would you give me that privilege, to be married to a Maiar, the Chief of them all. I suppose the title as Princess of Mirkwood would not mean much to you."

"It would mean everything to be yours," Ilmarë assured him, as their sealed their promise with a kiss.

*

Ilmarë had received new clothes from two maidens after being hurried into an own room. Legolas had gone to see where Aragorn was and to check on Éowyn. He had insisted that Ilmarë rested for a bit and she didn't mind that at all. She took a long bath and then dressed in a Gondor styled blue dress while her other clothes were washed. She did wonder, though, why the others in the Fellowship constantly seemed to be wearing the same thing while she always was offered new clothes.

"My lady."

A very young girl - maybe twelve years old - stepped into her room quietly while Ilmarë had just finished brushing through her hair. The girl had fair strawberry-blonde hair that was braided into two braids on her head and her brown eyes shone with admiration when she looked at Ilmarë. The word of what Ilmarë had done had apparently spread through the city very quickly.

"Lady Éowyn is awake, she told me to tell you."

"Thank you," Ilmarë said and smiled at the girl.

The girl smiled back and helped guide Ilmarë out of the room and to Éowyn's chamber. On the way, she told her that her name was Gilraen. This was quite strange since Gilraen was also the name of Aragorn's late mother. Perhaps it was a usual name amongst men, Ilmarë did not know. She didn't think much about it, though, because she was eager to see Éowyn again.

Gilraen left Ilmarë outside Éowyn's new chamber. Ilmarë knocked on the door carefully before entering, seeing Éowyn sitting on the bed. She hurried toward her friend and hugged her as soon as she was close enough. Ilmarë held Éowyn in her arms for long before letting her go and examining her face. Éowyn looked tired, but she seemed to be well. Ilmare felt pride over the young woman who had ridden to battle with the other men, but also worry since she had seen things that no young person should have had to see.

"Éowyn, I am so proud," Ilmarë said. Éowyn smiled faintly and stared down at the floor. She had a white dress on - only her nightgown - and she looked a little torn. This was understandable, though, for she had seen her first battle and it had been a very terrible one where she had gotten hurt herself.

"My uncle is dead."

"So I heard," Ilmarë said sadly. She had been very sad to hear that Théoden had been killed by the Nazgul. His horse had been knocked by the creature and it fell on top of the King, breaking all his bones and eventually killing him. Éowyn had apparently tried to protect the King from being eaten, and that was how she was injured.

"He was at least a great hero until the end. People will remember king Théoden for a long time. As they will with you - the woman who killed not only a Nazgul but the Witch-king of Angmar."

Éowyn nodded slowly with a faint smile on her lips. It was understandable that she couldn't be very happy at the moment because she had loved her uncle like a father. Ilmarë understood this because she had the same kind of love toward her uncle Elrond. Ilmarë would have been destroyed if the Elf Lord had been killed.

"Thank you for saving me, Míriel," Éowyn said quietly. "Or, I mean Ilmarë. Lord Aragorn told me what you did for me, it seemed incredible. I am just so sorry that you were hurt because of me. I just think of what I would feel if you were killed for you are my closest friend, Ilmarë. You are the only one who has always believed in me, even at the times when I did not believe in myself. I am so thankful for you."

"You are welcome," Ilmarë said and placed her hands on Éowyn's shoulders. "And there is nothing to apologise for, my friend. You can do whatever you want to achieve, Éowyn. Always remember that. I am much older than you, wiser, you should trust me." Éowyn laughed and made Ilmarë laugh too. They hugged before Ilmarë left the room so that the young girl could continue to rest.

As she walked out Ilmarë glanced through one of the windows and saw a young man with strawberry blonde hair glancing up at Éowyn's window. Ilmarë walked closer and saw that he stood in one of the sitting rooms, and he wore a bandage on his shoulder. It was Faramir of course and Ilmarë had almost not recognised him for he seemed to look a lot better.

"Faramir," Ilmarë said and walked toward him. "I am glad to see you on your feet."

"Ilmarë," he said startled and glanced at her. "I- I've been resting up while you've fought for my city. I could never feel worse than I already do."

