Chapter Forty-Eight

What do I know of fear? Estela wrote. Nothing. I know nothing of fear, except from what has passed. And time and time again, my fears have proven right. I have lost everyone I loved to torment and death. Or disappearance. It happened so often that in time, I learnt to stand and look Morgoth in the eye and feel nothing. No fear, no rage, no hate. I have only my husband and children to fear for. If Sauron were to strike me, I would never fear him. I feel nothing, now.

These chronicles will record my time in Arda, from my birth in Valinor, to my last in Middle-Earth. And they shall be my last. What history will know of me shall be spoken and written by others. But the true story. Shall be mine to remember and recall.

Estela paused, as she put the quill down. What more could she write but the truth? Who to? Her daughter? Yes, that was the reason.

What bigger gift than love and protection- and hope? What more can a mother offer her child apart from the hope for a better life than the one she had?

Estela dipped her quill in the ink-pot and started to write again.

This is my story. No matter what you read, and what you believe, my life through my eyes will be recorded in here….

The host of tens of thousands rode closer to Mordor every day. And every day Estela felt fear and worry sickening her for her child. What was she feeling right now? What was she doing? What was going to happen to her, especially if they failed?

There. At last they stood. Near the high cliffs before the Black Gates of Mordor.

The scouts' eyes sharpened. They needed to report back. As fast as they could.

"Well?" Gil-Galad asked.

"They are there." One of them said. "Armed hosts, huddled high on top of the Black Gate. And countless more behind, we guessed, judging from the noise.

Ereinion frowned, but nodded. He turned to his wife. "This is going to be more difficult than we assumed."

Estela's eyes sharpened. "Do you want me to lead a covert-attack?"

Nearby, Oropher stiffened. His eyebrows pressed together into a slanting slope and his eyes flashed.

But Ereinion ignored it. Estela never saw it.

"No," he said a little too quickly. Estela frowned. "I mean, not yet." He amended, knowing what she was thinking. We must wait. They are bound to have more than orcs on top and behind the Black Gate."

Estela frowned and nodded. She missed the flashing of Oropher's eyes and the scowl he directed to Amdír, King of Lothlórien, as if there was a powerful message there.

Oropher and Amdír whispered furiously together- in a furious pace and a furious manner.

Estela remained oblivious and unaware.

She would not be involved. She would not be a part of this.

"Do they seek to insult us?" Amdír asked, quivering in rage. "To leave us out of the fight when our very people are endangered as much as they? To keep us out of the fight- to extend the hand of an alliance as equals- yet to command and to fight over us- without so much as a little of our help- who do they think we are? We have lived in Middle-Earth longer than they- we were born here! And yet-" he was increasing in rage.

"I know, my friend, I know." Oropher said, his eyes glinting darkly. "I feel the exact same way, Amdír. And soon, it will be our turn to fight. It will be our turn to show to Sauron- and our friends- that this is our land- our home. And we will not leave without a fight. This is our fight more than any others. We will not lie idle, nor allow others to step over us in this fight, nor to allow Sauron to use his wretched armies to destroy everything we hold in our care and love. No, we will fight. To the last if we may."

Estela was reclining against a wall. She was with the Greenwood Princess.

Being a very beautiful and petite elleth- small and porcelain-doll-like in the standards of the elves, though still tall- the princess did not seem the type to go into battle- but to lounge around in the finest gowns and jewels, to drink the finest chilled wine and to gossip and laugh with friends, discussing jewels and the latest fashion. Yet when she wore armour, and braided her hair, she was another matter entirely.

Estela could sense a kindred spirit, even though- as the princess pointed out- she was much taller than her. Estela was as tall as her husband and cousin, taller than most men and ellyn.

"My son is growing fast," the princess said wistfully. "He has already learnt to shoot a bow and ride."

Estela smiled. "I must seem like the type to coddle my daughter then," she said. "Considering that she has never held a weapon before."

The princess smiled. "It is our custom to have children trained to fight- especially in such difficult times."

