Son of Elrond
I know that took forever, sorry! It's also really short. School has sucked up a lot of my writing time so I wasn't able to write as much as I like to. I also was out of town a lot so I didn't have my computer . . . . Enough about my terribly boring, Lord-of-the-Rings-revolving life . . . .
The great white standard was unfurled as the Dunedain leapt from the ship onto the dock. The orcs scurried backward in disbelief, some dropping their scimitars and fleeing. Smoke rose from the field of Pelennor and the lower levels of Minas Tirith.
"Sí na i veth, i veth naid bain!" (Here at the end, the end of all things!) Legolas cried, drawing his elven blades. A madness was upon him, and the Haradrim and orcs ran screaming from his face.
"Cuio annan Imladris!" (Long live Imladris!) The brothers shouted, racing towards the battle. "Gurth a chyth-in-edhil!" (Death to the foes of the Elves!) Elladan and Elrohir remembered the torment which their mother, Celebrian, had suffered. The thought of the same happening to any other, mortal or elf, made them both furious. Many orcs fell beneath their cold blades.
The victory was swift, though the fires still burned once all was quieted. A thick pall of smoke blocked out the sun and cast a grey shadow over Pelennor. Elladan stood in midst of the carnage, and released a shaky breath that he had not known he was holding. So many, so many lay dead. Theoden had fallen, and Denethor burned alive by his own madness. A thin breeze rippled over the field, and a tattered flag shifted slightly. Even at his distance, the emerald field and white stallion were easily seen. It seemed to wave defiantly – many have fallen, it said, but Rohan will never crumble. A shadow of a smile crossed his face.
The snap of a twig behind him caused Elladan to turn. A ghost, not an Elf, looked back at him. Legolas' eyes were as dull as rainy sky, and his face was smeared with blood. His clothes were torn and he walked with a slight limp.
"The Valar are cruel, Elladan. If not for them I would long be in Halls of Mandos."
The peredhil shook his head and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Legolas, mellon nin . . ." A tortured look stopped the words.
"Navaer, Elrondion! Though like a brother you been to me, I now must leave you. Give my love to Irime." (Farewell, son of Elrond!) He turned and walked away before, like a shadow, vanishing into the haze.
"Navaer, Thranduilion." he whispered to the churning fog, "No i melain na le . . . for I shall not. Goodbye, brother." (Farewell, son of Thranduil. May the Valar be with you . . .) Unknowingly, by those words was Legolas spared from his own bitter fate, and woven into another.