Of Legolas and Lisaine

On the ninth day the troop arrived at the Bruinen Loudwater. They turned south for a short distance towards the angle, where Isodor sat to the east of the great river. Cresting a rocky ridge, the forward troops stopped and gazed southwards. From their vantage point atop the foothills, they could see a great plume of smoke rising somewhere north of the Hollin ridge region.

"Rakal's army progresses quickly," said Balanthos grimly, "We shall barely have time to cut them off before they come to Isodor. We will have no time to deepen the defense within the fortress before the destroyer comes to battle."

"Then let us make all possible speed and engage our foe before he reaches the outer borders!" ordered Menarn.

"It will put us at a disadvantage on the open plain," said Kerrinais loudly, "They will fair worse if we battle within the forest boundaries. Let us meet them within the woods, where the power of the defenders might be stronger!"

Balanthos quickly looked to all the elven lords, and received a nod from each. Then spurring his mount, he trotted to the regiment leaders behind them, banners unfurled and flying in the strong winds that came sweeping across the plain. He yelled to them in elvish, the sound of tapping chest armor rose over the hills, two-thirds of the host led by Balanthos, Menarn, Hanthenar, and Marsanganion left.

Those on foot sped away, past Legolas and Kerrinais, leaving the remainder of the host on horseback as a second wave of attack. The battle of Isodor had begun.

Through the dense wood, Rakal's front soldiers moved slowly. The thickets and ravines were difficult for their horses, for they were only used to running on the plains in open battle. Heavy armor on the horses caught on tree limbs and in bushes, ripping at their sides, causing them to whinny and moan.

"Why do we have to go this way?" grumbled one slumped in his saddle, "By the time we get there, they all would have died of old age!"

"Shut up!" came an enraged voice from behind, "Orders are we go this way. Maybes we'll see some elveses lurking in the woods that we cans kills. They won'ts all bees in the cities!"

The first orc grumbled something under his breath, when a long shaft suddenly struck him squarely in the chest. He yelped briefly, before toppling over.

"Attack!" screamed the next orc, "Kill them!"

A hail of arrows flew over the orcs in every direction as the elves jumped from their hiding places to engage their enemy. Many of the orcs on horseback fell from their mounts, as the terrified animals reared up on their hind legs and bolted. From behind the flanks, a solid wave of hissing and shrieking orc soldiers ran past the front guard, swords flailing and crashing onto the elven defenders. The elven lord Balanthos, having spent every arrow, now swiftly reached back to gather his sword, but before he could release it from its sheath, a large orc, howling hideously, ran up beside him, thrusting his sword through the elf's neck. Blood gushed from the open wound as the elf instantly fell to the ground, his hand still clutching the sword. The orc stood howling in victory, waving his own weapon about in the air, before a stray orc arrow pierced his back, and he reeled and fell beside Balanthos. Such screaming and shrieking as was never heard in those woodlands continued, as more and more orcs plunged into the battle, enraged by the very thought of opposition. Then a loud yell, guttural and deep hissed:

"To the city! Destroy the city!"

A cavalry of orcs on horses immediately broke from the fighting, and continued around the main battle, unfettered. The main host of elves was completely involved with those that were on foot. Breaking the tight quarters of the forest, the orcs whipped their beasts to make haste towards the defenseless city. They made no effort for silence, and they shrieked and screamed as they approached. Cresting a grassy hill, not a 1/4-mile from the forest edge, they were met by another hail of arrows from the elves that had lingered behind, led by Legolas and Kerrinais. The elven line of horses stretched horizontally along the entire embankment. Each elf, firing his arrows at will found its way to every orc as they covered the hillside, one after another dropping from their mounts. Some orcs broke away again, and managed to ride along the side of the embankment, attempting to cut down the elven line from behind. Clanking swords and armor echoed over the plains, as the elves fought on horseback. Legolas spurred Neonean, looking to see where Kerrinais was in the battle.

He saw a large orc run up to Kerrinais's horse and thrust his sword into its side. The horse cried out and fell, dropping his rider with him. The two rolled down the steep hill. Legolas instantly cried to Kerrinais, who was scrambling to get on his feet, the orc laughing with its foul jagged teeth glittering in its hideous mouth. The beast raised his sword high above Kerrinais's head to strike. In the clouds of dust, Legolas spurred Neonean on, clinging onto the galloping horse with only his legs. He reached behind his back and deftly drew Menea from its sheath. In a fraction of an instant, Neonean ran full tilt past the orc. Its head fell clean off its shoulders at Kerrinais's feet. Then spurring his horse about, Legolas galloped back to Kerrinais, his arm extended. The elf grasped tightly onto Legolas's outstretched hand pulled himself onto Neonean's back, as another rider approached them. Kerrinais spun himself around, now facing backward as he drew his sword and crossed blades with the orc rider. Another rode up to them, cutting off Neonean's gallop. Legolas twirled his gleaming elven blades with both hands as he and the second orc rider fought.

