I am alive. That thought, and the pure adrenaline of battle, is what keeps me going. Death is everywhere; I smell it, I hear it, I taste it, I see it. Dead bodies litter the stone as though a second ground, corpses of Men, Elves, and Orcs alike. The coppery taste of blood is fresh in my mouth, flowing freely from a cut in my lip given to me by an Uruk, who would have slain me had it not been for Aragorn's elven companion. I had tried to thank him afterwards, but he was gone in a flash of cream-colored skin and golden hair. I know now there is no place for politeness in war.

The darkness has become heavier as time has passed, and now the only things I can spot in the darkness are gleaming blades and Elves, whose white- blonde hair and pale, almost translucent skin make them shine as brightly as a beacon of hope. My body has naturally adjusted, and I am relying on my other senses. My hearing has become rather sharp, and I can sense the heavy body of an enemy barreling towards me. I turn, and slip my body through the gut of the Uruk-Hai as easily as though it were a warm knife through butter. I watch as the Uruk falls to the ground, it's black, sticky blood pouring out of the fresh wound. I wonder, now, if this makes me a lowly murderer, or a valiant warrior. The thinking is my downfall; I know it will happen before it does happen.

Another Uruk slashes its knife through my side, from my shoulder to my waist. I can feel the blood wetting my tunic, and I glance first at the wound, then to the Uruk, and back again. As my gaze rises once again, I face not the ugly Uruk, but rather, the Elf who was by my side at the beginning of this battle that was soon to become Hell. He is alive, as I am, though I am hardly alive anymore. I fall to my knees, my eyes still on the Elf's face.

"This is no place for you,"

he says, but that is all I have time to hear. I crumble into a heap, and everything becomes white. I close my eyes in pain, and I can hear everything; the blood rushing through my veins, the rapid beating of my heart. I will die here, among the hideous Uruk-Hai, the beautiful Elves, and my own people, the Rohirrim. I will die here; I will never again see my mother's face, my father's twinkling eyes, nor will I hear the laughter of my child sister. I manage to open my eyes once more, and see the Elf, still hovering above me. I close my eyes, once again, for the last time.

I will die here.