Disclaimer: Still not ours. LotR and all related places, characters, etc. belong to Tolkien Enterprises, and the PPC belong to Jay and Acacia. Agent Architeuthis belongs to Architeuthis. All PPC things are being used with their creators’ permission.

*****

A/n: We’ve gotten several reviews asking for us to put Suedom fanart up on a website somewhere. We’d like to, really, but there’s a key problem there: We haven’t received any.

So, dear fans, if you have a doodle of the Killer bunny, or Kate and Kira, or even your own PPC agent or Mary Sue, scan them and send them in. We’d love to see your artistic talents.

*****

Suedom

by Andy and Saphie

Chapter 24:

A Whole New Set of Memories to Repress

*****

Kate and Kira froze as Meir Brin cracked the Switch of Character banishment, and then they were whirling through a cold and lifeless void, the hands of an unseen person on their shoulders. They gasped as the grip tightened against the pull of the cold wind that surrounded them, clawing at their faces and pulling them down through nothing. The arms attached to the hands strained, resisting the pull of the wind, and their descent began to slow. An eerie blue light issued from somewhere behind them, and the girls were yanked backwards--

Into mud.

The first thing that registered in Kira's mind was that she was no longer half-golem. That was apparent by her lack of stone in place of skin. The second was that Kate was all right, apart from having fallen down and landed in the mud. The third was that they weren't alone.

Leaning against a large boulder was a young man. Exhaustion was etched deeply on his face, and his light blue hair lay limply across his forehead. He sank slowly to the ground, panting deeply as if he had just run a marathon. He was enveloped by a blue glow that dimly lit the dark night

He was also buck-naked.

And extremely hot.

Um.

"Shit," he said, looking around. "Sorry...I only had enough strength to get you here. Not much...time," he panted, gasping deeply as though he couldn't get enough air.

"Who are you?" Kate asked, rubbing her elbow in a pitiful attempt to stop herself from staring shamelessly at the boy's...assets. It didn't work. "Nnngh."

"I'm--I'm..." he said, and trailed off, looking at them desperately.

"Are you okay?" Kira asked. "You don't look sso good." The sound of her own voice made her look up in surprise. Slowly, she lifted up her hands and stared at them.

They were long and sinuous again.

Kira looked to her left. Fishywishylishiel was standing where Kate was supposed to be.

"Aww man!" Kate wailed, staring at Kira. "We're the stupid Mary Sues again!"

"Crap!" Kira responded, reminding herself to avoid words with s’s in them.

"Doesn't matter!" the boy gasped sharply. "Look, the Bridge...it's...it's in..."

"What?! Where?!" they cried, but the young man seemed to be fading before their eyes.

"It's in..." he started, clearly straining to get the information out. Kate and Kira waited with bated breath, but with a final sigh he flickered and disappeared. The light disappeared, and the girls yelled with dismay.

He had been about to tell them where the BRIDGE WAS! And now he, whoever he was, was gone, and they still had no idea where to look!

And he had been so hot, too!

"Sshit. Sshitsshitsshit," Kira growled. "Do you have any idea who that was? Shitshitshit."

"I'm pretty sure Tolkien never wrote about naked, blue men. Forget that, d’you have any idea where we are?" Kate asked.

"Come to think of it...no," Kira said, looking around.

It was night-time, and cold, though their Elvish clothes kept them quite warm. The ground on which they stood had once been covered in green grass, but had long since been trampled and trod on--footprints, boot prints, and the treads of cart wheels were imprinted in the dark mud. It was very, very dark. The stars were obscured by clouds that were rumbling and flickering threateningly, and she saw jagged shapes that were even darker in the distance--mountains that formed the edges of what appeared to be a valley. The two of them were standing right in the middle of it.

There was light flickering from somewhere and they looked towards it and saw the corners and edges and walls of a great fortress revealed by it. The light flickered on the stone; strong but weathered and crumbly-looking; and on the armor, chainmail, and helms of the grim-faced men standing upright on top of the walls of the fortress, their weapons upraised and also glinting in the light.

Their faces were pale. They could see that even from this distance.