"A horse!" Kerrinais yelled to Legolas, "I need a horse!"

"What about one of these?" Legolas yelled back, his elven blade clanging against the screaming, infuriated beast. The howling monster that Kerrinais fought now attempted to stand in his saddle. Unsteady as his mount was, he was clearly meaning to jump and take the elves off Neonean's back. Kerrinais swiftly kicked a leg at the horse, which jerked back, dislodging the orc with a thud back into its saddle.

"An orc horse?!" Kerrinais shouted back, "I would rather not! Is there no Rivendell horse about?!"

Legolas glanced up across the grassy field where the fighting continued until he spied a riderless Rivendell horse. Slashing one last time, Legolas felled the orc blocking their path and Neonean galloped past the newly dead creature. The rider that Kerrinais had been fighting gave chase. Kerrinais pulled out a short elven dagger from his belt and threw it with such strength and ferocity that the blade whined as it sailed threw the air, piercing the beast threw a leather face coverlet. It screeched, dropped its sword and held onto its face, before falling to the ground. The Rivendell horse remained still when Neonean galloped up alongside it. Kerrinais leaped lightly onto its back and gathered its reins in his hand. Below the steed on the ground, was a fallen elf, the horse's master. The elf's lifeless eyes stared blankly skyward. Kerrinais looked at the dead elf with a brief sense of pity, before gazing back at Legolas.

"Take better care of this one!" Legolas yelled spurring Neonean about. Kerrinais nodded and the two rode off in different directions to continue with the battle.

After some time had passed, the brunt of the orcs riding upon the grassy knoll were overcome. However, the fierce battle in the forest continued. Legolas signaled to several riders to follow him into the forest, and 25 horses broke from the fight and sprinted away with Legolas. Neonean whinnied and sprinted, her blood stained mane and tail flying in back of her as though the wind were holding them in place. A number of elves, including Kerrinais, remained behind to combat what remained of the orc detachment. In the forest, the elven horses, being reared in the forest haven of Rivendell, had little trouble traversing the broken terrain. Yet several riders decided to dismount and leave their horses away from the main siege. The battle had progressed much during the time that the elven horse riders were engaged in the open. The broken bodies of orc mingled with elf were strewn in every flat clearing, in every ravine. Spent blood trickled into every stream, mutating the clear water with an eerie red appearance. The battle now spread over a greater distance in the forest, for some of the enemy had turned in their sudden cowardice and sought to go around the onslaught, only to be pursued and cut off. Still, this had a damaging effect on the elven army, which was now thinly spread throughout the forest. A full third of the elves were now killed, including Hanthenar and Marsanganion.

Legolas rode deeply into the siege, his bow in hand. The long brown and gray shafts of Mirkwood flew to their appointed marks, one after the other, dropping each prey where it stood, until his quiver was spent. Jumping down from Neonean's back, Legolas grabbed his two elvish white knives from their sheaths, spinning them in his hand so that only the barest outline of the blade could be seen. In an instant, satisfied with his final grip, he lunged forward alongside his brethren and began hand-to-hand combat with renewed fervor. Such was Legolas's skill and speed that no orc could overcome him. With each quarry felled, Legolas looked wildly about, before engaging the next. Although the elves were superior in strength and skill, Rakal's army was superior in numbers. For every orc that fell, two more seemed to take its place.

The struggle continued on, and the number of elves left fighting, dwindled. Kerrinais and ten more riders joined the combat, but it was not nearly enough. There simply were not enough elves remaining, and they were slowly being eliminated. Even Kerrinais was beginning to tire and felt the hopelessness of the situation. He spied Legolas in the distance, fighting two creatures at once, their heavy blades clanging against Legolas's red stained knives. With a final brutal slash, Kerrinais felled the creature assailing him, and ran to help his friend. One orc whirled about as Kerrinais ran up to it, but before it could wield its sword, Kerrinais slashed its throat and it fell, blood gushing onto the leaves.

"We are being overrun!" he shouted to Legolas.

As if to answer his words, the clear, sharp sounding of the horn of Irwindal suddenly came whistling through the forest. A new barrage of horses and men flew past the amazed elves, being led by Lords Kellindle and Arkon, who shouted,

"For Isodor! For Isodor!"

