Apologies for the very very long delay in posting or updating this fic. Distracted by Seven Stars and Pippin

Unbeta'd as I give Anarithilien more than enough to do with Seven Stars, so mistakes are all mine.

Characters and glossary

Note: You don't have to read anything else I've written to enjoy this fic but if you want to just read the last chapter of Black Arrow, it will make more sense of this chapter.

Thrakagâsh- Orcs name for Thalos. Fire-breather.

Apâraigas. - the name Smaug gave to Thalos.

Arshagal: Thalos gave Smaug this name. Great Prince of Heaven.

Tawargartha: The Unbegotten of the Wood. (Guardians of the Wood) Ancient unbegotten silvans who know the Wood best, and who guard the trees.

Eryn Tryen: the name of the hills upon which, or in which, the King's stronghold is delved.

Yaré-carmë: Ancient Art. (Tattoos.) The Elves of the Wood have their names inscribed on their limbs because of the danger now from Orcs and the Nazgul. It is needed for identifying bodies. But the warriors also scribe the battles they fought and the deeds they have done on their skin.

OCs

OCs

Miunieth: Galadhon's wife (Galadhon is Thalos' best friend and fighting with Thranduil in the East Bight)

Silaneth: his little sister who has always been devoted to Thalos. (see last chapter of Black Arrow)

Anglach: Legolas' best friend, killed by the Orcs when they released Smeagol. (sniff)

Lathron: The Listener, oldest, unbegotten, awoke under the stars. He is the one who inks the yaré-carmë on the skin of the Wood elves. (Tattoos)

Laegrist: one of the King's council

Lagorúthon: a crusty and grumpy but highly effective captain who has trained every recruit in the king's army since the year dot. Appears in Legolas in Esgaroth.

*Refers to Black Arrow, where Thranduil is given the Arkenstone and makes a bargain with Smaug. The arrival of the dwarves, of course, changes everything. It is also where Legolas got his tattoos, and the last chapters are referred to in this fic.

Summary: Sauron has brought war to Mirkwood. The elves are besieged on three sides; in the East Bight, where Thranduil leads his forces and have tricked the Orcs into engaging in battle earlier than they had wanted to. Here, Thranduil has invoked the Power of the Wood and driven back the forces from Dol Guldur. In the West of the forest, Laersul fights the goblins of the Hithaeglir and was almost defeated until Beorn's folk arrive in the wake of the storm that Thranduil has evoked. In the North, where Thalos commands, the stronghold itself is besieged and the Elves have fallen back to behind the final defences.

Chapter 5: Eryn Tryen (The Stronghold)

'Retreat?' Lagorúthon asked angrily, his eyes blazing with fury. 'You have given them our backs! I hope you have a plan, Thranduillion! Because we are outnumbered and will be slaughtered.'

Thalos turned away from Lagorúthon, angry in his turn but his anger was because he thought the man may be right. What was he doing, abandoning the Wood? Not one of Thalos' own men remained on the far side of the gorge. He had surrendered it to Dol Guldur! Ashamed, he thought how angry Thranduil would be. But what choice did he have? There were just too many Orcs, too many goblins and Wargs. He was only surprised they didn't have bats as well but perhaps Sauron had sent those against Erebor and Dale.

Looking down into the gorge, he assessed how long before the Orcs poured into the dry riverbed and began climbing up the other side as the Elves had done. Not long, he thought.

'We have a plan,' he retorted. 'It was agreed by the whole council if you recall.' Even as he spoke, Orcs began scrambling and sliding down into the gorge.

A Warg had leapt over the bank in pursuit of the Elves, hurtling down the steep slopes, unable to stop its precipitous charge. It squealed in anguish as it sank upon the tall, sharpened stakes the Elves had driven into the riverbed. Its rider, an ugly Uruk, had sprung from its back the moment he saw the spikes and now was running away from its thrashing limbs. Struggling upon the spike that pierced its belly, the Warg howled, blood bubbling up its throat and out of its mouth. There was a swish of an arrow and it fell silent. It was an elvish arrow though, not a crossbow bolt, that put the beast out of its misery. Above, on the far bank, other Wargs now prowled with less enthusiasm, looking down upon their pack mate and unwilling to follow. That was something, thought Thalos.

