Of Legolas and Lisaine

by Nillaithiel

650 years before the Fellowship of the Ring, Legolas reluctantly forms a bond with an exiled princess as he fights to save a distant elven city from annihilation.

7. The Battle for Isodor

Leoglas thus rode away from Lisaine in the glade, just as the morning rays peeked through the rustling treetops. Though Neonean was of large stature, she was used to traversing uneven woodlands, and quickly trotted over the craggy ravines and jumped over felled tree trunks. At last Legolas came to the road, and stopped, for the procession of the elven army was already underway, coming towards them. Five elven battle lords led the way, Balanthos and Menarn, and Hanthenar, Marsanganion and Kerrinais. Each held a great elven shield, sparkling silver and blue in colors, depicting the arms of their homelands. Each held in his right hand a bow or long silver spear, with richly scrolled designs along the entire length of the shaft. Following the lead party were 300 horsemen, brandishing longbows and like battle shields, their helmets sparkling in the morning sun. Behind these marched a line of similarly armed elves, six deep, 400 in all. As they approached Legolas, Kerrinais lifted his bow of Mirkwood high in the air, and the whole company came to an abrupt halt. From the center of the city, a soft melodious music lulled over the forest, a goodbye from the elf maidens of Rivendell. A comforting sound it was, a constant low resonating song. When one voice died down, another began, so that the entire melody never ceased. Legolas tightened his legs slightly and Neonean trotted obediently up to the company and fell into place at the head of the line, beside Kerrinais. An elf ran up beside the great horse, handed Legolas his quiver, and waited patiently for him to tighten his knife and quiver belt to his chest before handing him two sparkling long knives, one of them Menea. The elf threw a thick satchel of supplies over Neonean's back, behind Legolas. Then the elf handed Legolas his vambraces, and finally his Mirkwood bow with the royal seals of King Thranduil, his father, scrolled upon it. When Legolas was thus prepared, Balanthos raised his spear, and the procession started again to the forest fortress of Isodor. The only sounds to be heard were the clanging of armor against shield, or horses hooves striking the hardened dirt of the road, and the soothing, musical lament of the elf maidens.

Then suddenly rising over the brisk morning air there came a single wretched cry from somewhere deep in the forest, so despondent and so grievous, that several horses reared up, and broke the lines, straying either to the right or left, and had to be coaxed back into their places. The soft music from Rivendell had also ceased; such was the overwhelming sadness of the wail, the elf maids too, stopped their song to listen to it. The elves maintained the march, but looked at one another in wonderment at what could utter such a desolate and sorrowful sound. It lasted only a few seconds, and then was gone, washed away by the soft sounds of the rushing Bruinen. The elf maidens returned to their task, their melody growing quieter and quieter. Kerrinais glanced over to Legolas, with the same questioning look, half expecting his companion to be gazing about the trees or the sky, searching for the source of the piteous cry. But Legolas had not done so. He rode stiffly on Neonean's back, tightly clutching his bow with one hand and a lock of braided hair, which hung from his leather belt, with the other. His face betrayed no emotion, but he rode thus forward, with his head bent low and his eyes shut.

It was late in the afternoon before Lisaine returned to her chamber. All of Rivendell was oddly quiet, the bustle of the past several days over with, as if past the end of a great festival. Walking slowly to her terrace, she pulled at the sparkling white comb in her hair, suddenly aware that her head and eyes hurt. She fingered the comb, gazing at it, but not thinking anything in particular before she returned to the chamber and placed it upon the rounded table in the corner of her room. Then Lisaine came back to the terrace. The afternoon sun's rays hit her face, making her skin feel hot. Shielding her eyes with a tiny hand, she watched several elf maids below. They wandered carelessly through the square, talking low to one another, not noticing Lisaine's presence above. With her other hand she aimlessly combed her tangled tresses, and her hand suddenly stopped at the cropped length of hair, the end still slightly braided. Her hand fell to her side.

The light sounds of footfalls running up the stairs to her door prompted her to turn around. Alnein walked through the door, anxious and tense, with a great smile upon her face. Lisaine was unmoved. The whole of the day's loss was not yet fully comprehended, yet the princess knew that an even larger hole was now left in her heart than when she first came to Rivendell some weeks before; a feat that she scarcely had thought possible.

"Not now Alnein," she said, "Please do not think me uncourteous, but I would rather be alone today. I am too tired." She turned back around to look out her terrace again while Alnein continued her way into the room grinning.

"Nevariel! Nevariel! I have come with news for you! Mithrandir has come back to Rivendell from the Northern pass!"

Lisaine continued gazing out into the square, where only hours before, the elven army had set out to meet Rakal's dark forces. The surrounding trees beyond the gorge had lost some of their beauty to Lisaine, and she thought about abandoning her daily walks into the forest. She felt she could never feel the same about them.

"I care not of Gandalf just now," she replied with no feeling in her voice, "Alnein, do you suppose you will ever see your brother again after this black day?"

Alnein came up from behind and touched Lisaine's shoulder.

"Fear not for Kerrinais OR Legolas, for they are the bravest and the best in all elvendom, save for the great and noble elf kings and queens. None has better skill or is a better warrior. They will come away without harm." The princess turned around to face Alnein, her words of comfort seemed to lighten Lisaine's mood somewhat, and she smiled weakly.

"But come! You have not heard my news!! Gandalf is returned from the passes beyond Imladris and he brings with him the King of Irwindal and three lords! I walked through the forest this morning when the army had left, and I thought to stay there, but I heard a plaintive and hideous cry, so unhappy and wretched that I sought to leave the woods at once. Some are saying that it was the cries of the forest Birch, the love of Imladris, all come to one at the leaving of the elven army. And as I walked on the forest road, a multitude of 5 horseman flew up behind me shouting, "Make way! Make way! The King of Irwindal comes forth to meet with Lord Elrond!" and as I stood to the side, Gandalf galloped past me, and then the king, with the banner of Irwindal unfurled in his very hand after, and three lords behind him, all bearing the marks of the Anduin kingdoms!! Your father is alive! Alive!"

Lisaine's face had now turned ashen white, and she stared in utter disbelief. She could not have been more shocked by such news were it that Rakal had come to Rivendell to surrender.

"Is it true?" she gasped, "Can it be possible?"

"I have been searching for you all morning and much of this afternoon, where have you been?"

Lisaine's countenance now changed to pure joy and excitement. Running to the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, she flung it open and pulled out her gown, now cleaned, and the small swatch of linen that still contained her tiara and her father's royal signet ring. She closed her eyes, hugging them.

"Please help me Alnein!! I must go to him at once! Surely he thinks me dead as I did him! I must dress myself at once, so that I might present myself to him as a princess. So that he knows me for myself!"

Alnein smiled and helped Lisaine pull off her elven gown. The dress that Lisaine had worn the night she escaped from Irwindal was far more ornamented than the plain brownish gray gown of the elves. The dress had been re-stitched where it was torn. Pearls and rubies dotted along the bodice, though stones were missing in several places. As she pulled it over her head, she caught sight of the Nissalos gown and veil that Alnein had given her, and she bent down to pick them up, suddenly remembering the events of the past several days.

"No," she thought to herself, "This is not right. I will go as I am." Lisaine placed the ruby and pearl laden gown back into the chest. Then, she pulled her own elven gown back over her head.

"What is it?" said Alnein, "Come get dressed!!"

Turning to Alnein, Lisaine smiled again.

"I am his daughter," said Lisaine, "But I will not abandon the gifts that the elves have bestowed upon me. You and I have much to talk about, but I must tell you later! Now I must seek out my father! I will wear my elven gown, that will be enough."

Quickly securing the gown, Lisaine grasped Alnein's hand in excitement, and the two maidens quickly made their way out the door to Lord Elrond's council chambers.

Lisaine ran up the steps so fast that Alnein, close behind her, could hardly keep up. A new and vibrant energy seized the young princess, and she ran forth, unable to control her enthusiasm and delight. Running through the long open hallway, the princess could hear the monotone voices behind the heavy doors before her. She shoved them open, and ran into the chamber, crying,

"Father! Father!"

All conversation in the room stopped, as she excitedly looked about. But the smile left her face as she espied instead her uncle, Lord Hollein, sitting in the council circle, her father's crown resting upon his head. Lisaine and her uncle stared blankly at each other. Lord Elrond, clearly annoyed, stood up as two tall elves came running up behind Lisaine and Alnein to escort them away. One put his hand on Lisaine's shoulder, but she angrily brushed it aside and stood her ground. Before Lord Elrond could speak, Gandalf stood up.

"No, Lord Elrond. Let her stay. For this is Lisaine. Daughter of King Gillindon of Irwindal."

Lord Elrond slowly sat down, surprise and wonder upon his face, and sent away the two elf guards behind the women with a wave of his hand. One of the lords who had come with Lord Hollein sat scrutinizing Lisaine. Another jumped to his feet.

"What manner of trickery are you attempting of us Gandalf? Would you have us believe that this wench is the queen of the combined cities kingdom? We all know that King Hollein is the only surviving heir of the attacks that have besieged us. Our purpose in this council is not to decide what we already know to be truth. We have no time for your games."

"Yes," raged another, "We have come here for help of the elves, and you instead have led us into trap to confuse us."

