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Rated M for violence and sexuality

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Mirobel, Eregion, SA April 1697...

Silmariën jumped from the top of the troll she had just slain and kicked an Orc square in the jaw. Another Orc grabbed her ankle, but she drove her blade right in-between his eyes. She squatted down and spun, slicing the legs of the Orcs that surrounded her. As they fell, she behead them. Their heads fell over her shoulders, but she carried on. The Orcs multiplied. Every time she cut one down, three more sprouted in it's place. For the first time in her Elvish life, she felt fatigue being to sway her. She cut down two more and climbed back up on top of the fallen troll. She took in her surroundings. What was once three-thousand Elves had now been diminished to some three hundred. She could see Elrond to the far west, struggling against the strongest horde of the Orcs.

"Silmariën!" shouted Haldir. "To the east!"

Silmariën followed the direction he was pointing to. On the horizon, a line of soldiers appeared atop the hill. They stood too still and too tall to be Orcs. Silmariën smiled with hope, "Do not give-up!"

The Elves and Orcs noticed the army. The fatigue left their Elven bodies and they fought with a newfound strength, surprising the Orcs. The army charged down the hill, plowing straight through the Orcs' ranks. Haldir climbed up on top of the troll. "Captain...the Orcs are running."

"More of our kin has arrived...but from where?" Silmariën asked.

"Perhaps it is King Oropher?" Haldir suggested.

"I dare think not," she muttered to herself. She turned toward the west, "Elrond!"

The dark-haired Elf thrusted his blade into an Orc's head then turned around. "I see them!"

"Haldir, rally our troops."

Haldir nodded and hopped down. Silmariën did the same, heading towards Elrond where he was meeting with the leader of the army. The Orcs were nearly gone, now. "They're falling back to Emyn Naer!"

Silmariën sheathed her sword as she approached Elrond and King Oropher. Only it wasn't the great King of the Woodland Realm. This Elf was taller than any Elf she had seen before. He was even taller than Elrond, even only by an inch. His light blonde hair was tied back away from his face, revealing his intense, pale blue eyes which carried a light of mischievousness in them. She instantly recognized his complexion as belonging to the kin of King Thingol of Doriath. Elrond greeted the unfamiliar Elf, "You have our thanks for coming to Eregion's aide. Forgive me, but I was expecting King Oropher himself."

The Elf snickered and patted his horse. He looked odd next the red-haired, Silvan Elves that surrounded him. "King Oropher sends his regards. He had the idea that King Celebrimbor had the Orcs under control."

"I had no idea King Oropher kept such ill-suited company," said Silmariën. "With a Captain like you...he must really be desperate in his old age."

The Elf's eyes grew wide in anger. "You should mind your tongue, maiden. Consider yourself fortunate that I do not strike you down for your insolence."

"Perhaps, the long hours of endless fighting has gotten to the Captain of Loríen," Elrond said, preventing Silmariën from speaking further. He turned to her and spoke at a whisper, "Tend to your soldiers."

"I am not a child, Elrond," she seethed.

"Go, now."

Silmariën glared at the Elf once more before departing. Haldir had rallied the last of the Elves of Loríen. Silmariën furred her brows in disappointment. Two years ago, she had set out with a thousand troops. Now, less a hundred-fifty remained. Haldir met Silmariën with a nod of his head, "Captain."

She nodded back and stood before the last of her brethren. "The fight today was long. I praise you for outlasting the Orcs. You all deserve a good rest, for tomorrow brings another long fight. Do not lose hope. For Sauron cannot win this war. He will not."

They all nodded halfheartedly. Silmariën slumped her shoulders and dismissed them. She turned to Haldir, "We need to burn the Orc corpses as soon as possible."

"Why such haste?" he asked.

Silmariën gazed out at the grassland, "I fear they will not wait for sunrise."

That night...

Silmariën scanned the grassland again. Everyone was resting. Some were actually sleeping. The Woodland Elves had mixed themselves among those of Loríand and Lindon. Only a few native to Eregion remained. Including, King Celebrimbor. Despite feeling uneasy, Silmariën went back to the grand hall. The King, Elrond, and the Elf from the Woodland Realm circled the table. King Celebrimbor's face lit up upon seeing Silmariën. "You've come to join us."

Silmariën bowed courteously, "Of course."

"Is it wise to let a lowly Captain attend a meeting of such importance?" asked the Woodland Elf. He gazed above her head, as if she wasn't even worth looking at.

"That is no way to treat the praised daughter of Galadriel," King Celebrimbor said.

The Elf's smirk fell in surprise. "Daughter of Galadriel? The Lady of Light?"

"Yes, dear boy," said Elrond with a pleasant smile. "Did you not recognize her violet eyes and silver hair? The same as her grandfather, Galadhon."

The Elf's cheeks began to turn pink despite his emotionless stare. King Celebrimbor ushered Silmariën forward, "My Lady, this is Prince Thranduil, son of King Oropher. Prince Thranduil, this is Silmariën, Captain of Loríen's Guard and daughter of Galadriel."

Silmariën inhaled quietly. Now, she understood why he looked so much like King Oropher. She summoned her humility and bowed, "Forgive me, Prince Thranduil, for my earlier insults. It was unwise of me to insult the great King's son."

Thranduil raised his chin in pride. King Celebrimbor glanced around and broke the awkward silence, "The Orcs have been pushed back to Emyn Naer for the time being. I suspect they will try a sneak attack some time before sunrise. They prefer the cover of night, but do not fear cloudy skies."