With some relief he saw that Laegrist was hurrying towards him, pushing past warriors who were preparing for battle.

'What are we waiting for?' Laegrist gestured towards the opposite bank where black silhouettes of Orcs and goblins gibbered and leapt against the hellish inferno, running between the fires, snatching torches and lobbing them high into the trees so they burned ever more furiously, and the flames spread faster and faster. 'If we delay too long, all the Wood will be lost.'

Lagorúthon snorted. 'We abandoned the far bank too soon and now we have to spring our trap.' He looked at Thalos in annoyance. 'It was never intended that we rely solely on the river,' he protested angrily. 'Their whole army will not come down into the gorge and even if we succeed in drowning some of them, it will do no more than delay them. And for what? Once we have sprung our trap, we have nothing left.'

Thalos knew that was true but he tried not to allow his sense of failure to affect him now; he needed to make decisions and fast. Fire raged over the far side of the gorge now. Trees cracked and slowly fell against others, leaning together for a moment like injured soldiers before they toppled and crashed to the forest floor, sending showers of sparks and flames into other trees and the dry leaves so the fire spread.

Thalos pulled out Thranduil's sketched map of their defences. There was the deep gorge nearby, delved by the river over the Ages and dry now because they had dammed the river's roaring flood behind the Gates upstream. The leats and ditches that criss-crossed the Wood around the that were the fire brakes, and the defensive earthworks and ramparts on this side of the gorge that they had built over years to shelter behind and launch their attack. Spreading the map on the ground, he drew Laegrist, Ceredir and Lagorúthon together below the ramparts and sheltered. Thalos was aware that the noise of fighting had suddenly intensified away towards his left, downstream, and knew that the first Orcs were scrambling up the high, steep banks of the gorge towards them, following Thalos' retreat. Although the banks and ramparts combined were a hundred feet high in places, and Orcs had not the agility of Elves, they were full of hatred and fueled by malice and wicked glee. They used their axes and daggers as claws to haul themselves up, and there were so many of them, climbing on the corpses of their comrades to get to their hated enemy.

'This is where we are weakest,' Thalos said, stabbing his finger down onto the map. 'And here and here.' He looked up, his long green eyes sharp. 'Ceredir, maintain the first defence here. Archers and defenders for hand to hand with any that get this far. Keep them down in that gorge if you can. You have the stone armaments too of course.'

Ceredir nodded for Thranduil had stored piles of boulders and rocks, ready to tip down upon the Orcs, and barrels of tar that they would set fire to and roll down the cliffs.

Thalos looked up at Laegrist. 'Your command is to go to the Flood Gate and release it on command. Keep your men deep though and do not spread them thinly. You are nearest the stronghold and so if they break through, your men will need to defend the Gates. Lagorúthon, we will be here.' He held their gaze, each one, as if weighing his worth. Finally, he looked down thoughtfully and said, 'We will need to lure as many of them as possible into the gorge. Then we will open the Flood Gates and they will drown. We will kill any of their troops who have made it through our defences.' He looked at them. 'Some of them WILL break through.'

Lagorúthon gave him a filthy look that would have been insubordinate had he been anyone else, but the veteran commander had trained every warrior in the army, including Thalos himself. 'This had better work,' he said threateningly, gesturing to the chaos of battle above them. No orcs had broken through yet but there was a cacophony of yowls and snarls from the gorge that was seething now with orcs. Crossbow bolts flew from the opposite bank into the elvish ranks, for archers made up a good third of their army and still hovered on the edge of the gorge.

'Pray it does,' Thalos rejoined coolly. But Lagorúthon was right to be cautious, he thought.

If Thranduil were here, he would lure them in merely by standing upon the ramparts; they would lose their heads. A plan formed.

He chewed his lip briefly and turned to Laegrist. 'Send the message up to the Gates to stand by. It is as you say, Lagorúthon.' He hesitated for a moment. 'There are still too many on the banks. We have to give them something to bring them into the gorge.'

