I am going to try hard to stick with the book as far as some of the events of this story are concerned, so please forgive me if anything happens to be off! Enjoy! :)

Chapter Two: Band of Dol Amroth

Fire. Cries of terror. Explosions of flame. Unbearable heat. Ashes and blood.

These surrounded the small band of humans who had taken the chance of risking their lives to leave the security of Minas Tirith and stand outside her gates. The enemy had already breached the walls, had already broken in, but these twenty warriors had stepped out from behind the wall long before the wall had caved.

Somehow, these few had lasted an entire night of bloodshed and were even now still fighting, though they were coated in blood and weak. They had come to the aid of Minas Tirith even when she had been cruel to them, abandoning them in their times of crisis, but the warriors of Dol Amroth were fast to forgive. Gondor was still their mothering country, despite her corrupted leaders, and so the choice warriors had arrived to do battle when everything seemed so grim.

"The Riders of Rohan!" Cried out the leader of the band, and all heads looked to see the thousands of horses on the horizon, charging headlong into the foe.

"They will trample us!" Came a second call. "They won't stop for us!"

"Then here is where we die!" Shouted out the leader again before he turned his head to look to the soldier who fought valiantly a few yards away from him.

Elphir had brought his men into this battle and he would surely see them through it, though it would mean their deaths, however, he refused to see this particular comrade fall beneath the hooves of the horses or, even worse, beneath the abuse of the enemy. His beloved his sister, indeed, his only sister, was one of Dol Amroth's strongest fighters, and so she had come to this war, though her protective brothers had feared for her. She had stood tall and strong on her own, without protection, during this battle. Even now, her sword was reddened by the blood of the wicked creatures lunging at her. Blood streaked down her soft face, tangled in her waistlong brown tresses, and dripped into her emerald eyes, but she would not yield. Not unless her commander ordered her to retreat...

"Lothiriel! Into the city!" Elphir shouted as the thundering hooves grew ever louder, nearly roaring above the sound of Sauron's army.

She could not hear him. Her lithe body twisted and spun, like a dance, as she slashed her sword through her attackers, her head held high despite her weariness. Her clothes were burnt, and ash covered her fair skin, and yet still, she fought like the bravest of Elphir's men. Terror flooded through her brother as the horses of Rohan became close enough to hear their neighing and screaming, and Elphir fought through the masses of enemies surrounding him, doing his best to get to his sister's safety.

Alas, he didn't have time, for before he could touch her, one of the dragons of the dark lords spiraled out of the sky, its powerful talons closing around the body of Dol Amroth's princess.

"Lothiriel!" Elphir screamed, fighting even harder, but he didn't have a chance to arrive at her side. If that creature killed his sister, if he lost his beloved sister to this bloody war...

The woman didn't hear him but gasped in terror as she was lifted hundreds of feet above the battle field. She knew the habit of these dragons, how they liked to rise higher and higher into the air and then drop their victims, and she thought fast, determined not to let a fall be her fate. She wielded her sword and cut through the claw of her captor, making the beast scream in pain and release her, but before she could drop, she grabbed the monster's leg and then climbed up, moving to stand behind the dark rider. Not allowing herself to be afraid, fueled by adrenaline, she reached for one of the reins, jerking hard on it, making the creature spiral downwards before its rider was able to react.

It was as the cloaked rider turned to her that Lothiriel raced to the creature's tail and then leaped, soaring through the air and praying that something would soften her fall. Whether the answer to her prayer was a good one or not she wouldn't know, for suddenly she slammed into an enormous form, into a creature with immense tusks, and she fell off the animal's side, landing hard in the dirt between the creature's forelegs.

She couldn't see. She could hardly move for a moment. Dirt spiraled up around her, and she was blinded by the substance. Sounds echoed above her miniature twister of ground, sounds of horses screaming, galloping, the trumpeting of the enormous creatures surrounding her, and the cries of men and monsters alike, all in pain, all suffering.