"I lead no one into a trap," Gandalf snapped, irritated by the man's comment, "You have come here of your own accord. I have only helped bring you here. I boast of no other involvement. And now you would be willing to tear apart your unity when one more truth is laid at your feet. No salvaging of a kingdom is so easy, my lords. There are many truths in this world, and equally as many deceptions. If your hearts do not seek the truth, then you have only yourselves to blame for your entrapment."

Gandalf spoke to the group as a whole, yet he gazed directly at Lord Hollein. The first lord, still seated, looked angrily beyond Gandalf.

"Lord Elrond. If you will not send this woman away, we have no more business here. The king of Irwindal sits before you. The old king was a fool in allowing Rakal's army to continue unopposed into the north and plunder all at his whim. The new king would lead us to restoring our homelands, and if you let this woman counter what we have thus far managed to accomplish, the army we have assembled will fall apart, for they will not follow such questionable leadership. To permit this accusation in our company is treason, and an act of war!" Lord Hollein remained silent. His entire attention not focused upon the argument, but upon Lisaine. Gandalf laughed.

"Lord Beildan, you can hardly claim war against the elves with such a pilfering band of men. Surely you have other foes that need more conquering right now besides those whom you seek to be your allies." Flustered, the man said nothing and sat back in his chair, but clearly quivered in anger at Gandalf.

Until now, Lisaine and Alnein had remained silent. In all her life, none had ever been as disrespectful to the princess as this stranger, yet the dire circumstances she found herself in and the noble company of the room kept her from speaking. But the insults thrown at her father's memory were more than she could withstand. Stepping into the chamber, Lisaine bowed her head to Lord Elrond, who nodded in return. Then she walked directly to the first man who had spoken. She stood there before him, searching for the right admonishment. But her anger took over the better part of her judgment and she suddenly found herself slapping his face. Leaping to his feet, he began to draw his sword. Lord Elrond leaned forward in his seat, quite alarmed at the unfolding confrontation, but Gandalf sat calmly watching the whole scenario with wrapped amusement, an impish smile upon his face. Lisaine instantly drew her silver dagger from her waistband, and deftly cut the man's sword hand with the white elven blade, causing him to cry out and loosen his grip. Stepping forward, she placed her tiny foot in between the large man's legs, with her heel propped against his foot. Then lunging in, she forcefully pushed the man with her shoulder, completely throwing him off his balance. He fell backwards into his chair with a loud thud. The delicate wooden chair held his weight for a moment, and then broke apart under the strain. He fell onto the floor, dazed. Leaping over him, Lisaine wrenched the hilt away from his hand by bending his forearm inward, and then drew the sword from its scabbard herself. She cast the weapon aside, while holding her own dagger to the man's throat, the edge of the shining blade just below the man's chin. The man froze.

"So," mused Gandalf, "The skills of the princess of Irwindal come to light at last. Your father once told me of your sword training, but until today, I have never seen it."

"Enough!" ordered Lord Elrond standing up, "There will be no fighting, Gandalf! Nevariel, release him at once! We are not enemies here!"

Hearing Lord Elrond's stern words shook her, and Lisaine seemed to recover herself. She lowered the weapon and took several steps backwards. The man sat up immediately, his face red. Still holding his hand in pain, he slowly pulled himself to his feet and limped over to pick up his sword.

"It proves nothing," he snarled while glaring at the princess.

"You are correct in that, at least," Lisaine said coldly, "Mere skill with a blade does not make me a princess, but if you will allow me, I can prove myself to you." Returning the elven dagger to her belt, Lisaine turned to Lord Hollein, who sat motionless and rigid.

"Uncle. I know not how you survived the fray that night, but I am glad to find you alive. I came here because I thought my father was in this company, but now I see that, in thinking all your kin were dead, you have rightly assumed my father's place on the throne. But as you can see, I am alive as well. And I now stand before you, and beg you to give testament to these men at who I am by right and my heritage, because I know them not."

All eyes in the room fell to Lord Hollein as he looked at her up and down. The only break in the silence was the rush of the falls outside Lord Elrond's windows, and a bird, somewhere in the nearby trees, singing gaily. Lisaine stood tall before him, her shoulders held back.

"You look as my niece," he said slowly, "but I cannot be sure. You have changed much, if indeed you are my niece. But much has occurred since that wretched night, and my memory plays tricks upon me."

Until that moment she had always admired and respected her uncle, but now he seemed changed somehow. A dark pall was upon his face. Gone were his lighthearted smiles and gentle voice, and he now became almost guttural in his conversation. His eyes were dark and foreboding, his looks haggard. But in her mind, the princess attributed this to their mutual ordeal.

"He does not see himself so changed, yet he is very different somehow," she thought to herself.

Indeed, he looked like her uncle on the outside, but his personality seemed not to be his own. Lisaine could not help but wonder if he saw the same changes and differences as he looked at her now, and could not quite decide that she was indeed his brother's only daughter or no. Reaching into her waist satchel she said,

"We, both of us have changed much since our last parting uncle, but if you cannot know me at my face, perhaps you can remember this." Pulling out the royal signet ring of Irwindal, Lisaine held it up for everyone to see. Low gasps and murmurs filled the room as Gandalf merely smiled at her approvingly.

"Here is the ring of Irwindal," Lisaine said in a loud voice.

"None but the rightful king," she paused and looked directly at her uncle, "or Queen may possess this ring. I am princess Lisaine, daughter of King Gillindon."

Lord Hollein's face changed slightly at the sight of ring, and then he gazed back at Lisaine, but made no answer to her. Immediately, the lord sitting to the left of Lisaine's uncle left his seat, and knelt down in front of her, his head bent to his knee.

"Your majesty. I am Lord Kellindle of Euphratas. And this is Lord Arkon and Lord Beildan of Tuluth. Although we have never met, I knew your father, and recognize your father's ring at once. I believe you beyond doubt, for your father would never have parted from this ring to anyone, save you. You are the rightful queen of the combined kingdoms of Euphratas, Tuluth and Irwindal of the great river valley, and I am your servant, and to you I swear my allegiance. Happy this day is to find you alive, your highness."

Lisaine glanced over at the other two. Slowly, one left his seat and knelt before her, but glanced sideways at Lord Hollein, who was clearly perplexed at the situation unfolding before him. The third lord, whom Lisaine had disarmed, refused to submit, and angrily took to another empty chair within the circle.

"Gandalf," Lisaine said severely, "I did not come here looking for a kingdom, only my father."

"What you look for is sometimes entirely different from what you will find...to good or evil," the wizard said. Lisaine gazed into Gandalf's ancient eyes, and thought that perhaps he knew of Legolas and all that had transpired in the last few days. Seldom were secrets kept long from him, but to his credit, he said nothing.

"Alas!" Gandalf continued, "Your loving father is dead my child, and now you find yourself not so alone in your company as you have previously thought. Your rightful place now is at the throne of Irwindal."

"I did not come here to claim a throne," she repeated glaring back at Lord Beildan, "But none shall deny me my very name!"

Lord Kellindle lifted his head to her, fear gripping him.

"But your majesty! You MUST come with us! We have assembled a small army of 400 men. This is all that remains of the kingdoms of the valley. Most of the survivors were away from the towns and cities as they were being sacked, either traveling by the river or along the river trails. Every able- bodied man was found, and is ready to do battle to retake our kingdoms, which were left by the evil one's army to rot and disappear from the world. Even now they await word of this council. If we may receive help of the elves, we might retake our kingdoms and rebuild. Rakal has left with the vast multitude of his warriors, and leaves but few sentries in the valley. It will encourage all who fight to see the princess of Irwindal, escaped from Rakal's very clutches. Everyone thought you were dead."

"You can hope for no aid from the elves," Elrond said grimly. All attentions turned to him. "At this moment the greater host are marching to engage Rakal's army in defense of the city of Isodor. I can spare no warrior in defense of the Anduin valley."

"Then we will waste no more time here," said Lord Beildan walking towards the doorway, "I told you this was a fruitless venture. Let us gather our army in the pass and retake our lands ourselves." The other two lords followed suit and began towards the long hallway. But Lisaine jumped to the doorway, blocking their exit.

"Wait!" she cried, stepping in front of Lord Beildan. He stopped abruptly, now seeming to tower before her, and Lisaine felt a sort of determination that she had rarely felt before. Alnein stood to the side, perfectly willing to let everyone leave. But an urgent and sudden realization came to Lisaine, and all at once she had decided to attempt to sway the valley Lords to a different direction.

"I would say to you now my Lords, do not return to the river valley, which will be only a short-lived triumph. Our peril should be better spent for the common good. I say as your rightful queen, let us not vie for the Anduin valley and ultimate defeat, but make all haste to defend the elven city of Isodor." Another long silence ensued in the room, as this new proposition was laid before them.

"You may be a queen," Lord Beildan said trying to constrain his anger, "But you are no general. Would you spend what few people we have left in defense of the elves, who refuse to come to our aid? We cannot hope to defeat the Dark Lord's evil minions out in the open! It would be a massacre. If we retreat now, we can take back our fortresses and regroup against Rakal, if he should ever return. Then you may sit on your throne and sew your needlework."

"SILENCE FOOL!" Lisaine bellowed. Lord Beildan jumped back away from her, unnerved by her powerful voice.