Lisaine's army had arrived. Legolas and Kerrinais stared at each other for a brief moment, grinning, before they began yet another assault with renewed spirits. Help had come to the elves from the most unexpected quarter of all, the race of men. This time, the orcs, already battle weary from the elven armies, were slowly driven back. More and more bands of orcs broke away and began running through the woods, until at last the combat began to die away.

Legolas, having dispatched his last adversary, gazed around. There was still much fighting within the area, but no longer enough of the enemy to set on him without a spare moment. He stood there breathing heavily. The white blades in his hands, dripping with blood and sinew, seemed suddenly of a great weight, and he let his arms fall to his sides, still gripping them tightly. He saw Kerrinais leaning against a tree, slumping over slightly, and he sprang over to him, concerned that he had been wounded. Running up to him, Legolas frantically turned his friend to face him and quickly checked him over for a wound, but there was none.

"No," Kerrinais breathed, "I am unhurt. Just tired. The battle has been hard won, but won nonetheless." Legolas grinned, but his expression soon turned serious.

"I have not seen Rakal," he said. Kerrinais shook his head.

"He was not here during the battle or on the grasslands. I would have seen it for I too have searched for him. He must have taken another route. He must have eluded us."

"There is no escape for Rakal," Legolas said soberly, "We must assemble what warriors we have left and finish him."

The two elves stepped away from the tree when a red-bearded man on a brown stallion trotted up to them. They stood aside to let him pass, but instead he held back on the reins of the anxious steed, pulling it to a halt.

"I am looking for Lord Legolas and Lord Kerrinais of Mirkwood," he said.

"This is Legolas and I am Kerrinais," the elf replied. The rider dismounted and bowed before them, beads of sweat falling from his face.

"I am Lord Kellindle. I am sent by Queen Lisaine of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin to seek you out. I am also bid by her highness to offer any help in your efforts to secure the elven sanctuary of Isodor against Rakal the Destroyer."

Legolas stepped forward and put his hand on the large man's shoulder, an act of tribute to a recognized friend.

"Your arrival here is welcome," Legolas said to him breathing hard, "But how came it that you knew of our plight? Indeed, how is it that there is anyone left in the Anduin at all, for Kerrinais and I have left the blue cities but a few weeks ago, and we thought there were no survivors." Looking down, Lord Kellindle spoke in a softer, sadder voice.

"Many of our people perished in the attacks to be sure, but our queen survived, a true testament to her fortitude, and was only lately revealed to us. It was she who convinced the lords and the army to assail the Dark Lord's cursed forces here and not wait for Rakal to return to the valleys to finish what he had begun. There were but 400 or so of us left, and we banded together and marched across the high pass. The queen's uncle also being with us."

"Your queen is of exceptional bravery to attempt such an act of friendship," said Legolas. Having only known Lisaine by her elven name, Legolas remained ignorant of whom Lord Kellindle spoke.

"Indeed she is a courageous ruler," breathed Lord Kellindle, "She has ridden yonder into the deeper forest with her uncle and several advisors, and should return shortly. Until then, I am commanded to muster what men are left to me and follow the elven lords where they bid us to go."

"We are to set out at once to find the orc captain," said Kerrinais, "Collect what men you have, and follow us. There are few places for Rakal to run, now that the greater part of his army is destroyed."

"He will make for the fortress of Isodor," said Legolas, "For there is little defense there now, and with enough creatures, he might yet take it."

Lord Kellindle bowed to Legolas and Kerrinais. Then taking his horse's reins, he hauled himself onto the animal and galloped off. Legolas looked around the carnage frowning. He blew a quick, low-pitched whistle, which was more like a song hummed. From out of the deep recesses of the forest, trotted Neonean, her eyes filled with gladness at hearing the call from her master. Returning his knives to their sheaths, Legolas spent a moment to tighten the sheath belt around his chest. It had grown wet with blood and the leather was now stretching. Then, surveying the ground, Legolas walked over a small distance and retrieved his Mirkwood bow. Turning it over and over, he ascertained that it was not broken in the fighting. He walked quickly about the battlefield, removing elven arrows from the dead orcs, and stuck them into his quiver, until it was once again full. Thus re-armed, he gripped Neonean's long mane and lightly hopped onto the mare's back, and prepared to depart. Kerrinais and others had similarly obtained more weapons, and all were now converging to the spot where Legolas impatiently waited.

In the darkening forest, a small company walked along the edge of a small stream. Accompanying Lisaine was Alnein, and the valley Lords Bieldan and Arkon, and also Lisaine's uncle, Lord Hollein.

"I do not like this, uncle" Lisaine called over to him from astride her horse, "We should be where the fighting is, they need every warrior."