"Yes," Estela's eyes darkened. "I pray that they at least have happy childhoods."

The princess' eyes clouded in concern. She knew. Estela had been very young, according to her husband, when she left Valinor. Apparently young enough to be carried, and forced to be stripped and exiled from her home and any loved ones, and to live out in a land that must seem dark and terrible compared to the bliss and ease of Valinor. Especially when the remaining loved ones are branded kinslayers and were pitted against Morgoth- of all people. If she had been happy in Valinor, Morgoth and all dark powers had ruined that.

Somehow, the princess cringed, reminded of what Sauron did to capture and torture her father. And what happened to her mother… No child should have to go through that. She thought to herself.

"The goal of every good parent is to make their child happier than they in their time." She finally said. And the princess could not agree more.

Angrily, the two Woodland kings kept conferring.

Ereinion knew they were out of time and was busy planning the final assault before Sauron hit them when they were unprepared.

The Greenwood princess worried for her son back home, her troops, her husband and father-by-marriage.

Estela had a horrible feeling something terrible was approaching, but of course it was. They were going into Mordor, of course, and to battling Sauron. She thought and missed her children with her whole heart, mind and fëa.

Either way, all was desperate to get what needed to be done, done and fast.

The final assault came soon.

"We shall attack in a few weeks, if the others agree with me."

The others nodded. But the two Woodland kings were noticeably absent from the party in the Briefing Tent.

Ereinion nodded, concealing his frown and unease at their absence.

"Very well," he said grimly. "And so it is."

"But we must attack with caution," Ereinion said. "We would be foolish simply to crash like waves upon those gates. Sauron would have stronger, darker forces at work than mere orcs. And even if he did not, the gates themselves are as thick as the Ephel Dúath. No, we shall not charge the gates to get into Mordor. We have another plan."

Estela stood quietly near him. She agreed. And there was much to be done.

"And so it begins," Ereinion said grimly. Estela was thinking the exact same thing. "Pray that it ends, my friends. Soon."

Oropher hissed at Amdír. "What plan? Why does he not notice our absence? Why does Gil-Galad even wait?" He gave a thunderous glare. "So it is as we feared. We are not to be involved in this at all."

Amdír's eyes flashed darkly and his lips were in a thin line.

"And so we know what we must do," Oropher continued. Amdír jerked his head. "Careful, brother. We do not know what Gil-Galad has to say to all this," he said in scorn. This was the first and only time anyone had ever spoken about Gil-Galad in scorn. His was a person, and an image to gaze up in awe and admiration towards, in amazement by astounded beings and beasts. A light against the oncoming darkness. But in truth Amdír was not actually thinking of Gil-Galad when he said those words. But of the whole, having more Noldor than Sindar and the Nandorin elves in the fighting force, side-lining them, and even seemingly ignoring them.

Misunderstandings can be even worse than conflicts. It disintegrates trust and creates conflict when there should be none. Especially in such a time and place.

And old friends are close to being enemies.

The next two days were relatively quiet. Estela did not see the Greenwood Princess, a pity since she rather liked the shieldmaiden.

But she did not see Oropher or Amdír either. She assumed they were still angry. She did not see Thranduil, or any of the Wood-elves as a matter of fact, but she was kept so busy for the preparations for the assault, that she really could not dwell much on it.

A mistake, of course.

And it was the third day that they received a terrible shock.

Estela opened her tent-flap. It was not yet dawn, but the sky was lighter than the black it had been. Amazing considering that they were outside of Mordor.

And it was eerily silent. Too silent.

Yes, there were sentries, standing guard-duty. Yes, it was still dark. But something was not right.

Estela never had the Gift of Sight, unlike Artanis and Elrond. But she always sensed if something was about to happen- and they usually ended up correct. It was uncanny.

She emerged and frowned. She had bathed and dressed for battle. No harm in being prepared, though they were well-hidden.

"My lady!" She heard someone shout. "My lady!"

It was Fëapoldon. She turned in shock to see him galloping this way.