"Irwindal was no village, Lord Beildan! The fortress alone maintained 1,000 men when the city was overcome and destroyed in but a few hours. What are you thinking that a mere 400 then might retake and keep three such fortresses against Rakal's return? He leaves you alive only because he thinks you are dead. When he realizes that men have reappeared in any of the cities, he will return and wipe you out at his leisure. But together, our army and the elves in alliance, we may defend the elven city of Isodor from the same destruction that we have suffered in the valley."

Lord Beildan's expression changed and he blinked, gazing at her. He knew in his heart that there was some truth to Lisaine's words. There was little hope of keeping the valley kingdoms with so few men. If the orc army returned before they could fortify their positions, they would easily be overtaken. Her imploring eyes captivated the lords standing before her, and they listened intently as she poured forth her arguments to them.

The lords of the valley were not the only ones hovering upon every word of her discourse. Lord Elrond's interest was peaked also. He had not anticipated help to the elven city by the very people that he had turned away. He could not have achieved such a pact between elves and men himself, not with these men. The cold truth was that the elves, superior in skill against the approaching orc army as they were, would be sadly outnumbered. But this single, diminutive exile was turning the tide of a decisive war before it had begun, before his very eyes. And suddenly a silent, small glimmer of hope came to his expression, where before there was none.

"We fight not for mortals to live once again in our own lands, my lords, but for all manner of beings, the privilege to live in any land. Once Rakal overtakes Isodor, he will come for Rivendell, and so continue until all men and elves are wiped out. Only then will his master, the Dark Lord, release his hordes from Mordor to finish what Rakal has started, and so enslave all creatures to his service. Can you not understand his purpose and speed in this? Rakal can do nothing without the permission of the darkest one who sits in the dark, high mountain. The great ring is lost to him now, and he would rely on stealth and numbers to overtake all the land, if he can. Do you think he gives up his quest merely because he has not ALL his powers available to him? Can you not see it? Indeed, I think the Dark Lord sits and waits to see at what point Rakal and his army will be driven back, as a test to the strength of the free kingdoms of Middle-Earth. He has destroyed the valley kingdoms first to make way for everything behind, and now he comes to the elven lands. I tell you now what the elves already know. Upon Isodor, everything depends. Rakal must be driven back; of this there can be no question. Only if we combine our forces may we hope to save all things from annihilation. Not mortal men only, my lords, but everything. Every living thing depends upon this one moment, this one test. Help your queen to destroy Rakal's army and send a message to the Dark Lord that the all the free lands cannot yet be taken with even his most evil creatures. Give to him a taste of utter defeat and he will perceive that he has not yet contrived enough power to win over all of Middle-Earth to darkness. Is that not worth battle in the forests of Isodor? Is that not worth our very lives?"

The tension inside the chamber was profound, and all was silent. Somewhere from behind Lord Beildan, Lisaine's uncle suddenly appeared before her. He stood there and then knelt to the ground on one knee. The other Lords glanced back and forth at one another, and then followed suit.

"My niece you are," Lord Hollein said solemnly, "None but my brother's daughter would have such fierce conviction and acuity. I am at last convinced and step down as king to the rightful sovereign of the combined kingdoms. To you I pledge myself until the end of your days."

Holding out her hand, Lisaine's uncle kissed her hand, but his touch felt cold and barren to her, and she gazed into his lifeless blackened eyes. Alnein had said nothing during the entire council. But now as she gazed at Gandalf, who stood behind the gathering, leaning against his long wooden staff, she sensed a kind of misgiving about the whole situation within him.

"Now then, my lords," said Lisaine, "Where is this army exactly, and how long will it take to get them?"

"I can answer that, your majesty." said Gandalf, "Even now they have come across the high pass to Imladris. For they hope to obtain aid from the elves and whatever arms and horses they may."

"Upon our weapons you may rely," Lord Elrond interjected, "but there are few horses to spare. Most left with the defenders this morning."

"It will not matter," said Lisaine turning around to leave the chamber, "The forest of Isodor is thick, and at least most horses will not fair so well for their keepers. We will need but 5 horses Lord Elrond, for the lords of the valley and myself. Let us ride within the hour!"

Gandalf smiled approvingly as they filed out the door. Speeding towards the stables, Alnein set off to alert the horse master that additional steeds were now needed. The princess seemed to find new purpose, and she strode fast and strong back to her chamber. Minutes later she emerged and went directly to the armory to find such a weapon and mail as she might obtain. She did this more for its appearance than for her own protection, feeling that at first sight, the men of the valley kingdoms must see her as a warrior, a leader. To defend the city she was resolute, but for her part of a queen, she was less certain. In Rivendell, her life was happy. Her whole existence there was based upon a desire for the ordinary. In previous years she had relied on Rivendell to save her from the stuffy confines of her father's house, filled with servants and such people as would oversee her every action. Here in Imladris there was blessed normality. Instead of being a pinnacle to those around her, it was she who could strive to rise to the level of the immortal and beautiful elves. Now she found herself in the very capacity that she had sought all her young life to escape, not even knowing if she could fulfill all she had promised. A heavy responsibility was suddenly laid upon her, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to risk all that was left of all the valley kingdoms. But of one thing she was certain, if she did not help, all of Isodor and Imladris would befall the same fate as her own lands. As a gleaming mail of silver was pinned over her gown, she began to drift away to the previous night. Of Legolas's bright eyes, of his tender touch, of their farewell, of her tortured moments when he left. Looking down at herself, she straightened a sleeve. Her resolve began to strengthen, and she pursed her lips. In whatever small way she could, she would come to aid of the elves.

An elf with a long, serious expression walked up to her and held out a small handled sword, richly ornamented with green stones on the hilt. She swallowed and faltered before gripping the hilt with her tiny hand. Immediately the elf pulled back on the sheath and uncovered the brightly polished silver blade. She looked at it as if she were a child again, looking up at her first pony.

"Lord Elrond requested that you take this sword with you," he said. Stepping in, he tightly wrapped the sword belt with its sheath attached around her waist. It was perhaps too tight, but Lisaine remained silent in front of the elf, thinking that she would have time to adjust it later. Upon her head remained her golden diadem, and on her forefinger was her father's ring. Finally, being so clad, Lisaine walked outside and into the courtyard where her uncle and the valley kingdom lords waited on newly acquired horses. Also there, astride her gray mount, and holding the reins of another horse, was Alnein.

She was clad in silver mail, a long leather quiver of arrows tied to her back. In her free hand she held a long bow of Mirkwood. The princess placed one delicate foot in a stirrup and pulled herself atop of her mount. Gathering up the reins in her hands, Lisaine looked over at her friend.

"Alnein, there is no constraint upon you to accompany me," Lisaine said, "The road will be long and dangerous, and I do not know what hardships await us before we are through."

"You need my bow," Alnein replied with a solemn look, "Each one of us must make a decision to come together for the good of all, or lay by the wayside, and wait for evil to fall upon us. I cannot let you go into this totally friendless. Besides, perhaps I will be saving my mother somewhere in Isodor by my actions."

"I go not into this battle friendless," Lisaine said, "But if you will go, I will not dissuade you."

Then turning to Lord Elrond and Gandalf, Lisaine bowed her head and received theirs in return. Gazing at the wizard, Lisaine said,

"Gandalf, will you not go with us?" He smiled gently, shaking his head.

"No my dear, I will be better put to use here. Your father would've been happy to see you now."

She was pleased at his words. Her father frowned upon many of the decisions that the princess made in her life, her keeping the forest close to the castle, her visits to Rivendell. It was pleasant for her to think that finally she could take an action to make her father proud. A slight grin came to her lips and she bowed her head once more, this time to Gandalf alone. Then, looking over the group of riders, Lisaine cried,

"To Isodor all!" and spurring on her horse, galloped away with Alnein, her uncle and all the valley kingdom captains with her.

The first day passed quickly, spurred on by the urgency to find the host awaiting the valley lords. Onward they galloped, until the waning sun forced them to set down for the night along the Bruinen. A cold mist covered the mountains, and its dampness penetrated every layer of cloth on the young queen. A small fire had been lit, and the group shared a meal of fruit and fish. Lords Kellindle and Beildan fell asleep quickly. Lord Arkon and Alnein tended the horses. Lisaine's uncle left to gather more firewood, and had just returned to the camp with a large armful of fallen limbs. Alnein gazed at Lord Hollein in the firelight as she polished her elven dagger. He rummaged through the wood, organizing the largest branches, and he seemed unaware of anyone. Beside Lisaine in the darkness was her elven belt that held her dagger and sword. The weight of the weapons was a drag upon her, and she felt relieved to remove them, if only for a short time.

Staring into the crackling fire, Lisaine felt tired, but sleep would not come to her. All her thoughts were focused on the next day, when the company would meet up with the small army, and how she would handle herself. A sudden thirst drove Lisaine to stand. Wrapping her blanket tightly about her she glanced over to Alnein and Lord Arkon, who were feeding and watering the animals. She walked towards the river, which was only a short distance from the camp. Her face was covered in dust from the road, and she longed to wash her face in the cleansing water. Pushing through some brushes, she came to a small clearing among the trees, and there knelt beside a small area of rapids. Dipping her hand in, she was surprised by its cold touch. It seemed colder than in Rivendell, having no slate bedrock to warm the icy mountain water late into the evening. The river was deeper here, and black swirls of whirlpools danced in the moonlight. Looking up at the stars, her mind began to stray to Legolas again, and she wondered if perhaps he was looking into the sky at that same moment. A slight crack from a broken twig behind her jolted her back to reality, and whirling around she saw the vague outline of her uncle, coming up from behind her.

