~Sin From Thy Lips~

Helms Deep had been bad, so was the Battle at the Pelennor Fields. This, this was by far worse; an enemy of over forty-thousand, and yet there were six-thousand of them. Aerlaer pushed those figures aside as she ducked and weaved and twisted, her two blades never ceasing in movement even as they severed through tough skin and flesh. She, with Legolas and Gimli alongside her, did their best to protect the two hobbits from the onslaught of orcs, goblins, trolls, Easterling and Haradrim warriors, and other vile creatures she did not even know the names of. Aragorn fought bravely just ahead, alongside Éomer—both men flanked by Gondor and Rohan men alike. She heard a hiss close by and spun, impaling her left blade into a Haradrim who was threatening Merry.

"Thank you, Aerlaer!" He called to her, swinging his short blade into an orc knocking it down.

"Well done, master hobbit!" Gimli rumbled. He is enjoying this possibly too much. Aerlaer mused as she flickered her gaze to Legolas as he gracefully decapitated an orc the same height as he. The orcs are more urak-hai really, the bigger ones at least. One of these bigger orcs rushed at her, along with a second, and she ducked and spun; slashing at its outstretched, un-weaponed arm as it grabbed for her. How odd. He pivoted to face her, and she turned with him and stabbed him above the collarbone, black blood erupting from his thick neck. A rough hand grabbed her by the waist only to fall away as an arrow imbedded itself into the orc which had reached her. She silently thanked whichever twin had made the shot as she leapt away from the struggling, fallen body in time to shove another large orc away from Legolas. Together they swiftly disposed of it.

"That counts as half for each of you!" Gimli roared out as he swung his axe up and around into a wide-set orc, catching it in its strong stomach as if it were butter. Aerlaer laughed lightly as Legolas smirked, but the smirk was only half of what it should have been and worry seemed to pass like a shadow over her heart.

"Eighty-nine-and-a-half." Legolas counted coyly, and Aerlaer grit her teeth in annoyance, realising he lead their competition which had been going on for the past four hours.

"Not for long!" She grinned, spinning away from him to take down yet another large orc. The reek of the enemy now mingled strongly with the scent of fear and death, and she briefly glanced towards the gate and winced. The Great Eye bored down upon them as if it bored into her very soul, striking a chilling fear into her despite its scorching heat. Oh, to be safe in the Gladden Fields now; basking in warm sunlight as the long, luscious green grasses swayed gently in the breeze and eagles drifted overhead. That life was over for her now. Now she fought for more than her homeland, which she had defended for centuries. Today she fought for the freedom of all Middle Earth. For a life with Legolas.

There was a shriek from above, and the four of the eight Nazgul, who had been circling and swooping the soldiers, dropped to the ground, their beasts roaring as the wraiths themselves shrieked in unison as they dismounted. They drew their Morgul blades and descended upon the archers from behind as their fell beasts took once again to swooping and tearing at soldiers with tooth and razor-sharp talon with the other four who remained in the sky.

"The Nazgul!" She called to Legolas as she deflected another Orc and deftly swapped her blades over for her sword. The other elf glanced back and then eyed her warily.

"Blasted wretches are taking out the archers!" Gimli cursed as she dodged another large orc who reached out at her with a snarl.

"Why do they keep doing that, hardly any of the enemy have tried to kill me." She muttered as she slayed the evil being.

"Then consider yourself lucky, lass!" Gimli rumbled, his axe taking yet another enemy life. "Can't say the same for myself.: Aerlaer glanced back to Legolas, shocked to find his face was pale as he slit the throat of another orc which also seemed disinterested in taking his life. She frowned in confusion. It was not just happening to her…

A shout came from behind, and Aerlaer pivoted to aid Pippin as the bulk of an orc rammed into him, sending him flying. She dashed after him, avoiding others of the Enemy and stood before the hobbit, blade a blur as she fought off another two orcs. It seemed for every orc she slayed, two more would take its place in some way. She glanced to the gate again and dread filled her heart. Masses upon masses of orcs and their foul kind still poured from the open gates, akin to the vile, black blood which bled from their veins. Cries of pain from the wounded and dying reached a crescendo behind her, and Aerlaer spun, her eyes widening in horror, and her stomach dropping, as she realised the full impact of the wraiths upon the archers No man could destroy them and their darkness—their black breath stealing away their rationality and driving pure terror into their hearts, leaving them in despair and she watched them fall.