"Fëapoldon," she acknowledge. Her sense of foreboding increased.

"What is it?"

"The Wood-elves," he gasped. "They've gone!"

Estela felt icy shock drench her like water, and creep up her spine. She was unable to speak for a few seconds. "They've deserted the alliance?!" She could not imagine the Wood-elves, especially Oropher, breaking his word.

"No, my lady!" He gasped. "They're charging Mordor!"

And all hell broke loose.

Estela charged and woke up her warriors. There was no time to wake Ereinion or his warriors, or Elrond, and they would need them later for success. But right now they had to stop Amdír and Oropher from fool-hardy suicide, and mass-slaughter.

They hastily rushed to their feet, splashed water on themselves and saddled their horses. They needed to leave if they wanted to stop Oropher, Amdír and the rest of the Wood-elves. They were close to Mordor, but not that close.

They needed to ride fast.

Meanwhile Oropher and Amdír were fighting like hellcats, and yet it was to no avail. The Wood-elves are highly militarized. Trained under the meticulous perfectionist Thranduil and his wife, they were powerful in combat and wild as their woods.

But that was not enough to match the relentless, unstoppable evil of Mordor.

They were trapped.

What was more they were separated.

"Father!" Thranduil shouted at his father. "We must turn back!" He turned and swiped an opponent. Like Queen Estela he used two swords, one in each hand. He was so graceful, and his wife even more so. Like liquid, or quicksilver they danced a lethal dance of death, but for one orc they cut down- and they did so in their dozens at a few seconds- two or three more took their place.

They were running out of time. They were outnumbered, overwhelmed and ill-equipped for such a flood of evil powers.

Thranduil knew this had been a mistake. He had tried to warn his father from the start, but his father had been too angry. Now he was fighting for his wife's life, his people, and his own life, while trying to desperately save his father and meanwhile, his father's bond-brother was nowhere to be seen.

"We must retreat!" He screamed in Sindarin.

"We can't!" A captain screamed nearby. Thranduil didn't even bother identifying who it was, before slicing a beserker orc. "They have us in their sights!"

Yes, there were beserkers- and thus it was due to that that countless of their kin were being slaughtered, right before Thranduil's eyes.

In his anguish, Thranduil tore his eyes from his slaughtered kin to his wife. "We need to retreat. Now!"

She nodded. "Retreat!" He ordered.

"Now!"

Just then a horn blew in the distance- no it was a trumpet, of some kind. And in his shock and amazement, he saw the figures of elves on horseback. And in the lead, a graceful figure with copper-hair flying about.

Noldor! They could have wept in relief. Even Thranduil who was not one to weep and break down. Estela!

And so they were saved. But at a terrible price.

But at a terrible price.

Estela could see they were far from a likely chance to survive.

She could see, however, that the Gates had been opened. But the more pressing concern was the Wood-elves.

Amdír of King of Lothlórien was nowhere to be seen. The last of his troops were being pushed back and massacred by the thousands. But she could not afford to look.

There was Oropher, Thranduil and his wife, in the heat of it all.

"Remember our plan!" She shouted. "Surround them, Maltariel, take the left flank!"

Maltariel galloped off. "Go to the right!" She ordered Fëapoldon. Take the others- the rest of you-" The orcs saw them. "Charge!" She screamed.

And so they crashed onto the orcs.

Fighting with such vigour, the orcs were taken by shock, especially as these were better equipped and more coordinated, seemingly more prepared at every possible manner, and were calm- masters at killing orcs and other foul creatures.

Thranduil saw them, he grabbed his wife's hand. "Make for the gap!" He shouted in Sindarin. "They've come to help us- they've opened a gap!"

He spotted his father, covered in soot and blood, and still raging with a fury that would match any beserker. "Adar! We must hurry! Retreat and regroup, while the queen gives us time!"

Oropher cut down more orc. Black blood stained his armour. He crashed and hacked down several more with such hatred- and anguish in his eyes.

What have I done?! He thought to himself. My people… my Gwador…. And maybe my son and his wife!