Lightning flashed and in that bright, white instant, they caught a glimpse of a great gate of metal and wood, with a stone walkway leading up to it, and a stone wall that stretched across the width of the valley. There were strange figures standing on it--not men. They were tall and blond and fair, and wearing tunics of a blue silky cloth, and armor that was not nearly as crude-looking as that of the men. Their faces seemed to glow like the moon in the pale light--they looked like walking silver, gilded in gold.

"Kate," Kira said, somewhat nervously. "I think...I think we’re back in Middle-Earth. At Helm’s Deep." She didn’t seem sure whether she was happy about this fact or not. Most likely not, Kate thought.

Kate squinted, and outraged, she said, "But there weren’t any Elves at Helm’s Deep!"

Before she could complain at length, however, they both heard a noise echoing through the valley:

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

The noise was being made behind them, and Kate noticed that the torchlight that was flickering on the ground was not coming entirely from the fortress in front of them...

"Oh. Oh man," Kira gibbered next to her, apparently frozen in place. "Oh man, we’re at Helm’ss Deep. Oh man."

"Please tell me that isn’t..." Kate whimpered, fear clutching at her heart with icy claws. "Please tell me we aren’t..."

Whump.

Whump.

Whump.

She heard jeering cries, and roars and what sounded like the screeching of things that were neither animal nor man.

She heard fists and swords being smashed against shields, feet pounding against the ground--a horrible, maddening clatter of sound.

She heard snarling and growling, like the sound she imagined thousands of abused, starved dogs would make if they were all jammed into a cage together.

She could not move. She could not breathe.

She could only shake in fear and try to keep control of her bladder.

This was not helped by the fact that it had finally started to rain--first one drop, then another, until it was pouring down, cascading down her neck and back, soaking her clothes and hair, pounding on her face. She heard countless drops of water flicking on stone, tapping and plinking on steel and iron.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kira turning her sodden head to slowly to look behind her, and Kate’s eyes could only follow.

No! she thought. I don’t want to see!

But her body wouldn’t listen, and then she was turning, slowly turning, to look behind.

She saw a wall of moving bodies, of sharp claws and eyes and teeth, and jagged metal, and jeering, snarling, scarred faces, lit up by the flickering fire of sputtering torches. They were roaring, and the light from the torches glinted on their yellow teeth.

Then the lightning flashed again, and Kate desperately wished it hadn’t, because she saw the horror before her in full, the jagged spears, and the messy, painted, white hands smeared on helm and body, taking up all her sight, filling her with a cold, empty dread that absolutely nothing could alleviate. Not memories of Éowyn and Gimli talking fondly of death, not her faith that she would go on to be rewarded for her kindness after life, not even memories of her mother could help her now.

Because a wall of walking death was marching towards Helm’s Deep, to kill every living person in it--

--And she and Kira were standing right in its path.

*****

"Weapons native to Middle-earth only?" the young Agent looked quite dismayed as she repeated what the more veteran member of the PPC had just informed her. She looked sadly at the chainsaw in her hands and said, "I guess this is out, then, huh?"

"What about my flame-thrower?" the girl's new partner asked hopefully. "They had fire in Middle-Earth! And they threw it, too! This is just taking it a step further!"

"Absolutely not. No firearms of any sort are to be taken into the Lord of the Rings continuum." Architeuthis, non-assassin and veteran member of the PPC, herded the girls towards their headquarters. "Agents Veet and Seira, your job is to locate and rescue agents Jay, Acacia, Hika, Sprite, C-Chan, Marti, San, Kuro Shin, Eva, DraztiK, Murasaki, Mary S--" she stopped, staring at the phenomenally long list of missing Agents. "You know what? Just come back with whoever isn't a native of Middle-earth, okay?"

"But my chainsaw will get lonely!" Veet whined.

"Not a problem. Seira's flame-thrower can keep it company," Architeuthis said, leaving the whining girls at their station.

All of HQ was in an uproar. Every agent sent to Middle-Earth in the past...well, Headquarters time didn't work like regular time, but suffice to say it had been a long time since any agent who dealt with Lord of the Rings had come back from an assignment. Recruits who hadn't even been put through training yet were being sent, although this was more due to a "we don't want to risk losing anyone who can actually shoot to kill the person they've aimed at" mentality than through actual lack of good agents. However, HQ was running out of recruits, and a few of the veteran agents were still gone. Huinesoron of the Department of Geographical Aberrations hadn't been seen in at least a week, real-time wise, and as Arda was still changing shape about as much as an amoeba, his mission wasn't going well.

