Disclaimer:I don't own the characters or places of the wonderful world of LotR. I sneak them away from Tolkien's basement once in awhile, that's all…

AN:(Edited 5 April, 2010) Wellups… ummm…. Lost my train of thought there… oh yes! Uber thanks and chappy dedication goes to Alenor Peredhel, Arodiel, the elf of Rohan, Laureloth, NikerymArda, Aurehen,andinvisigoth3.I love you all! (hands out e-chocolate)

Okay, now, if you are a regular reviewer or one of the above mentioned, you ignore this. I'm going to follow along the same route as I just did for Strange Meetings. (raises eyebrows at assembled 'crowd'. For the –ahem- 22 people who list this fic among their favs, and the 35 people who have this fic on their alerts… wow. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart, and I am honored that so many people like this little story of mine. Please review though, and give me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside!

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The twins and Estel felt a brief moment of extreme shock, fear, and annoyance as Legolas dove into the mass of orcs. But they could not let their friend get killed so easily, and so they tore away the tapestry and charged after him. The orcs, suddenly assaulted by three more furious beings were taken aback for a second, and that was more than enough time for the furious twins and Estel to cut a large swath through the stunned creatures.

The orcs quickly pulled themselves together, no doubt assisted by Lúthien's scream of primal fury. And suddenly, each of the friends was fighting their own desperate battle.

Legolas dealt with the orcs swiftly and brutally, at first intent on reaching Lúthien and plunging his knife directly into her evil breast. But soon enough, his common sense came back to him and he began to realize just how foolish he had been. In charging out, bent on revenge for what had been done to his father and people, he had carelessly endangered the very people he sought to help!

If he and his friends did not finish this now, nothing would be left to oppose the sorceress on her march to Rivendell. All elves would be endangered; his father would likely be killed… How foolishhe had been! He should have waited, he should…

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he angled one of his knives back to parry away the predictable thrust of the orcan scimitar. He followed with a dexterous spin, knives whirling into a blinding wall of defense, pausing only enough to defeat the orc and run it through the chest. But there was always another orc to take the fallen one's place and much to Legolas's dismay they seemed to get cleverer.

They held back, forming a ring of sorts around him and sent in one after another. While the elf was busy making short work of the unfortunate victim, one or two more would come in behind the beleaguered elf and make a couple of stabs at the elf's back. Legolas was forced to continuously turn this way and that, always at the ready, and it was beginning to take its toll on the road-weary elf. His movements, though still quick and amazing to behold, began to falter slightly. It was just enough for the orcs to realize that he was tiring, and they pressed in again, thicker than ever.

Elladan saw this from over the shoulders of the orcs he was fighting, and it fueled his ire. He recognized that his friend needed someone to fight along side with for support, and instantly he began to work his way through the orcs toward the wood-elf.

The foul creatures turned at the approach of another elf and started to shriek and scream in the Black Tongue. The sound assaulted the elf's ears but he kept his head and grimly continued his bloody work. His sword soon gleamed black, the light of the torches that lit the battle room bouncing off the sticky orc blood. For a brief second, he considered the amount of time that it would take to clean the blood off, and he blanched inwardly. Then he came up with the idea of forcing Estel to do it as punishment for following them into the hellish pit Mirkwood had become. He decapitated an orc with a smile on his face.

His younger twin, twenty orcs and fifteen feet away, held none of Elladan's sudden happiness. His own sword whirled back and forth, picking off the thrusts of the roughly made scimitars and axes of the orcs. At his back fought Estel, and Elrohir was forced to keep his senses wide to listen for any sounds of trouble. Estel had not been introduced to the heavy melee fighting that they were doing here, and the younger twin held no intention of allowing his little brother to be badly hurt. During brief interludes in his own fighting, he twisted, making sure that Estel was handling everything on his own.

Elrohir hissed in pain as an orcan scimitar forced its way through his defenses, the rough edge of the blade poking through his skin. Behind him, he felt Estel falter slightly and knew that his younger brother had heard him. "Don't you dare!" he cried, knowing that Estel would turn and look to see if he was all right. In a flurry of movement, he knocked the scimitar away from his body and drove his weapon through the chest of the orc. Turning to deal with a goblin, he called back over his shoulder, "Never turn your attention away from your opponents in close combat! The little blighters will take the advantage presented and behead you!"