"When the fighting is over at last," he replied, "The people will need a ruler. It's better if we remain aloof here for the time being."

Lisaine only frowned. The small party continued down a small hill. The stream they followed trickled over rocks and underneath fallen tree trunks. The forest grew somewhat denser as they progressed, but all could hear the noise of battle beginning to subside. Lisaine at last had decided to turn back and find the battle area, anxious in her mind to find Legolas. As she began to open her mouth to speak, she casually looked at Alnein and stopped short. The elf was looking wildly about in great alarm.

"What...." Lisaine began. But she was unable to finish her sentence, for a great troop of orcs sprang from every direction, hidden behind the large trees.

"A trap! A trap!" yelled Lord Arkon pulling his sword out. Unsheathing her dagger, Lisaine heaved it with all her strength at the first orc she saw. The blade landed squarely in the creature's neck. It fell to the ground with an anguished howl. The young girl thrust her heels hard into her horse's side, and it leaped into the air, but another beast with a gaping wide jaw had grabbed her leg and pulled the screaming girl off her horse before she could escape. Landing on a rock protruding from the ground, Lisaine uttered an agonized cry as she struggled with the laughing and hideous monster, his drool dripping down upon her face. Alnein deftly lifted her bow and felled the beast with an arrow even as she herself was knocked off her own horse from somewhere above. Alnein staggered to her feet, bleeding from a blow to her head, and then collapsed to the ground. Lisaine continued to scream as two more orcs pawed at her arms, finally subduing her. She frantically looked around only to see the lifeless bodies of Lord Arkon and Lord Beildon. All the struggling abruptly stopped as several hoof falls made their way calmly to the site. Lisaine looked up, and saw Rakal with three other orc riders approach. Lord Hollein, the only one remaining upon his horse, did not see their approach from behind.

"Uncle! Uncle!" Lisaine screamed, "Behind you!"

She watched in horror and disbelief as Rakal strode up to her uncle's side and stopped. Lord Hollein remained calm as Rakal dismounted and slowly made his way over to where she was held.

"UNCLE!" she screamed.

"I have kept my word to you," Lord Hollein said to him in a low voice as the orc captain sauntered past. It was almost incomprehensible for Lisaine to believe what she was hearing. She shook with anger as she realized that it was her own uncle that had arranged the ambush. Rakal walked up close to Lisaine and hissed under his breath. He grabbed her jaw with a massive, distorted claw and gazed at her with the same evil hatred that she had seen that night in Irwindal. She stifled a small whimper as the orc soldiers held her erect, a great pain in her right side stabbed at her. As he stepped back, he drew up his bow, fitted an arrow to it and aimed it point blank at Lisaine's face.

"Wait," said Lord Hollein jumping from his horse. He stepped in front of Rakal and walked over to Lisaine, who still struggled fruitlessly against her assailants. He pried open her fingers and pulled the heavy signet ring from her left hand, holding it close to her face.

"Only the King may wear this ring," he said sarcastically. Lisaine spit at him and continued to struggle. He wiped his face off and gazed at her with contempt.

"Vile betrayer!" she cried, "You are my father's brother! How can you do this?! It was you who saved me that night in Irwindal!"

"You are a halfwit!" he laughed, "I did not mean to save you that night! Did you not comprehend, after all this time, that it was I who led you to Rakal then as well?"

She shook her head in disbelief. Lord Hollein stepped back, and Rakal drew forward once again. Lisaine looked directly into his black eyes, determined not to flinch or look away from her doom, but the creature lowered his bow and tightened his eyes, scrutinizing her again.

"NO. I may have another use for YOU," he hissed laughing. Then he grew sober again. He turned around slowly and deliberately, and lifted his arrow at Lord Hollein, who drew back in horror.

"But YOU," Rakal muttered in fury, "YOU I have NO more use for!"

"But...but..." Lord Hollein cried dropping to his knees, "I have done as you commanded! I have brought you the last of the house of Gillindon!"

"Yes, you brought me a queen," he seethed in fury, "And she brought an army with her to aid the cursed elves!! And it was YOU who told me she was dead before you discovered that she lived, you sniveling piece of flesh! You've failed me too many times!"

"But, my lord," stammered Lord Hollein, "I didn't know there were any survivors! I tried to draw the stragglers back to the valley and away from Isodor! That was not my doing! It was hers! You promised me that I would be king!"

"I didn't say how long you'd be a king, did I?" he grinned, his bloodied fingers pulling back on the bow. All at once, he released the shaft, and it flew directly through Lord Hollein's left eye. Blood spurted down his face as he fell over, lifeless. To this new horror, Lisaine closed her eyes, and looked away. When she opened them again, Rakal, was mounting his horse.

