Chapter 2

Wow, you guys are great – I can't get over how many reviews I've had – shout-outs at the end. And thanks as well to those of you who've been kind enough to favourite or follow this story.

Legolas' POV

"Thirteen, Master Elf," Gimli said smugly.

"I have surpassed your total easily, mellon nin. Twenty seven so far." Legolas looked smug. But the battle was far from over. Chaos raged round them. Wave after wave of the enemy had broken upon the ramparts, ladders pushed back from the battlements, siege engines forced away with long poles. Yet still the Orcs came, like black insects swarming over the stonework. A force of the monstrous Uruk Hai came up the stone causeway to the gatehouse, protecting themselves from the hail of arrows with their shields.

Legolas watched as the Galadhrim fired in vain on the advancing hoard on the stone bridge. Try as he might, he couldn't help but think of another battle, half a century earlier. A bloody battle, one in which he had lost so much that was precious to him. For a moment, he lost his focus, grief kicking him as if it was still brand new. But Aragorn's voice brought his attention back to the foot of the walls.

"The torch-bearer! Look to the torch-bearer!" The Man's voice was hoarse with something close to desperation. Breathing calmly, Legolas nocked an arrow to the string. His bow sang as the arrow took flight, straight and true. It punched through the weaker plate at the neck of the orc's armour. But the orc, though dying, was carried forward by his own speed. He pitched out of sight into a recess at the foot of the wall.

A huge explosion rent the air and the wall was torn asunder. The Deeping Wall, which even in the worst nightmares of the Rohirrim had remained unbreachable, was gone. Huge stones sailed into the air and a wall of water, freed from the lake behind, poured through the remains of the narrow culvert. Legolas looked in horror to see Aragorn, face down in the mud, motionless. He had been thrown from the wall into the courtyard behind.

"To the inner keep!" The voice of one of the Rohirrim commanders rang out. His voice was almost drowned out by the yells of the orcs forcing their way through the torrent of water and through the breach.

With an immense shout of "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!", Legolas' dwarf companion leapt down into the gap, swinging his axe with deadly accuracy. He bought Aragorn precious moments to come to his sense. The man struggled to his feet, shaking his head as if to clear it from the ringing of the concussion. But Legolas could see Gimli about to be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the orcs. Acting on sheer impulse, he ran for the top of the stairs, leaping onto a shield dropped by a fallen defender and balancing on it as he slid in a wild careening descent. As he swept down the steps, he loosed arrow after arrow, pausing only as Aragorn stretched out and pulled the dwarf to safety.

But one friend was saved only for Legolas to watch another fall before his eyes. High on the battlements, an Uruk thrust his weapon into Haldir's stomach. Aragorn set off back up the stairs at a rush, hoping against hope to save the Marchwarden. Legolas watched helpless as the Heir of Isildur arrived only in time to cradle their friend's head as he died. Aragorn rose to his feet.

"To the keep!" he yelled, taking up the earlier cry of the Rohir. "To the keep!"

Then Legolas was swept into the fight once more, drawing his knives to fight at close quarters. One, two, four, half a dozen orcs fell beneath the thrust and parry of his deadly blades. But then two came at him at once, and as he backed up to give himself space, he tripped over a spear which stretched from the hand of a dead warrior. He slid to the ground and the closer of the two orcs lunged forward, sword held high above Legolas' neck.

As the notched, cruelly curved blade descended, Legolas' eyes opened wide. To lose his immortal life thus, amidst the stench of battle between Orcs and Men, on the rain sleeked cold boulders far from the green canopy of his beloved Eryn Galen. He lifted his chin, defiant to the last, proud son of a King. What fear had he of death? He would go to the halls of waiting, perhaps to be reunited with... Then at the very last instant, the descent of the blade was halted by a thin Elven blade, cunningly wrought, its jewelled handle held by a slender hand. The knife's twin buried itself deep in the guts of the orc, who pitched over backwards with a grunt.

Legolas looked up to meet the gaze of the warrior who had saved his life. Cool, appraising green eyes beneath delicate arched brows met his startling blue ones. Skin like alabaster. He felt mesmerised by the sight. A woman... no, an Elleth. A strand of red hair from beneath a hood. Legolas' breath hitched. Memories flooded him. Memories of a lost love, green eyed and red haired. His lost love, hacked down on the battlefield before Erebor, defending the body of her fallen Dwarven lover, more than half a mortal man's lifespan earlier. Dragging the breath back into his lungs, he opened his mouth to speak.

But the figure above him spoke first. "Son of Thranduil," the maiden hissed. "Had I known whose neck lay beneath that blade, I would not have been so ready to intervene with my own. Live, bastard spawn of the Greenwood, but not with my blessing." And she turned and leapt from the hillock on which he lay, her lithe figure disappearing into the mists and smoke of battle.

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Big shout outs to Moon Huntress, Sister of Battle, Guest, Nameless, Jinx and Bereth Dolgar for reviewing.

Moon Huntress, Guest, Bereth – yes she does hate Legolas (at the moment ;-D). There is a reason, but you'll have to wait to find out why.

Sister of Battle – glad you're liking the mystery element of it. I'm trying to build that up.

And thanks to all who've followed/favourited this already – I really can't believe it. Big thanks to OneInsomniaticHoosier, bakeral5, Legolas' Fried Potato (you have got to tell me the story behind that user name!), zuzzzu, CarlssonElyy and Bereth.

I'm writing away like crazy. Hope to have the next update up soon.