"Uncle," she said standing quickly, "You should be back at the camp. It is very cold away from the fire."

"I was worried of you," he said sweetly, "The banks along this river can be treacherous. You should have someone to accompany you when you wander to the water's edge."

He took two more steps towards her, laying a cold, long hand upon her shoulder. Lisaine stood her ground and did not back away, but she shuddered at his touch, and longed for him to be gone from her company. There was something undeniably different about him, something she could not quite estimate exactly. His demeanor, though still kind and considerate was at the same time empty of feeling. She opened her mouth to speak, but a sudden crack whizzing by them, caught them both off guard. Instinctively, Lisaine jumped back, jerking her uncle's arm away from her shoulder as an arrow flew by in between them, not more than a few bare inches from each of their faces, and continued through a young sapling tree not more than five feet from them. Lord Hollein stared in the direction of the arrow, with a great redness of face, and then glared in its opposite direction, as Alnein, bow in hand, calmly stepped through a large pricker bush.

"Forgive me," she said, "I heard rustling in the bushes here and thought there was a deer."

Alnein walked up to Lisaine, who stared at her incredulous. As the elf spoke, she looked directly at Lord Hollein.

"A little more caution would be wise for you, elf woman," he replied hotly under his breath, "You could have easily killed my niece or myself! It is late in the evening to be out hunting, is it not?"

Alnein gazed at him, unruffled by his obvious displeasure.

"No need to fret Lord Hollein," Alnein replied coolly, "Even as I released my shaft I realized that it was you and Nevariel. You were in no danger of being stung, unless, of course, you might have leaned in to grab her at that moment for some reason."

"You are full of confidence when your quarry is unarmed!" he uttered angrily, "But I wonder how you would fare in such a quarrel with someone so armed as you!"

Her uncle's hot words filled Lisaine with dread, and she ran up to her uncle, grabbing his arm.

"No uncle!" she cried, "It was a mistake, I am sure! We are not injured! Let us not make more of this accident! Come, let us return to the warmth of the fire, for I grow cold, and tomorrow will be long!"

Pulling on her uncle's arm, Lisaine stepped over the brush and drew him away from the area, looking back worriedly at the elf, who stood upright, bow in hand, staring at them as they left.

Sputtering with fury as they approached the camp, Lord Hollein's anger over the near miss could barely be contained.

"She is a danger to you Lisaine!!" he muttered, "You should send her away from us! How dare she say such words to us! This quarrel between her and I is not over!"

Lisaine stopped short of the camp, lowering her head and sighing. Lord Hollein stopped abruptly with her.

"Uncle," she implored, "It is a quarrel you cannot hope to win. She is elf- kind and trained well in bow and sword for low these last three thousand years. She need never miss a quarry unless she wishes it. Believe me uncle, if she meant harm to either of us, we would be dead now. Save thy anger for the battlefield, for I will need you there with me."

"Whom will you trust?" he said in a softer tone now, "She is merely an elf, but I am your family. You are all I have left of my house. Will you not trust to me in this?"

His tone became a little sadder, and he turned away from Lisaine to continue back to the fire. Standing there, Lisaine suddenly retraced her steps back towards the river. She was startled again as she nearly ran into Alnein returning to camp herself after retrieving the arrow. The two stood blocking each other's path. At length Alnein spoke,

"Do not trust him," she said gravely, "Some great evil has befallen your uncle. I can see it with my elf eyes. His heart has a shadow hovering over it. Do not leave yourself alone with him."

"Alnein, he is my uncle!" Lisaine said, "What am I to do then? Would you have me believe that my own blood is ill disposed towards me? He saved me from Rakal's very grip in the forests of Irwindal. But for him, I would not be alive today. I beseech you do not provide any further displays of thy prowess, unless it should be against the real enemy. Promise me. The race of men may react differently to such acts than another elf, and I would not have you provoke an old man who has lost everything."

The elf's eyes gleamed bright blue in the moonlight, and no other feature of her face could be seen. The elf was clearly distressed. For the first time, Lisaine became unnerved by Alnein's stare. Looking hard at Lisaine, she continued,

"It was a warning to him Nevariel, and he heard it well. Harken to my words, young queen! For I am your friend, and I swear to you, on your love for Legolas, that he is fallen into darkness somehow. A pall of doom surrounds him. Do not leave yourself alone with him!"

The cold night air drove at Lisaine's tangled hair and her head sunk to her chest.

"I know you are ever at my side Alnein. But I beg you, speak not to me of this again, or of Legolas, for the mere mention of his name tears at me. But for your help I could not have hoped for such a waking dream as I have lived these last days. Would that he were here with me now! I could be braver going to this war if I knew he were near! Alas, I too have sensed a difference in my uncle. He is perhaps sadder, more forlorn, and his appearance has changed much to me. But then how much different must I seem to him? He recognized me not even in Lord Elrond's house. Happy and carefree as my uncle and I once were, everything we held dear has been taken from us, and we are both changed for it. But beyond that I cannot believe. For your sake, I would agree to stay weary of Lord Hollein on this trip. But I beg you, please do not provoke him further, for he bears the pride of kings and we will need every warrior if our campaign is to be successful."

The elf was silent, and her heart towards Lord Hollein remained as stone. But as Alnein walked slowly by Lisaine, she suddenly stopped and placed her hand upon Lisaine's arm. The young queen smiled to her friend, and it seemed to Lisaine that Alnein's eyes began to emanate a familiar, soothing light again. Lisaine's agreement for caution was the only satisfaction the elf would receive, and Alnein would have to accept it for the present. The two women made their way back to the camp, where all was now quiet.

Eight days had passed since the elven host had left Imladris. Fearing no enemy, the nightly camps were settled with well-lit fires in damp cold of the mountain foothills. But the fogs had little effect on the elves, who could bear the unforgiving mountain elements better than mortal beings. While Lisaine and her companions (all save Alnein) huddled before a bonfire, wrapped tightly within their blankets during the bitterly cold autumn nights, the elves merely walked about their camps unconcerned of the weather, tending to horses or weapons. Legolas said little during the march. Some great confusion was upon his mind. Some grievous weight that he had never before encountered was troubling him. Kerrinais could see it.

Seldom without his weapons, this final night before coming to Isodor, Legolas placed his bow and quiver and two white knives beside his pack. He ran his slender fingers along the edge of Menea, closing his eyes and whispering an elvish prayer, a wish that Illdinar's spirit had found the end of its travels over the seas. Slowly approaching from behind, Kerrinais spoke to him.

"You are thinking of our friend," he said softly. Legolas placed the shining blade within its new sheath that was made for him in the forges of Imladris. He laid it beside his own knife, and stood up.

"Yes," he said looking into a fire, "Illdinar was a good companion. It is hard to see such times, when an immortal friend falls to a merciless foe. You and I deal with all encompassing death in every battle Kerrinais, and when we see the death of our enemy, it does not taint us. But when death touches its icy hand to a friend, it is hard to accept. It is hard for me to understand that he will not be with us anymore until we make that journey ourselves, and perhaps never."

Lowering his head, Kerrinais placed his hand upon his chest and quickly spoke an elvish prayer. Finishing, he looked again at Legolas.

"But that is not all," he said with sympathy, "Some other thing troubles you besides Illdinar, I can tell. You have not been yourself since we left Euphratas, yet I perceive that there is some other thing that weighs upon your mind. It is not the impending battle, you have seen a thousand such battles, and they no longer trouble you."

Legolas smiled briefly, and then a small frown crossed his face.

"Kerrinais," he paused, "Have you ever...loved before?"

The question took Kerrinais completely by surprise. This sort of remark, coming from an elf, especially Legolas who had never displayed any favor to a female before, astonished him. He blinked several times, thinking back on his long life before answering. Such things were seldom discussed between the elves. Kerrinais was not sure how to reply.

"Well...no," he said at last, "Perhaps I was once long ago. I thought I was. But she was not a Mirkwood elf, and did not wish to stay in the Northern woods to be set down with hearth and home and children, and left on a quest and did not return." His voice trailed off. He tried to constrain himself to only certain happier memories, and not remember others. All at once, he lifted his head, amiably dismissing it.

"Besides," he grinned, "She was very close to my house, and a union between us would not have been possible. But to me, more beautiful she could not have been were she Luthien or Arwen. She is happy now, and I am as content. That is the closest I came to love."

"But," Legolas implored, "When you thought you loved, how could you tell?"

"You ask the wrong one," Kerrinais answered glancing downward at the length of shining braid attached to Legolas's belt, "I only came close to love once, but never possessed it. I would say this to you Legolas, when you look upon the stars in the sky at night and wish for her presence or when you see her face wherever your eyes can look. And if you can long for her touch or her voice, and all the woodlands are better around you because of her, then I believe you have loved."