What have I done?!

He hacked down several more orcs to pieces.

"Adar!" Thranduil shouted. He could hear his daughter-by-marriage shout as well.

"Adar we must go now!"

"Go!" He shouted desperately while fighting. "Go my son! Take our people and your wife, and get yourselves out of here! I shall hold them back- for now I am king, until I pass! And now I shall hold them back! For you!"

"Adar!" Thranduil shouted desperately. His eyes widened in shock and horror, as he understood what his father meant.

"Go! Lead our people! Save them!" Oropher shouted, hurling head-first to the trolls.

"No!" Thranduil ran, cutting down every orc, every troll, every foul creature, until he heard an unearthly shriek.

No it cannot be.

Nazgûl.

He had heard fearfully of what happened to the Nine Men who accepted the Rings from Sauron, but until now he had absolutely no idea where they were, and what they did.

The Nazgûl rode great winged beasts charging down, grabbing and plucking elves in their claws, and dropping them, or overturning them.

And Thranduil was next. And Oropher.

"No!" Thranduil screamed again.

Oropher would have been grabbed by the Nazgûl had its paws not been confronted by the swing of a Noldorin blade.

Estela.

She sliced off the creature's foreleg at lightning speed, while it screamed and its rider fell. Again she stabbed at its body, while black blood, thicker and fouler in stench than an orcs' leaked.

Quick again, she drew back to face the enraged Nazgûl. It hissed. Once a human, now not even dead or alive.

It wore a thick black cloak and where its face should have been under that hood, he saw only darkness.

"Go," Estela said calmly. "It is neither yours nor my time to die." He was unsure of whether she spoke to him or the Nazgûl since the full sentence was spoken while she gazed upon the foul undead.

It hissed. "Elf-queen," it rasped, in a horrible, un-lifelike, unearthly voice.

"Do not stand between the Nazgûl and his prey. Die now."

"As I said, it is neither your time, nor mine." Estela replied calmly. "You shall live to do Sauron's foul work for him, and I have yet to be called to Mandos. As for the Prince, he is not to be prey to you or anyone, and Oropher is not to be defiled by you."

It hissed. The creature struck but Estela quickly duelled with it. "Get your father," she said in Sindarin. "Go!"

Thranduil swung at an orc. He cut down and sliced every orc to make his way to his father. He spotted him.

"Adar!" He shouted.

But Oropher was swinging his sword aimlessly, brutally, unlike that of an elf's. His eyes were filled with a wild, savage light, unlike what he normally had.

"Thranduil- go!" He shouted.

He was surrounded. "Adar- no!"

And there were beserker orcs.

Oropher gave a cry and charged them.

They surrounded him in seconds.

"NO!" Thranduil screamed. He fought his way towards them, and it was as if he was wading through blood, mud and corpses all.

But he felt something strong grab his arm, and pull him back. Then everything went black.

Estela stood at the foot of the bed.

The Noldor were largely untouched- impossible, by the standards of men, but unless the evil was overwhelming- and they themselves were there to rescue as a reserve force- but the Wood-elves…

She had alternated between going back and forth. A message had been sent to the High King and Estela could not imagine what Ereinion would have to say about it all.

Oropher was in the worst shape she had ever seen in an elf- which was saying much because she had managed- despite her mother's attempts- to steal a glimpse at her father as he recovered after his imprisonment on the thangorodrim. And she was a healer.

Oropher was hacked and bloodied all over- his own blood mixed with orc blood, and that was not a good thing. Furthermore, apart from getting hacked, in numerous objects, by sharp and dull weapons, poisoned blades- which caused him to bleed pus as well as more blood and other fluids- his bones had been shattered- caving inwards.

It was clear he was not going to survive. Even his face was partly smashed in. Half of it was still the noble elven king, but the other half…

Estela could not bear it any longer. She had pulled out the princess before she could run after her husband in the mindless heat of his anguish. But she had to knock them both unconscious, otherwise she could not save either of them both, nor get Oropher to safety.