Laegrist shot Thalos a look. 'What do you mean?' he asked curtly.

'I think you know,' Thalos said, and Laegrist's eyes widened as he realized what Thalos intended. 'Do not question me now, old man,' he said with affection but with a tone that was all his father. 'Please. I will make them lose their heads and follow.' He nodded upstream.

'No!' Laegrist protested. 'You will not put yourself at such a stupid and unnecessary risk! '

Ceredir leaned forwards too. 'It does not have to be you,' he said earnestly. 'Let me go instead. There is a narrow ledge that runs below the ramparts towards the Gates, lure them where they cannot escape. That is your plan, is it not?'

'I do not think they will follow for you, Ceredir,' Thalos said with a smile. 'They hate me almost as much as they hate Laersul. I think they will lose their heads if they think they can catch me.'

'I agree,' Lagorúthon said and Thalos looked at him in surprise. 'It is stupid and foolhardy and exceptionally dangerous,' the veteran commander added and then with a gleam of teeth, he added,' We are Woodelves. It's what we do best.'

Thalos laughed in surprise. 'I will be quick, run along the ledge and then hop back over the ramparts before the Flood Gate. I will be back out before they suspect anything, and they will be right in front of the Flood Gate when it opens.'

'I will go with you,' Lagorúthon said in a tone that brooked no argument. 'To cover your back.' Thalos gave a slight smile and nodded.

'This is a bad idea,' Laegrist said. He turned to Ceredir in supplication. 'Tell our stupid friend that he will be killed. Both of them,' he added with a venomous look at Lagorúthon. 'You should know better.'

Ceredir looked away. 'My heart misgives,' he said quietly. 'But it will draw them in. It is our best chance.' He stood up and looked up at the ramparts where the archers were frantically shooting and their reserves handing full quivers and taking away empty ones to refill. But further along, he could see Orcs were already struggling over the defences and the archers had drawn their knives for there was no room for swords up here. 'My troops will cover you,' he said.

'Your father will never forgive me,' Laegrist said turning away.

'They will follow me,' Thalos insisted. 'We must ensure as many as possible in that gorge. Split their forces.' He turned to Lagorúthon. 'Come then,' he said to Lagorúthon, who gave him a scary grin. 'Let us do this. Laegrist, please dispatch someone to tell Fendir that he has command of Lagorúthan's troop until his return. And you must watch and judge when to give the order to release the river.'

Wishing no further discussion, Thalos turned away and strode along the top of the ditch, quickly, his long black hair gleaming in the inferno on the opposite bank. Lagorúthon caught up with him.

'It must look as though you have slipped or something,' the old commander said. 'Otherwise, it will be too obviously a trap.'

'How about you slip, and I go after you?' Thalos said with a sly smile.

Lagorúthon gave a wry sideways look. 'No one would believe that,' he said flatly.

'The ledge runs about three quarters of the way up along the cliff, a fault line perhaps,' Thalos told him. 'As Ceredir says, it runs towards the Gates and we can make our way up when we reach the end,' he said over his shoulder.

It felt panicked and chaotic up here on the ramparts.

'Archers! Fire at will!' Laegrist was shouting. 'Don't let them get a foothold! They are breaking through!'

One point of the defensive wall was crumbling. Orcs had made it to the top and were battling their way through the line. The noise was deafening, clashing of steel, shouting, screaming and the ugly jeering of the enemy. Ceredir's men were rolling great barrels of tar towards the edge. Ceredir held a flaming torch in one hand which he set to a fuse sticking out of the barrel and then quickly the Elves rolled over the edge and into the Orcs below. It bounced down the steep bank and thundered towards the Orcs. As it did so, the fuse caught, and the highly flammable tar caught fire. The barrel exploded at the moment it crashed through the oncoming Orcs, throwing burning tar over the nearest orcs. Fire roared up over them as another and another and another barrel crashed down and exploded.

Too late, Thalos reflected that they should have waited to do this, but the tar did not seem to deter the orcs in any way, and it was not enough to properly resist the hordes seethed and writhed like an anthill in the gorge nor enough to lure in the deep ranks of Orcs waiting on the other side. He needed to bring more of them into the gorge.