If he was even able to carry out his mission at all.

The Flowers That Be were in an uproar, and the Sunflower Official was losing petals over the situation. A council between the plants was in session when Architeuthis happened to walk in to inform the SO that HQ was running out of recruits and ask whether or not it wanted to risk a few more trained assassins. The SO had sputtered in an uncharacteristically indecisive way, its telepathic "voice" nearly audible with stress. It wasn't surprising that there should be heavy debate over the matter. Jay and Acacia were valuable members of the PPC. It would be a great blow to have lost them, as well as all the new recruits who, while not skilled in the slightest, were all more or less crazy enough to be valuable assassins one day. On the other frond, the situation was uncertain, and sending more assassins in could mean heavier losses. But then again, Middle-earth was beginning to crack under the stress of the stories that were being imposed on it. Eventually the SO reached a decision, and now it was up to Architeuthis to convince a group of highly trained, mentally unstable killers to risk their lives on a mission into a situation where they only thing HQ knew for sure was that nobody had come back from it.

Peachy.

Architeuthis pushed open the doors to the cafeteria and entered, feeling the gazes of many a morbidly talented assassin trained on her. She took a deep breath.

"Okay, guys, you all know we have a situation in Middle-earth," she said. There were a few nods and ‘So's?’" from the crowd. "The SO wants to keep sending assassins in. Those of you who are normally assigned to a different canon are--"

"I'm not going in there," Leo Dragoness spoke up. "I'll put my neck out against Mary Sues, but I won't go to Middle-earth with no idea what I'm going up against."

"Nobody's come back from there for a long time," Autumn added. "What's the good of sending us if we just get stuck too?"

"The Flowers are trying to figure out what's going on, but the canon's just...under a lot of stress. If you don't get in there and help put a stop to it, the whole canon could be destroyed--"

"With me in it? Not a chance," Rena Chang objected.

"Why don't you go?" Suzine called from the back. "You're awfully eager to get us to risk our lives for them, so why are you still here?"

"I'm not an assassin, I'm an Intelligence Gatherer," Architeuthis sighed. "I'm not qualified to--"

"Screw this! We already know what will happen if we go in. We won't be able to get out."

"She's right, none of us want to risk it for a bunch of dopey recruits," Tessa Sawyer added. "With all the canon fluctuations that have been going on, we don't know what sort of changes might have happened. We could get stuck in any sort of situation. Middle-earth is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to get enslaved by Sauron while there."

There was a loud murmur of assent from the group.

"It's not just recruits, Jay and Acacia are stuck in Middle-earth, as well as a bunch of people who have been here for a long time! We can't just leave them there!" Architeuthis objected.

"Why not?"

"Doesn't make any difference to me where they are."

"But...they've been here for ages. We owe them at least this much," Architeuthis pointed out, grasping for a hold on her audience.

The assassins collectively made it known that although Jay and Acacia's contributions to the PPC in general were not unappreciated, no one as an individual felt indebted to them.

"Look at it this way," Architeuthis sighed, playing her final card. "If they're gone, you'll get all their work."

A hush fell over the room as the remaining assassins calculated the magnitude of this statement.

"As well as your own," she added, for good measure.

At least a dozen trained assassins had already disappeared into Middle-earth.

A dozen assassins who were, every single one of them, as over-worked as the remaining veterans...

Architeuthis watched as the group collectively processed this thought with obvious horror.

She had a feeling a lot more non-canons were going to show up in Middle-earth very soon.

*****

Behind the walls of Helm’s Deep, the men and elves waited silently, hearts pounding, muscles tense with anticipation. Beyond the doors they could hear the pounding thuds of the orcs’ footsteps and the raucous cries of the foul beasts as they approached the Keep, ready for the slaughter...

Slowly, another noise rose over the grunting and shouting of the orcs. A long, high wail that started in the distance and got progressively louder, until the source was right outside the walls. Then something began banging on the great doors, and repeated shouts of "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" were discernable through the wood.

