A Wind Storm

"When his wife was at his side, she was also in front of him, marking out the horizon of his life. Now the horizon is empty: the view has changed."

― Milan Kundera, Encounter

*SA 3441*

"Thranduil!" Alagos shouted as she walked into the tent. She wore fine armor that consisted of silver chainmail, a robe of thick cloth, and a silver breast plate that gleamed in the glow of the tent's candles. Her sword was sheathed, and blood could be glimpsed in the grooves of the hilt.

The prince waved his advisors off and rose to meet her. He pulled her into his arms and held her for a second, relieved to see that she was alive. The advisors averted their gaze in an effort to give them privacy. They finally broke apart, "Where were you?"

"I was fighting off a band of orcs near the western side of the battle. They had trapped a group of elves and were slaughtering them. I could not let more Elfish blood be spilled," Alagos explained, "I come bearing bad news as well. Elrond told me that Isildur took the ring as his own."

"Mankind's greed knows no bounds," Thranduil murmured.

"It is a wonder that their race has not been wiped out," She muttered, "How many dead? Wounded?"

"One-third of the army is all that remains. Of that one-third, only a quarter are uninjured," Thranduil's voice was grave, "We have lost too much in this war."

"We would have lost more if we had not fought," Alagos sighed. She rolled her shoulders back, "A hundred orcs have holed themselves up in Mount Gundabad. I'd like to take small squad of elves and flush them out."

"Leave us!" Thranduil snapped at his advisors. They scurried from the room, "Are you mad? Have you not risked death enough in these last few years?"

"I will risk death a hundred times more if it means that my people are safe!" Alagos shouted.

"What of our son? How will he feel knowing that you died? He has not seen you for more than a few weeks at a time, Alagos. I would like to lengthen that time to years," Thranduil growled.

"I will not die," She ran a hand through her wavy, blonde hair, "It will be a simple mission. Twenty elves should do the job. And I would like Legolas to grow up in a world where he does not have to watch for orcs from that accursed stronghold."

Thranduil stared at her for a few moments, "I cannot stop you?"

Alagos smiled softly, "Our people need to stay safe."

"Take twenty five elves with you. Fall back if things become difficult," Alagos beamed and pecked Thranduil on the mouth, "Come back to me."

"I will always come back to you," She whispered. She evaded Thranduil's reach before leaving the tent.

First Person

"My lady, there are too many of them!" I cleaved an orc's head from its body. I turned towards my second, Maenor. The red headed warrior made his way to my side, blood flowing freely from his head.

I growled in annoyance. The orcs had holed themselves in their strongholds while waiting for reinforcements to arrive from the tunnels under the mountain. They had been waiting for someone to flush them out. Of the twenty five I had brought with me, five were dead.

"Give the order to retreat," I finally decided. Maenor pulled a horn from his belt and blew into it. The sound echoed through the fortress. My elves immediately began to fight their way back to the entrance. I ducked under a mace aimed for my head,

I jumped over an orc and stabbed it through the top of its head. I leaped from orc to orc as I made my way to the entrance. I always made sure that I was the last of my elves. I would not allow any elf that still breathed to be left behind.

The squad broke through the last line of defense and stumbled into the night air. Their horses and my brown stag were waiting beyond the rocks. The elves had almost made it when a cry of pain split the night air.

One of the elves thought to be dead was fighting their way out of Gundabad. The she-elf, Meluines, was desperately trying to fight off the orcs. I swore and pulled my dagger from my belt. I turned to the elves behind me.

"Go!" I ordered, "I will get her. Start riding back to camp."

"My lady, let us help," I cut Maenor off with a jerk of my head.

"I am ordering you to leave. I will clean up this mess," I straightened up and tried to appear commanding, "Now go! Ride like the wind!"

The elves reluctantly rode off. I leaped into the fight with deadly force. My sword cut down orcs with precision and strength. Meluines fought back with renewed strength as she saw her leader. I cut a path through the orcs and guided the injured elf along it.

A roar ripped through the air as a troll made its way out of the stronghold. I gave Meluines a look of despair, "Make your way to your horse. I will hold them off while you leave."

"I cannot-" She began to argue.