Legolas stared at his friend, and seemed to be shaken by Kerrinais's reply. Kerrinais felt that he somehow had not helped him. He knew Legolas was looking for some kind of other answer to the question and he simply could not provide the solution. Such things were difficult for the elves to understand, and generally an elf decided upon a mate much sooner in their long lives than this. Trying to recall when he had seen his friend with anyone while they were in Rivendell, Kerrinais decided the riddle was not worth the trouble of solving when so many other grim realities were at hand. He returned to the largest bonfire, 20 feet away, and began to speak to Hanthenar of the coming day. Legolas stood watching Kerrinais before turning to walk into the woods alone, singing softly.

On the ninth day the troop arrived at the Bruinen Loudwater. They turned south for a short distance towards the angle, where Isodor sat to the east of the great river. Cresting a rocky ridge, the forward troops stopped and gazed southwards. From their vantage point atop the foothills, they could see a great plume of smoke rising somewhere north of the Hollin ridge region.

"Rakal's army progresses quickly," said Balanthos grimly, "We shall barely have time to cut them off before they come to Isodor. We will have no time to deepen the defense within the fortress before the destroyer comes to battle."

"Then let us make all possible speed and engage our foe before he reaches the outer borders!" ordered Menarn.

"It will put us at a disadvantage on the open plain," said Kerrinais loudly, "They will fair worse if we battle within the forest boundaries. Let us meet them within the woods, where the power of the defenders might be stronger!"

Balanthos quickly looked to all the elven lords, and received a nod from each. Then spurring his mount, he trotted to the regiment leaders behind them, banners unfurled and flying in the strong winds that came sweeping across the plain. He yelled to them in elvish, the sound of tapping chest armor rose over the hills, two-thirds of the host led by Balanthos, Menarn, Hanthenar, and Marsanganion left.

Those on foot sped away, past Legolas and Kerrinais, leaving the remainder of the host on horseback as a second wave of attack. The battle of Isodor had begun.

Through the dense wood, Rakal's front soldiers moved slowly. The thickets and ravines were difficult for their horses, for they were only used to running on the plains in open battle. Heavy armor on the horses caught on tree limbs and in bushes, ripping at their sides, causing them to whinny and moan.

"Why do we have to go this way?" grumbled one slumped in his saddle, "By the time we get there, they all would have died of old age!"

"Shut up!" came an enraged voice from behind, "Orders are we go this way. Maybes we'll see some elveses lurking in the woods that we cans kills. They won'ts all bees in the cities!"

The first orc grumbled something under his breath, when a long shaft suddenly struck him squarely in the chest. He yelped briefly, before toppling over.

"Attack!" screamed the next orc, "Kill them!"

A hail of arrows flew over the orcs in every direction as the elves jumped from their hiding places to engage their enemy. Many of the orcs on horseback fell from their mounts, as the terrified animals reared up on their hind legs and bolted. From behind the flanks, a solid wave of hissing and shrieking orc soldiers ran past the front guard, swords flailing and crashing onto the elven defenders. The elven lord Balanthos, having spent every arrow, now swiftly reached back to gather his sword, but before he could release it from its sheath, a large orc, howling hideously, ran up beside him, thrusting his sword through the elf's neck. Blood gushed from the open wound as the elf instantly fell to the ground, his hand still clutching the sword. The orc stood howling in victory, waving his own weapon about in the air, before a stray orc arrow pierced his back, and he reeled and fell beside Balanthos. Such screaming and shrieking as was never heard in those woodlands continued, as more and more orcs plunged into the battle, enraged by the very thought of opposition. Then a loud yell, guttural and deep hissed:

"To the city! Destroy the city!"

A cavalry of orcs on horses immediately broke from the fighting, and continued around the main battle, unfettered. The main host of elves was completely involved with those that were on foot. Breaking the tight quarters of the forest, the orcs whipped their beasts to make haste towards the defenseless city. They made no effort for silence, and they shrieked and screamed as they approached. Cresting a grassy hill, not a 1/4-mile from the forest edge, they were met by another hail of arrows from the elves that had lingered behind, led by Legolas and Kerrinais. The elven line of horses stretched horizontally along the entire embankment. Each elf, firing his arrows at will found its way to every orc as they covered the hillside, one after another dropping from their mounts. Some orcs broke away again, and managed to ride along the side of the embankment, attempting to cut down the elven line from behind. Clanking swords and armor echoed over the plains, as the elves fought on horseback. Legolas spurred Neonean, looking to see where Kerrinais was in the battle.

He saw a large orc run up to Kerrinais's horse and thrust his sword into its side. The horse cried out and fell, dropping his rider with him. The two rolled down the steep hill. Legolas instantly cried to Kerrinais, who was scrambling to get on his feet, the orc laughing with its foul jagged teeth glittering in its hideous mouth. The beast raised his sword high above Kerrinais's head to strike. In the clouds of dust, Legolas spurred Neonean on, clinging onto the galloping horse with only his legs. He reached behind his back and deftly drew Menea from its sheath. In a fraction of an instant, Neonean ran full tilt past the orc. Its head fell clean off its shoulders at Kerrinais's feet. Then spurring his horse about, Legolas galloped back to Kerrinais, his arm extended. The elf grasped tightly onto Legolas's outstretched hand pulled himself onto Neonean's back, as another rider approached them. Kerrinais spun himself around, now facing backward as he drew his sword and crossed blades with the orc rider. Another rode up to them, cutting off Neonean's gallop. Legolas twirled his gleaming elven blades with both hands as he and the second orc rider fought.

"A horse!" Kerrinais yelled to Legolas, "I need a horse!"

"What about one of these?" Legolas yelled back, his elven blade clanging against the screaming, infuriated beast. The howling monster that Kerrinais fought now attempted to stand in his saddle. Unsteady as his mount was, he was clearly meaning to jump and take the elves off Neonean's back. Kerrinais swiftly kicked a leg at the horse, which jerked back, dislodging the orc with a thud back into its saddle.

"An orc horse?!" Kerrinais shouted back, "I would rather not! Is there no Rivendell horse about?!"

Legolas glanced up across the grassy field where the fighting continued until he spied a riderless Rivendell horse. Slashing one last time, Legolas felled the orc blocking their path and Neonean galloped past the newly dead creature. The rider that Kerrinais had been fighting gave chase. Kerrinais pulled out a short elven dagger from his belt and threw it with such strength and ferocity that the blade whined as it sailed threw the air, piercing the beast threw a leather face coverlet. It screeched, dropped its sword and held onto its face, before falling to the ground. The Rivendell horse remained still when Neonean galloped up alongside it. Kerrinais leaped lightly onto its back and gathered its reins in his hand. Below the steed on the ground, was a fallen elf, the horse's master. The elf's lifeless eyes stared blankly skyward. Kerrinais looked at the dead elf with a brief sense of pity, before gazing back at Legolas.

"Take better care of this one!" Legolas yelled spurring Neonean about. Kerrinais nodded and the two rode off in different directions to continue with the battle.

After some time had passed, the brunt of the orcs riding upon the grassy knoll were overcome. However, the fierce battle in the forest continued. Legolas signaled to several riders to follow him into the forest, and 25 horses broke from the fight and sprinted away with Legolas. Neonean whinnied and sprinted, her blood stained mane and tail flying in back of her as though the wind were holding them in place. A number of elves, including Kerrinais, remained behind to combat what remained of the orc detachment. In the forest, the elven horses, being reared in the forest haven of Rivendell, had little trouble traversing the broken terrain. Yet several riders decided to dismount and leave their horses away from the main siege. The battle had progressed much during the time that the elven horse riders were engaged in the open. The broken bodies of orc mingled with elf were strewn in every flat clearing, in every ravine. Spent blood trickled into every stream, mutating the clear water with an eerie red appearance. The battle now spread over a greater distance in the forest, for some of the enemy had turned in their sudden cowardice and sought to go around the onslaught, only to be pursued and cut off. Still, this had a damaging effect on the elven army, which was now thinly spread throughout the forest. A full third of the elves were now killed, including Hanthenar and Marsanganion.

Legolas rode deeply into the siege, his bow in hand. The long brown and gray shafts of Mirkwood flew to their appointed marks, one after the other, dropping each prey where it stood, until his quiver was spent. Jumping down from Neonean's back, Legolas grabbed his two elvish white knives from their sheaths, spinning them in his hand so that only the barest outline of the blade could be seen. In an instant, satisfied with his final grip, he lunged forward alongside his brethren and began hand-to-hand combat with renewed fervor. Such was Legolas's skill and speed that no orc could overcome him. With each quarry felled, Legolas looked wildly about, before engaging the next. Although the elves were superior in strength and skill, Rakal's army was superior in numbers. For every orc that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

The struggle continued on, and the number of elves left fighting, dwindled. Kerrinais and ten more riders joined the combat, but it was not nearly enough. There simply were not enough elves remaining, and they were slowly being eliminated. Even Kerrinais was beginning to tire and felt the hopelessness of the situation. He spied Legolas in the distance, fighting two creatures at once, their heavy blades clanging against Legolas's red stained knives. With a final brutal slash, Kerrinais felled the creature assailing him, and ran to help his friend. One orc whirled about as Kerrinais ran up to it, but before it could wield its sword, Kerrinais slashed its throat and it fell, blood gushing onto the leaves.