"Stop it," Ilmarë said and shook her head. "You were injured while trying to help your city. It was not your fault it was that wretched-" She stopped herself before uttering Denethor's name. Though the man had been cruel he had still been Faramir's father and the man had loved the Steward. "I am sorry, Faramir. Truly. I hope you know that your father loved you and that he was destroyed at the thought of you dead."

"He realised it too late, I fear," Faramir said sadly. "I just wish that he could have been remembered in another way, for now, people see him as a coward and a madman. He was not always like that, it is was saddens me the most."

Ilmarë nodded slowly and glanced down at her hands. She turned her head toward Éowyn's window which was what Faramir had been watching before Ilmarë showed up. Éowyn was no longer standing there.

"Have you met her?" Ilmarë said and smiled. "Éowyn I mean."

"No, I have not had the pleasure," Faramir said and chuckled.

"I shall introduce you later," Ilmarë said. "She needs rest, I am sure you have heard of her amazing adventure. You will get along just fine. For now, you may want to meet my companions."

"I would love to," Faramir said and smiled, gestured for Ilmarë to lead the way.

*

They stayed in the White city for days with the intention to rest before making their next move. Legolas, Ilmarë and gimli had been spending more time with each other than they had ever done before, for they all feared that their time would soon come to and end. Ilmarë had enjoyed seeing how Gimli and Legolas were now as close as brothers despite their differences. Legolas was of course still not admitting it.

When they dared to they spoke of their future. Legolas wanted to travel across Middle-Earth and Ilmarë would gladly join him. So would Gimli of course. When Legolas and Ilmarë were alone they would dream themselves away, thinking about their wedding and future children they might have.

"Ilmarë, Legolas," a voice called. It was Aragorn. "Gandalf wants us all."

Ilmarë and Legolas stood up and walked toward the throne room. Apparently it was time for the discussion they had been waiting on; the final stand against Mordor. How they were going to succeed was still a mystery, though.

Éomer and Gandalf had gathered in the throne room with the Hobbits. Gimli ungracefully took a seat on the throne and lit his pipe and Ilmarë took a seat on the steps next to him.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf said quietly as everyone had gathered, and sighed, worry in his voice. Ilmarë glanced at the Wizard, knowing that he had kept an eye on Frodo this entire time. Perhaps the Hobbit had finally reached Mordor now, and the darkness there stopped Gandalf from seeing him anymore. "The darkness is deepening."

"If Sauron had the Ring we would know it," Aragorn said and he was right for chaos would have erupted if Sauron had the One. Ilmarë was convinced that the two Hobbits were still well and that they were going to succeed in their mission.

"It's only a matter of time," said Gandalf. "He suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor, the enemy is regrouping."

"Let him stay there," said Gimli - clearly forgotten what the task was all about. "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf said, making Gimli raise his eyebrows and blow out his smoke in shock. Now that Gandalf said it out loud, it did seem quite impossible. The Hobbits were small, yes, but could they really sneak past so many Orcs without getting caught? "I've sent him to his death."

"No, there is still hope for Frodo," Aragorn spoke up again.  "He needs time and safe passage across the fields of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli asked suspiciously.

"Draw out Sauron's armies," Aragorn said. "Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the black gate."

Gimli started coughing - he had swallowed the smoke and inhaled it into his lungs. He knew that what Aragorn said was an impossible task to do. They would all die for Rohan and Gondor had not enough men to win over Mordor's armies. But maybe that was not the intention of this plan of Aragorn's - maybe he did not intend for them to return back safely. This may be a sacrifice they had to make, for Middle-Earth and for all the people there.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Éomer said.

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn said and his plan became more and more evident to Legolas. "But we can give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron's eye fixed on us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas said and smiled faintly. They were going to distract Sauron, give Frodo time. It was a final desperate attempt to win this war, their only chance to destroy Sauron for good. As members of the Fellowship of the Ring, it was their duty to do this for the Hobbit.

The last battle, one that couldn't possibly lead to anything else than death.

"Certainty of death, small chance of success," Gimli said and shrugged. The Dwarf didn't seem very bothered by this fact, they had been in these kinds of situations before. Gimli nodded before opening his mouth again to speak. "What are we waiting for?"

"Sauron will suspect a trap," Gandalf said to Aragorn, not seeming convinced by this. "He will not take the bait."

"Oh, I think he will."