Author's Note: Hello there :) I wrote this one for my sister, who's just going through difficult times and since she's obsessed with Thranduil (just like myself) I decided to cheer her up by pulling her into the BOTFA ehehe

Hope you'll love it as much as she (and I) did ^^

The Beauty and the Bulldozer

She ran as fast as she could, although running fast was hardly an option due to all this pushing and shoving. It wasn't more than fidgeting impatiently with very few elements of locomotion. The ones in the front of the fleeing people, they might be running - she couldn't tell from here - but she was forced to set tiny hasty footsteps, constantly bumping against others, since every single one of the non-fighters, mainly women and children, was atwitter. The screeching and grunting of the orcs, who were just invading the city, didn't make it easier.

They'd all thought that the battle between dwarves and elves would take place outside of Dale exclusively, which was why Sandra and many others had assembled at the town walls to watch the butchery and lay bets on it, but then the orcs had appeared, hundreds, maybe even thousands of them - Sandra hadn't taken a closer look - and suddenly everyone had panicked and given in to their flight instinct.

She'd just followed them, let herself get carried away, though now that, thanks to this jam of people, she had a moment to ponder over it all, she realised that she would much rather take part in the combat and, in doing so, shut this shrieking orcs up. Oh, how glorious she would look at that! She, a woman, opposes the enemy, strikes down one dark creature after another. The people of Laketown would celebrate her, the orc-slaughterer, the warrior, the defender of Dale, the heroine of Middle-

The dull bang drowned in all those battle sounds around them, but the pain in her shin she had just knocked against a boulder in the middle of the street pounded up to her head, which she barely noticed though, since she was fully concentrated on the picture in front of her mind's eye, showing the moment this awkward mishap happened to her. It must have looked so weird. The others simply avoided this big, conspicuous thing and, of course, she had to let her wishful thinking absorb her and crash into the first obstacle in the way.

Sandra, rubbing her shin and therefore limping, was about laugh out loud because of this whole situation, but there an old man thrusting past jostled her. She stumbled to the side, desperately trying to keep her balance, which definitely wasn't her supreme discipline, and before she knew what was happening, she uttered a high-pitched curse and fell. Deeper than thought.

She skidded down the steep wall, landed on a housetop, which she just rolled over and fell again, fortunately directly into a pile of snow that made the impact a bit more pleasant, not much but still.

Sandra rubbed her sore hip, tried to sit up with an agonised expression on her face. In thoughts she hurled coarse insults at the man, who'd pushed her and at the other former Laketown-people as well, since none of them had seemed to care. Well all right, they were busy to bring their children into safety, but was that actually a good reason to be so damn antiso-

She froze, the voice in her head hushed.

In front of her douzens of orcs stormed through the streets. Sandra knew that she was more than visable, especially since she, in her dark clothes, sat on this white pile, and though she hoped that of she didn't move, these creatures would just run past her. However, today was clearly not her lucky day.

One of the orcs stopped dead in his tracks, blocking the way to the one behind him as well, and turned towards her. He grimaced, which apparently indicated a grin, and together with his chum approached her.

Panic seized Sandra. Quickly she got up, scanning her environment. There must be some weapon lying around, a sword or... a stone. She was longing for this boulder she knocked against earlier.

The orcs licked over the dark bulges they called lips, showed off their sharp teeth, before suddenly raised their shortswords and darted at her with a gurgling grunt. Sandra threw herself to the side to dodge their strokes, tried to get up again instantly, but one of the monsters caught her ankle, gave it a tug, while she kicked out in the atempt to shove it away. Her throat narrowed on its own, betrayed her, so that she couldn't breathe out of fear, let alone call for help.

Shock spread over her face, as she looked up into the dirty visages of these animals that obviously got ready to end their game with her now and pierce their weapons through her, but there he got pierced, the orc that held her ankle. He let out a rasping sound and before he could even look down at the long shimmering blade that gored him, it already got drawn out and seperated the head of the other, who just wanted to spin around in astonishmenf, from his shoulders.

"Stand up and run.", the elf said in a harsh tone. He didn't even offer his hand to her, turned to the next shrieking orcs in the street.

Sandra didn't follow his instructions, simply stared at him with her mouth agape, at the Elvenking. She'd never really seen him before, only from Dale's town walls at the entrance to Erebor as a small bright spot on an elk, and to do that now left her speechless. Thranduil was - and she'd never used this word for a man before and actually never planned to do that - gorgeous. How he moved lightning-fast in his shiny armour, swiftly swinging his sword, as if it was an extension of his arm, took her breath away. He was tall and svelte, his eyes were of a wonderful pale blue, seemed to register every motion around him in a split second, and his hair... By all gods that were worshipped in Middle-earth, his bright hair was heavenly beautiful. Sandra didn't know how to be able to resist him. If she was Queen under the Mountain, she would leave every part of the treasure he wanted to him, probably even more to win his favour.