"We are being overrun!" he shouted to Legolas.

As if to answer his words, the clear, sharp sounding of the horn of Irwindal suddenly came whistling through the forest. A new barrage of horses and men flew past the amazed elves, being led by Lords Kellindle and Arkon, who shouted,

"For Isodor! For Isodor!"

Lisaine's army had arrived. Legolas and Kerrinais stared at each other for a brief moment, grinning, before they began yet another assault with renewed spirits. Help had come to the elves from the most unexpected quarter of all, the race of men. This time, the orcs, already battle weary from the elven armies, were slowly driven back. More and more bands of orcs broke away and began running through the woods, until at last the combat began to die away.

Legolas, having dispatched his last adversary, gazed around. There was still much fighting within the area, but no longer enough of the enemy to set on him without a spare moment. He stood there breathing heavily. The white blades in his hands, dripping with blood and sinew, seemed suddenly of a great weight, and he let his arms fall to his sides, still gripping them tightly. He saw Kerrinais leaning against a tree, slumping over slightly, and he sprang over to him, concerned that he had been wounded. Running up to him, Legolas frantically turned his friend to face him and quickly checked him over for a wound, but there was none.

"No," Kerrinais breathed, "I am unhurt. Just tired. The battle has been hard won, but won nonetheless." Legolas grinned, but his expression soon turned serious.

"I have not seen Rakal," he said. Kerrinais shook his head.

"He was not here during the battle or on the grasslands. I would have seen it for I too have searched for him. He must have taken another route. He must have eluded us."

"There is no escape for Rakal," Legolas said soberly, "We must assemble what warriors we have left and finish him."

The two elves stepped away from the tree when a red-bearded man on a brown stallion trotted up to them. They stood aside to let him pass, but instead he held back on the reins of the anxious steed, pulling it to a halt.

"I am looking for Lord Legolas and Lord Kerrinais of Mirkwood," he said.

"This is Legolas and I am Kerrinais," the elf replied. The rider dismounted and bowed before them, beads of sweat falling from his face.

"I am Lord Kellindle. I am sent by Queen Lisaine of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin to seek you out. I am also bid by her highness to offer any help in your efforts to secure the elven sanctuary of Isodor against Rakal the Destroyer."

Legolas stepped forward and put his hand on the large man's shoulder, an act of tribute to a recognized friend.

"Your arrival here is welcome," Legolas said to him breathing hard, "But how came it that you knew of our plight? Indeed, how is it that there is anyone left in the Anduin at all, for Kerrinais and I have left the blue cities but a few weeks ago, and we thought there were no survivors." Looking down, Lord Kellindle spoke in a softer, sadder voice.

"Many of our people perished in the attacks to be sure, but our queen survived, a true testament to her fortitude, and was only lately revealed to us. It was she who convinced the lords and the army to assail the Dark Lord's cursed forces here and not wait for Rakal to return to the valleys to finish what he had begun. There were but 400 or so of us left, and we banded together and marched across the high pass. The queen's uncle also being with us."

"Your queen is of exceptional bravery to attempt such an act of friendship," said Legolas. Having only known Lisaine by her elven name, Legolas remained ignorant of whom Lord Kellindle spoke.

"Indeed she is a courageous ruler," breathed Lord Kellindle, "She has ridden yonder into the deeper forest with her uncle and several advisors, and should return shortly. Until then, I am commanded to muster what men are left to me and follow the elven lords where they bid us to go."

"We are to set out at once to find the orc captain," said Kerrinais, "Collect what men you have, and follow us. There are few places for Rakal to run, now that the greater part of his army is destroyed."

"He will make for the fortress of Isodor," said Legolas, "For there is little defense there now, and with enough creatures, he might yet take it."

Lord Kellindle bowed to Legolas and Kerrinais. Then taking his horse's reins, he hauled himself onto the animal and galloped off. Legolas looked around the carnage frowning. He blew a quick, low-pitched whistle, which was more like a song hummed. From out of the deep recesses of the forest, trotted Neonean, her eyes filled with gladness at hearing the call from her master. Returning his knives to their sheaths, Legolas spent a moment to tighten the sheath belt around his chest. It had grown wet with blood and the leather was now stretching. Then, surveying the ground, Legolas walked over a small distance and retrieved his Mirkwood bow. Turning it over and over, he ascertained that it was not broken in the fighting. He walked quickly about the battlefield, removing elven arrows from the dead orcs, and stuck them into his quiver, until it was once again full. Thus re- armed, he gripped Neonean's long mane and lightly hopped onto the mare's back, and prepared to depart. Kerrinais and others had similarly obtained more weapons, and all were now converging to the spot where Legolas impatiently waited.

In the darkening forest, a small company walked along the edge of a small stream. Accompanying Lisaine was Alnein, and the valley Lords Bieldan and Arkon, and also Lisaine's uncle, Lord Hollein.

"I do not like this, uncle" Lisaine called over to him from astride her horse, "We should be where the fighting is, they need every warrior."

"When the fighting is over at last," he replied, "The people will need a ruler. It's better if we remain aloof here for the time being."

Lisaine only frowned. The small party continued down a small hill. The stream they followed trickled over rocks and underneath fallen tree trunks. The forest grew somewhat denser as they progressed, but all could hear the noise of battle beginning to subside. Lisaine at last had decided to turn back and find the battle area, anxious in her mind to find Legolas. As she began to open her mouth to speak, she casually looked at Alnein and stopped short. The elf was looking wildly about in great alarm.

"What...." Lisaine began. But she was unable to finish her sentence, for a great troop of orcs sprang from every direction, hidden behind the large trees.

"A trap! A trap!" yelled Lord Arkon pulling his sword out. Unsheathing her dagger, Lisaine heaved it with all her strength at the first orc she saw. The blade landed squarely in the creature's neck. It fell to the ground with an anguished howl. The young girl thrust her heels hard into her horse's side, and it leaped into the air, but another beast with a gaping wide jaw had grabbed her leg and pulled the screaming girl off her horse before she could escape. Landing on a rock protruding from the ground, Lisaine uttered an agonized cry as she struggled with the laughing and hideous monster, his drool dripping down upon her face. Alnein deftly lifted her bow and felled the beast with an arrow even as she herself was knocked off her own horse from somewhere above. Alnein staggered to her feet, bleeding from a blow to her head, and then collapsed to the ground. Lisaine continued to scream as two more orcs pawed at her arms, finally subduing her. She frantically looked around only to see the lifeless bodies of Lord Arkon and Lord Beildon. All the struggling abruptly stopped as several hoof falls made their way calmly to the site. Lisaine looked up, and saw Rakal with three other orc riders approach. Lord Hollein, the only one remaining upon his horse, did not see their approach from behind.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Lisaine screamed, "Behind you!"

She watched in horror and disbelief as Rakal strode up to her uncle's side and stopped. Lord Hollein remained calm as Rakal dismounted and slowly made his way over to where she was held.

"UNCLE!" she screamed.

"I have kept my word to you," Lord Hollein said to him in a low voice as the orc captain sauntered past. It was almost incomprehensible for Lisaine to believe what she was hearing. She shook with anger as she realized that it was her own uncle that had arranged the ambush. Rakal walked up close to Lisaine and hissed under his breath. He grabbed her jaw with a massive, distorted claw and gazed at her with the same evil hatred that she had seen that night in Irwindal. She stifled a small whimper as the orc soldiers held her erect, a great pain in her right side stabbed at her. As he stepped back, he drew up his bow, fitted an arrow to it and aimed it point blank at Lisaine's face.

"Wait," said Lord Hollein jumping from his horse. He stepped in front of Rakal and walked over to Lisaine, who still struggled fruitlessly against her assailants. He pried open her fingers and pulled the heavy signet ring from her left hand, holding it close to her face.

"Only the King may wear this ring," he said sarcastically. Lisaine spit at him and continued to struggle. He wiped his face off and gazed at her with contempt.

"Vile betrayer!" she cried, "You are my father's brother! How can you do this?! It was you who saved me that night in Irwindal!"

"You are a halfwit!" he laughed, "I did not mean to save you that night! Did you not comprehend, after all this time, that it was I who led you to Rakal then as well?"

She shook her head in disbelief. Lord Hollein stepped back, and Rakal drew forward once again. Lisaine looked directly into his black eyes, determined not to flinch or look away from her doom, but the creature lowered his bow and tightened his eyes, scrutinizing her again.

"NO. I may have another use for YOU," he hissed laughing. Then he grew sober again. He turned around slowly and deliberately, and lifted his arrow at Lord Hollein, who drew back in horror.

"But YOU," Rakal muttered in fury, "YOU I have NO more use for!"

"But...but..." Lord Hollein cried dropping to his knees, "I have done as you commanded! I have brought you the last of the house of Gillindon!"

"Yes, you brought me a queen," he seethed in fury, "And she brought an army with her to aid the cursed elves!! And it was YOU who told me she was dead before you discovered that she lived, you sniveling piece of flesh! You've failed me too many times!"

"But, my lord," stammered Lord Hollein, "I didn't know there were any survivors! I tried to draw the stragglers back to the valley and away from Isodor! That was not my doing! It was hers! You promised me that I would be king!"