"You will," I shot her a fierce glare, "If I am not at the camp by sunset tomorrow, then I am dead. Tell Thranduil that I am sorry. That I love him and our son."

I pushed Meluines away from the fighting and whirled into the sea of orcs before Meluines could argue. My blades made quick work of the orcs even as the orcs' forces increased in size. By now, Meluines would have gotten away on her horse.

I continued fighting. Making my way out of the orcs was impossible. They had surrounded me on all sides. I wept even as I plunged a dagger into an orc heart. I was going to die here, and Thranduil would be alone. My son would be alone. Fear coursed through me at the thought. Thranduil was always cold, but I brought out the warmth in him. Thranduil would most likely cut himself off from everyone. Legolas would not have a mother or father.

What had I done? I screamed as my arm was broken. My sword fell from my hand, followed by the dagger as my wrist was cracked. Blades cut my arms, my chest, my legs. My ribs had been broken by a hammer. Before I could feel any more pain, someone hit me on the back of my head.

Forgive me…

*TA 2539*

"Wake up, toy!" My jailer, an orc by the name of Globum, smacked the bars of my cell. I was already awake, but said nothing.

"We're taking you with us," He hissed. He tossed a tunic and a pair of leggings through the bars.

I shuddered under his gaze. For the last two thousand years, I had been kept as a play thing of the orcs. They tortured me when they were bored, stopping short of taking limbs. Lately though, their thoughts had become more dark and twisted. My clothing was nothing more than a few shreds held together by pieces of thread. Bandages wrapped around my torso from their latest work.

Globum was the orc who watched over me when they tortured me. It was he who made sure that I would not lose a limb, be blinded, or go deaf. He was also in charge of feeding me and allowing me to bathe every few weeks. Food was often withheld for no reason at all. Because of this, I was painfully thin.

I quickly pulled on the oversized tunic. Even with my height, I was forced to roll the cuffs of the pants up to prevent them from dragging. I barely managed to evade being smacked in the face with a pair of shoes. It seemed like the orcs were being nice today.

"Move," Globum growled. Years of being around their language had made me fluent in it. Globum took pleasure in taunting me in English before switching to his native language without warning.

"Where are we going?" I dared to ask.

"Mount Gundabad," He hissed and punched me hard enough to throw me to the floor, "Perhaps we will drop you off at your husband's on the way."

I pushed away the small glimmer of hope that dared to appear at his words. No one was coming for me, no ever would. To the world, I was dead. Thinking of Thranduil or Legolas only brought despair and suffering.

Goblum grew tired of my limping and threw me over his shoulder. He chuckled at my shriek before heading into the tunnels. After two thousand years, I still did not know where they kept me. My jail cell was the only thing I knew. It was a foul thing too: dirt walls, straw for a bed, and a bucket for me to relieve myself in.

They walked for what seemed like hours before he threw me to the floor. I looked up to meet the eyes of a large orc, Bolr. He sneered at me and snapped a manacle around my wrist. It was attached to a chain around his belt. I quickly understood what was going on.

I was his now.

"Get on the Warg," He growled. I stumbled over to the warg, who snapped at me. It slowly lowered itself to the ground, allowing me to slide on. Bolr sat in the front, and I dared not touch him, "Move out!"

His warg began to move at a frightening pace. I grasped at its fur before finally latching onto his belt. For the first time, I noticed the line of orcs, wargs, and carts around me. The warg leaped over a rock, causing me to nearly fall off.

"If you fall off, you die," He snarled. I nodded and clutched his belt tighter, fear spreading through my veins and turning them to ice.

They made camp as the sun was beginning to set. Bolr chained me to his beast. I picked at the manacle, only to stop as the warg growled at me. It could easily fall off my wrist if it weren't for my thumb. My thumb was too large, even with all the weight I had lost.

Eventually, Bolr came back and moved me to a camp fire. The orcs gathered took turns poking me with burning sticks, and laughing at my occasional yelps. They only stopped when I fainted from the pain. O woke up as a bucket of icy water was dumped on me. It had been chilled by the chunks of ice in the river next to them. Winter was finally ending. I turned my head from the meat they were waving at me. Even after all these years, I refused to consume meat.

