The hilt of a sword connected roughly with Celebloki's head. He had made an error when he had assumed that his opponent had been beaten down enough. Legolas had instead risen to his feet and used what strength was left to him to bring the hilt of his sword into the back of the other's head. Now it was Celebloki who lay crumpled on the floor. Legolas raised up his sword but could not bring himself to slay the unconscious elf that lay at his feet. The sword was lowered again.

Instead, Legolas left the elf and made his way, stumbling, towards the throne. He knew that he did not have much time before the Silver Dragon awoke, for the elf was strong in will and the blow to his head too weak to knock him out for very long. If Legolas could get to Kyno, perhaps he could still change the fortunes of the battle. But that hope was quickly fading. With each step, Legolas could feel his body growing heavier and his footsteps clumsier. His energy was all but spent. The sudden thought came to his darkened mind that death was not far off; he was too wounded and had lost too much blood.

"Come no further, traitor," Thranduil commanded, breaking Legolas from his thoughts.

Legolas did not heed his father's orders and continued his journey towards the thrones. He would not die without fighting until the last moment.

"Now, my lord," urged Kyno.

Now what? Legolas' mind asked.

In an instant, he had his answer. Legolas had forgotten the bow and arrow still held by the king. And then Legolas knew – death was going to find him sooner than he had thought. Thranduil notched the arrow and drew the bowstring with measured movements, his face as grim and unfeeling as a stone statue. His checked his aim and released the arrow. Legolas did not have the chance to move from the path of the projectile and the metal head tore into his chest, right above his heart. It would not immediately kill him, for it had missed his heart, but Legolas knew that he would not last long as he lay unable to move upon the floor. Darkness covered his eyes and he knew no more.

Kyno, seeing the still form of the prince sprawled upon the floor, now saw his opportunity. Thranduil was defenseless and now Celebloki was starting to regain his footing. None could save Thranduil from their swords. Together, they advanced upon the king, who realized too late his danger. The bow he had was suddenly useless, the last of his arrows embedded in his son's chest. Side by side the two elves came, slowly backing the weaponless king towards the northern wall. In a minute he was at the wall and was pressed as far into the stone as he could. Kyno and Celebloki both poised to strike. Thranduil's eyes shut of their own accord.

The intended blows never came. The guards that Legolas had sent to find a healer had returned and upon seeing the plight of their king, had loosed their bows. Kyno and Celebloki lay face first upon the floor, each with arrow protruding from between his shoulder blades. All of this Thranduil saw as his eyes hesitantly reopened. But what was this? Queilos the healer was making his way to where Legolas and Aragorn lay. Enraged that one should attempt to help the two, Thranduil picked up the Death Sword and advanced towards the young healer.

"Step away," the king ordered, waving the sword before him.

Once or twice he struck out, slicing the empty air. Queilos, seeing Thranduil reeling like a drunken man, backed away.

"All of you, get out," he commanded.

Queilos and the guards, mostly in fear of the king's wrath, gave ground, backing away. When Thranduil had succeeded in causing the other elves to fall back, he shut the door and turned to where Legolas lay. Now Gimli the dwarf stood before the young prince, having escaped harm, for in the battle between the elves, he had been forgotten. In the shadows of the hall he had waited for the battle to be over, using all of his will power to keep out of the fight as Legolas had bidden. But when Thranduil had shot down his son, the dwarf could endure no more.

Now he stood before his friend, his stout legs planted firmly apart and his axe ready in his hands. The light of a fire was in his eyes, though inwardly, his heart quailed at the thought of fighting the elven king. Of course he would never personally admit it, but he could see the power within Thranduil and knew that he had almost no chance of surviving a battle with him. He could barely best Legolas when they sparred occasionally, and that was only if the elf was having an off day. Still, if he did not fight the king to defend Legolas, he knew that he would regret it for the rest of his days.

Thranduil advanced upon the dwarf, still wielding the Death Sword and a look of annoyance was on his face. The thought of having to fight a dwarf was a bothersome task. It would be easier and more convenient just to execute such a one, for surely no dwarf could ever hope to defeat an elf. And yet, tedious as the task seemed to the king, he still advanced, hoping to strike but one blow to slay the small nuisance.

Now the two locked eyes, standing one against the other, barely four feet separating them. Both seemed to be waiting for the other to make a move. At length, Thranduil raised his arm to strike.

"Stay you hand, Orophorian!" commanded a voice from behind the king.

Thranduil spun quickly around and rage was in his eyes. Who would dare order him?

There in the doorway stood several elves. Two were the guards from earlier. Queilos the healer was there also. And heading them all stood two powerful elves. Thranduil loosened his grip on the sword and it clattered coldly on the floor.

"Lord Elrond," breathed Gimli. "I do not believe it!"

But Gimli's eyes were not betraying him, for there in the doorway indeed stood Elrond and his trusted friend, Glorfindel. Both surveyed the aftermath of the battle and both of their faces fell.

"By the Valar!" Elrond breathed as he took in the carnage of the hall. "What happened here?"

"I will explain everything to you later," Gimli said. "For now let us say that the king is not himself and unless you can help him, he will remain dangerous."

"Bear him away to his quarters," Elrond ordered the two guards. "Stand guard and make sure that he remains inside. I will come to him later."

"I shall see to it personally," Glorfindel said and motioned for the guards to lay hold of Thranduil.

To Gimli's surprise, the king made no effort to fight, but perhaps that was why Glorfindel had offered to guard the king. Even Thranduil in his pride and madness would quail at the power of the elf lord, he who had slain the Balrog.

Now Elrond set to work with Queilos to see who needed tending to. Four elves were dead – Tauron, Nimras, Kyno, and Celebloki. Aragorn was badly wounded but with a little tending, he would live, for as he had thrown himself before the arrow meant for Legolas, the metal head had hit him at such an angle that the wound was not life threatening. Here the lord of Rivendell gave a sigh of relief. Aragorn was his adopted son and he loved him fiercely. Gimli was relieved to hear this, but there was no joy in his heart. Legolas, though still alive, was teetering dangerously at the edge of death.