"I didn't say how long you'd be a king, did I?" he grinned, his bloodied fingers pulling back on the bow. All at once, he released the shaft, and it flew directly through Lord Hollein's left eye. Blood spurted down his face as he fell over, lifeless. To this new horror, Lisaine closed her eyes, and looked away. When she opened them again, Rakal, was mounting his horse.

"My Lord," hissed another orc bending over Alnein, "This one still lives."

"Bring them," he growled, and kicked his horse. The horse whinnied and sped off into the forest. As Lisaine's hands were bound, she looked in the direction where Rakal was headed, and saw a great column of orc soldiers making their way through the woods towards Isodor. The foul stench of the creatures around her choked the air, and she coughed, blood trickling down her chin. She vaguely realized her side ached. Looking down, Lisaine could see a large stain of blood soaking into the fabric of her gown where she had struck her side on the rock. Then all went black.

Even before her eyes opened again, Lisaine was coughing. She found herself, lying upon her side on a smooth, cold stone floor. Her hands were still tied in front of her, and she pulled at them weakly before giving up. Precariously lifting her head, she could see the outline of Alnein, tied likewise, sitting up, with her back leaning against the thick stone wall. One small rectangular window was the only source of light in the otherwise empty room. The sun's long rays stretched far into the recesses of the dreary chamber with a reddening glow. A musty smell of putrid leaking water and decaying mold permeated the room. The only fresh air to be breathed was afforded by the tiny window. A large door, laden with heavy iron brackets that attached it to the stone archway, was shut. The hands of men built the fortress long ago. It stood as a sanctuary for travelers, much the same as Imladris was a sanctuary. However, as the centuries slipped by, the castle was abandoned, its people migrating south beyond the mountain passes. Slowly, new inhabitants took over and dwelt sometimes within its dimmed walls, but mostly removed the vast woodlands beyond. Lisaine could now see Rakal's purpose in coming there first. Any survivors of the Anduin massacres would retreat there, and the elven defenses in and around the fortress were next to nothing. It would have been an easy target for Rakal. Now Lisaine and Alnein found themselves in the darkest regions of the ancient dungeon, where no elf or other being had strayed in 500 hundred years.

Shifting onto her back, Lisaine struggled to sit erect. From somewhere beyond the dark door, the distinct sounds of moaning and shrieks could be heard. She looked over at Alnein, whose eyes were closed. Dried blood and dirt covered the length of her face and down her neck. A sizable cut in her forehead was clearly visible. The bruised skin around it was already turning blue.

"Alnein," she whispered, "Are you alright? Where are we?"

The elf slowly opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to gaze at Lisaine, and she smiled.

"We have been brought to the small fortress of Isodor, which has been overtaken at last." Alnein said glumly.

"The others are dead, Nevariel," she said with some pity, "I fear your uncle is dead too."

"It was my uncle who betrayed us to Rakal," Lisaine replied somberly, "Rakal had promised him my father's throne." Alnein looked away.

"Rakal will not give it to him," Alnein said slowly, "There is no promise he would keep. I doubt Rakal will let him live."

"He is dead already," Lisaine grimaced, "I should have listened to you. A queen I am not, Alnein. I think a ruler would serve better when she at least knows who the enemy is."

The elf turned her head back to Lisaine with some effort and managed a slight smile. Lisaine crawled over to her and began to untie her friends bonds.

"At least we don't need these," Lisaine breathed, coughing a little more. The thick ropes peeled away from her wrists, and Lisaine held up her own. The elf glanced at Lisaine's side as she worked. At last Lisaine's hands were freed, the red ligature marks still emblazoned on her delicate arms. Alnein stretched out her hand to look at her friend's wound, but Lisaine pushed it away, shrugging her shoulders. Crawling back to where she was previously sitting, and with some effort, Lisaine finally turned herself so that she could face the wall. She pulled at a rip in the side of her dress to enlarge it. Sticking a hand inside, she pulled out a bloodied palm, examining it. Her face was pale and beads of sweat covered her forehead. She leaned forward and rested her head against the cold stone, closing her eyes. Alnein sat up watching her.

"Nevariel, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said sitting back suddenly, "I am unhurt. Just a small wound."

Alnein gazed doubtfully at Lisaine, but there was little she could do to help her. Alnein whispered a prayer in elvish. Her words were soothing to Lisaine, even though the young queen could not understand the entire chant, and she presently felt somewhat better. Looking around the room, Lisaine crawled forward, lay down on the icy floor and closed her eyes. She felt weary, and wanted to rest. The mere effort of breathing became difficult for her, and her chest rose and fell quickly, as she gasped in short breaths. The elf closed her eyes as well, but suddenly opened them. Looking to the window, she sat upright, shaking Lisaine's shoulder. Half awake, half unconscious, Lisaine mumbled as her senses slowly came back to her.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"The alliance has come at last!" said Alnein.

Struggling to her feet, she made her way to the tiny window. There, a column of elves and men were charging out of the forest. They clashed against the smaller resistance on the flat plain, before the fortress. As the sunlight waned, the fighting continued, and Lisaine drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Later, the sounds of stamping feet and the creaking door awoke her again. Five orcs poured into the room. Alnein fought with her aggressors, for she was relatively unhurt. In the confusion of the ensuing struggle, a large black-faced orc marched in and hit Alnein from behind several times before she was ultimately subdued. For Lisaine, however, there was little struggle left. She had lost much blood, and was teetering between wakefulness and unconsciousness. The two were shackled and dragged through another room, where three orcs sat at a table, tearing at a duck. As the women were dragged by, the orcs hollered and laughed, and threw pieces of bloodied meat, the feathers still attached, at their faces. Onward they were drawn up a tiny set of stairs, and then through darkened inner chambers. At last they were brought into a large wooden hall, and thrown roughly onto the floor. The chamber was as a great, enclosed dome, with interlaced beams of birch and white oak, ornately carved. At the center of the room was a semi-circle of tall backed wooden chairs, similarly carved as the wooden beams supporting the room. Looking above her, Alnein detected the faint clues of a recent struggle. At first sighting, the room seemed bright and untouched. Upon closer examination though, wayward arrows, stuck in the walls alongside telltale blood spatters could be seen. There in the center of the semi-circle, with red, hideous eyes, sat Rakal.

He said nothing for a short time and Lisaine lay where she had been thrown down, unmoving. Then with a wave of his arm, two large orcs grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet to stand before him. The stench of blood and rotting flesh was heavy upon his black armor. Summoning the remainder of her strength, Lisaine lifted her head and stared at him contemptuously as she could. He seemed pleased with himself, grinning and hissing at his conquest. A queen of men standing debased before him. But though Rakal was a leader in his own right, he was, at the same time, a slave to the Dark Lord, and therefore was ever looking to gain more favor in his master's eye. Here then, Rakal saw an opportunity of sorts, to further Sauron's dark purpose and separate the races of elves and men. So he bade his servants to bring forth the prisoners from the dark hole. At last he stood, towering above her, gloating of his achievement.

"I have something of yours," he cackled, throwing an object at her feet. Looking down, Lisaine saw the dismembered hand of her uncle, with her father's ring still attached. However, she did not cry or look away, but instead gazed back at Rakal with much hatred in her eyes. He spoke again to her, but now his voice seemed slightly more subdued.

"You will be taken to the high wall and you will order your soldiers to stop fighting. You may yet be a queen and live to serve the Dark Lord. Do what I demand and your lands are restored to you in Sauron's service or leave now to your death. Be aware how you answer me will govern how many of your people will live today. If you do not join me, I will not leave one alive."

Alnein glanced sideways at Lisaine, who stood erect, one hand holding her side. Lisaine glared at him.

"You think yourself clever, vermin, but you are mistaken. I am no longer the frightened child you saw that night in the burning forest. And now you would be my ally and give me what is already in my possession. I will swear only this to you. You have neither my oath nor my allegiance. But I will give you my pity. Today I die a queen of my kingdom, having at last tasted love and honor. But not long after I am dead, you too shall be vanquished. The combined armies of men and elves will retake your meager stronghold this day, and you shall die knowing only that you failed your master in the most mundane of tasks. You accomplished nothing here!"

And so enraged by her rebuke was Rakal, that he leaped towards her and struck her with such force as to throw her completely off the floor. She cried out as she landed on the ground beneath him. Grabbing her chains, he dragged her through the once noble hallways, up to the bloodied towers of Orfin, where Alnein and two other prisoners were also taken. On the battlement, before all her subjects, he lifted her with one hideous arm, the other at the ready with his sword. And knowing that her last moments were at hand, she remembered the beauty of the Irwindal forest, and her father's loving smile, and the beguiling beauty of her elven lord's face. Turning her head outward towards the raging battle below, Lisaine gave one final effort, and began striking Rakal's arm with her shackles, screaming loudly,

"Legolas!! Legolas!!"