Bolr had finally fallen asleep around midnight. He was laying close to the fire, his warg a few paces away. It too was sound asleep. In fact, all the orcs in the camp, save for a few, were asleep. If I managed to slip the manacle off, escaping would be easy. I pulled at the manacle, but all it did was leave long scratches in my flesh. There was no way around it.

I would have to break my thumb.

I stuffed the hem of my tunic into my mouth. I gripped my thumb with my other hand and pulled it back. As hard as I tried, I could not break it. Then again, I was hesitating, so some force was being lost.

With that thought in mind, I yanked my thumb back as fast as possible. It broke with a resounding crack, causing me to scream through the makeshift gag. Pushing through the pain, I arranged the bone so that the manacle could be slipped off.

I was free.

I slipped past the sentries and ran into the forest. I only made it a few hundred feet before collapsing in exhaustion. I didn't have the strength. A soft whicker caused me to jerk my head up. An Elvish horse pranced before me. It was missing a saddle but the possibilities…

"Hello, little one. Will you help me?" I asked in Sandarin. The horse slowly walked towards me. I carefully stood and allowed him to smell my palm. The horse tossed its head, but allowed me to stroke his mane. I wrapped its mane in my hands and hauled myself onto the horse. It danced to the side before calming down.

Firmly seated, I tapped its side, "Fly, my savior."

As if the horse could understand me, it raced away in the opposite direction of the camp.

Pain. So much pain.

Something trickling down my throat, burning my cold body.

A hand wiped my face with a cool rag.

I struggled to open my eyes, but they were sealed shut.

At one point I managed to gasp out a request to keep my existence a secret, even from the elves. They erupted into argument, but agreed to it. I barely got out a thanks before I fell unconscious again.

BREAK

"Are you sure you wish to go?" Aspen smiled at me. He was a human, and had found me on the edge of the forest near his home. He had brought me to his home and wife, a healer.

"Aspen is right," Edythe stuffed more salves and bandages into my pack, "You're not fully healed. There are still scratches and lash marks on your back. They could become infected."

I grimaced at that statement. Even after a year of recovery, my wounds still ached. They were taking an awfully long time to heal. All the same, I couldn't stay here any longer. They were in danger with me around. Plus, I was taking their food and healing supplies in exchange for helping out around their house. The work I was doing could not repay them.

"I must. I need to keep moving before anyone sees me," Both Aspen and Edythe knew that the orcs were looking for me. They did not know why though.

"Alright, but if you're ever in town, stop by for a visit," She begged. She and Aspen hugged me before ushering me out the door.

*TA 2941*

"Keep off that foot for the next few days and you should be fine," I smiled at the boy before me. Their parents thanked me and pressed a coin into my hand. The boy was scooped into the arms of his father as they left my home.

For the last forty years, I had lived in Lake-town. The taxes were a pain, but it was a nice place to be. I kept out of the way of the Mirkwood elves by disappearing whenever they came into town. Every once in a while, they would hear rumors of an elf living in the town, but they could not find me.

Primarily, I was a healer. I used a variety of techniques in my healing. Those that dared to go to an elf for help healed faster than the people who had gone to a human healer. On the side, I advised people about their finances and family problems. I was popular in this town and most swore not to speak of me to the Mirkwood elves.

It hurt to stay away from Thranduil and Legolas, but it was for the best. I would bring them nothing but pain. They would feel guilty for the pain I had endured and blame themselves. Most of the pain was gone, but it would flare up every once in a while.

My back was a mass of scar tissue. It was covered in red and white lash marks that ached when my back was near a fire. Burn marks covered my body, save for the head and neck. My face was a mess too. Three claw marks slashed their way diagonally across my face, from top right to bottom left. My hair covered the marks on my scalp and neck. There were many other markings, but it was too much work to name them. There were other scars too, on my mind. I could not sleep without nightmares. Nor could I stay in small places without panicking.

"Ala! Ala!" My neighbor's son burst through the door.

"What is it, child?" I said impatiently. I had herbs to grind and salves to prepare.

"The elves are marching on the mountain!" He shouted. His eyes had an excited light to them.

