DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc

'So this is it,' thought Ylfronir to himself, 'the last stand.'

He was feeling oddly calm, considering where they were going. He was certain that this would achieve nothing, but Aragorn had decided to lead what was left of the joint armies that had defended Minastirith towards Mordor, and who was he to argue? When he saw the regiments lining up outside the city, he had slung his bow over his shoulder and taken a step towards the door before he even asked himself why. This frightened him. But trying to think about the reality of what was going on was even more frightening, so following orders was a relief. Nathradril had not even questioned why he was going when he went to say goodbye. Bleak acceptance of the inevitable was written in her face, but she understood that he and the others still had to try.

………………

Druluk's ill fitting chainmail rattled as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other, trying to get comfortable. His fingers, clasping the handle of his sword, were freezing in the cold morning air, yet a bead of sweat trickled down his face. He forced himself to keep his gaze fixed on the horizon, not to keep looking behind him at the Black Gate, not to think about whether Tlox would succeed…Not to think about the plan at all, in fact. Just to keep his eyes open for the approach of Gondor's army.

……………………..

Ylfronir shuddered involuntarily as he gazed at the devastated landscape. It had been getting steadily worse as they approached Mordor, but now, as they lined up opposite the Black Gate, the jagged, lifeless, rocks reminded him sharply of how long it had been since he'd left Mirkwood. It would have been nice to see the forest one last time.

In front of the gates, rows upon rows of orcs stood, bristling with spears and misshapen swords. Mishapen but damn sharp, Ylfronir reminded himself. He wondered briefly if Druluk was among them, or if Jorrig and his followers had made it from the banks of the Anduin this far. He realised that he hoped they weren't, that he hoped they would avoid this bloodbath. Surprised at himself, he shook his head as though to dispel the thoughts from his mind.

'Charge!' The cry cut through his reverie, and he responded involuntarily, urging his horse forward. The cavalry surged forward, into air which became thick with arrows, as the orcs struck back. Just as his horse was reaching a gallop, Ylfronir felt its muscles spasm suddenly. He barely had time to register this before the horse collapsed to one side, flinging him forward. The next moments were of blind panic, as he desperately tried to avoid being trampled by the hooves of his own allies horses, then he managed to get to his feet. A glance told him his horse was dead. There was no time for sorrow. He set an arrow to his bow and ran towards the enemy.

………………………

Druluk darted between the skirmishes that were breaking out on all sides as the first of Gondor's foot soldiers reached the orc front line. He kept a keen look out for anyone about to attack him, but an equally keen gaze on the Black Gate at least half of the time. So far he had managed to avoid a direct confrontation, though he feared that this might not last long. As he moved between the orcs, he made eye contact whenever he could, staring fixedly at each, looking out for sparks of recognition, for any indication that they'd heard about the plan, but seeing nothing. Beginning to panic even more, he spun on his heel to check that no one was behind him, and…

'Ylfronir!' Druluk stood for a moment, stunned. Was it the stress of the battle playing tricks on his mind? He took a step towards the vision, letting his sword hand drop to his side. But Ylfronir took a step backwards and raised his bow, aiming the arrow directly at the orc's neck.

'Ylfronir, it's me…' said Druluk, uncertainly

'Druluk of the Orc Collective?' asked Ylfronir, bitterness apparent in his voice.

'No …'

'Oh, so that oath meant nothing either?'

'I don't understand…I…' Druluk floundered for the right words, 'You're not dead!' he exclaimed, grinning despite himself,

'No…' said Ylfronir, confused, 'despite the best efforts of all your friends…'

'Ylfronir, they told me that you were dead. That they had poisoned you both…'

'…Nathradril very nearly died…' interrupted Ylfronir, before his mind fully processed the significance of what Druluk had just said, then it hit him: 'They told you they had murdered us and you joined them?'

'It wasn't that simple,' Druluk said desperately, though he was having trouble believing it himself

'No. Nothing's ever simple. Like…' Ylfronir suddenly remembered something else, 'like how you forced Jorrig and those others to abandon their weapons and yet here you are…' Ylfronir looked pointedly at Druluk's sword, all the while keeping his arrow trained on him, 'Looking at this simply it would seem that you are an insufferable hypocrite, but I'm sure…'

Druluk followed the elf's gaze to stare at the sword himself

'I know…' he began, '…what it looks like, but…'

'But what?'

'Ylfronir, please, I can explain it all but…'

'I thought that we were friends!' Ylfronir suddenly exclaimed, 'I truly did. Nathradril and I escaped from those dungeons back in Moria and my first thought, my first thought, Druluk, was to save you!' Ylfronir clenched his teeth in anger at the way his own voice was shaking.

'They told me you were dead!' shouted the orc, 'I barely knew what I was doing!'

'Do you know what you're doing now?'

'Do you?'

Something about Druluk's intense, questioning stare made Ylfronir hesitate. The orc's stance, his tone and the flicker of hope – insane hope, but hope – glinting in his eyes brought back to Ylfronir memories of Isengard. The righteousness, the passion and the idealism were still there, the orc practically radiated them. How had he not noticed this before? Slowly, deliberately, Ylfronir lowered his bow.

'Drop your sword,' he said, simply

'What?'

'Put down your sword, Druluk.'

'I don't…'

'Prove to me that you haven't changed.'

'But…'

'…Prove it!'

Druluk's eyes flicked desperately from Ylfronir to the ramparts of the Black Gate then back again,

'I can't…Ylfronir, please, this is more important than you understand…'

'…Oh, I think I understand,' Ylfronir swung the bow back again, furious at his own stupiditiy in believing in Druluk for a moment, 'I understand perfectly…'

But before he could let the arrow fly…

…Druluk saw the other orc appear behind Ylfronir as if out of nowhere. He opened his mouth to shout a warning…

…A sharp pain stabbed in the back of Ylfronir's calf. The leg collapsed uselessly under him and he fell to the ground…

… 'Ylfronir!' shouted Druluk in horror, racing forward, casting his sword to the ground as he ran…

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update…