"My Lord," hissed another orc bending over Alnein, "This one still lives."

"Bring them," he growled, and kicked his horse. The horse whinnied and sped off into the forest. As Lisaine's hands were bound, she looked in the direction where Rakal was headed, and saw a great column of orc soldiers making their way through the woods towards Isodor. The foul stench of the creatures around her choked the air, and she coughed, blood trickling down her chin. She vaguely realized her side ached. Looking down, Lisaine could see a large stain of blood soaking into the fabric of her gown where she had struck her side on the rock. Then all went black.

Even before her eyes opened again, Lisaine was coughing. She found herself, lying upon her side on a smooth, cold stone floor. Her hands were still tied in front of her, and she pulled at them weakly before giving up. Precariously lifting her head, she could see the outline of Alnein, tied likewise, sitting up, with her back leaning against the thick stone wall. One small rectangular window was the only source of light in the otherwise empty room. The sun's long rays stretched far into the recesses of the dreary chamber with a reddening glow. A musty smell of putrid leaking water and decaying mold permeated the room. The only fresh air to be breathed was afforded by the tiny window. A large door, laden with heavy iron brackets that attached it to the stone archway, was shut. The hands of men built the fortress long ago. It stood as a sanctuary for travelers, much the same as Imladris was a sanctuary. However, as the centuries slipped by, the castle was abandoned, its people migrating south beyond the mountain passes. Slowly, new inhabitants took over and dwelt sometimes within its dimmed walls, but mostly removed to the vast woodlands beyond. Lisaine could now see Rakal's purpose in coming there first. Any survivors of the Anduin massacres would retreat there, and the elven defenses in and around the fortress were next to nothing. It would have been an easy target for Rakal, and stategically brilliant. Now Lisaine and Alnein found themselves in the darkest regions of the ancient dungeon, where no elf or other being had strayed in 500 hundred years.

Shifting onto her back, Lisaine struggled to sit erect. From somewhere beyond the dark door, the distinct sounds of moaning and shrieks could be heard. She looked over at Alnein, whose eyes were closed. Dried blood and dirt covered the length of her face and down her neck. A sizable cut in her forehead was clearly visible. The bruised skin around it was already turning blue.

"Alnein," she whispered, "Are you alright? Where are we?"

The elf slowly opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to gaze at Lisaine, and she smiled.

"We have been brought to the small fortress of Isodor, which has been overtaken at last." Alnein said glumly.

"The others are dead, Nevariel," she said with some pity, "I fear your uncle is dead too."

"It was my uncle who betrayed us to Rakal," Lisaine replied somberly, "Rakal had promised him my father's throne." Alnein looked away.

"Rakal will not give it to him," Alnein said slowly, "There is no promise he would keep. I doubt Rakal will let him live."

"He is dead already," Lisaine grimaced, "I should have listened to you. A queen I am not, Alnein. I think a ruler would serve better when she at least knows who the enemy is."

The elf turned her head back to Lisaine with some effort and managed a slight smile. Lisaine crawled over to her and began to untie her friends bonds.

"At least we don't need these," Lisaine breathed, coughing a little more. The thick ropes peeled away from her wrists, and Lisaine held up her own. The elf glanced at Lisaine's side as she worked. At last Lisaine's hands were freed, the red ligature marks still emblazoned on her delicate arms. Alnein stretched out her hand to look at her friend's wound, but Lisaine pushed it away, shrugging her shoulders. Crawling back to where she was previously sitting, and with some effort, Lisaine finally turned herself so that she could face the wall. She pulled at a rip in the side of her dress to enlarge it. Sticking a hand inside, she pulled out a bloodied palm, examining it. Her face was pale and beads of sweat covered her forehead. She leaned forward and rested her head against the cold stone, closing her eyes. Alnein sat up watching her.

"Nevariel, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said sitting back suddenly, "I am unhurt. Just a small wound."

Alnein gazed doubtfully at Lisaine, but there was little she could do to help her. Alnein whispered a prayer in elvish. Her words were soothing to Lisaine, even though the young queen could not understand the entire chant, and she presently felt somewhat better. Looking around the room, Lisaine crawled forward, lay down on the icy floor and closed her eyes. She felt weary, and wanted to rest. The mere effort of breathing became difficult for her, and her chest rose and fell quickly, as she gasped in short breaths. The elf closed her eyes as well, but suddenly opened them. Looking to the window, she sat upright, shaking Lisaine's shoulder. Half awake, half unconscious, Lisaine mumbled as her senses slowly came back to her.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"The alliance has come at last!" said Alnein.