As for the Nazgûl…

Coward, Estela's eyes flashed. The Nazgûl fled. It suddenly screeched and fled. As if Sauron had ordered it back.

But the Gates…

They were open. And now the Noldor and the remaining Sindar held them. After what they had seen, they were not about to disobey her orders.

Especially as their king lay dying and his son and daughter-by-marriage recovered.

Estela turned to leave- to find Thranduil. At last the gates were open- she took the advantage when the armies came through. That was why the Nazgûl came- to deal with this panic- except it saw Oropher and Thranduil before it saw her.

"My lady," a shattered croak came from behind her.

Estela turned to see Oropher. His eyes were open.

"My king," she said softly, coming back to him and sitting on the side of his bed. She had bathed and dressed his wounds the best she could, but the poison acted fast- unlike other orc poisons which were slow.

It was already too late.

"Rest," she said. But he croaked out, "You were right- your husband was right." He wept. "He was the better elf- the better king- I- I was supposed to lead them- to save them. They trusted me, and I- I killed them."

Estela could say nothing. A shieldmaiden could not deny the reckless course of action that was taken. Even though she wanted to comfort Oropher, badly, there was nothing she could say about this. A commander had to take responsibility for his actions. They at least managed to get the Gates open, but that was it.

Oropher gasped and croaked out, "Thranduil? My daughter-"

"Are safe." Estela reassured him. He sagged and two tears leaked in relief. "Good. Good. My son… Did not die because of me. And my daughter too. His wife. Legolas does not need to lose both his parents because of a mad fool."

Estela sighed. "Damaging your own health will do no one any good. Please, rest."

"I can't," the king rasped. "I am dying. My Queen… You are the better one than I. I never told you, did I?"

Estela's eyes narrowed. "Told me what?"

"Your father," Oropher rasped. He coughed, and Estela hastily pushed aside her shock and soothed him, handing him water and miruvor.

"He saved me." Estela froze in shock.

"What?" She whispered. She could not believe this.

"He spared my life," Oropher rasped. He gave a smile that looked painful as it was dangerous.

"I was born and lived in Doriath," he affirmed. "But the debt I owe you was more than the saving you did for my people. Your father… I met him only for a moment, and I knew him not to be the monster others feared. In his eyes shone light and goodness- and hope. Hope I see in you. He should have killed me- the oath told him to take whoever had the Silmarils. And I had Princess Elwing under my care. We were in the woods, searching for her brothers. He was doing the same. And in his eyes I saw grief, pain and regret- more so than anything I have ever seen. And we were nearly killed, but he risked his own life to save us- even though the twins were killed- not by your uncle's servants, but by orcs." Estela froze.

Oropher gave a pained smile. "History leaves out many things. One of which your father was a great and noble elf. He too tried to save us all. And he should have killed us. It was only later I knew he knew we had the Silmaril. Yet, when he could afford to overlook it, he chose to save us, over the gem."

Estela was shocked into silence.

"Thank you for the life of my kin," he whispered. "And my son and his family. Estela, Hope of the Eldar."

And with that, the Woodland King died.

I'm soooorrrryyy! [SOBS] I don't think you really wanted Oropher to die but I'm sorry- HOW ELSE WOULD EVERYONE'S FAVOURITE- THRANDUIL BECOME KING?!

And I'm sorry for the late update. Really, really sorry. I have university work. Gwador is Sindarin for bond-brother. Miruvor is the restorative tonic that the Ainur and elves make. And now we know why Oropher wasn't so suspicious and antagonistic towards her in the first place.

I didn't give Thranduil's wife- Legolas' mother- a name- because there are too many fics and I don't want to spoil anyone's imagination! But I think she would be a shieldmaiden. And yes, and the Ringwraith was called back by Sauron who knew that Estela- being female and an elf- could have defeated it. And it was, as she sensed- not its time to die. She did make a mistake in overseeing this. She's not perfect, no matter what you say. She's going to regret this for the rest of her life.