This pretty much picks up in the impossible battle in Return of the King when Legolas is running to help Aragorn who is currently trapped under a cave troll's massive foot.

In Gimli's words, "Certainty of death, small chance of success, what are we waiting for?"

Aragorn felt his chest being pressed hard against the ground as his world went slow and silent. He looked up to see his friend racing toward him but was stopped by two orcs.

"Aragorn!" Legolas yelled at the top of his lungs, yet Aragorn himself could not hear it. He stabbed its foot, no luck. Suddenly, an ear-piercing screech erupted from the Eye of Sauron, drawing the cave troll's attention away from Aragorn. He immediately got up, still staring at the eye.

From behind him came a strained breath, like something had just had the life yanked from it. He turned to see Legolas, his eyes wide with fear…………..and an orc sword through his stomach.

Legolas' chest tightened, he couldn't breathe, and Aragorn's panicked face loomed in the swirling darkness before him. A maniacal chuckle reached his ear just before his legs weakened and he fell to his knees.

But something was wrong. As he kneeled there, almost suspended upon the ground, he thought to himself, 'Why am I feeling death approaching? I am an elf; I should be able to survive this. Why is this haunting darkness pulling me down?' The warrior's downcast blue eyes rose weakly to stare at Aragorn. His last few breaths echoed in his ears. The sight around him blurred; he fell to the ground. Dead.

Aragorn watched in horror as his friend fell to his death. Despair and rage coursed through him. Sparks of hate set a flame in his eyes as he looked up at the orc, who now realized what he had done. Before either of them knew what had happened, the orc's body was slumped over Aragorn's sword, dripping its vile, black blood.

Aragorn yanked his stained sword from the orc and turned just in time to see the Eye of Sauron implode in a final desperate screech sending out a humungous seismic wave. The men around him cheered in victory while the various orcs and uruk-hais simply stared speechless. He looked upon the falling of his enemy in awe and only one word could escape his lips.

"Frodo." he whispered.

The ground caved in with incredible speed as the tower crashed. The Black Gates, as big as they were, barely held to their hinges. Every orc, uruk-hai, and cave troll who had been brutally winning was now dashing away from the racing chasm for their lives.

But just as everyone's hope was lifted, the towering peak of Mt. Doom spat lava high into the smoke-covered skies of Mordor, and the happy tears of so many, turned to sobs of pain.

But alas, my readers, Frodo lived, the ring was destroyed, and the only one we don't care about is Boromir. But there is hope for this story…