Struggling to her feet, she made her way to the tiny window. There, a column of elves and men were charging out of the forest. They clashed against the smaller resistance on the flat plain, before the fortress. As the sunlight waned, the fighting continued, and Lisaine drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Later, the sounds of stamping feet and the creaking door awoke her again. Five orcs poured into the room. Alnein fought with her aggressors, for she was relatively unhurt. In the confusion of the ensuing struggle, a large black-faced orc marched in and hit Alnein from behind several times before she was ultimately subdued. For Lisaine, however, there was little struggle left. She had lost much blood, and was teetering between wakefulness and unconsciousness. The two were shackled and dragged through another room, where three orcs sat at a table, tearing at a duck. As the women were dragged by, the orcs hollered and laughed, and threw pieces of bloodied meat, the feathers still attached, at their faces. Onward they were drawn up a tiny set of stairs, and then through darkened inner chambers. At last they were brought into a large wooden hall, and thrown roughly onto the floor. The chamber was as a great, enclosed dome, with interlaced beams of birch and white oak, ornately carved. At the center of the room was a semi-circle of tall backed wooden chairs, similarly carved as the wooden beams supporting the room. Looking above her, Alnein detected the faint clues of a recent struggle. At first sighting, the room seemed bright and untouched. Upon closer examination though, wayward arrows, stuck in the walls alongside telltale blood spatters could be seen. There in the center of the semi-circle, with red, hideous eyes, sat Rakal.

He said nothing for a short time and Lisaine lay where she had been thrown down, unmoving. Then with a wave of his arm, two large orcs grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to her feet to stand before him. The stench of blood and rotting flesh was heavy upon his black armor. Summoning the remainder of her strength, Lisaine lifted her head and stared at him contemptuously as she could. He seemed pleased with himself, grinning and hissing at his conquest. A queen of men standing debased before him. But though Rakal was a leader in his own right, he was, at the same time, a slave to the Dark Lord, and therefore was ever looking to gain more favor in his master's eye. Here then, Rakal saw an opportunity of sorts, to further Sauron's dark purpose and separate the races of elves and men. So he bade his servants to bring forth the prisoners from the dark hole. At last he stood, towering above her, gloating of his achievement.

"I have something of yours," he cackled, throwing an object at her feet. Looking down, Lisaine saw the dismembered hand of her uncle, with her father's ring still attached. However, she did not cry or look away, but instead gazed back at Rakal with much hatred in her eyes. He spoke again to her.

"You will be taken to the high wall and you will order your soldiers to stop fighting. You may yet be a queen and live to serve the Dark Lord. Do what I demand and your lands are restored to you in Sauron's service or leave now to your death. Be aware how you answer me will govern how many of your people will live today. If you do not join me, I will not leave one alive."

Alnein glanced sideways at Lisaine, who stood erect, one hand holding her side. Lisaine glared at him.

"You think yourself clever, vermin, but you are mistaken. I am no longer the frightened child you saw that night in the burning forest. And now you would be my ally and give me what is already in my possession. I will swear only this to you. You have neither my oath nor my allegiance. But I will give you my pity. Today I die a queen of my kingdom, having at last tasted love and honor. But not long after I am dead, you too shall be vanquished. The combined armies of men and elves will retake your meager stronghold this day, and you shall die knowing only that you failed your master in the most mundane of tasks. You accomplished nothing here!"

And so enraged by her rebuke was Rakal, that he leaped towards her and struck her with such force as to throw her completely off the floor. She cried out as she landed on the ground beneath him. Grabbing her chains, he dragged her through the once noble hallways, up to the bloodied towers of Orfin, where Alnein and two other prisoners were also taken. On the battlement, before all her subjects, he lifted her with one hideous arm, the other at the ready with his sword. And knowing that her last moments were at hand, she remembered the beauty of the Irwindal forest, and her father's loving smile, and the beguiling beauty of her elven lord's face. Turning her head outward towards the raging battle below, Lisaine gave one final effort, and began striking Rakal's arm with her shackles, screaming loudly,

"Legolas!! Legolas!!"

Far beneath the battlement, on the hill of Aringsan, Legolas, Kerrinais and two other woodland elves held the vantage against all who assailed them. Each elf allowing an orc or creature climb to the top, thinking themselves victorious, when they would be utterly struck down by sword or arrow. Springing over the growing mound of bodies, Kerrinais or Legolas would thus come, retrieve and fit the self-same shaft to their bows that had smote a dozen others. Taking his deadly aim, Legolas pulled far back on the string, when suddenly to his ears came a faint, almost imperceptible cry. Hearing the sound, Legolas and Kerrinais both spun around and gazed up in the direction of the battlement. At the top of the wall, for all to see were the remaining prisoners. Legolas gasped, fixing his horrified stare to the defensive walk where Lisaine vainly fought to free herself from Rakal's iron grip. Instinctively, he summoned all his strength and pulled far back on the shaft in his hand, letting it fly towards the fortress, some few hundred yards away. Through the rising smoke it swathed its path, till at last it came to rest squarely in the eye of the great orc captain, Rakal, and without a sound he fell dead.