"Are you sure?" I quietly asked.

"Yes, some of the elves ordered more supplies. They said they needed them to make weapons and healing supplies," He quickly explained, "Do you think I'll get to see an elf army?"

"Perhaps," I frowned, "Run along to your mother. It's almost dinner."

"Alright," The moment he was gone, I slammed my fist against the table.

If Thranduil was marching his army to the mountain, then the dwarven company owed them something. Admittedly, I was curious. At the same time, I wanted to make sure that war would not start. If it did, then they would need all the healers they could get. I was willing to get close to Thranduil in order to save lives. If I set out tonight, I could cut around the lake and arrive there before Thranduil.

I immediately set about preparing. I shoved food and water skins into my pack, along with clothing, medicines, and other necessities. I set that on the table and pulled my armor from the chest in the corner of my house.

I had the armor made a few years ago when I ran into an exiled elven black smith. They had been happy to provide me with armor, a sword, and a dagger. The silver breast plate was made of interlocking, feather shaped bits of metal. It began at my natural waist and covered my chest and shoulders. Blue plating covered the rest of my stomach and hips. A blue robe with layers made from feather shaped pieces of cloth covered my legs and went under the plating to cover my forearms as well. I wore simple black leggings underneath. Guantlets made of dark silver covered the rest of my arms. Gloves of a lighter silver covered my hands. The sword and dagger were silver with blue hilts and black vines twisting around it. A black piece of cloth covered my neck and could cover my mouth as well. A hood could be drawn over my face.

All of this was stuffed into a separate pack. I pulled on brown leggings and a white tunic. I clasped my grey cloak around my neck before grabbing both packs and heading out the door. I dropped them into my boat before grabbing the oars, throwing off the lines attaching it to the dock, and heading to the opposite shore.

Once there, I let out a piercing whistle. A few minutes later, an elvish stag pranced out of the woods. It was larger than the regular stag, a little smaller than an elvish elk. I stroked its fur before retrieving its saddle and bridle from the bottom of my boat. Once everything was situated, I pulled myself onto the stag.

"We must move quickly, Sirdal," The stag tossed its head. I whispered a command into his ear, causing him to prance to the side before moving.

"Thank you, my friend," The stag dipped its head towards me before wandering away. I left the bridle and saddle where they were. They were of no use to me now.

About three weeks ago, Lake-town had burned. The people were most likely making their way to the lonely mountain to seek compensation. It was understandable that they wanted to be read. The company had set the dragon on them. I estimated that they would be here in a few days. Thranduil's army would not be far behind either.

I carefully hauled my packs into the crumbling stonework of a watch tower on the edge of the city. After thousands of years, I was finally back in Erebor's shadow. How odd. I unrolled my bed roll once I was in the tiny watch tower. The massive, arched holes in the stone still had their shutters attached. It would be nice to have some heat in these cold winter days. With that thought, I began to work on getting a fire going.

I jerked awake at the sound of cries of relief from below. The people of Lake-town had arrived. I was already prepared, having moved my things a few days ago to an outlying tower past the edge of the town. I would not be discovered there. I gathered my bedroll and fastened my cloak before disappearing into the fog.

Throughout the day, I watched from rooftops and dark corners. Everyone seemed to be okay, but they were starving and were in desperate need of water. If they did not find water by tomorrow, I would go to them and assist them.

Night quickly fell across the land. I laughed silently as Bard ordered Alfred to keep watch. There was no way that Alfred would manage that. All the same though, it made for very lax security. I would keep watch instead. I darted across the rooftops, watching for anything that could cause harm. All was quiet though. Finally, I settled myself on a tower and waited for dawn to come.

As the sun began to brighten the sky, I caught glimpses of gold in the distance. As the gold grew closer, I realized that it was Thranduil's army. The king himself could be seen astride a massive elk. Apprehension filled me. What if he saw me and realized who I was? Would he be disgusted by my ruined appearance? Would he hate me for never going back to him?

Those thoughts were gone as I spotted the carts filled with food. The people of Lake-town would be okay! Happiness filled me as I searched for a better hiding spot. If Thranduil was still the same, then he would bring his army to the Lake-towners. I chose a house with a little balcony on it. The balcony was designed so that you could see out of it, but no one could see you.