A few signals were given by the King, and slowly, ponderously, the doors creaked open to reveal the most beautiful women any of the men present had ever seen. Their jaws dropped, their eyes glazed, and their hearts pounded as they took in these stunning beauties, their fluid curves and their long, silky hair...their perfect complexions and their elegant faces...their graceful motions as they ran past the men and into the Glittering Caves, screaming like little girls...

But with perfect, beautiful voices, naturally.

The doors slammed shut as Kate and Kira ran, still screaming, past groups of women and small children huddled together fearfully, past stalactites glittering faintly in the gloom, past more groups of women and children, which were there in abundance, until they came to a stop directly behind Éowyn. She stared down blankly at the two girls cowering behind her skirt with misted-over eyes.

"Hello...who are you?" she asked.

"Aww darnit, she doesn't remember us!" Kate said angrily.

"It'ss uss!" Kira said. "Kate and Kira, remember?"

"We're not dead yet!" Kate added.

"I'm sorry, I've never seen you before in my life," Éowyn said.

"Yes you have! Well, not your natural life, anyhow," Kate said. "Remember how you tried to kill us at Edoras? And then you and Gimli went with us to find a Bridge and save Middle-earth?"

"We ssaw Frodo and Ssam! And Faramir!" Kira said. "Your husband! Y'know?"

"Husband?" Éowyn said, looking shocked. "I am beholden to no man! Except for, perhaps..." A wistful look passed over her face. "--Lord Aragorn..."

Kate and Kira groaned.

"They got to her! The Sues got to her!" Kate said.

"Oh well," Kira sighed and leaned back against a stalagmite. "At leasst we're nice and ssafe in the Glittering Caves, eh?"

"Ahem," someone who was probably affiliated with the Narrative Laws of Comedy said. The girls looked up.

A young girl stood before them, her blonde hair bedraggled and dirty. She spoke timidly to Kate, as if in awe of her. "You...aren't you...Fishywishylishiel?" she asked. "The great warrior who saved my daddy from the evil wolves?"

Kate gave her a look that clearly said, "What. The crap?"

"Only...what are you doing in here?" she asked. "Shouldn't you and your friend be fighting and keeping us safe?"

Kate looked at Kira in panic and mouthed for a few seconds before managing to say, "No!"

"Oh Lady Fishywishylishiel, please save us! My husband is out there, and he is already wounded!" another woman cried.

"My daddy is a farmer, not a soldier!"

"My son has a terrible head cold!"

"But I can't do anything!" Kate objected. "I'm not Fishywishylishiel!"

"Yes you are! We could not forget you!" the women protested. "And your friend, who nearly equals you in loveliness, is obviously a great warrior too. Please protect us!"

"What? We're not warriorss!" Kira objected. "We're jusst like you!"

"Yeah, we're women and children!" Kate wailed. But the throng of Rohirric women paid no heed to their protests, and dirty hands began to reach out and grab them, pulling them through the caves.

"Please oh please save us from Saruman's menace!" they wailed. "Protect us please, O great warrior ladies!"

"Put uss down!" Kira yelled.

"Éowyn! HEELP!" Kate cried, her voice rising shrilly over the Suvian chants of the Rohirric women.

Éowyn was standing back and looking resentful instead of helping the women. For a moment, she looked puzzled...then, slowly, recognition dawned across her features...her misty eyes began to clear...

"KIRA! KATE!" Éowyn shouted, and began fighting her way through the throng, just as the women shoved Kate and Kira out of the caves and into hell.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" they screamed, pulling on the handle. The door was locked. That was when the first orc tried to kill them.

Kira shoved Kate aside as the rusty, curved sword landed in the door where her head had been, and they ran, screaming for safety. They only emerged into what seemed like an infinitely more violent area with orcs killing men and elves left and right. Screaming with horror they watched as blood began to pool across the stone, mixing with the relentless rain, making it slippery. It was a blood bath. Elves lay strewn across the ground, their faces beautiful even in death. Huddled in a corner to hide from the orcs, the girls stared at the cold, beautiful faces.

Unable to control their horror, the girls screamed.

