They were surrounded. Aragorn charged like a lion, leading his outnumbered army into battle. The men initially followed Aragorn before fanning out to meet the enemy.

Estelwen's swords struck in all directions, but her path was straight. Anorath was waiting for her to come and fight, and that was all that mattered. She could not see or hear anything other than what was blocking the path. She did not even notice that the orcs were thinned out before her – all because of Legolas' arrows. They had been separated since the battle commenced, but Legolas tried to keep near her, or at least within his arrow's reach. He saw where she was headed. "Estelwen!" He released another arrow into the orc at her left, but she did not turn around. She was heading straight for the side of the mountain. He started in her direction, but a deep bellowing caught his attention. A cave troll back-handed Aragorn, knocking him to the ground. Legolas was mentally begging Aragorn to get back on his feet in the next second. When he did not, Legolas began to fight his way towards him.

Estelwen clambered up towards base of the mountain, a sword in each hand. The ground was slanted uphill to where Anorath was, but it was not steep enough to require hands to climb. Anorath, who was watching the battle, glanced down at Estelwen before turning around from the ledge he stood upon. Estelwen quickened her pace, anxious that he was now out of her sight. When she reached the level he was on, he was standing with a torch in hand. Black streaks of hair fell across his face, his chin taunt. He closed his eyes and muttered a string of incantations. A black line circled the ground around Estelwen. Anorath lowered the torch to the black ring. The flames licked up the blackened earth like straw. The fire rose until as high as Estelwen's waist.

This is a challenge. He isn't trying to kill me. Not yet. Estelwen did not budge, but her palms were beginning to sweat.

Anorath's eyes trailed over her face until he noticed her hands. He stared. Without warning, he barked a harsh word, and the flames shriveled into smoke. He growled. "You are cursed."

Estelwen glared. "Better cursed than a murderer and betrayer of your own kind."

"You are foolish to believe everything that the elves have told you."

"Not them. What told me is the dying breath of everyone you killed!" At the last word, Estelwen lunged at him, unable to contain her fury. She launched a series of complex attacks. Anorath did not counter-attack, but he did not back away either. Soon, their blades locked. Estelwen grunted. He's too strong for me to keep this standstill. But no! I will not back down.

Anorath threw out a one-word spell. Tiny flames danced along his blade, spreading close to Estelwen's face. She twisted his blade away from her and spun around, raising her sword. But Anorath's blade did not strike down like she expected.

His sword hung in his hand, its tip grazing the dirt. "You may be cursed, but your element can be yours again. But this time, in its entirety."

"Impossible!" She felt the deception in the air, but she could not sense any lies in his words. As if he was ever concerned about my power.

"The Valar left you the moment you were born. The elves have failed you. Man has nothing to offer and neither does any other race. They are not like you. They do not understand the forces that make us who we are. Only the arts of the Necromancer can fill the void you feel inside."

Dark magic. Estelwen glanced at his eyes, red as the heart of Mount Doom. "You presume too much." She lunged, not giving him the chance to respond. She felt that void inside of her, that void that had felt so drawn to the Witch King's magic. She had rejected the dark magic before, and she was not about to accept it now. The fact that Anorath knew of that emptiness both infuriated and scared her. I have no leverage. I know nothing of his weaknesses.

She did not have the advantage as their swords whipped through the air and clashed. Though her fury had empowered her start, she was realizing that Anorath was no beginner. In fact, he was more experienced, and much stronger than she. Her speed alone saved her, allowing her to deflect each of his blows.

Anorath noticed how she favored one arm. Holding his sword up for defense, he whipped around clockwise, moving in to her personal space. He jammed his right elbow into her left arm. Her hand flexed open from the jarring pain. Her sword dropped. She spun to her left to deflect his blow. But he was waiting for her.

Instead of striking early, Anorath waited until Estelwen had extended her sword in a blocking position. His arm came down, using pure force to strike the blade as near to the hilt as he could. He followed up by smashing his shoulder into hers, causing her to slam against the boulder behind her.

Estelwen's feet gave way. Her wrist was smarting with pain, and her muscles, which had not yet finished healing, felt as torn as they were during the Battle of Helm's Deep. The world was spinning around, and Estelwen fought to keep from blacking out.

Anorath frowned, taking a step towards her. It was pitiful that all her spirit was vented on useless pursuits. It is unfortunate that she did not take the path I had taken, that she chose to be a slave to the elves instead! "And all this to fulfill a prophecy..." He raised his sword.

Sauron's voice slammed into Anorath's mind with urgency. Signal them!

Anorath took one look at the crumpled figure below him before turning away to the edge of the mountain ledge. His back was towards Estelwen, but he would easily hear her coming if she were to chase after him.

Estelwen blinked away tears of pain and frustration. Was it really all worth it? The lines repeated themselves in her head like a death sentence:

"Unchanging in the valley shorn

Scorched shall be his heart and act;

But out of light shall be born

Water with its own tact."

She whispered the last two lines, the ones that applied to her, before whispering the last line again. She inhaled sharply. Nothing about the prophecy commanded her to kill Anorath. No, killing him had been her own decision. It had nothing to do with a need to fulfill a prophecy. It had everything to do with how much she hated him for killing and threatening those she loved. That, and the fact that he was like her – born of Middle Earth and magic. That he had chosen to use his element to destroy the very world he was born of.

Estelwen gritted her teeth. The pain was still in her arm, and the hatred she felt was digging like a dagger into her chest, but that is what her hatred was: a dagger being used against her. She knew that now.

She was not here to exact her revenge. She was here to protect those she loved.

And she had left them all behind.

Estelwen grasped onto the boulder with her better arm and yanked herself up. She had to get back to them all. Unfortunately, she did not have her swords at hand. Something hard was pressed against her side. She reached beneath her armor. It was her dagger. Anorath was still up ahead with his armored back turned. From this angle, her throw would not be fatal to him. But would it be enough for her to get away? She began to raise her dagger.

Anorath raised his empty hand.

Estelwen paused. Who is he signaling? She stood up and scanned the area. Metal clanged, orcs roared, and men shouted. But on the edge of the battlefield, away from the main fighting, was a small cluster of orcs standing around a contraption that was similar to an oversized crossbow. Resting behind the taunt string was the last Black Arrow, the same one the Witch King had decided not to use on Estelwen. Estelwen felt her heart pound as she looked for their target.

She could not breathe.

Aragorn was plowing through the orcs without stop. No other knight was around him. His white armor stood out from the dark ground and dirtied orcs like a single light in the darkness. Estelwen realized Anorath's last play to avenge the Witch King – he would snuff out Gondor's last hope.

Estelwen barely looked up in time to dodge Anorath's blow. She fell to the ground and rolled to the side before burying her dagger into his calve. He shouted, stabbing his blade at her. She twisted away, scrambled to her feet, and ran. Her last weapon was left in his leg – something that a warrior would have never done in a duel.

That is, if winning was their intention.

Estelwen trained her eyes on the path the Black Arrow would make to Aragorn. The orcs pulled it back, ready to release. "Aragorn!"

He did not hear her. There was no way he could. He was too far from where she was.

She would not reach him in time.

Estelwen changed her direction as she continued to run. The orc at the crossbow released the trigger. The Arrow shot forward, a blur of black in an already darkened world.

It did not hit Aragorn.

Its target had been blocked.