And then the dust cleared, and Lothiriel screamed in terror as the monster above her raised a foot and moved it to smash her where she lay. A spear soared above her head, embedding itself in the creature's leg, and then Lothiriel felt a hand grasping the back of her shirt, jerking her up and into a saddle.

She had never ridden a horse before, but she grabbed hold of the mane before her with a death grip.

"The battle field is no place for a boy to lay down!" A breathless voice shouted from behind her, and she turned her head, wanting to see the face of her rescuer. It was hard to see his face, for beneath the protective covering of his helmet, his face was covered in dirt, blood, and knotted blonde hair. She was able to see his eyes, however, and recognized the look of astonishment that flickered through them.

"It isn't often that a woman fights on the battle field," she choked before gasping as his steed swerved violently, nearly unsettling her. Her legs hadn't the strength to hold on to the horse, and she began to fall off, but a powerful arm wrapped around her center, pulling her back to rest against the hard armor of the Rohan warrior.

"Hold fast to me!" the rider ordered, and Lothiriel wrapped her arms around his one arm, holding tightly as the man raised a sword and slashed left and right, hacking at the monsters that surrounded him on all sides. His horse stumbled then, dropping onto one knee, and Lothiriel found herself rolling harmlessly across the dirt. Her rescuer landed atop her, but now wasn't the time to think of things being inappropriate or to consider royal protocol. He had fallen on her to protect her, and she closed her eyes tightly, burying her face in the steel covering his chest as he knocked their attackers over, fighting from where he lay for a moment before he pulled her to her feet again and dragged her towards his horse.

She couldn't help but scream as an agonizing pain, sharper than a knife, shot through her right leg, and the warrior glanced down to see how her limb moved weakly.

"You have broken your leg," the man spoke and then scooped her up and placed her on his horse again. "Ride back to the walls of Minis Tirith!"

"I cannot!" Lothiriel cried. "I know not how to ride! And I cannot leave you without your horse!"

The man seemed to know royalty when he heard it, for he didn't argue, as most warriors would have, and instead lifted her lightly so that she was sitting behind the saddle rather than in the front of it. He then mounted his horse again and turned his head slightly, shouting so that she could hear him.

"Hold on and keep your face buried in my back! What sort of woman runs out onto a field without armor?"

She would have told him that she had fallen from the sky, but now was hardly the time for that, for his horse put in a burst of speed and soared across the ground, and Lothiriel did as she was ordered to do. She hid her face in the man's armor and kept her arms wrapped tightly around him as he did battle.

The battle seemed to last for forever, and when silence suddenly flooded the field, Lothiriel was so tired and weak that she hardly realized it. Her rescuer dismounted his horse before she could get off, and even as he lifted her and brought her back to the ground, he surveyed her wounds. Surely she must have been beautiful beneath the dirt and blood, but he focused on the task at hand.

She was badly hurt.

"Lothiriel!"

The cry seemed so far away to the princess, and she could not speak as her brother ran towards her, tears of gratitude running down his grizzled cheeks.

"Thank you, sir," the prince spoke to her rescuer even as he took his sister and began to lift her into his arms.

"Wait," Lothiriel gasped softly, unable to speak properly due to her wounds. She tried to move towards her rescuer, but her brother wouldn't allow her, instead gathering her carefully into his arms to carry her.

Her rescuer seemed to know what it was she needed, and he moved to her, putting his gloved hands over her wounded ones.

"Yes?" he asked gently.

"Your...your helmet... Please?"

He nodded and removed his helmet, shaking his head a bit so that his hair would slide out of his face. He had a trim beard and mustache and long gold locks that most women must have wanted to run their fingers through, but Lothiriel thought none of these things as she looked into his eyes. They were hazel, and so full of compassion and kindness, though there was certainly still a fire of adrenaline still there, and Lothiriel felt comforted simply by his gaze. She leaned forward slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek in thankfulness before she was carried away, her brother running to get her to medical attention before it was too late for her.