I grinned as I heard the army march into the square. Soldiers lined the walkways while Thranduil waited just out of sight. I peeked over the side and almost laughed at the sight of Bard's dismayed face. He walked through the soldiers, who moved so that they blocked the walkway as soon as he walked past.

Thranduil rode into sight just as Bard reached the end of the walkway. My heart jumped into my throat at the sight of him. He was beautiful, and cold. From the bits of dialogue that floated up to my balcony, I began to understand how much he had changed.

He was an excellent barterer, and knew how to act so that he would get what he wanted. He wore pride and arrogance as if they were accessories, yet it was obvious he was wise. He also sounded like he did not care for anyone but his own, but I could hear the edge to his tone that suggested he did not want war.

Speaking of his own, where was Legolas? Where was my son? He was not his dead, because Thranduil was here. I listened to them more closely in the hopes that I would catch more of the conversation. Bard finally mentioned seeing Legolas and another elf leaving Lake-town after it was decimated. I breathed a sigh of relief, only to freeze as something touched my back.

"Turn around slowly, spy, or I will cut you down," The smooth tones of an elf met my ears.

"I am afraid that if I do that, I will have to hurt you," I replied as one hand slowly made its way towards my sword.

"Do as I say," I nodded, thankful that my hood was drawn over my face. I unsheathed my sword and in one swift move, knocked the sword from his hand. He shouted in alarm and anger, drawing the attention from those below. I leaped forward and slammed the hilt against his temple. The elf, a scout, judging on the armor, collapsed.

"Bring them to me!" I flinched at the sound of Thranduil's voice and fled. The sound of stomping feet could be heard as I darted across rooftops. I took care to stay in the city though. Only when their footfalls had faded did I stop and attempt to recover.

That had been close, too close.

Third POV

Thranduil was furious. Someone had dared to attack one of his scouts. He waited for the healers to revive the unconscious scout. Just seconds before, a soldier had informed him that the attacker had escaped. He had ordered off the search, but asked his army to watch for this mysterious figure.

"My king!" The healer called. Thranduil returned to her side. The scout was staring at him with wide eyes. He was young, most likely born at the beginning of the Third Age. Thranduil waved off the formalities.

"What happened?" The scout began to stammer out his story.

He had been looking for areas to post a watch when he had happened across his attacker. The grey cloaked figure had been watching them through the gaps in the wall. He had ordered her to move with the threat of his sword if they did not.

Imagine his surprise when the attacker had responded with a threat before knocking his sword out of his hands with one of their own. He had been shocked to see that his attacker was a she-elf. She had knocked him out before he could respond.

"What did she look like?" Thranduil asked. The scout gave him as much detail as possible.

The cloak had obscured much of her features. He had gotten a glimpse of white-blonde hair, startling green eyes, and pale skin. Claw marks of some sort slashed across her otherwise beautiful features. Her form was lithe, and the way she had disarmed him spoke of great skill. She was the same height as Thranduil as well.

Thranduil thanked him and left the tent. For a moment, he had allowed himself the briefest glimmer of hope. It was ruthlessly squashed.

First POV

I crept back sometime later to watch as Bard attempted to reason with Thorin. Bard eventually walked back and spoke to Thranduil. He listened for a few moments before unsheathing his sword and holding it to the side. I knew what that meant. It meant that he was prepared to go to war.

I darted back to my watch tower. If there was to be a war, then I would be in it.

The next day dawned bright and clear. I pulled my armor on with fear in my heart. Who knew what this day would bring. I shoved my sword into its sheath and tucked my bow and arrows into my armor. I pulled my hood up and the cloth to cover my mouth. No one would recognize me.

I aimed to position myself in the shadow of the mountain. There were several grooves that I could hide in and watch the argument occur.

Thranduil and Bard unveiled the Arkenstone to gasps of surprise from all. I had a perfect view of Thranduil and Bard's faces. I had hidden behind the head of one of the statues of the dwarven kings. If I stayed perfectly still, I blended in with the stone.