But their screams attracted the attention of an orc, who ran at them with his rusty blade raised, and they shouted and darted aside, running as if their lives depended on it.

Which they did.

They did not scream anymore. Running called far too much attention to them to begin with. It was only extreme Suvian luck that kept them from dying five seconds into the battle. They dodged swords and axes of both Orcs and Rohirrim, sustaining small wounds that would no doubt have later been bandaged by a loving elf with color-changing eyes if the Suvians had their way.

They ran, their dreary view of the fortress blurring slightly because of how many conflicting Suvian stories were controlling it. Every so often, they saw a maiden with flowing hair battling several orcs at once and slaying them with the greatest of ease. For a moment, as they ran atop the wall, dodging weapons as they flew through the air, Kira caught a glimpse of the orcs below, a milling frenzy of black shapes, like ants, like a horde of ants...where had she seen this before?

The two were moving purely on adrenaline and terror when a familiar voice sounded from about chest-level.

"Khazad! Khazad ai menu!"

"Gimli!"

Their panicked voices rose over the noise of the battle as they ran towards Gimli. The Dwarf turned at the sound of their shrieks, and shock dawned on his face as he recognized them.

"I thought you were dead!" he exclaimed as the girls came to a stop in front of him, then abruptly shoved them aside and sliced the legs off of an orc that had been preparing to give Kate and Kira new orifices where their necks had been. Gimli gave the body a final stab and looked at them. "But you may be soon enough."

"We can't get back into the Caves," Kate said, "They locked the door!"

"Then find some other place to hide! I cannot protect you here!" Gimli shouted, pulling a small axe out of his belt and throwing it right between the girls, so close that they felt the breeze from it on their faces. The axe landed in the gut of another orc, who staggered and fell between them.

"But where?" Kira shouted.

"I do not know. But you had better think of something. Quickly," Gimli growled, and resumed battle with a large orc, branded with the white hand.

Kate looked around wildly. Where could you hide in Helm's Deep? Her eyes drifted to a nearby corner, where bodies had been shoved out of the way.

Maybe we could... She recoiled in horror at the thought. But there was no other way...

Kate grabbed Kira's hand and pulled her over to the corner, where she began to pull the corpses aside. She stood, sobbing, on the mound and began to wedge herself between a dead man and an elf that had fallen off of the wall.

"What are you doing, preciouss?" Kira asked, her face twisted in horror, as Kate feverishly pushed at the corpses.

"If they think we're dead, they won't try and kill us!" Kate gibbered, sliding beneath the body of a dead elf. "Come on! Hide! Pretend you're dead!" She shuddered with horror as the heavy, still weight of the elf pressed against her, but clenched her fist and squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking down her cheeks as she fought to keep herself from screaming.

Kira stared at the mass of dead people in disgust, but edged underneath a dead body and lay next to Kate, shivering violently. She was shaking so hard that she was sure this wouldn't work. They would spot her shaking form or hear her terrified heartbeat or smell her warm blood, and then...

A deafening explosion rang through the night air, and the keep shook. Kate screamed as fragments of rock rained upon the corpses blanketing her. She couldn't remember how Helm's Deep went. She'd only read the Two Towers three times, and under these conditions the chapter devoted to Helm's Deep was beyond recall. Was there supposed to be an explosion? What if something bigger than the rocks already falling on the corpses crushed her? Should they move? Should they risk the battle?

Oh God, something was grabbing her hand--!

"The blassssting-fire," Kira hissed, apparent relief in her voice as she squeezed Kate's hand comfortingly. "It'sss okay, it will all be over soon." She whimpered, "Gollum, gollum."

"Fall back to the keep!" a man's voice was shouting over the din of the battle. "Get your men out of there!"

Kate whined wordlessly and squeezed Kira's hand tighter.

"It'ss okay," Kira hissed. "There's--"

Something fell next to them.

An elf dropped to his knees next to them, an axe buried in his back. His shining, beautiful face was streaked with blood, an expression of surprise fixed on his features. He looked around, blinking slowly at the bodies of the fallen elves around him, as if he was realizing for the first time that they were there at all.

