Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the surroundings. I am not intending to make profit out of this story, only to entertain.

Warning: this is movie verse, though I indeed have read the books many times. At the end of the movie The Return of the King, at the battle of the black Gates, there was a scene that wouldn't let me go, and I alternate it a little, so this would be what you would call AU. Reviews are very much appreciated.

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White knives flashed; as they cut through flesh easily, black blood flying as the foul creatures screeched. The tall blond Elf was surrounded by Orcs and Uruk-Hai, though they had not hurt the fair being yet. He fought fiercefully, fire in the blue eyes, a murderous intent visible in the orbs.

This was about survival, about attracting the attention of Sauron, so Frodo may have a save passage to Mount Doom. If the small Hobbit failed, they all would. This army was too great, they were with little, too little to slay them all. Legolas felt the eye fixed upon the fight, urging the foul creatures on as they surrounded the band of warriors. Mayhapse two hundred Men, two Hobbits, a Dwarf, an Istari and an Elf against the rest. They had seen better odds. Even Helms Deep had been more promising. It did nothing to deter the determination of the warriors though; they fought, slayed and carried on.

Only a small distance away fought his friend Aragorn, Ranger of the North, heir to the thrown of Gondor, and now a true King as he led his people in this fight. Andúril was held tightly, as it was wielded with strength, oft it felled more then one enemy. Legolas had little time to observe his friend's fighting skills as he could not afford any distraction from his own battle. His fairness, his origin, an Elf, attracted many, hatred went deep within the dark creatures, for once they had been Elf as well, the fairness of the Prince of Mirkwood only reminding them of what they once were.

Of course, Legolas would glance to his friends oft, needed to know how well they were fairing. Gimli the Dwarf had little difficulties with the creatures, his axe wildly swinging about, as his low voice rumbled through the field, counting the enemies he had slain. In dwarfish he would curse the black beings, when he missed one. Merry and Pippin stayed close to Éomer, lord of Rohan, a true warrior. The large man defended the little ones as best as he could, though the Hobbits were not totally defenceless, they wielded their little swords with skill.

Movement caught the Elf's attention, seeing a large cave Troll stamping towards Aragorn, and though his friend was trying, it would not be a fair fight. His eyes widened, immediately running forward, trying to reach his friend in time.

"Aragorn!"

He was too slow, Orcs prevented him from reaching his friend, and in despair he cut down all in his path, wanting to reach the disaster he was currently observing. None of the other warriors knew what was happening; they had enough to deal with on their own.

"No!"

Aragorn was down, on the ground, the Troll planting his feet on the man's chest, preventing the Ranger from getting up. The man was defenceless, he would die. The Troll raised its massive arm, the hand clutching a large mean looking club, sharp nails embedded into the wood. In one massive blow the King of Gondor would be no longer there. To Legolas it all happened in slow motion, as he tried his best to reach his friend, pushing aside Men and Beast, injuring only himself in his desperate attempt. He had known Aragorn too long; he would not loose his friend now, not in this war, nor in any other. His friend would die of old age, surrounded by those who loved and cared for him, he personally would see to that.

The slender Elf crouched down, a frown marring the ageless face as the distance between him and his destination was counted. In a blur of green and blond the fair Prince leaped in a catlike jump, the light body seeming to fly as it crossed the distance and collided with the Troll just as the club was about to land solidly upon the prone body of Aragorn. The weight of the Elf would not be enough to knock the large beast over, though the speed in which the Elf collided with the Troll was enough to make it stumble, enough to release Aragorn so he could roll away from the wooden club.

Unfortunately it was also enough for Legolas to be slightly disoriented when his face was buried in the thick flesh of the Cave Troll. The enormous beast growled annoyed, releasing a wail as thick fingers plucked the body away from him. It didn't even spared Legolas a glance, as it simply threw the Elf, much like it would do with a stone. The strange sensation of flying overcame the Great Archer, his heart hammering in his chest when he realised he was thrown into the raging battle, not knowing where he would land. Painful it would be that much he did know. And it was, when he finally collided with an Uruk-Hai, knocking it over along with some of the beast's comrades. Legolas could hear a loud crack, when he finally landed upon the rocky ground, pain invading his frail body. The last thing he was conscious off, were five large Uruk-Hai's looming over him, and above the noise of blades colliding, cries of dying beings and the growls of the beast, there was Aragorn's voice, calling for him in the distance...Then there was blackness.