The battle cries and the sound of steel resounded from the fields.

Orcs poured into the valley from all sides, marching towards the White City in one endless tide. The armies clashed at dawn before the gates, shields slamming shields, swords meeting swords, screams of death and hymns of triumph all breaking in one breath, so loud it hurt and roared and rocked the earth. And so the siege on Gondor had begun.

Thranduil charged forward, implacable and unyielding as a winter storm, his swords steady in his hands, commanding respect and admiration. The elves followed him into battle. The fate of the many was resting on the edge of their blades.

Sonja raised her head and looked across the fields. The snow had turned dark red around her, countless bodies resting at her feet. Sometime in the past half hour she had lost her shield while fending off the attack of a cave troll. She felt lucky that was all she'd lost.

She took a moment to recover her breath before an orc shouted and slashed furiously towards her. She parried a few times, enough to make him lose his balance and focus. The orc screamed as Sonja's sword bit into his back. The scent of foul blood rose in the air and she twisted the blade before pulling it out of the lifeless body.

-'Your horse, my Queen', said Urhol, handing her the reigns of her steed. 'We need to make our advance on the left flank while the enemy lines are weak. '

Sonja nodded and mounted the horse.

-'Rally the men! ' she commanded, raising her sword and pointing it forward. 'Charge! '

The horse sprinted and she lunged to deal a killing blow, her sword parting armor and flesh. The metal screeched and dark blood spattered all over her face, but she merely blinked.

The riders followed her, cleaving their way through the enemy ranks, rushing to clear a path for the rest of the troops.

On the right flank, Legolas and his archers were laying waste on the enemy, silver arrows never missing their targets. And when the arrows ran low, they hurled into battle, sword in hand, and the ground streamed blood at their backs.

The Prince of Greenwood was the one to fell the orc commander. He barely dodged the blow of his massive hammer and spun around to throw a dagger that met the orc's left eye. The beast screamed and shrieked but as thick blood came welling down across his eyes and face, it seemed the wound only made him angrier. He reached for his hammer, ready to deliver another blow, but alas, he fell from multiple arrows striking the vulnerable flesh of his neck. Legolas came running towards the monstrous body, pulling his dagger free.

-'Keep up, father! ' he smirked at Thranduil as he continued on to the next orc.

The Elvenking smirked back. His twin blades were leaving a trail of swirling snow and blood as he made his way through the enemy lines.

It was nearly dusk when the horn of Gondor resounded in the freezing air. It seemed the orcs had been drawn back by the army of Men, unable to hold their lines to the east, just as Urhol anticipated.

Came night, the orcs would have the upper hand, their eyes accustomed to the world of darkness. And so it was that Thranduil found himself surrounded by orcs clad in black armor, grinning savagely with their jagged, yellow teeth, watching him with small, wicked eyes. One stepped forward, defiant.

-'Come, face me, elf scum! ' he laughed in the King's face.

Thranduil's brows furrowed and his eyes focused sharply on his opponent. The orc barred his teeth, then licked his lips with his dark tongue before charging, incredibly fast, through the snowy field.

The King spun out of the way, grasping the orc from behind, exposing his neck. He brought his sword up and drew it deeply across the black throat, slicing into the flesh until nearly severing the spine. He then shook the blood from his blade and moved forward, righteous and menacing, staring down at the few remaining orcs until finally their nerves broke and they scattered back into the shadows.

The right flank was clear.

Night drifted away and a new dawn's pale light broke across the darkness of the eastern sky.

Resting his eyes on the open field, his gaze found her, proud and tall upon her white horse. A daughter of Man, blooming in her world. She was unharmed. A big smile was illuminating her face in the dawn of their victory. The Elvenking felt as if he was falling in love with her all over again. She had never looked more wild, more fierce and beautiful than she appeared before him now.

When she located Thranduil amidst the crowd she discovered his eyes already upon her. He placed his hand over his heart and then extended his arm towards her and she did the same.

A sudden sharp pain rose in her back. She felt the cold blade piercing her flesh and nicking her ribs, then a wave of hot blood, slowly washing all pain away. She turned and found Alistair on a horse beside her, a dagger dripping with red in his hands. The image of Thranduil's face started to blur in the background, far away from where she was, but she could almost sense the terror born in his eyes as he came to realize that he would not reach her in time.

Alistair decided that if she would not give herself to him, then no other man shall ever have her, much less the arrogant elf.

Before he could deliver another blow, two arrows found their target piercing his chest and he died instantly. Legolas did not miss.

-'Go to her, Ada! '

For Thranduil, silence fell over the world. He watched in horror as his beloved dropped from the saddle, landing motionless in the frozen snow.