"Elves of the light. It's us." She realised as she gazed briefly at the other Legolas, a silvery blur among the dark armour and blood of the enemies. Everything they both were, contradicted the eight Nazgul. She knew what she had to do.

"Legolas!" Aerlaer called out to him and Legolas raced towards her, his brown eyes holding her gaze full of both untold sorrow but understanding too. He understood too. The Army of the West was dwindling and the enemy, both orc, troll, Easterling and deadly Haradrim were still fighting strong, stronger since they knew they held the upper hand. She spun again, decapitating an Easterling man before shifting as Legolas reached her. "Get on!"

…

"Come on! This is not the end!" Aragorn cried out to the weary soldiers around him as he crossed blades with a large Haradrim warrior with quick footwork which contradicted his weary heart. The stench of blood was in the air and the footing was precarious for various bogs he had earlier discovered lay between where he now fought and the gate. It was a mixture of blood and foul sludge he and Éomer fought in. He had no idea where Gandalf was, and glanced around quickly to find him fighting his way towards the hobbits and Gimli. Where are the Elves? He swiftly turned back to defend himself against a large orc before disarming it with a flick of Andúril, running the mighty blade run through the orcs eye-socket. He turned again to search out the Elves and saw them; Aerlaer racing in horse form, nimbly dodging the enemy with Legolas lithely upon her back, his sword swinging as he slayed the enemy in their wake. Aragorn watched in shock, in awe as the battle raging around him seemed to fall away for but a moment and a light blazed before him as Aerlaer launched herself through the air, mane and tail streaming like a river of pale gold behind her. And Legolas, he shone, hair flowing loosely behind him like quicksilver and his elven sword glowing like a moonbeam.

There were gasps about him and he realised both his men and the enemy had paused at the unexpected sight. As Aerlaer touched down upon the hard, black rocks; Legolas flipped from her as she shifted back, simultaneously drawing her sword, and it burned bright like the sun. Shrieks caught his attention and his heart plummeted as everything suddenly made sense. The two Elves were going to battle the wraiths. The very wraiths who had threatened to take them. He heard a sudden roar and swung around as once again the battle raged on, and brought Andúril up to block another large orc.

…

Aerlaer glowed, his Aerlaer glowed like the sun herself! Rivers of golden light flowed from her long hair and her sword was like a ray of sunlight as it sang through the air. The enemy fled in her wake and his, for his sword glowed too, but silver! "Aerlaer?" He called to her uncertainly, and she turned to him with a bright smile.

"I think the trees figured it out before we did!" She smirked and as he sidestepped an Easterling and brought his blade up to meet the enemy man, he caught his reflection in the man's black, fearful eyes. He glowed too. The wraiths were near, but they still ignored them, intent on slaying the remaining archers. He could not see Elrohir or Elladan anywhere and hoped dearly they remained safe along with Taurorn, who he had glimpsed earlier, battling a troll with ten other rangers.

Legolas turned back to find Aerlaer had dashed ahead without him towards the wraiths. His heart was thundering behind his ribs as he ran after her. She was in unfathomable danger, and he knew time was running out for the Army of the West. No matter how valiant, how strong, how hopeful, the army was not large enough to withstand all the enemy. Sauron's eye bored into them. It was a fear ever present in the back of his mind, in the far reaches of his heart.

"We've been waiting for you, little elf Princess." A wraith hissed as Aerlaer advanced upon it, golden bright sword swinging dangerously.

"Well, here I am." She replied, holding her chin high, staring them down.

"Come to surrender?" The fell creature hissed.

"Come to destroy you." She growled, arcing her sword up to the wraith. With a screech, he blocked her attack as another wraith advanced, but Legolas was swifter, bringing is blade up to crash against the second wraith's, silver sparks raining down, causing the creature to let out a shrill scream. He wasted to grab Aerlaer and run, run as far away as they could, far away from this evil now before them. He had entertained the idea since they had set out that morning, but he could never abandon his friends, abandon Frodo. Hopefully, the hobbit was up there somewhere on the mountain, hopefully he would prevail. He clung to the thought, to that one hope, as he drove the wraith back, but a third was swiftly advancing on them and they were cunningly swift to fight. He used every trick, every skill he possibly knew; along with the knowledge these undead kings would not kill her or Aerlaer.