Suddenly something interrupted her thoughts. An orc walked past her soft-footed, directly towards the Elvenking, who, however, was just busy with about half a douzen other little monsters.

She began to seethe with rage. No, those disgusting creatures must not harm her Thranduil, she wouldn't let that happen. In the blink of an eye she bobbed up and rushed up to this orc, stretching her right arm out to the side, and lunged at him, so that her upper arm rammed his throat and together they went to the ground. Screaming she swung at his face, until he was silenced finally.

Bent over him panting, she noticed that the hissing sound Thranduil's sword had made before wasn't there anymore and she looked up. The Elvenking gazed her with slightly widened eyes. He must have witnessed it all, her entire outburst of brutality, and since she didn't know how to behave now, Sandra just looked away and stood up.

"What an odd human being you are...", he said in a much more unimpressed tone than she'd prefer. "You ought to go back to the rest of your kin." With these words he turned around and marched towards where orc screeching was coming from.

Sandra gazed after him, trying to suppress a grin, and she also made it, but only because her from his angelic appearance distracted mind eventually processed what he'd said. The rest of her kin... Surely, the others were already hiding in the civic hall, or were at least somewhere around it. And Sandra could only think of one way to get up there.

Sniffing her chance, she let a smile spread over her face.

The only way that came to her mind was to find where Thranduil had just disappeared to, which meant that she wasn't only about to see the beautiful Elvenking again, but also that she would fight against orcs, just like she'd wished for earlier.

Sandra cheerfully bit her bottom lip, quickly took an axe from a dead orc and ran off.

Her crush hadn't gone very far. Already when she turned around the next corner, she saw him fighting amidst douzens of orcs, which let a tingling sensation rise within her. Though, this time she didn't let it turn her head too much, lifted the axe up to her shoulder and threw herself into the fray. Aimlessly, she swung her weapon around, hitting some dark creatures with its blade, or its handle, or even with her fist she took from the axe every now and then to punch these freak's faces.

"Did I not tell you to return to your people?", she heard him shout over the loud sounds of combat.

"This here's on the way. Besides..." Grunting, Sandra rammed her axe into the chest of an opponent. "... I can... well... help you with this. Not that you need any help, but still, you know what I mean!"

Thranduil didn't reply to that, didn't even look at her, just slew one creature of evil, which looked even uglier than usual next to him, after another in graceful, yet lightning-quick movements, as if it was the most natural thing to do. Sandra had to force herself to stop drooling over him, so that she wouldn't get killed meanwhile, but she couldn't resist to shoot some glances at him.

It was simply unbelievable. His hair defied everything she knew about hair, stayed in place, as if it was an independent being that decided to totally ignore the fact that its owner moved incredibly fast during combat. Furthermore, it looked so incredibly soft that Sandra would love to run her fingers through it, play with it and just hug it. Oh, it certainly smelled great too! Sandra would bet her life that it scented better than any perfume that had ever been used in Laketown.

A strong urge overcame her suddenly, an urge she couldn't simply put away.

She had to take a smell at that divine hair. Now.

While fighting, she slowly approached the Elvenking. Only a few steps, then she would have made it. Shortly, she would be standing right behind Thranduil. Only one more metre, only half a metre...

Wielding his sword, he executed a quick turn, the divine hair slapped her face, at which Sandra inhaled forcefully, and, by the glorious fragrance brought into some kind of trance, she stumbled back, directly into the arms of a confused orc she blissfully smiled at, before he got decaptivated and both fell to the ground.

Rapidly, Thranduil pulled her back to her feet, whereat she sighed full of desire: "Your hair smells like heaven...", which was why he darted one short look at her and then contined fighting. Sandra didn't know if this was because he wanted to concentrate on the battle, or because he got such compliments a lot and was already used to ignore them.

After a moment that felt like an eternity to her, she gained control over herself and chopped those ugly creatures down again.

Finally all orcs on that square were killed and Thranduil already dashed off. Sandra shortly wondered where he got all this energy from, but then noticed that it came natural to her too to run after him. The adrenalin in her veins impelled her, just as the sight of this adonis of an elf right in front of her.

They reached an alley, which, further ahead, met with another on its right hand side, where an orc just came around the corner. At the very moment he turned at them, about to grunt, the Elvenking was already near him and ran his sword into his guts, wherefore he was distracted for a second, in which Sandra spotted orc archers on the housetops of the crossraod.

"Watch out!", she shouted and jostled him behind the shielding wall of the alley at full power of her arms, hiding herself behind the one on the other side of the crossing in doing so, though already at the contact she felt that something was wrong and startled then as she saw how Thranduil flew several metres forward.

