The rest of the battle was passing in a haze; I was gasping for breath constantly after the sixth or seventh Remnant that fell.

Fortunately, King Aragorn and General Mannerthorn had managed to execute the segregation of both groups with only a few stray soldiers escaping their barrier, which Faewyn and the other elves easily took care of. However, this did little to lessen the enormous physical effort it took to continue slaying these wraiths-- the more I felled, the more difficult it was to continue. It was easy to tell who had inherited the dark fragment when there were but five or six Remnants left. Every time I swung the sword, my arms like lead, my opposition leapt away or jabbed a mace or sword at me, causing me to spring back. They were fast, and agile, ever more powerful, and I would have surely been long dead before I could strike them were it not for the other elves assisting me.

There were a few times when one of the Remnants attempted some sorcery, like summoning invisible barriers around themselves or trying to throw weapons at me with magic. This only occurred a few times, once I only had a few Remnants left. The ground around me was littered with mostly shriveled corpses, and the air smelt of death.

From what I could tell, the Gondorian army was doing its best to ensure that as few men were killed as possible, but still the surrounding land rang with the shouts and clamor of the soldiers facing off.

I was very, very thankful for the half armour I wore; it saved me many a fatal blow as I was able to deflect some weapons with my bracers on and several times I was spared getting skewered as the thick leather of my curiass was difficult to penetrate.

I was so worn out by the last two Remnants that--shamefully--I considered simply laying down and letting them stab me. Obviously, considering this now, it seems ridiculous to even think of that, but on the battlefield, stained with blood and gasping for breath, with lungs on fire and clouded vision, it seemed only a relief.

Both grim and dark, it seemed I recognized one of them from before, although that wasn't a surprise, given that I had been kidnapped/tortured by them a number of times already.

"Gwithor!" shouted Faewyn in the background, swinging a two-handed sword, "The left!"

Though this made little sense to me at the time, I saw another dark haired elf twist backward instantly and throw a pure white knife into the side of one of the two Remnants. With delayed shock, I saw that the intended target was milimetres away from jabbing what seemed to be a very long dagger through my side, and instead moved away to pull the knife out of his side, saving my life.

Faewyn then shot a very well-placed arrow directly into the ligament above the knee, as the man stumbled at his leg's inability to support his weight anymore.

Again, one of them attempted to spring weapons on me, this time a length of chain that swung form one of their jerkins and snaked in blackened tendrils towards my legs. I yelped and stepped backwards, only to slide on loose stone and fall backwards onto the hard rock.

I took only a second to breathe, but at that precise second, both Remnants stabbed towards me, one with a machete, one with a wickedly gleaming sword, and though immediately someone--I thought it was Maldor--swiped a heavy blow across the blades to knock them aside, the tip of the sword caught on my un-armoured upper arm, cutting into the muscle there.

I grimaced, clutching at my arm with my other hand.

Blood dripped between my fingers and down my sleeve, looking almost like a dark scarlet rose, unfolding petal by petal. Fascinated, I looked at it, and the more I looked, the more I was aware of someone shaking me.

"Gianna, get up." Maldor said, urgently.

I looked at him, momentarily confused. I was just taking a break. Couldn't I take a break? I frowned as the world spun when I stood.

"You need to keep them distracted for a few minutes," Maldor called to Faewyn.

Faewyn was prancing back and forth with Gwithor and another elf with the two Remnants who they had sought to distract when I fell.

"We are trying," she said, her brows furrowed in concentration. "Hold on."

Maldor bound my arm with a strip of cloth that I was too distracted to see where he had gotten it from, and from a leather pouch hanging on his belt pulled a random handful of herbs.

"Who carries dried plants on the battlefield?" I asked, squinting.

"I do," Maldor said hurriedly, packing the dried plants onto my wound as best he could. "This is probably the best place to carry herbs which slow bleeding."

"I suppose," I said, my tongue feeling like lead.

"Gianna!" Faewyn yelled from across the stretch of stony plain where we now dueled. "They will kill us all if you do not stop them!"

Like a drop of crystal clear water in an endless fog, I realised that I was still motionless on the ground and surged to my feet, my arm throbbing in the back of my mind.