"Give up the world of men is failing and with it the world of elves." The wraith he had locked blades with hissed out harshly, and its words bit into him like ice. "You will fall into darkness, into shadow." The wraith continued as he swung his blade away and then, in one swift, fluid notion, drove the silver point into the chest of the undead creature. Legolas staggered forward, as the black form collapsed within itself with a blood chilling shriek which went on and on, until the tight ball of writhing darkness exploded outward, throwing him back upon the rocks with a jarring crack.

With sharp breaths, Legolas scrambled to his feet, turning towards where he had last seen Aerlaer. She was further away. How had that happened? She had been right beside him. The third wraith appeared beside him. and Legolas swung his blade in a neat arc towards its head. It hissed and blocked him; moving around so quickly, Legolas practically danced upon the loose rocks to keep his footing. The wraith hissed again and drove him back with an unnatural force behind the blade it wielded. They are purposely driving us apart! He realised in horror as he found himself among the shadowy jagged cliff which made up the Morannon. From here he could see the full expanse of devastation Sauron's army had wreaked upon the Army of the West. Their forces hung by but a thread, the enemy surrounded them. They were everywhere. Unstoppable. It was… He swept his eyes, searching, and somehow, despite the distance, he found Aragorn's. His friend gazed at him and then he gave a very slight nod, eyes filled with sorrow. He was saying goodbye. The hope of men had failed. He nodded back, although he did not know if his friend saw the action, and then he turned back towards Aerlaer. She gazed at him in wide-eyed horror he did not understand, and then he felt it, the air shifting strangely behind him. A deep-set fear poured into him like cloying shadows, which the Nazgul had no part in.

Legolas turned, blade ready in hand, and gasped as a monstrous body reared up, great red eyes staring maliciously at him and fangs dripping with venom. There was no time and yet he could not make his feet move; rooted to the stone beneath him in insurmountable fear as the great, black spider, twice as large as any from the Woodland and possessing unfathomable evil, struck him down.

"Telperion!" He heard a voice scream in utter terror and anguish in his mind; a voice that shook his very soul.

…

In a fury of rage, she disengaged the wraith which had been blocking her path to the silvery elf. With shaking hands, she drove her golden blade through his chest and the creature screamed relentlessly, the sound an onslaught to her delicate ears as he fell into a heap of darkness and then burst outward, sending her tumbling back. She found her feet, and raced towards the other elf where he lay trapped under the largest spider she had seen. Her heart thundered in pure fear as she drew nearer. The silvery elf rolled and dodged the stinger of the maleficent black spider, but his reactions seemed delayed. Had he been bitten already? She reached him, noting the third wraith was advancing. Twirling her sword, she drove it at an angle into the great spider's leg and it shrieked, its fangs clicking angrily. "You will not have him this time!" She screamed at the enormous beast which had forgotten the other elf, skittering above her while she battled to pull her blade from its severed limb. She caught sight of a flash of silver as the other elf rolled roughly over the rocks and she realised his sword was not within his reach, but his bow was in his hand as he scrabbled shakily for an arrow.

She began distracting the great, terrifying creature as he set his arrow. She danced nimbly just within its reach, brandishing her sword, swiping at its eyes. She knew spiders had a soft underbelly, and both she and the other elf had individually killed spiders before in Middle Earth. This one, this mother of all spiders who all thought to be dead, fled to the South—this great, vile, evil creature of utter darkness would not destroy them again. The spider shrieked again, and she saw the arrow now protruding from its belly. It had not been enough! Reeling about, the beast knocked her with one of its flailing limbs and she fell heavily upon the stone. She made to leap up but could not, her legs stuck to the black stone. Panic tore through her as she tried again, but it was no use; shadowy web wrapped around her and held her to the large rocks.

The spider screeched again, and she heard a muffled grunt of pain. "Leave him be! Take me!" She cried out to the beast as it moved away, and she could see the silver-haired elf, bow in hand, an arrow aimed at the beast as it advanced towards him with calculated moves. This could not happen again, it couldn't! She swiped her sword at the web, but it stuck too. It was her dress caught, not her leg, she realised with a surge of hope. She began hacking through the material, hindered by the web, only to have her blade ripped from her grasp, clattering to the ground a moment later. Aerlaer stared up into the dark, empty void of a nazgul's cold, iron helm. She snatched up one of her knives and threw it at the wraith, but it seemed to only hiss in cruel laughter as the knife fell to the rocks, missing him. She needed her sword. She tried reaching for it, but the wraith deftly flicked it further from her reach with his own blade.