Although he landed in an elegant roll, he glared at her from distance, while she put her hands to her cheeks. "I DIDN'T KNOW ELVES WERE SO LIGHT! I AM SORRY! OH MY... HOLY..." There she exploded with laughter, which seemed to resound through the entire city. Not until Thranduil had rushed over to her - the arrows coming from the flanking street missed him completely due to his high speed - she managed to calm down, especially because she could barely bear his piercing gaze.

"We have to find another way.", he said, his bright eyes looking up.

"Why don't you just kill those up there on the roofs, while I finish those on the street?"

He shook his head. "I cannot get up there from this side." He turned to go, but Sandra hold him back, gaining another piercing look from him. However, she ignored it, her thoughts entirely devoting to the idea that had just crossed her mind.

"Yes, you will get up there..."

Before Thranduil could ask what she meant, she wrapped her arms around his legs and hurled him upwards with all her might. When she perceived shrieking of orcs and the already familiar hissing of his sword immediatley afterwards, she stepped forward to the crossing, faced the creatures in the street. When they noticed her, she had already dashed off screaming and crashed into the first row, but that wasn't it. She kept her strong legs moving, pushed the orcs back with clenched teeth and when she reached the end of the street, she smashed the nose of the one in front of her, just to swing her axe around and let it smash into the head of another with such a force that he again rammed another and thereby knocked this one out as well. Since she was having difficulties drawing the weapon out of his skull, she stemmed her foot against his shoulder and tugged at it so hard that, when the blade of the axe slid out eventually, she killed the orc behind her thanks to the momentum.

Flailing around, she slew another opponent and another and another and when she stopped countries after 13, she suddenly heard this hissing sound coming from above and turned around swiftly, whereby she was just able to witness the Elvenking jump off the roof and, in falling, beheading the last orc in the street with a smooth move of his wrist.

Panting she stood there, smiling at Thranduil, while he took a look around. "Your people have gathered up there." He held his sword up, so that it pointed at the street to his left, leading uphill.

Sandra looked past him, remembering the way. "Ah, yes, the civic hall..."

"You should return to them now.", he said with an evenly voice like always.

There Sandra's enthusiasm vanished together with her smile. She nodded, hiding her cheerlessness behind a stony expression, looked to the ground, where she eyed all those orcs who have died to her hands. She didn't want to give this up, the glorious fight against evil, slaughtering one dark creature after another, and this alongside the probably most beautiful man in Middle-earth. But she knew she had to do it. Her family was certainly searching for her.

"It is more than apparent that you had no combat experience beforehand."

'Excuse you...', Sandra thought raising her brows. Although he was absolutely right, she felt deeply insulted. After all, she hadn't been distinguishable from other human warriors, in her opinion, but if lord-elf thought so...

"However..." He finally turned to her. "... you proved yourself brave and truly able for the battle."

Again a smile spread over Sandra's lips. Thranduil walked over to her. Being so close to him caused a storm of joy within her, which urged her to give him a squeeze and never let him go. But she didn't. Instead she just said: "Thank you, but you really dished out too. Oh, and I apologise once more for jostling you." At the memory she had to giggle quietly. When she looked up into his face, she noticed some dark splatters of orc blood on it. One small black stain caught her attention in particular and she quickly lifted her hand to remove it, but as she pulled back again, it had become a long line and yet again shock seized her features. "I SMUDGED IT. I MADE IT WORSE. I AM SO SORRY!"

With a quick movement of his hand he fended off another attempt of hers to wipe it off. "You ought to go now." He slightly bowed his head, almost making Sandra melt, as he said in a soft tone: "Novaer." and marched off into the other direction.

"What does that mean?", she called after him.

Without turning around, Thranduil answered: "Farewell."

Sandra gazed after him. Her fingers tingled, the urge to do something special was nearly unbearable and so she just gave in. "Please wait!" The Elvenking stopped and halfway turned around. Walking towards him, she said: "I am sorry, but I have to follow an old human custom for a farewell like this."

When she reached him, she raised herself on tiptoes, took his face into her hands and pulled it over to hers, so that she could press her lips onto his. Under the touch she felt him freeze, while within her thousands of butterflies were flying around, creating this wonderful tingling sensation in her tummy. The whole thing only took one second, after which Sandra backed off instantly, not even trying to hide her grin.

While she was backwards climbing over the dead orcs on the ground, she revelled in Thranduil's shocked expression. After half an eternity he repeated what he had told her earlier: "What an odd human being you are..."

"But one you just have to like!" With these words she spun around and toe-tappinh strutted up to the civic hall, where she would protect her people now that she knew how to do that, dispatching every orc that dared to come too close. The people of Laketown would celebrate her, the orc-slaughterer, the warrior, the defender of Dale, the flame of the Elvenking... Even though the latter wasn't quite true, every good story deserved to be embellished. Besides... what isn't yet may well still be, or not?