The elf fell back into the arms of a man who had appeared just in time to catch him. The man paused, then patted the elf's chest, a silent farewell to the Elvish soldier. Then he dropped the elf's corpse and ran back to the fray.

Kate stared into the elf's face, still frozen in an expression of surprise.

How silly, Haldir's expression seemed to say. I was born to live forever, and here I am, dead...

Kira gave Kate's hand another squeeze.

"It will be over ssssoon," she whispered.

But it wasn't.

They waited for ages, trapped in a living nightmare of cold, dead bodies, all pressing in around them, dripping with blood and freezing rain. Thunder, loud and violent, seemed to shake the very walls of the keep. All they could hear was the thunder and the screaming--screams of those who were dying, and the screams of those causing death--the sounds of war were all around them. And then there was the blood, blood, blood everywhere, soaking their hair and their clothes and running down their skin, until they could no longer tell whether they were soaked more with rainwater or blood, and Haldir's dead face, frozen in uncomprehending shock with his eyes still open...

Hours of the horror passed. Hours of the mindless, gibbering terror, until all their world was the sound of rain and thunder and dying and cold blood and dead eyes, and gripping each other's hands so tightly they thought their bones might break. Kira was wrong. Helm's Deep was never going to end. Daylight crept slowly into their vision, but they didn’t care. What good was daylight? It only made you easier to see. There was no solace in daylight when you were trapped in Hell.

Then, finally, a new sound intruded upon the world.

A horn blast, loud and deep, rang through the air, and the girls dared to raise their heads the slightest bit. It rang again, and they could hear men shouting, their voices belying the fact that this was the end. This was their last stand. The girls retreated back into their morbid camouflage. Kate was sobbing.

Then a white light sprang up in the west, and Kira rose her head to see.

Upon the ridge, almost as if he were emerging from the mists of a dream, a rider clad all in white appeared, outlined in the golden light of dawn. A great host on horseback was gathered behind him, and the leader of it rode up to his side.

"Look, Kate," Kira whispered, her awed voice choked with tears, "He'ss come."

Kate, ready to sob with relief, sat up and stared as a man on horseback rode up next to Gandalf. She scrutinized him through her tears of joy.

Even after a night of death and cold horror, the purist can pick something apart.

"That's not Erkenbrand," she said. "No red shield."

"Who caresss?! It'sss Gandalf!" Kira said, grinning now. And since Aragorn hadn't said it as he was supposed to in the book--or at least they hadn't heard him say it--she cupped her hands around her mouth and cried out in joy, "Behold the White Rider! Gandalf is come again!"

And then, as the host of the Rohirrim poured down the hill like a wave, the sun rose.

Pushing aside the corpses, the girls stood, and began to cheer, "Gandalf! Gandalf!", sobbing with relief, and soon all the men had taken up the cheer, and the despair left them. Mingling with the countless voices, there was the thunderous sound of many horns being blown, and just as the light peeked over the mountains and into the valley, Gandalf's great host poured down the ridge, a wave of gold with a glowing star at its head. On the other side, the king's company rode out valiantly, and, caught in between, the vile creatures of Saruman's dark army fled in terror or were smote down by their enemies.

It wasn't entirely like the book. Not quite. But as Kate and Kira stood listening to the cheers of the men and the horns echoing through the valley, and saw Gandalf in battle far below, laughing mirthfully as he fought, they wept with joy at the coming of the dawn and the return of the light.

They embraced as they wept, or rather, Kate threw her arms around Kira and sobbed into her shoulder, and Kira completely forgot about not being very touchy-feely for the moment and was just happy that Kate was still alive to glomp her. They sobbed and refused to let go as Uruks fled into the waiting branches of the Huorns. They were still here. They were still alive. Against all odds, they had survived Helm's Deep...

Unlike so many others.

*****

"Kate! Kate!"

"Kira! Where are you?"

"Kate! Kira! Answer us!"

Gimli and Éowyn climbed over a pile of dead orcs and nearly slipped when their feet touched the stone again--it was soaked in blood.

Gimli sighed as he surveyed the scene before them. As soon as the battle was over, he had started searching for the girls, but they had apparently run a long way from where they had seen them last. He had found Éowyn as she cam out of the Glittering Caves and she had joined him in his search, but so far it had been fruitless--the girls were nowhere to be found.