Thalos snatched up the standard of the Wood. He leapt up onto the rampart and walked a little way, holding aloft the long green pennant streaming in the wind. 'For the Wood!' he cried, looking about at his men and exhorting them to have courage, take heart. 'For the Wood!'

He was met by answering jeers and catcalls from below and the opposite bank. He stood arrogantly, the pennant in one hand and the other resting on the pommel of his sword, the wind pulling through his long, black hair and he stalked along the parapet so that all could see him. Captain of the East Bight, Thrakagâsh. Fire-bringer. Lagorúthon was close on his heels.

A spear glanced past him, almost shearing the leather sleeve of his armour but he did not move, merely kicked it away as if it was nothing.

'Is that your best shot?' he shouted across the gorge.

There was a furious roar from the opposite bank and a hail of spears and bolts. Thalos dived beneath the hail and let himself slide a little way down the cliff to a narrow ledge as they had planned. He was aware of Lagorúthon leaping down to his side as if to rescue him and felt his hand grasped and he was pulled upright.

'A little too convincing,' Lagorúthon muttered. 'Limp, like you've been injured.'

There was a gleeful roar from the Orcs and below, ugly faces looked up in excitement. A gradual movement rippled through as the Orcs lost their concentration and began to move towards the plan Thalos had seemed to fall. There were excited cries from the opposite bank and more Orcs began to clamber down the steep slopes into the gully. There were Orcs running along the riverbed, looking up towards them. They suddenly seemed very near. Thalos touched Lagorúthan's sleeve and took a deep breath and sent up a quick prayer to Elbereth.

I hope I have not miscalculated, Thalos thought suddenly. He glanced down. The drop was very steep and even an Elf could not keep his footing now. If that ledge had not been there, or he had missed, Orcs would have him by now.

Suddenly there were Wargs. He glanced at Lagorúthon. How had they managed to get down here without impaling themselves on the stakes? He cursed silently; the enemy must have been working on that while he was planning his own escapade! The Wargs could run along the dry riverbed, but they could leap up these cliffs in places too, much more easily that the orcs.

'Don't worry about limping,' Lagorúthon said. 'Run!' He grabbed Thalos and shoved him ahead. They ran along the ledge in the cliff face but dared not go too fast for it was narrow and in places had worn away when the river had been very high.

'Thrakagâsh! Thrakagâsh!' It was a harsh, jeering ululation for they thought they had him. The sound filled the gorge and echoed round the sides, they clashed their spears on their shields, shrieking in excitement as the nearest orcs pelted after the two elves, hooting and shouting. A clatter of crossbow bolts and spears followed them as they ran. But more dangerous, five Wargs bounded after them, weaving between the stakes as easily as hunting through the forest. Their yellow eyes were purposeful and hungry.

Thalos heard Laegrist high above on the ramparts, calling orders to his own troop and arrows flew into the pursuing Orcs in the gully. One Warg fell but the others simply weaved more in and out of the stakes, using them now to shield them from arrows. There were fewer and fewer Orcs left upon the ridge now.

'It's working!' Thalos shouted. The clear call of the horn sounded above, the signal to open the Flood Gate.

'I know it's working!' shouted Lagorúthon. 'Run faster!'

Thalos concentrated on keeping foot on the narrow ledge. The granite had been worn away in places and he had to leap to the next bit, but he was aware that something else was happening above.

A great wind seemed to have suddenly got up. They could hear the shouting of the Orcs but they dared not pause to see what was happening.

Thalos, scrambling madly along the narrow ledge, heard the angry crackle of flames and the trees on the other side thrashed and bowed before a storm that must be coming, the flames were fanned and leapt high into the air, throwing up sparks and cinders. There was a tremendous crash away on the far bank of the gorge and a tall tree, blazing with flames, toppled slowly into the deep gully, crushing orcs as it fell.

'Get on!' shouted Lagorúthon and shoved at him. Thalos shook himself ,realizing he had slowed down to see what was happening; the wind, the storm was …there was Power in the Air and he thought of Thranduil.

