Lord of the Rings Fanfic- The Tale of Evelyn

Author's Note

      Dear readers, I am officially ending this book. Ha! Just kidding! I just wanted a laugh out of this, so I apologize if any of you took this seriously. Anyways, I just wanted to take a moment and thank you all for all of your support. You have all been there for me even in my worst times and my writer's block and all of you have inspired me to continue on. At first, I started off thinking that I wasn't going to go that far, but all of you have made this books shoot up from zero to 7.9 K! I am truly thankful for all of you who have cherished this book and I want to continue to give you the best I can write for you all. Thank you once more, and although I titled this as Author's update, I was actually kidding once more. To thank all of you, I have also given you a chapter- the one that you all have been waiting for- The Battle of Helm's Deep. Now, let's see how our girl, Evelyn, handles the ten thousand Orcs.(Cracks knuckles and puts hands on keyboard). Let's do this thing....

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     "War was the greed that came from the hearts of men; it was the weakness that devoured our hearts and rebirthed us as demons to kill the ones we once called family."

      My father was the one who had said this to me. It was to remind me that there was no hope in war, and that war was not some game of minds with the battle being won by the most cunning or the most devious. In the end, war was won by the most desperate, the ones who had nothing to lose. It had happened time and again. History was built upon this idea; revolutions were made with this principle, and people had lived with this burden to the end of their lives. Yet, while seeing the men in the armory, I knew at once that my father was wrong. 

    War did not spring from greed. It was kindled by greed, yes, but the true cornerstone of it was the same desperation that ended it. War was a circle- dying and rebirthing, yet it would never truly be gone from this world. When seeing all the desperate, all the hopeless faces drained of the fight to survive, I felt my heart sink into my stomach. 

    These were no warriors. They did not know of the fight and the bloodshed that would make the streets run red with the odious substance. As if reading my thoughts, Aragorn paced around, his eyebrow furled in tightly with agitation. "Farmers, farriers, stableboys," Aragorn spoke quietly, "these are no soldiers." 

     "Most have seen too many winters," Gimli said gruffly, eying the room apprehensively. 

     "Or too few," I heard Legolas speak, a strange tinge darkening his usual light voice. I whipped around, my eyes widened in shock. "Look at them," Legolas continued, his eyes hollow with hopelessness, "they're frightened, I can see it in their eyes."

      The clamor in the room suddenly died to a whisper as the people turned towards our direction. Unable to meet their eyes, I stared down at my feet. "Boe a hyn, Neled helain- dans caer menig?" Legolas spoke in Elvish, his eyes flashing with grief. I clenched my fist, apprehension dawning upon my mind once more. 

      He was right. We were outnumbered- three hundred against ten thousand, but now was not the time to become desperate. I sent up a silent thanks to the Valar for giving Legolas the sense to talk in Elvish, but I could observe, the same, that the people knew what they were talking about. 

      "Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras," Aragorn replied, a little too optimistically for his own good. (They have a better chance defending themselves here than in Edoras.)