"Had I allowed them to stay with me, they might have had a better chance of surviving. I should not have told them to leave me," he said sadly.

"No, it was wise, Gimli," Éowyn answered, picking her way through the bodies, her eyes open and scanning them for two familiar faces that she hoped not to find. "You would have died in the battle had you taken it upon yourself to protect them, and then they would have perished anyway. If they found a place to hide, they may yet be alive." She tried to sound confident, but she couldn’t hide the ring of doubt in her voice.

"Perhaps," Gimli said, somewhat skeptically. "We thought them dead before, and they were not, and they have surprised us many times. Perhaps they will surprise us yet again."

He continued the search in silence, expect for the occasional calling of the girls’ names, hoping that they would hear if they were alive; shoving piles of body out of the way, to see if the girls were lying underneath, dead. Every time he saw only dead Orcs, Men, or Elves underneath, he let out a small sigh of relief.

After another hour of this, the two stopped their search and looked about hopelessly.

"I suppose they must have been smashed in the catapult fire, or now lied deformed and mingled with the bodies of our enemies," Gimli said miserably, taking off his helmet in respect. "By Aule’s beard, I did not expect them to die like this."

"They were children, Gimli," Éowyn said sadly. "They had no chance in our world. They had no chance of surviving war when they had never faced it before. Children never do." She hung her head and closed her eyes in silence, several tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"May they dine in the halls of their forefathers, if their life after death is the same of that of the Dwarves," Gimli said respectfully, his voice somewhat choked, and his eyes watering slightly. He sighed again, sniffled, and tugged his helmet back over his shaggy, disheveled head.

After a moment of silence, he asked Éowyn, "What now? How will we search for the Bridge without them?"

"I do not know," she answered solemnly, lifting her head and shaking it. "It will be a long journey to each place we must search, even with the distances shortened under these conditions. We may not even make it to one place before the end comes."

"Then our chances of victory have died with the girls," Gimli said hopelessly, sitting down on a pile of corpses next to a wall.

"Getoff," a corpse said. "You’re squishing her."

Gimli jumped up and pulled a throwing ax free from his belt, but his hand dropped as soon as he caught a good glimpse of what he had sat on.

A pair of dazed, green eyes stared up at him, and had the person that owned them not talked, Gimli would not have been sure whether or not they were alive because of how blank they looked. The face the eyes belonged to was covered in blood, mud, and approximately twenty-seven other assorted forms of grime. The frazzled hair of the figure was plastered to its head with mud and blood, and its body was soaked with rain and shivering, and also covered with blood and grime. Its arms, shaking slightly, were wrapped around another figure that was shivering as it lay in her lap, sleeping or injured. What could have been blond hair could be discerned through the muck covering it, and a grimace was on the sleeper’s face.

Swords of Elven make lay on the ground next to them. Obviously, they had wanted their swords ready in case some of the orcs had still been alive. The bodies of the dead were all around them.

"Don’t squish her," Kira repeated. "Don’t wake her up. She just nodded off. She was...upset. Like rambling and stuff. Freaked. Sleep will do her good. We haven’t slept in a while. Not a good sleep anyway. Sleep will be good for her," she rambled.

Gimli and Éowyn swept forward wordlessly and embraced Kira, ignoring the muck that transferred to themselves when they did so. She was relatively unresponsive to their touch.

"Are either of you injured?" Éowyn asked her.

"No. Just some cuts and scrapes," Kira mumbled, her voice trembling.

She sat in silence, still staring about blankly. "My grandpa fought in a war," she said. "A really bad one. He lost all of his friends in it." They saw her arms tighten slightly around Kate’s sleeping form.

"I wanted to hear war stories, but he never wanted to talk about it," she went on.

She looked around, her eyed sunken in and still dazed-looking, and she just breathed the still air and watched the death all around them; the death that was all in shades of black and white and brown and red--black armor, pale faces, mud, and blood. It was hard to distinguish the between the races of the dead.

"I think I know why now," she said softly. "I think I know why."

Then her head slumped back against the stone wall, and her eyes closed as she drifted of into a fitful sleep.