A/N: A bit more of the book and movie here. This sort of goes in a zig-zag fashion so I hope it's not too confusing. Again, the battle descriptors are from "Chronicles of the Crusades".

IwishChan – Good thing Pippin is around or Faramir would be – er – toast (in a manner of speaking).

Norie Ape 1 – Yes, it is terrible, isn't it? Those were real life accounts from the people who were there. I can't improve on eyewitnesses!

Jebb – Gimli is something else. The battle is winding down (phew!) but we all know where this is going – it's just the HOW we're missing! (That's the fun part!)

Annowe had sped with greatest haste to join the battle at Minas Tirith. She feared for Legolas and cursed her own stupidity for falling victim to the oath breakers sword. Her father refused to let her out of his sight until he was certain she was completely healed and when he finally agreed to let her go, she swam with all her strength upriver to the White City, determined to fight in this last great battle.

But He who is terrible in His plans for the sons of men had heard the pleas of her worried father and decided otherwise. There would be no battle for the daughter of Ulmo for he feared for her safety as any father would.

Legolas couldn't help but smile as he saw Gimli and Deka ride through the gate of Minas Tirith with the rest of the army and wondered how the two of them had ever found each other in the melee. Almost immediately, Deka spotted him and shouted in recognition as she guided the tired animal through the throng and to his side.

Wisely Legolas hid his amusement as they approached, reaching out instead to stroke the horse's velvety nose.

"Well, Prince of Mirkwood, I am pleased you are not dead," Deka greeted him with her usual cheer.

"And I, too, am glad you are not dead!" Laughed Gimli as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"That would make three of us," Legolas admitted with a grin. "Have either of you seen Annowe or Aragorn?"

"Aragorn is with Eomer, but I have not seen Annowe," answered Gimli.

"Nor I," agreed Deka with a frown. "She should be here, yes?"

Legolas bit his lower lip nervously. "Yes," he admitted. "She should."

"Perhaps she is at the river?" Deka asked hopefully. As much as she and Annowe could be at odds she couldn't bear to think any ill had befallen her.

"The river, yes," Legolas agreed, looking toward the darkening east. He could see faint movements in the distance toward the Anduin. Softly he called her name but he did not hear an answer.

Without a word he began walking slowly toward the gate. Immediately, Deka slid from the horse and stood to block his path.

"Legolas! No!" She pressed her hand against his chest in an effort to prevent him from leaving.

Calmly, Legolas removed her hand and stepped past her. "Deka," he began in a voice that brokered no argument. "I will find her. Stay with Gimli."

Deka sputtered. "Your father!" She cried after him, hoping that reminding him of his duty would bring him to his senses.

Legolas paused and turned to look over his shoulder at her, his gray eyes cold. Without a word, he tossed his head and fought his way out of the safety of Minas Tirith and back onto the field.

Annowe groaned and set up, her head pounding as she tried to remember what happened. The sun was setting behind Minas Tirith staining the walls blood red. She could see that the battle was over and there were only scattered handfuls of horsemen and Gondorian footmen driving the remaining enemy toward Mordor. Cursing her stupidity and bad luck, she tried to recall how she ended up at the bottom of a rubble heap. Slowly, she began to uncover herself, hoping against hope that she was not too seriously wounded. She would never hear the end of it from Legolas. She grunted at the thought and gingerly stood up a bit unsteady on her feet. Aside from a few cuts and bruises, she seemed to be fine.

"What happened?" She wondered, looking around and trying to remember her last actions. She could recall surfacing near the corsairs' ships and making her way over the slain enemies on the quay to the crumbling retaining wall. Carefully, she had climbed up the wall to gaze out over the battlefield. The battle seemed to be in full force then and she could not tell who had the upper hand. A cloud of dust stirred up by the fight hung thickly in the air causing her to sneeze several times.

With a murmured oath, she realized that her sneezing and shifting weight had made the unstable wall collapse under her, sending her sprawling and covering her in rubble. She groaned and kicked at a rock in disgust. She had completely missed the battle but it would appear that the White City had not fallen. Indeed, she could just make out the pennants of the city still snapping defiantly in the breeze.

Despite her bad mood at being left behind, she smiled. They had won. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and thought of Legolas. She needed to know he was safe.

Outside the chaos of the city walls, the battleground was eerily quiet except for the moans of the wounded and cries of the dying. Legolas shuddered when he recalled Annowe's words about the sounds the dying make. Had he been a mortal, the scene before him would have made him quail in fear and turn back. For miles all he could see was littered with the bodies of men, weapons and other creatures. As he made his way over the battlefield he estimated that more than twenty cartloads of bolts, javelins, arrows and other missiles could have been collected.

The sun was now completely gone and the moon was beginning to rise as he continued picking his way over the plain toward the river. Legolas turned his eyes to the sky and sighed, watching the mist of his breath dissipate in the slight breeze.

"Annowe," he murmured to the heavens.

"Yes," came her voice clear as a bell.

Startled, he looked around before he realized she was not next to him. Her voice had sounded so close. Then he remembered what he had to do. Drawing a deep breath, he relaxed and softly called her name again. He could feel her almost like a physical presence and he began to walk, drawn toward the quay where the corsair's ships were anchored.

His boots soon grew slick and wet with blood but he doggedly continued over the battlefield, avoiding the grasping claws of the wounded enemy and the discarded weapons that littered the plain.

He could feel her presence growing in him and knew he must be getting close to her. Several times he called out her name but only the cries of the wounded and dying answered him, begging him for help. He had to close his ears against the pitiful cries and his sensitive nose was assaulted by the stench of blood mixed with fear and excrement but still he pressed on, determined to find her.