You ran as fast as you could, almost tripping over a variety of things but some semblance of Elvish grace saved you at the last second, every time.

The fact that your brother wasn't dead ... well, that was enough to literally ruin you. Your breath came shortly, though it didn't normally when you were running. Your cheeks were wet and covered with the crystals of dried tears. The world seemed to spin, and you'd never felt more lost in your life.

Finally, you skidded into the King's Hall, where Theoden was holding court. Legolas was right on your heels, and you stared at the doors, which were still very solidly closed.

"It is as I thought," you whispered to yourself, though well aware that Legolas could hear you. "There is no hope left."

As you turned away, carefully removing Legolas's hand from your waist, a groaning noise sounded from the end of the hall. Just as you whipped back around, you saw your brother, dazed, soaked and bloodied, shoving open the doors with a dramatic push.

No one in the bast room said anything - there was only the sound of rushed breathing and your pulse in your eyes.

Aragorn walked slowly up to you.

"Le ab-dollen," Legolas said, coming to stand at your side. You're late.

His face betrayed nothing but a small smile (which you found absolutely adorable), but you could practically feel the relief radiating off him.

Aragorn laughed - a choked sound that told you exactly what he'd suffered, and how the pain in him still drew blood like broken shards of glass. You flung your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. He rubbed your back awkwardly as you got your pain and hurt out of your system with loud sobs.

"You look terrible," you finally managed to joke. Aragorn's smile was wider this time, and you were moved when you realised exactly how much you meant to him ... how much he meant to you.

You pulled the Evenstar necklace you'd found in the aftermath of the battle from your pocket and handed it to him.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling it gently over his head once again. There was still hope for him and Arwen yet, and you refused to believe that either of your friends would abandon the other.

He proceeded to the throne of Theoden, engaging in a hushed conversation.

You were too far away to hear it all, but you did catch the very disturbing news that a massive host of enemies was far closer than anyone would've liked. Every Orc, Warg, and their fifteen weapons would be there, and the wish that Helm's Deep would last the night seemed more dubious with each new piece of information.

Worst of all, the Uruk-hai were stronger than ever, and there would be more than ten-thousand outside the walls of Helm's Deep in a matter of hours.

You looked towards the throne again, to see Theoden waving his arms around aggressively.

"I know how to defend my people!" he was saying.

"Even with every able man fighting, our defences are still too little," Legolas worried, seemingly thinking along the same line as Aragorn.

"What about every man and woman?" you asked.

He shook his head. "The women are looking after the children - they would love nothing more than to pick up swords and have at the Orcs, but we do not have enough weapons, and we as leaders would be cruel to leave their daughters and sons defenceless."

You nodded understandingly, then took his hand, wandering over to where Gimli had now joined Aragorn and Theoden in the rapidly escalating argument.

"You must call for help!" Aragorn insisted. "Do not let your pride be the death of your people."

"None would answer," Theoden replied bitterly. "None ever have."

"Gondor will."

"Gondor?" the King repeated incredulously. "Gondor has never been with us. Where were they when we were surrounded, on the verge of death and outnumbered by hundreds? No help will come - we will defend ourselves."

He sauntered off, and you walked forward to stand where he had, your arms now folded. "Some King."

"Don't show such disrespect, lassie," Gimli hissed, though he winked when Aragorn's back was turned. "We must simply win."

"We cannot afford to lose," your brother pointed out.

"Well, that's a cheerful thought," you replied dryly. "Shall we go see if we can outfit those able with weapons for battle?"

- - -

The hope visibly drained from Aragorn's body as he inspected a bent sword, tossing it away as soon as he'd picked it up.

"We have farmers and stable boys aplenty, but no soldiers."

"They've seen too many winters," Gimli murmured, clutching his axe to his chest, as if afraid it would magically turn as useless and beaten as all the stock of the armoury if he let it go.

"Or too few," you noted, looking pityingly at a young boy who couldn't be older than 10.

"They're frightened." Legolas's contribution was soft, yet everyone around you quietened. "Look into their eyes."

"Boe a hûn: neled herain dan caer menig!" you let your voice raise. And they should be: three hundred against ten thousand!

You regretted it immediately when you saw the looks on the youngest of the able 'men'. They were no more than frightened children, and the thought of seeing them bleed out terrified and alone beneath thousands of Orc feet made you turn to them and whisper consoling pieces of advice and hope.

Your head snapped up when you heard Aragorn yell back at you - strange for the usually composed future King.

"Then I shall die as one of them!"

Everyone in the room flinched, including you.

"Aragorn!"

He turned and walked away, ignoring your shout. You huffed, moving towards the door he'd exited through, but someone grabbed your arm.

It was a testament to how far your friendship with Gimli had progressed that you didn't shove past him - instead listening to the Dwarf.

"Leave him, Y/N," he advised. "Let him go."

You looked at the spot he'd been standing, feeling guilty and torn as you stepped backwards.

Helm's Deep really seemed to be sucking the hope and light out of everything, and that didn't bode well for the coming battle.

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