"Give up, you are the Dark Lord's now. It is over." The wraith hissed, striking fear into her heart.

"Why don't you just kill me since you have me now." She bit out, trying in vain to pull at her dress and free it from the mass of web. It ended up ensnaring her leg, and icy panic threatened to overwhelm her. The nazgul gazed unnervingly down at her as if in wait. There was a blood-curdling scream to her left and the great spider came staggering and crashing to the ground. She searched in fear for the other elf, and relief filled her panicked heart as he raced towards her, his hair a stream of silver light behind him and somehow his Lórien cloak even seemed illuminated.

Before the Nazgul could react, the silvery elf dropped fluently to the ground, snatching up his sword before the wraith could meet him. Instead, the creature pivoted, trying to block him from reaching her. The other elf ducked and rolled to the left of the wraith, and in doing so slid her own sword towards her. Aerlaer gripped the familiar weapon, unbeknownst to the wraith which solely focused on Legolas, and raising her own blade as high as she could from her ensnared position, drove it into the lower back of the tall nazgul. He screamed and then, like the other two, crumpled and burst out in a wave of shadows. The other elf was thrown back and even over the noise of the surrounding fighting, she heard the sickening crack of his head upon the rock. "Telperion!" She called out in fear for him. From the corner of her eye she could see another wraith advancing and then behind him, two more; their Morgul blades drawn. The other elf stirred, and rising on unsteady feet, staggered towards her, falling hard to his knees at her side.

"You said you would trust me, no matter what." He said urgently, and she nodded. "Trust me now." He choked out, and she gazed at him in horror, for there were tears in his eyes, upon his cheeks.

"Your scaring me, what is happening?" Her voice shook unnaturally. The three Nazgul were nearing.

"Everything will be alright, just trust me." His voice shook too, and there was unfathomable pain and sorrow in his eyes, a deep contrast to the glowing silver of his hair. He'd dropped his weapons, she realised, and there was something else in his hand. A hand which trembled as he brought a small bottle of deep blue liquid into her line of vision and unstoppered it. Her mind reeled, and she struggled to sit up, recognising the lethal liquid.

"No!" She stammered and pushed his hand away.

"It is the only way; I don't have time to explain." His broken words only struck more fear into her heart, her soul.

"No!"

"We can go home, Laurelin, we can go back, but this is the only way. Please trust me." He pleaded now as the nazgul slowly closed in on them. He made to press the swift deathly liquid to her lips and panicked she pushed it away, knocking the bottle from his hand. The blue liquid pooled onto the rocks, but the bottle did not shatter.

"I don't want to leave, not yet, not now." She tried to make him understand as he picked up the bottle, glancing warily at the wraiths which were mere feet away now.

"We must, I, I love you." She gazed up at him in mute horror as he deftly tipped the remaining liquid between his parted lips and the poison stained them a dark, foreboding blue. She gasped, her soul quaking. "I am sorry." He murmured and suddenly his lips pressed firmly against hers and she kissed him back, the poison staining her lips, her mouth, as the silvery elf deepened the action.

She tasted the bitterness of the poison, and fierceness of his love, before his kiss softened, and she felt him grow heavy as he held her. Slowly, he pulled away from her and eased her to lie upon the rocks with him. She heard a screech from somewhere as her body relaxed, her muscles slackening. The erratic heartbeat of the silvery elf was now but a quiet ebb, which scared her, but it was over now, and she couldn't do anything. She heard a screech again and recognised the blurred forms of great eagles circling and swooping from above.

"The eagles." She whispered. "They have come."

"They have." The silvery elf mused even quieter. Shadows which had stood around them suddenly disappeared and she sighed as her head rested heavily against the other elf's.

"I love you, no matter where we go." She said softly, her lifeforce beginning to fail her.

"As I love you." He replied and with what strength still barely lingered, she turned in to him and he held her close as darkness swirled and descended, the last sight of her eyes beholding, a sad but hopeful smile. Thus, with a kiss I die.

To be continued...

"Whoops..." *Hides behind a Rohirrim shield from the angry readers! :D

Thank you for all your awesome reviews from last chapter! You guys rock! Don't hate me too much for this chapter, hehe!