I heard Thorin claim that the stone was fake before the hobbit confirmed that it was in fact real. A brief scuffle ensued, which had me wondering if I needed to go up there and rescue the burglar. Thorin's roar of triumph caused me to look at the space behind Thranduil.

A massive dwarven army had gathered on the hill behind the elves. Thranduil snapped out orders, causing the soldiers to turn around in perfect formation. He certainly had a handle on his army.

Thorin's cousin, Dain, had brought a massive army to Erebor. He had every intention of releasing it on the army of human and elves. I anxiously listened to the insults that flew back and forth between the elf leader and dwarf leader.

The tense situation ground to a halt as orcs burst from the hills above. They poured out of the ground in droves, clearly outnumbering the dwarves. Dain immediately called his dwarves to battle, and they formed a blockade with their shield.

I could see Thranduil debating joining the battle even as it started. As the orcs rushed towards the dwarves, he snapped out an order to his army. His army ran towards the dwarves and leaped over the barrier to engage the orcs. The dwarves, spurred by their actions, lifted their own shields to join. Even Bard's army of men joined.

I climbed to a vantage point in order to use my arrows. When they were gone, I unsheathed my sword and ran to the fight. I looked for Thranduil's elk, easily spotting it among the chaos. I fought my way to it, staying out of eye shot of Thranduil by constantly changing position. He struck down orcs in a vicious manner without ever falling off his elk.

A scream climbed its way out of my mouth as an arrow pierced my side. Even in the noise of the battle, Thranduil heard it, his head jerking around to find me. In his distraction, an orc from the opposite side of him made to cleave him from shoulder to waist. Seeing no other way, I used the orc I was fighting as a stepping stone to propel me over Thranduil's elk.

Unfortunately, I miscalculated and was forced to use Thranduil's shoulder as a platform to propel me across his elk. It was a move we had been fond of before I was captured, and I was surprised when he did not move as I leaped across him. I plunged my dagger into the orc's head and whirled around to face him. He was staring at me in utter confusion.

"Fight, you idiot!" I snarled. It snapped him into action, and the fighting continued. We fought for hours. I was never far away from him, and I saw the allowances he began to make to allow me to move around him. Like so many years before, we had fallen into the odd dance that we did on the battlefield.

The orcs were never ending, and eventually, Thranduil gave the order to retreat. His lieutenant blew the horn around his neck. Simultaneously, all elves began to move back and fall into line with each other. I headed for the city, hearing the screams of the women and children trapped inside.

I began to take out the trolls the orcs had brought with them. They were destroying the remains of the city in their efforts to get to those inside. I was on the edge of the city when I heard the pained cry of his elk. I used the rooftops to get to him, spotting the king crouched in a small plaza. Orcs surrounded him on three sides. It was easy to tell that he was trying to regain his bearings in order to defend himself.

The orcs weren't going to allow that. They drew closer, leaving me with no choice. I dropped from the roof I was perched on and landed in front of the king with my back to home. I smirked behind the cloth covering my face.

"I'm waiting," I called.

They raced towards me. I whirled through them, cutting them down as quickly as possible. They had knocked my sword from my hand and were beginning to overwhelm me when Thranduil finally recovered. He cleaved an orc's head from his body before scooping my sword up and tossing it to me. I stared at him uncertainly.

"Fight, you idiot!" He quoted me.

I smiled and fell into the battle. We fought back to back from time to time, falling against each other even as reinforcements arrived. When the last of the orcs had been killed, he regrouped his soldiers and continued with the retreat. I moved to the rooftops and followed them as they made to leave the city.

They had turned down a road when an elf stepped in front of them. I vaguely recognized her as Tauriel, a playmate of my son. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and drew her bow string back in a weak threat.

Tauriel had barely gotten two words out before Thranduil's temper snapped. He sliced her bow in half with his sword and pressed it against his throat. The words that left him were cruel and spoke of years of pain. Tauriel's were the same, but her pain was new and desperate for the person she loved. Thranduil truly seemed to want to kill her when Legolas arrived.

My heart leaped into my throat at the sight of my son. He was so handsome. A bow was slung across his back, a daggers by his side. He resembled Thranduil well, but the way he moved was so similar to me. My stubbornness could be seen in him. Even as I watched him, tears threatened to flow from my eyes. I had missed so much. My son had grown up without knowing his mother, but he had turned out beautifully. It hurt to keep away from him, and from Thranduil.