Estel heard and marked the words well. He was beginning to sorely regret having followed the twins and Legolas out of Imladris. This was madness! The orcs were so eager to sink their weapons into flesh that they started waving the weapons about before they ever got near him. In such a close space however, they more often than not hit their own fellows, making it that much easier for Estel to slip forward and finish the wounded ones off.

But even then it was still difficult for the young man, who was still more used to weapons practice than combat. His reflexes were constantly being tested, and though he performed admirably under the attacks of so many, he could not help but feel unwieldy. He could sense his brother's movements behind him, and occasionally he caught a glimpse of Elrohir as the elf spun to the side to get at an orc who ventured too close. In the back of his mind he marveled at the sheer speed and fluid movements of Elrohir's attacks.

Sheer speed was not coming easily to the wood-elf prince however. His body was tiring for he had pushed himself too much. He had not been fully recovered from the bout with the deadly poison when he had set out from the valley of Imladris, and the frantic pace that he had set on the ride to his homeland had not helped matters at all. He was growing weary indeed, and when one was drained of energy it was not a good to fight dozens of orcs.

He sighed in relief when Elladan finally reached him but did not dare to let up on his attacks. The presence of the Noldor made it possible for Legolas to keep his attention focused mainly in one direction. No more was he forced to twist back and forth simply to parry away the strikes of the orcs, and now he could actually come forward in offense against his assailants. Once more the orcs began to fall before his blades.

The wood-elf continued in a flurry of movement, hands working independently against two different enemies. His left knife turned aside the rough blade of a scimitar and he spun a quick circle, other knife flying around, effectively gutting that opponent. Before the orc even shrieked in pain and collapsed to the floor, Legolas was facing his other opponent in a mad rush and already gaining the upper hand. His attention faltered briefly as he saw three more of the foul creatures rushing at him, but shrugged it off and doggedly kept going.

It was not so easy though, to shrug off a scimitar's stab into his back.

All three of his companions spun around at his pained cry, even Elrohir and Estel. Elladan leaped around his staggering friend and quickly ended the life of the orc who wielded the scimitar. Legolas dropped to his knees, oblivious to the frantic scramble of Elladan who darted here and there, desperately trying to keep the bloodthirsty orcs away from the injured prince.

Red clawed at the edges of Legolas's vision and he fought to keep from toppling over. He could feel the blood trickling down his back, the burning from the deep cut as though it was magnified. He could hear Lúthien's wicked laugh, the sound penetrating deep into his brain. He wavered once more, caught at the verge of unconsciousness. But he would not allow himself to collapse now. His people needed him. His friends needed him. A face flickered in his mind, and he came to his feet in a rush of blind fury. His fatherneeded him.

Elladan nearly dropped his sword in surprise as Legolas charged back to his feet. He had thought that his friend was down and out, and to see the wood-elf back up was… unexpected to say the least. Also surprising was the rage splayed across Legolas's face. Elladan pondered the turn of events as he tightened his grip on his sword and took the hand off of a goblin that ventured too near.

He could not afford, in the wild tumult of the melee, to watch his friend constantly, but in the glimpses he stole, a new fear began to knot itself into the pit of his stomach. As Legolas spun this way and that Elladan got a good look at the wound in his friend's back. The scimitar had gone deep, at the least about three inches. Blood soaked the light green tunic, the stain growing ever larger as Legolas twisted about. Elladan's stomach turned and he knew then that when Legolas's fury played itself out, the young prince would go down hard. And perhaps, if he pushed himself too far… he would not get back up.

Elrohir and Estel began to make their way slowly through the tide of orcs towards their friends. Both understood that they needed to be altogether for this: when the fury that fueled Legolas died away, Elladan would be hard-pressed indeed to protect himself andthe wood-elf.