"Their moral has been crushed," said Prince Thranduil. "They will need time to gather what little merit they have in order to launch another attack."

"They need no time," Silmariën interjected. "The Orcs are multiplying every day. More and more pour in from Mordor. They will not stop until they have taken Eregion."

"Must I repeat myself?"

"What you both say is true," Elrond said before Silmariën could begin arguing. She glared at Prince Thranduil and he glared right back.

King Celebrimbor, "Perhaps the long days of fighting has gotten to all of us. Let us rest and prepare for the next attack."

Everyone bowed their heads in agreement. Prince Thranduil turned swiftly on his heels and quickly left the room. Elrond followed less pompously. King Celebrimbor gently placed his hand on Silmariën's shoulder. "May I have a word?"

"Of course," she said.

He lead her to the balcony. Silmariën gazed down at the lanterns that illuminated the night. It pained her to see so few tents. King Celebrimbor turned his gaze upwards, at the stars. "Despite the bloodshed...the night sky is still filled with beauty."

"The world does not stop because of our tragedies," she said.

"Shame." His eyes fell on her, but she hadn't noticed. "Every time I see you...you take my breath away."

Silmariën gripped the railing, feeling utterly uncomfortable. "Now is not the time to-"

"Now is the perfect time," he said. Silmariën turned to face him. "I've watched you grow. I've watched you blossom into a beautiful flower. You radiate with beauty and passion. My heart craves you, Silmariën." He took her hand in both of his. "I've kept my distance over these past two years out of respect for your position as a Captain, but I cannot deny my feelings any longer. Be my queen, Silmariën. Rule Eregion with me."

Silmariën's bottom lip trembled in panic. She swallowed her words and her mouth ran dry. "I..." King Celebrimbor lurched forward, crashing his lips to hers. Silmariën stood frozen in surprise as his mouth enveloped hers. His lips forced hers to obey.

"No!"

She shoved him away and ran out of the room. She didn't stop until she reached the end of the stairs and grabbed onto the corner of the wall for support. Anger and sadness churned inside her as she furiously wiped her mouth with her hands. She took weary steps down the hall, barely able to walk straight. Suddenly, a horn sounded, signaling a battle. Silmariën gasped, "No."

She wielded her sword and ran out. An Orc appeared before her and she separated his head from his body. As the dying Orc fell, the scene behind him horrified Silmariën. Countless Orcs were slaughtering the Elves mercilessly. She could not see Elrond nor Haldir nor Prince Thranduil. Fury overtook her and she charged into the battle. But her head was cloudy and unfocused. As she drove her blade into an Orc's belly, she saw a glimpse of Haldir. As hope filled her, something else did, too.

"Silmariën!"

She had no idea who shouted, but she could feel the cold iron in her gut. Her eyes fell down. The tip of a jagged Orc blade protruded from her left side, just below her stomach. The Orc pulled the blade out. Silmariën cried out as pain rippled through her body and her strength left her. She collapsed to the ground, her eyes gazing upwards at the stars. The Orc who wounded her stood over her. He smiled greedily and raised his sword high above his head. An arrow suddenly pierced his throat. The Orc fell back and disappeared from Silmariën's view. She laid frozen as numerous Orcs hopped over her to enter the citadel.

Forgive me, Mother. Silmariën closed her eyes as tears spilled down the sides of her face. An Orc horn blew in the distance and the ground began to tremble as Orcs regrouped. "Chase them off!" yelled an Orc. "Leave none alive!"

"Silmariën," someone whispered.

Her eyes flew open. A familiar face loomed over her. "Prince Thranduil?"

Thranduil gave a nodded as he began to drag her away from the citadel entrance. He glanced around, hurrying to hide from the Orcs. He dragged her far enough to lift her limp body up into his arms. He abandoned stealth and headed straight for the trees. His movements eased Silmariën and her eyes grew heavy. The shadows of the trees began to blur. The faint growls of Orcs could be heard, but they were getting farther and farther away. Thranduil whispered to her, "Stay alive."

Two days later...

Silmariën jolted upwards and pain exploded in her side. She touched her wound. It was wrapped in fresh bandages. Someone had torn a hole in her shirt in order to attend to the wound. Silmariën cradled her head as memories came flooding back to her. "Prince Thranduil? Prince Thranduil!"

She gazed around, seeing no one. Smoke trailed upwards from a fire pit a mere two feet away from her. Thranduil landed on the other side with a soft thud. "If you yell any louder, the Orcs will find us and if we die, it will be your fault."

Silmariën blinked in confusion, ignoring his words. "You...you saved me in the battle. You dragged me away and...healed me?"

"You sound surprised."

"Why?"

"I do not know why you are surprised," he answered.

Silmariën glared at him, "You know what I meant. Why did you save me?"

Thranduil walked over to the nearest tree and leaned against it. He shrugged and sighed, "You were right there. Not but a arm's reach from me. I had expected you to slay the Orc that approached behind you, but you did not. I planned to drag you away and regroup with my kin..."

"And?"

"They are dead," he said.

Silmariën's heart stopped for a small moment. "And what of the rest of our kin? Of Loríand? Of Lindon?"

Thranduil shook his head and looked away. Tears poured down Silmariën's face as she despaired for her fallen kin. For Haldir and Elrond. She clenched her fists and rose to her feat. Thranduil attempted to help her, but she didn't need it. Her face was stern. "Sauron will pay for this. He cannot and will not annihilate the Elven race. I will stop him...even if I have to march into Barad-dûr and slit his throat myself!"

end.

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