Released of her captor, Lisaine staggered forward and grabbed onto the wall. She searched wildly to the battlefield, looking for Legolas, but she could not see him. Yet, she knew it was he who had killed Rakal. Now Iskal, one of Rakal's underlings quickly ran up to take his master's place. Grabbing Lisaine's hair, he pulled her head downward, as she struggled to grab the orc's legs and throw it off its balance. Iskal, however, was too large and heavy, and her attempts were in vain. She felt suddenly faint, and as darkness overtook her, she weakly turned her head to see Alnein's blank, empty stare, and she extended her hand in a final effort towards her friend. With a mighty laugh, the beast raised a long, orc knife, dripping with blood, and plunged it up to the hilt into her back. Then, heaving her over his head, he threw her off the high wall to the muddied ground below. Amidst a rain of arrows, the other orc underlings followed suit with the other prisoners, howling in anger that their leader was gone. From the battlefield, a half a dozen elves were aiming their arrows at the battlements in an effort to save what might be left of the hostages. But as one orc would fall, another would jump to its place and help to complete their terrible task, and it seemed there was no end to them. One-by-one, all were slain and left among the ruins on the wall, side-by-side with the vanquished Rakal.

Thus, Lisaine, Queen of Irwindal, Princess and heir to the throne of Gillindon, ruler of the combined kingdoms of the Anduin valley was dead; as were Alnein, and all those taken prisoner to Isodor castle.

But Legolas had not seen this. Even as Lisaine fell, the hill where Legolas stood was being overrun, and their attentions were diverted back to the battle. Legolas and Kerrinais had unsheathed their elven knives once more, while the others drew on their bows. The struggle continued until the last vestiges of sunlight filtered through the trees of the great forest. Now leaderless, the dwindling number of orcs began to flee the castle to the outlying forest. But this did not save them, for the elves and Lisaine's army pursued them far into the dark recesses of Tamlot. Legolas and Kerrinais however, were bent on finding their way into the fortress.

The only entrance to the castle was a large oak drawbridge that spanned across a deep, dry ravine. Gaining entrance to the fortress interior would have been a problem, and in fact, had the orcs stood their ground, they might have continued the battle well into the night. But in their attempts to escape, the orcs lowered the bridge and left it open as they fled to the woodlands. True to Lisaine's foretelling, the castle was retaken that day, and the right hand of Sauron was destroyed, never to plague the free lands of Middle-Earth again, much to the Dark Lord's anger and misery.

As night made its way across the purpling skies, Legolas frantically rushed through the castle with Kerrinais close behind, searching for Nevariel. Of the fortress they had but little knowledge, so they searched room to room, delving ever deeper into the dark abyss of the foul underworld of the castle. They sought out the rumored dungeons, supposing that if any prisoners were alive, they might be held captive there. The elves had not far to search. Down a tiny forgotten stone stair they advanced. Kerrinais followed closely behind Legolas. The stairwell being so small and enclosed it only allowed one person at a time. The stairs opened to a small room, now vacant of chains or instruments of torture. The elves knew that this had once been the room's purpose. Five heavy wooden doors stood before them, all closed. Resolute, Legolas walked to the first door and pushed it open. The door creaked as it gave way. At first, the black room did not betray anything in its interior. Drawing forth a single torch, Kerrinais thrust the flame into the darkness, and the vague rays of light shone into the far corners of the tiny room. Legolas took two steps into the chamber and froze. There on a far wall he saw a bloodstained handprint, small and delicate, perfect in its symmetry. Unable to look away, Legolas slowly and purposefully approached the wall, bending down on one knee. He touched the cold, wet stone with his outstretched hand, and there grief overtook him. For the first time in his ancient life, tears came to his eyes, as he realized Lisaine's purpose in leaving the message.

Kerrinais crept up behind Legolas, and peered over his shoulder, holding up the torch to the stone. At once he understood his friend's anguish and sorrow. Fearing he would collapse in death at the ghastly sight, Kerrinais pulled on Legolas's tunic and cried,

"Come! She may yet be alive!" and bade for them to depart. Legolas looked up and stared at Kerrinais, as though that one tiny ray of hope hadn't crossed his mind before. He sprang to his feet and ran out of the chamber. With bow and arrow in hand, Legolas made his way up the steep stairways, determined to lay to ruin all that he encountered, but none opposed him. Kerrinais followed closely behind, whispering to him to be cautious, but Legolas did not hear him.