Far beneath the battlement, on the hill of Aringsan, Legolas, Kerrinais and two other woodland elves held the vantage against all who assailed them. Each elf allowing an orc or creature climb to the top, thinking themselves victorious, when they would be utterly struck down by sword or arrow. Springing over the growing mound of bodies, Kerrinais or Legolas would thus come, retrieve and fit the self-same shaft to their bows that had smote a dozen others. Taking his deadly aim, Legolas pulled far back on the string, when suddenly to his ears came a faint, almost imperceptible cry. Hearing the sound, Legolas and Kerrinais both spun around and gazed up in the direction of the battlement. At the top of the wall, for all to see were the remaining prisoners. Legolas gasped, fixing his horrified stare to the defensive walk where Lisaine vainly fought to free herself from Rakal's iron grip. Instinctively, he summoned all his strength and pulled far back on the shaft in his hand, letting it fly towards the fortress, some few hundred yards away. Through the rising smoke it swathed its path, till at last it came to rest squarely in the eye of the great orc captain, Rakal, and without a sound he fell dead.

Released of her captor, Lisaine staggered forward and grabbed onto the wall. She searched wildly to the battlefield, looking for Legolas, but she could not see him. Yet, she knew it was he who had killed Rakal. Now Iskal, one of Rakal's underlings quickly ran up to take his master's place. Grabbing Lisaine's hair, he pulled her head downward, as she struggled to grab the orc's legs and throw it off its balance. Iskal, however, was too large and heavy, and her attempts were in vain. She felt suddenly faint, and as darkness overtook her, she weakly turned her head to see Alnein's blank, empty stare, and she extended her hand in a final effort towards her friend. With a mighty laugh, the beast raised a long, orc knife, dripping with blood, and plunged it up to the hilt into her back. Then, heaving her over his head, he threw her off the high wall to the muddied ground below. Amidst a rain of arrows, the other orc underlings followed suit with the other prisoners, howling in anger that their leader was gone. From the battlefield, a half a dozen elves were aiming their arrows at the battlements in an effort to save what might be left of the hostages. But as one orc would fall, another would jump to its place and help to complete their terrible task, and it seemed there was no end to them. One-by-one, all were slain and left among the ruins on the wall, side-by-side with the vanquished Rakal.

Thus, Lisaine, Queen of Irwindal, Princess and heir to the throne of Gillindon, ruler of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin valley was dead; as were Alnein, and all those taken to Isodor.

But Legolas had not seen this. Even as Lisaine fell, the hill where Legolas stood was being overrun, and their attentions were diverted back to the battle. Legolas and Kerrinais had unsheathed their elven knives once more, while the others drew on their bows. The struggle continued until the last vestiges of sunlight filtered through the trees of the great forest. Now leaderless, the dwindling number of orcs began to flee the castle to the outlying forest. But this did not save them, for the elves and Lisaine's army pursued them far into the dark recesses of Tamlot. Legolas and Kerrinais however, were bent on finding their way into the fortress.

The only entrance to the castle was a large oak drawbridge that spanned across a deep, dry ravine. Gaining entrance to the fortress interior would have been a problem, and in fact, had the orcs stood their ground, they might have continued the battle well into the night. But in their attempts to escape, the orcs lowered the bridge and left it open as they fled to the woodlands. True to Lisaine's foretelling, the castle was retaken that day, and the right hand of Sauron was destroyed, never to plague the free lands of Middle-Earth again, much to the Dark Lord's anger and misery.

As night made its way across the purpling skies, Legolas frantically rushed through the castle with Kerrinais close behind, searching for Nevariel. Of the fortress they had but little knowledge, so they searched room to room, delving ever deeper into the dark abyss of the foul underworld of the castle. They sought out the rumored dungeons, supposing that if any prisoners were alive, they might be held captive there. The elves had not far to search. Down a tiny forgotten stone stair they advanced. Kerrinais followed closely behind Legolas. The stairwell being so small and enclosed it only allowed one person at a time. The stairs opened to a small room, now vacant of chains or instruments of torture. The elves knew that this had once been the room's purpose. Five heavy wooden doors stood before them, all closed. Resolute, Legolas walked to the first door and pushed it open. The door creaked as it gave way. At first, the black room did not betray anything in its interior. Drawing forth a single torch, Kerrinais thrust the flame into the darkness, and the vague rays of light shone into the far corners of the tiny room. Legolas took two steps into the chamber and froze. There on a far wall he saw a bloodstained handprint, small and delicate, perfect in its symmetry. Unable to look away, Legolas slowly and purposefully approached the wall, bending down on one knee. He touched the cold, wet stone with his outstretched hand, and there grief overtook him. For the first time in his ancient life, tears came to his eyes, as he realized Lisaine's purpose in leaving the message.

Kerrinais crept up behind Legolas, and peered over his shoulder, holding up the torch to the stone. At once he understood his friend's anguish and sorrow. Fearing he would collapse in death at the ghastly sight, Kerrinais pulled on Legolas's tunic and cried,

"Come! She may yet be alive!" and bade for them to depart. Legolas looked up and stared at Kerrinais, as though that one tiny ray of hope hadn't crossed his mind before. He sprang to his feet and ran out of the chamber. With bow and arrow in hand, Legolas made his way up the steep stairways, determined to lay to ruin all that he encountered, but none opposed him. Kerrinais followed closely behind, whispering to him to be cautious, but Legolas did not hear him.

Finally they reached the high, great wall, where Legolas frantically searched the bodies on the battlement. Kerrinais looked out beyond the hills, the torches carried by the last vestiges of the orc army were now scattering into the woods. But search as he might, Legolas still did not find Lisaine straightaway. He stood before the lifeless corpse of Rakal, a dim, white film now covering the creature's one remaining eye. Legolas stood over the vile creature, until at last his face contorted with rage. Crying out, the elf stretched his bow and let fly another single shaft. It pierced Rakal's untouched eye with such force, it lodged in the stone beneath the beast's distorted head. Spent and slumped over, Legolas made his way to the wall and closed his eyes. Finally, he gazed over the side of the towering wall, already knowing the sight that would befall him. In the growing darkness, he plainly saw the small outline of Lisaine's lifeless body below. Without hesitation, he immediately jumped over the wall; flying through the air as a soaring bird, and landed unharmed only an arm's length from where Lisaine lay. Somewhere above, Kerrinais was speaking an elven prayer for Alnein, for he had found his sister at last in the ruins, and he sought to quicken her spirit to the deathless lands.

But for Legolas, there was no understanding. Only confusion. Nevariel was taken from him as a flame is taken from a candle when it is extinguished, and he did not yet comprehend the meaning of her death or the depth of his own grief. He knelt beside her, his hand touching her cheek. Lisaine almost looked to be sleeping. Mysterious death did not dampen her pale and perfect face. She had cheated death he thought, its grim cloak unable to taint her beauty. To Legolas, she had at last achieved some measure of immortality. Pulling a dagger from his belt, Legolas blinked back his tears as he cut a braid from each temple, leaving a single braid on each side. He held them for a moment in his trembling hand, staring at them. Then he pulled the bloodstained braid from his own belt, and intertwined them all. Legolas gently lifted Lisaine's tiny hand and turned it upwards, kissing her palm. It felt cold and wet, but this did not affect him, for he only wished to touch her once more. He choked back a sob, laid the strands in it and closed her hand around them. At last he bowed his head as he sat next to her, singing softly under the clear night sky.

A horseman rode up to him, spying Lisaine on the ground, he rode out to the hills and called out,

"Alas! The queen is dead! The queen of Irwindal is dead!"

Legolas watched him ride forth, but was numbed to his words. The hours passed and Kerrinais had not yet appeared. Finally emerging from the fortress Kerrinais came, looking worn and somber. Silently he approached Legolas, and sat next to him, saying nothing. Even after Lisaine's body was borne away by the remainder of her army, the two elves remained there on the cold ground, almost until dawn. In the disstant forest, all was quiet but for the almost imperceptible sounds of Legolas's weeping. At the first pale stretches of daybreak streamed across the landscape, the carnage of the night became clear. Orcs and elves and men lay fallen together, a testament to the useless waste of war. The sun's rays began peering between the trees and calm of the woodlands returned to Tamlot as though nothing had transpired. Somewhere in the forest, Neonean heard the subdued whistle of her master, and came galloping to his call. And Legolas and Kerrinais started the long journey back to Rivendell. Their evenings were spent in quiet solitude, each wandering off to be alone. Even as they approached Imladris, the faint elven laments could be heard in reverence for Nevariel, for the tide had once more been turned against Sauron that fateful day. Upon their arrival, the beauty and serenity of Imladris surrounded them once more, and they were hailed as the greatest of elven warriors. The soothing sounds of the Bruinen and the birds enveloped the city as it always had, but there was no longer any joy in Rivendell for either elf. Legolas and Kerrinais lingered in the city less than a day before returning to Mirkwood.

From that time on, the spirits of the elves were thus gentled towards mortal men, because of their aid in the defense of Isodor, and the warrior Queen who was as an elf. And many songs were sung of her, and afterwards, she was called Lossenladwen or Queen of Courage. The kingdoms of the valley, with few men returned, and no ruler to guide them, faltered and ultimately disappeared altogether, as did the city of Isodor, for no elf would live there, as it was now tainted with orc blood. In time, Legolas's heart lightened from his loss, as he came to understand how it was that Nevariel came to Rivendell, and the depth of her devotion to the elves and her own people. Never again did he speak of her, although he heard her name often in song. But 650 years would pass before Legolas would agree to journey again to Rivendell, sent forth once more by King Thranduil to sit at the council of Elrond. For Gollum had escaped from the forests of Mirkwood, and the One Ring had at last been found.