I sprinted toward the current skirmish and before anyone could register what happened, I thrust the glowing weapon through Faewyn's arm--which left her completely unscathed--and lodged it in the sternum of the Remnant she was fighting. With a howl, he dropped his sword and collapsed.

Faewyn's eyes were wide with shock but she turned to me in appreciation. "Well aimed, Gianna," she said, almost cheerfully.

I grimly turned to face the final opponent.

It would not, in any other scenario, been any more clear that he had, by now, an incredible amount of dark power within him. Perhaps not as much as, say, pre-death Sauron had, but still.

The man's ice blue eyes held such unbridled hate, they almost burned with flame, and his very breath sent shivers down my spine. His voice held a thousand others when he spat, "I am the last, and so are you."

Myself and the four other elves that accompanied me stood frozen, unable to comprehend anything.

The man swung a heavy mace effortlessly, which seemed to crackle with energy. I leapt backwards and swiped at him with the sword, but it seemed to me I was moving it through a thick mud, as I couldn't move it more than a few inches.

My muscles trembled with the exertion and eventually I withdrew, unable to continue the attack.

Gwithor aimed three arrows at once and somehow they all fell to the side. Frustrated, he crept to the back of the man and began repeatedly swiping at his back.

Our opponent not seem to notice, and instead tried to knock us down again with the mace he held.

I tried to deflect the mace with the sword, but rather than deflect it, the wood sizzled and disintegrated into ash.

That's what you get for imbuing your weapons with dark magic, I thought savagely, a spark of hope kindling in me.

Finally, with a triumphant yell, Gwithor managed to push aside or break whatever surrounded the man, and I saw the tip of his sword protrude through the man's stomach.

I furiously jabbed forward with the sword I held, but in my exhaustion, my aim veered right and slid next to his side without any damage.

Devoid of his mace, the final Remnant reached for a sword, and without thinking, I made to cut off his arm.

Rather than the intended result (which would not nearly have been as clean as I imagined anyways, as my blade likely would have been stuck in his humerus bone), the Remnant man simply fell to the ground--intact, but dead.

There was quiet, and then there was a roar of energy that seemed to carry sound, though the slight breeze seemed loud in comparison. The very earth seemed to groan.

And suddenly, it was over. The stillness was immeasurably still, the air seemed to cease being.

I looked around wildly, sure there was another who would emerge from the rock and spring on me with even more renewed ferocity, but there was none.

I sunk to the ground, blood on my hands, and closed my eyes.

****************

The calm did not feel real, and I was only aware vaguely of quiet voices in the night.

After the shattering silence of the death of the final Remnant, it was as if a great shadow had lifted.

The men that had been under the Remnants' command, mostly Haradrim, had felt true fear in their hearts, and doubt, and after seeing their situation in a clear light, they were coerced into surrender. Though they were closely guarded by the soldiers of Gondor, they were treated kindly, with dignity. Aragorn had spoken to them and assured them that they would be free to return to their homes with no further trouble if they swore to cease fighting.

I had seen the people's eyes and knew that Aragorn could show sincerity and that they would trust his word.

All afternoon and evening, healers had been tending to the wounded, and the few that had died were seen to. I was so utterly tired. Seeing the wretched faces of those with broken bones or lost limbs only made me more so.

Apparently, I had been carried off the littered battlefield by Faewyn, and Legolas immediately had broken off from the fighting to find out what had happened. I hardly remembered that bit, being clouded by exhaustion and shock and whatnot.

"How is your arm?" Legolas asked now. He sat next to me and Aragorn near a large fire which glowed gently in the darkening light.

"It will most likely hardly bother me by tomorrow," I said assuredly. Knowing that I healed quickly with the aid of the moonstone was reassuring, as washing my arm and cleaning the wound had not been the most exciting of situations. The blade had cut deep.

"Look at me," he said suddenly.

"Hm?" I said absentmindedly, turning towards him.

"You have only one star left," Legolas said softly.

"Wha--when did that happen?" I asked, sounding more alarmed than I would have liked.