Finally they reached the high, great wall, where Legolas frantically searched the bodies on the battlement. Kerrinais looked out beyond the hills, the torches carried by the last vestiges of the orc army were now scattering into the woods. But search as he might, Legolas still did not find Lisaine straightaway. He stood before the lifeless corpse of Rakal, a dim, white film now covering the creature's one remaining eye. Legolas stood over the vile creature, until at last his face contorted with rage. Crying out, the elf stretched his bow and let fly another single shaft. It pierced Rakal's untouched eye with such force, it lodged in the stone beneath the beast's distorted head. Spent and slumped over, Legolas made his way to the wall and closed his eyes. Finally, he gazed over the side of the towering wall, already knowing the sight that would befall him. In the growing darkness, he plainly saw the small outline of Lisaine's lifeless body below. Without hesitation, he immediately jumped over the wall; flying through the air as a soaring bird, and landed unharmed only an arm's length from where Lisaine lay. Somewhere above, Kerrinais was speaking an elven prayer for Alnein, for he had found his sister at last in the ruins, and he sought to quicken her spirit to the deathless lands.

But for Legolas, there was no understanding. Only confusion. Nevariel was taken from him as a flame is taken from a candle when it is extinguished, and he did not yet comprehend the meaning of her death or the depth of his own grief. He knelt beside her, his hand touching her cheek. Lisaine almost looked to be sleeping. Mysterious death did not dampen her pale and perfect face. She had cheated death he thought, its grim cloak unable to taint her beauty. To Legolas, she had at last achieved some measure of immortality. Pulling a dagger from his belt, Legolas blinked back his tears as he cut a braid from each temple, leaving a single braid on each side. He held them for a moment in his trembling hand, staring at them. Then he pulled the bloodstained braid from his own belt, and intertwined them all. Legolas gently lifted Lisaine's tiny hand and turned it upwards, kissing her palm. It felt cold and wet, but this did not affect him, for he only wished to touch her once more. He choked back a sob, laid the strands in it and closed her hand around them. At last he bowed his head as he sat next to her, singing softly under the clear night sky.

A horseman rode up to him, spying Lisaine on the ground, he rode out to the hills and called out,

"Alas! The queen is dead! The queen of Irwindal is dead!"

Legolas watched him ride forth, but was numbed to his words. The hours passed and Kerrinais had not yet appeared. Finally emerging from the fortress Kerrinais came, looking worn and somber. Silently he approached Legolas, and sat next to him, saying nothing. Even after Lisaine's body was borne away by the remainder of her army, the two elves remained there on the cold ground, almost until dawn. In the distant forest, all was quiet but for the almost imperceptible sounds of Legolas's weeping. At the first pale stretches of daybreak streamed across the landscape, the carnage of the night became clear. Orcs and elves and men lay fallen together, a testament to the useless waste of war. The sun's rays began peering between the trees and calm of the woodlands returned to Tamlot as though nothing had transpired. Somewhere in the forest, Neonean heard the subdued whistle of her master, and came galloping to his call. And Legolas and Kerrinais started the long journey back to Rivendell. Their evenings were spent in quiet solitude, each wandering off to be alone. Even as they approached Imladris, the faint elven laments could be heard in reverence for Nevariel, for the tide had once more been turned against Sauron that fateful day. Upon their arrival, the beauty and serenity of Imladris surrounded them once more, and they were hailed as the greatest of elven warriors. The soothing sounds of the Bruinen and the birds enveloped the city as it always had, but there was no longer any joy in Rivendell for either elf. Legolas and Kerrinais lingered in the city less than a day before returning to Mirkwood.

From that time on, the spirits of the elves were thus gentled towards mortal men, because of their aid in the defense of Isodor, and the warrior Queen who was as an elf. And many songs were sung of her, and afterwards, she was called Lossenladwen or Queen of Courage. The kingdoms of the valley, with few men returned, and no ruler to guide them, faltered and ultimately disappeared altogether, as did the city of Isodor, for no elf would live there, as it was now tainted with orc blood. In time, Legolas's heart lightened from his loss, as he came to understand how it was that Nevariel came to Rivendell, and the depth of her devotion to the elves and her own people. Never again did he speak of her, although he heard her name often in song. But 650 years would pass before Legolas would agree to journey again to Rivendell, sent forth once more by King Thranduil to sit at the council of Elrond. For Gollum had escaped from the forests of Mirkwood, and the One Ring had at last been found.