Thranduil watched them leave before turning to his soldiers. I caught the anger and frustration in his orders. They were to rejoin the fight until the end. His eyes flitted to mine as he turned away. I jerked back at the sadness in them. I turned to the North.

Legolas and Tauriel were making their way to the North, and I'd be damned if they went alone.

I hid in the northern towers and watched as Tauriel wept for the dwarven prince, Kili. She looked up as Thranduil stepped into the open. She turned to him, her eyes filled with pain. They exchanged soft words before a cry of pain burst from her.

"If this is love, I don't want it. Take it away from me, please! Why does it hurt so much?" She begged for an answer. Thranduil's voice was filled with pain as he answered.

"Because it was real," He said in a resigned voice. I reeled back in pain. This was the pain he had gone through when he had been told that I was dead. What had I done? My heart felt as if it was tearing in two all over again.

I retreated further into the shadows as Thranduil spoke to Legolas. He told him to go north and find a man named Strider. My lips quirked into a smile, I knew of this Strider. He was a good man, the one Thranduil spoke of. Thranduil watched my son leave with pride in his eyes.

"Legolas," The elf prince turned around, "Your mother loved you more than anything, more than life itself."

The prince nodded and turned away. I slipped into the halls after Legolas left and made my way back to the city. I turned at the sound of his voice.

"Wait," I slowly turned to face Thranduil, "Who are you? Why have you been protecting me?"

I tugged my hood farther over my head, "Perhaps another time. Today is not a day for anymore sadness."

"Please, just tell me who you are?" He looked so lost and broken. I almost broke then and there, but held myself back.

"Thranduil, please," I whispered even as I stepped back into the fog that was beginning to roll across the ice. He nodded once, but I saw the determination in his eyes.

This was not over.

I joined in the laborious process of gathering dead and saving the wounded. I hauled those injured on the edges of the battle to the medical tents, but avoided elves if possible. Once the edges were clear of wounded, I assisted in removing the last of the orcs.

I stared at the home the orc was hiding in. It had just grievously wounded a dwarf in its attempt to escape. I unsheathed my sword and walked into the home. Something slammed into my side and threw me against the wall the moment I entered. I landed in a crouch and retrieved my sword.

This orc was gigantic, with more metal plating than most. I dodged its mace and managed to slice its arm. My screech ripped through the air as the metal spikes on the mace caught me in the stomach. Even with the mail, it hurt. It snarled and discarded the mace in favor of a wicked sword.

I danced to the side before darting in close enough to slice its neck. It collapsed to the ground, but not before it caught my arm where part of the gauntlet had been ripped away. I ripped a piece of fabric from my robe and bound the wound up. It would need medical attention. My vision swam as I moved, most likely from hitting the wall.

Slowly, but surely, I made my way through the city. I was near the center when I heard a cry for help underneath the rubble. I clawed through the stone and wood, unearthing an elf with a stab wound to the shoulder and a cut across his face.

He stood with help from me. Judging by his breathing, his ribs were broken. I wrapped his arm around my shoulders and supported him as I moved towards the healing tents for the elves. My hoarse shouts brought several people to me. They took the soldier from me and tried to guide me inside. I refused with the excuse that it was not my blood. As of this moment, my injuries amounted to an arrow wound, blow to the head and stomach, a cut across my arm, a shallow stab wound to my thigh, and a previously dislocated shoulder that I had already set.

I hobbled from the tents, only to run into a chest covered in fine silver robes. I stumbled back and shook off the arms that attempted to steady me. My eyes met those of the elven king, determined to catch me. Suddenly, I was thankful that I had kept my hood on.

My dagger flashed warningly at him, forcing him to withdraw his hands. I darted around him and raced into the ruined city. I was still in my armor, while he had removed his. He was not injured either, putting me at a disadvantage. Our footsteps echoed off the stone buildings as I leaped over the dead and rubble. Desperately, I began to scale a building, only to be yanked off by strong hands. I was slammed against the building, an arm pressed against my throat while his hand grabbed my injured arm. I clawed weakly at it, too tired to fight against him.