I tried to look down but caught only a faint glow; I couldn't see that far up my collarbone.

Up until now, I had forgotten that when the Valar blessed me with the gifts to be able to proceed with this quest, including rearranging the time difference between here and my own world, I had acquired three shining silver stars, just below my collarbone. Though I was not sure of any specific timeframe that they represented, I had figured out that in some way, they represented my time in Middle-earth. And now the second had faded.

I tried to ignore the pang of worry that clawed at my gut and instead brushed it off.

"No matter," I shrugged. "I do not think that it indicates anything as of now."

"Do you not?" Legolas replied, so quietly I might have imagined it.

His dark eyes stared at the fire unblinkingly.

Faewyn, who had until now been conversing amicably with one of the other elves, turned to me.

"Gia...are they truly gone?"

"Yes," I said with absolute certainty. "The Valar themselves conveyed to me that indeed, the Remnants would be ended by this sword. No more does any fragment of Sauron's dark soul inhabit this earth."

"Your name will be sung in our ballads and songs, Gianna," commented a dark-haired elf from the other side of the fire. "What you have done is no easy feat."

"I am honoured, but can assure you I would not have been able to do it without the help of the elves," I replied. Every word of that was true.

Faewyn moved nearer to me, her grey eyes flickering with the light of the fire.

"So fate marches on," she said softly. "Sleep, Gianna, you need it."

I nodded and moved off to the side, where I curled up on a cloak, which barely softened the ground.

Though earlier I had been too tired to conceive any form of movement, as my weary limbs recovered, my mind was not yet ready for rest. Over and over again, it replayed the events of not only the day, but of the weeks past.

The single shot in Falcon's back that revealed his nature. The gruesome faces of the Remnants as they ignored fatal wounds. The dark enveloping me, from the dark mountains to the deep recesses of the earth in the slime-filled tunnels. I fell asleep at long last to images of death and terror.

***********

As dawn's tender rays seemingly caressed the stony slopes for the first time, I woke up with a disgusting feeling in my stomach, as if a large slug lay curled in me.

I rolled over, still trying not to think of precisely what a dead body sounded like when it hit the ground or how the sickening crunch of human bones was the same whether or not you were possessed by evil spirits.

"Legolas," I said pitifully, my voice weak in the light of the dawn. "Did--"

He turned from his position as guard near the edge of the group I lay near and knelt next to me.

"Yes," he replied, without bothering to let me finish. "I was fourteen, and I shot two soldiers dead during a skirmish in the forest. They were men--evil, it is true, but one does not soon forget their screams."

"I am older than that and still not better at dealing with this than a child," I said, almost bitterly. "I killed--"

"No," Legolas said gently. "Do not dwell on it. At any rate, the Remnants would not ever be saved. They gave away their life the minute they sought refuge with the last fragments of Sauron's malice."

I considered this.

"Death... never loses its potency," Legolas finished simply. "It is always with a weary heart that those accustomed to death live."

I sat up.

"Thank you," I whispered.

The prince smiled and then reached for my hand, squeezing my fingers gently.

"Legolas," I said, with sudden shock as I felt his touch. He turned, a question written on his face.

"You are not wearing the sunstone," I said, hardly daring to believe it.

"So I am not," he acknowledged, with similar surprise. Suddenly, he laughed lightly, a lilting sound I had not heard in too long. In spite of myself, I almost giggled. "What?"

"He called as witness those spirits within himself, the darkness harboured there. His pride convinced him he would never die and thus the curse would always stand. But Falcon's pride neglected to see that if he and the other Remnants were ended, so was the curse."

I smiled, the enormity of everything settling on me like a comfortable blanket.

The Remnants were ended, Falcon would never harass me again, and Legolas-- there was nothing between us now.

Well, of course there was. By now it was impossible not to admit that there "was something between us", but not anything actually between us.

Grinning like a lunatic, I said nothing.

"The dawn brings new light to wash over the hurts of the world," Legolas said.

I was at peace--

No, I am not, I realised. The feeling I had tried to ignore since last night came gnawing back with a vengeance.

One star left. My purpose fulfilled.

How long did I have?