The birds fled, the winds howled. It seemed as if time slowed down its peace as the awful odor of death filled the air.
Soulless vessels lay on the ground, they were silent, unmoving. And they all looked the same, the ones in armor and without, young and old. Men, Elves and Dwarfs. Nothing made any difference anymore.
The Elven King shook his head to dismiss the memories. Memories of past battles, and lost loved ones.
What was left for him?
A Voice. A voice float to his ears as he looked around.
"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! You have to wake up!"
A little child dressed in white. A little girl kneeling before the body of a man. Her father.
Leaves crunched under the child boots as she tried to wake her father up. In vain.
"Daddy get up! We have to go home!"
The child was so focused on what she was doing that she didn't realized the tall figure that approached.
A deep voice were heard.
"Child?"
The young girl turned around and watched the tall figure through wide, woeful, hazel eyes.
"Who are you?!" asked a scared little girl.
Thranduil just looked at her, for the first time unsure what to say.
"…my father, he...he needs help! We have to go home!" said a girl wiping a hand over her delicate face, ignoring the burning of her eyes as fresh tears traced the shape of her cheek, sliding down her jaw and dripping from her chin.
The king standing before her, took a deep breath.
"He won't be able to take care of you anymore."
His words stroke the little girl like a lightning. She looked back to her father's body. More tears came down.
She turned to her kneeling position holding her father's cold hand.
Between sobs she managed to ask, more to herself than to anyone else.
"What I will do now?"
Her question was answered by a deep voice once again.
"Come with me child.