"Who are you?" He snarled. His hand knocked back my hood before yanking my mouth covering down. He reared back in surprise, "Al-Alagos?"

He stumbled away, only to look at his hand in alarm. It was stained red from my arm, the bandage having been ripped away. He peered at my arm with frantic movements before catching me as I sagged against him.

"I've got you," He murmured. I couldn't respond as I was swept into the void.

A scream clawed its way up my throat as I jerked awake. Several people came rushing into the tent and pushed me back down as I attempted to stand. They murmured nonsense as they checked my pulse, temperature, and bandages.

"Easy, old friend," I sagged in relief at the sound of her voice. Eiliambes made her way through the mass of healers.

"There! Your relief at seeing me proves that you're Alagos!" I glared at her, "Hello, Eilia."

She stared at me for a second before pulling me into a hug. I stiffened even as the healers pulled her off with sharp words. Eilia had been my friend for as long as I could remember. She was one of the best archers in Mirkwood. She had married a lord shortly before my supposed death.

"It is Alagos," A healer turned to an assistant, "We are under orders to summon Thranduil when she awakens."

The assistant bowed and hurried from the tent. The healers left soon after, although one stood outside the tent. Eilia tapped my sleeve cautiously. Her eyes were full of tears, "You're alive. The kingdom will rejoice!"

"Indeed," My voice was dry, "How long was I unconscious?"

"Three days," She answered, "We are to leave in two days."

"Oh," I was unsure of how to continue, "What happened?"

"The king took off after you when you threatened him with daggers. Minutes later, he comes staggering into the medical tent with you in his arms. You were covered in blood and so pale. The healers had to pry you from his arms. He's spent every available moment with you."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes, after your death," She shifted uncomfortably, "He was so unhappy. It's a wonder the prince turned into such a noble person. He cares very little for most people."

Eilia began to say more, but was interrupted by the tent flaps opening. Thranduil entered the tent, looking unsure. My friend bowed and skirted around him in order to leave. As if he was approaching a wounded animal, he walked slowly. Then again, I was a wounded animal.

He cautiously sat in the chair Eilia had been sitting in. His eyes traced the scars on my face before flickering up to my eyes. He turned his face away, but I saw the glimmer of tears in his eyes. I shrank away, fearful of what he thought of my ruined features.

Instead, he said something completely different, "You were dead."

Tears gathered in my eyes, "I was captured and held at an orc stronghold for two and a half thousand years. I escaped when they began to retake Gundabad. After that, I moved around."

"Why did you not come back?" He tentatively took ahold of my hand. I let him despite the years of torture that had taught me to avoid such contact.

"Because…they ruined me," My voice was a whisper, "I gave them secrets that should not have been told. I did all they asked. They…they violated me in the worst forms."

Thranduil drew in a shuddering breath as his grip on my hand tightened. I slowly continued, "How could I go back and face you and our son after that? How could I subject you to the shame of having a queen so broken and ruined?"

My tears fell freely down my face. I flinched as he began to draw me into his arms. His hand found my chin instead and forced me to look at him. I squeezed my eyes shut, "I do not care about what they did to you. Love of my life, please. Look at me."

I slowly opened my eyes to find his inches from my own. His thumb swiped the tears on my cheeks away in gentle circles, "I am not ashamed of you. You are the strongest person I have ever known, please, come back to me."

"I will always come back to you," I found myself saying. It was all the encouragement Thranduil needed, as he pressed a hard kiss against my lips. I found myself responding eagerly. Memories of kisses stolen behind palace doors and the flimsy walls of tents had me crying yet again.

Thranduil pulled back, only then did I see that his tears had finally escaped his eyes. I allowed him to pull me into his arms and be held. We sat there for ages before finally pulling apart. I fixed him with a hard look, "Please, tell me about our son."

Author's note: This was literally the aftermath of watching Battle of the Five Armies. I really needed to get this out of my system and ended up writing this in a few hours on New Year's day. It's not as put together as I try to make my multi-chapter fics. I hope you enjoyed reading the product of a lack of sleep, and pain caused by BOTFA.