A snarl sounded behind them and a huge Warg leapt over the heads of the Orcs and bounded towards Thalos and Lagorúthon. It hurled itself up as high as it could get on the cliff, reaching up on its hind legs. Its rider flung a spear at Thalos and it swooshed past his ear. A low roar came from somewhere; not the Warg, not the fire. Upstream.

'Up there!' Thalos cried over his shoulder to Lagorúthon, pointing upwards to the clifftop. 'The river is coming' Together, he and Lagorúthon hauled themselves upwards, desperate to escape the gorge before the torrent burst upon them.

The low rumble grew louder. Heads turned. A tremor shuddered through the earth and the Elves fought with renewed vigour, throwing spears, firing arrows, forcing the orcs back down the steep ramparts and into the gorge. Goblins chittered and began to scramble back for their senses are far better than Orcs.

Thalos clawed his way up the cracks in the rock. He saw Lagorúthon out of the corner of his eye clambering upwards alongside him. Beneath him, the Warg sprang up again, impossibly high, snapping its strong jaws.

'Captain!' It was Fenrir's anxious face peering into the fissure. The young warrior began to climb down the rock towards them and Thalos suddenly realized Lagorúthon had not kept up with him.

'Get back up you idiot!' he shouted to Fenrir and turned to look for Lagorúthon.

Lagorúthon was clinging to the cliff face, his mouth pressed together in pain. Blood spread over his sleeve and below him, a gang of orcs were gleefully climbing upwards.

'Just go on without me!' shouted Lagorúthon to Thalos. 'Save yourself!'

Thalos glared at him and swore in a way that would have shocked even Galion. Ignoring the nobility of his companion, he leaned down and grabbed the pauldron of Lagorúthan's lamellar armour and hauled him up alongside him. A flight of arrows zipped from above, past Thalos and into the Orcs. The earth rumbled and beneath him, he felt the rock shake, and knew the river had been unleashed and would be crashing towards them.

Rain came then. Sudden and heavy, drenching them and making the rock slippery. But it would swell the river, Thalos knew, and he rejoiced.

He looked upwards, the rain wet on his skin and saw that many hands were reaching down now, and he shoved Lagorúthon higher. Suddenly he felt a hand grip his ankle, another on his boot and another. Unbearably, impossibly, the orcs had found the way up and were clambering after him. Suddenly there was a swoop of arrows and spears hailed around him, thrusting downwards. Now there was shouting, and he felt himself hauled upwards swiftly and suddenly he was sprawled on the wet and muddy rampart and elves were clambering back up the sides, turning to hurl spears and arrows, rocks, anything to drive the Orcs down.

The rumble grew louder and louder with tremendous speed and became a roar like a dragon was upon them. But it was not a dragon but the river. A towering wall of water, white and foaming, appeared suddenly and crashed into the gorge like a storm. Thalos saw one orc turn its head towards the sound with sudden fear and stare aghast before the roaring wall of water crashed down upon them and swept them away.

Laegrist's Elves now thrust into the orcs who remained on the ramparts, their knives ripped into the invaders, sliced and cut and slashed with all the anger and fury and fear that had been held in check while their families, their home had been threatened. Blood soaked the churned-up mud and grass, entrails spilled, limbs thrashed. It was brief and brutal. Not an orc was spared. Not an orc escaped though some threw themselves into the churning, roaring river seeing an easier death in the river than with the Elves.

Below Thalos, the river pounded through the gully in roaring fury, tearing rocks and fallen trees and bodies in its wake. Around him, the elves cheered and embraced in the pouring rain, uncaring that they were drenched to the bone. Thalos breathed and fell back against the muddy churned up earth and gazed up at the sky. Rain spattered over his face, but he did not care. it would swell the river, put out the fires, wash away the filth. He knew that his father had called upon the Wood and harnessed the Power of Air and Wind and Water and it was he who had brought the storm.

'This will put out the fires too,' he said to no one.

He hoped his father was safe, and Laersul. Then he thought of Galion and his old friend, Galadhon who fought with Thranduil. Hoping they were all safe, all lived. And that far away in the South, Legolas had found some green glade of trees and was safely resting, away from danger. He thought that his little brother was not.

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