Legolas noticed none of this. His mind, his thoughts, his entire being was focused on one thing. He hadto get to Lúthien before she could cause any more damage to the First-born. It became his one sole purpose in life; life that he believed was going to end soon. He was not totally unaware of the blood now pouring down his back, was not totally unaware of the pain that still reached for him like a hungry wolf, anxious to get its teeth back into him. He knew that he would have to slow down or risk dying. But, to his mind, his life was worth being forfeit if Lúthien was stopped, and the twins, Estel, his people and his father were safe. It would all be worth it…

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Lúthien surveyed the scene before her in barely contained delight. She had not expected the foolish Mirkwood elf to try and thwart her plans, but she knew her minions and her own magic would be more than enough to control the troublesome elf and his friends. The enchantress could not help but chuckle as she caught a glimpse of the wound in the wood-elf's back. It would be a pity that she would not get to repay him for all the damage he had dealt her in her life, but she could live with it. As long as she was able to see him get torn apart….

Her smile began to fade as the moments ticked by. The wood-elf was obviously furious, and his rage showed no signs of dissipating. Her orc and goblin slaves were getting torn apart by these pitiful excuses for elves and a human. If this continued, she would be forced to waste her energies on bending the wills of more creatures to obey her. The valley of Imladris would not be taken easily, and she wanted as many foul creatures under her power as possible. And these damned comrades were stealing her advantages!

She sighed and began to search through her considerable repertoire of spells, looking for one that would disable the elves and human but would not kill them. She would love to have such skilled fighters in her army. Except for the dratted wood-elf. He had caused her so much trouble… After all, the little brat had knocked her down the stairs when they very first met! And later, he was the one responsible for her forced exile from Mirkwood. Because of him, she had lost some of her elven gifts and had been forced to spend hundreds of years away from her home, which had helped to further harden her heart.

She would make him pay for it all before the day was out.

Elladan cried out as his head exploded with pain. He dropped to his knees helplessly, sword sliding from his hands as he clutched his head. Elrohir, Estel, and Legolas also suffered the same fate, and soon they were completely surrounded by the orcs, dozens of sharp objects pointing in their direction. Lúthien stepped out of the circle of blood for the first time since she had entered the room and walked forward, daintily avoiding the little bow-legged creatures as if she was afraid of being tainted by them. Too late,Elrohir thought wryly through the pain.

Lúthien stopped in front of Legolas, observing the rage still stamped across his face. She strengthened her spell and he winced, but he was so focused that she gave up on trying to override his mind for the moment and focused on each of his companions. The dark-haired twins were also furious, but they were not so outraged that they could escape her mental probing entirely. She paused when she came to the human. So young… but strength radiated from his very core, revealing a strong heart and quick mind. She did not doubt that this human would have grown into something special. That is, if he had not thrown his lot in with the troublesome elves.

He was subdued as well, and the sorceress brought her attention back to the wood-elf, the creature that she abhorred most of all.

She motioned for the orcs and goblins to bring him forward, out of the circle in which his friends were being kept. The Noldor twins and Estel stood at full attention, bodies and minds completely under control. But Lúthien, being the cruel person she was, allowed the trapped elves and human a small window through which they could observe the goings-on. She so loved that part of the spell! They were under her control, yes… but fully aware of what was going on around them. An idea began to form in her head…

She commanded the three to pick up their weapons and attack, not at the orcs and goblins, oh no, but at Legolas. At the same moment, she retreated from the wood-elf's mind completely, hoping to allow him to fully understand his fate. But that is where things began to go wrong for the sorceress.

The Mirkwood prince's rage was still burning strong within him, and his mission continued to beat through his mind. Kill the vile enchantress! He fueled his ire even further, reminding himself that this she-elf was responsible for causing his father so much pain, for causing the entire elven population to believe he was dead. She was responsible for the death of his mare Kilios, for the death of Renal Degre, and most importantly at the moment… she was responsible for holding his best friends captive inside their own minds.

With a primal roar of fury, he snatched his knives and bounded to his feet. Moving so quickly that even Lúthien could not discern what happened next, he disarmed Elladan completely, knocked Elrohir to the ground and shoved Estel out of his way. Lúthien screamed in fear and anger as he skittered straight for her, blades out and stabbing at her heart.