*insert screaming here*

***

The land was desolate, free from anything green. The only things green were more a brown, rusted color, the hardened plants struggling to get the nutrition they need. It was the same for all living things upon the dark land. Struggling for something they all desperately needed.

The armies of Gondor, Mirkwood, and Rohan marched forth, three kings at their head. The land seeped its hopelessness into them, filling them with dread. Feet shuffled, swords were sheathed, horses whinnied uncertainly, and spears and bows were held too tightly, all while each one of them tried getting a look through the ranks toward the black gate, or at least catch a glimpse of their leaders standing strong.

"Where are those devils?" Gimli asked from where he sat behind Legolas. He had a firm grip on his ax, as if he were going to chop down the gate just ahead.

Legolas only tried searching the land beyond to no avail. Thranduil sat tall on his elk, inspecting the battle landscape before him, searching for places to be and to stay away from.

Eomer gripped the pommel of his sword, hoping beyond hope he'd survive to see his sister well recovered in the Healing Halls. Her hand had been blackened, severely injured from killing the Witch King on Pelennor Fields. His sister... killed a Nazgul. Sometimes he still couldn't believe it. Yet he was unbelievably proud of her.

A gust of stale wind moved across the plain, fluttering the brilliant robes of Gandalf. He shared a glance with Aragorn, knowing that Sauron had his forces already alert, just behind that gate. With no doubt in his mind, he knew Lumornel was behind the barricade, perhaps not even herself anymore.

Aragorn turned towards Gimli, giving him a glance, then kicked his horse into motion. The rest of the small vanguard followed, as did a flag-bearer. And then they were in the shadow of the black gate. The only thing separating them from Mordor's heartland.

"Come forth!" Aragorn cried. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him. For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore, the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever. Come forth!"

There was a long silence following his words, each man, elf, and single dwarf holding their breaths. Anticipation fluttered their hearts, stilled their movements, as did fear—

A loud, shuddering roll of what could be the drums of thunder shattered through the air. Then, horns, louder than an avalanche, pierced ears and made the soldiers wince. And then the black gate opened with the sound of a mountain yawning, just wide enough for a single rider to come through.

It was a creature that was maybe once of the race of man. Dressed in black armor and cloak, the helm was like a bear-trap, enclosed around its prey while only leaving the mouth free. That skin around the mouth... it had been stretched and marred, the lips cracked and scarred.

"My master Sauron the Great bids thee welcome." With his words, the marred fleshed stretched gruesomely. His moving lips had shown brown, cracked teeth, rotten with time.

The vanguard looked on aghast, noses wrinkled.

"Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?" The Mouth spoke with a voice that was almost hoarse, mutated into something inhuman. It crackled like a flame, deep in tone.

Mithrandir sat a little taller. "We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed. Tell your master this. The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The Mouth whipped his head to Mithrandir unnaturally and gave a half-laugh. It sounded like a haunting echo in a depthless cave. "Old Greybeard!" He smiled gruesomely again. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

Almost before his words were out his mouth, his hand displayed a necklace. From the chain hung a purple-blue jewel. A jewel that a young woman had held almost as much as Frodo had held the ring. Without a word, the Mouth threw the necklace at Mithrandir, the jewel glittering in the light.

A strangled noise came from Legolas.

The Mouth, again, turned unnaturally quick to Legolas, a sickening noise sounding as the creature smiled once more.

"The girl was close to thee I see. Know that she suffered greatly at the hands of her host. Who would've thought one so full of light could endure so much pain? And she did," he nodded almost solemnly, "she did."

Legolas managed to bring his eyes from Mir El and made what eye contact he could through clenched teeth, barely breathing. And as his eyes landed on the Mouth, they became hard and glowering. A hot forge ready to burst. His fist clenched around the reins, his fingers itched to take out his bow, to demand Lumornel be brought forth.

Aragorn glowered, urging his horse forward, stopping Legolas from taking initiative.

"And who is this? Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a King than a broken Elvish blade," Sauron's general spat.

In a cry of rage, Aragorn's sword sung as it was released from its scabbard, being swung as it chopped off the Mouth's head.

Gimli grunted. "I guess that concludes negotiations."

Aragorn guided his horse around, his eyes meeting all those who were with him.

"I do not believe it," Aragorn insisted. "I will not."

Legolas breathed deeply, meeting Aragorn's raging gaze. He nodded, grip tightening on his reins.

Thranduil lips tightened. "A cruel trick conjured by Sauron." His eyes softened when he again looked towards the glittering jewel that was once his wife's. "Do not heed that creature's words. Lumornel is stronger than to fall to Sauron's cruelty."

Aragorn gave a nod of appreciation—

The black gate began opening wider, showing off the view of thousands upon thousands of orcs. Hundreds of thousands, shuffling and moving in a swarm.

"Pull back!" Aragorn cried. "Pull back!"

Thranduil repeated the same thing in his native tongue, hair whishing as he quickly turned his steed.

The vanguard galloped back to the awaiting armies, the soldiers shuffling nervously. The orcs flooded the battle plane, their steps rattling the ground. Their shouts of bloodlust carried through the air, their weapons beating against each others' like a chant.

Finally, the vanguard pulled to a stop in front of the awaiting armies as the orc army came closer. Two tall figures rode at the enemy armies head. A male with shoulder length dark hair and female with hair as black as night.

Legolas started. He recognized the female. Duvaineth.

"Mithrandir," Legolas said, nodding in the direction of the elf. "That elleth, she was the one who possessed a Palantir."

Gandalf squinted, furry eyebrows bunching. "And the one who attacked Lumornel." He said grimly.

"Hold your ground! Hold your ground!" Aragorn bellowed, reigning in his horse as he rode in front of the front lines. The orcs were closing in and the soldiers stunk of fear.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, of Mirkwood, my brothers!" Gondor's king addressed the multitudes in front of him and saw clearly their faces. His armor shone like a beacon from the heavens, and as he rode tall in front of the masses, all eyes were fixed on him.

"I see it in your eyes, the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day!" Aragorn turned his pacing horse in front of the armies, passion seeping through his words, a hard light in his eyes that spoke of steel. "An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of men comes crashing down, but it is not this day! This day we fight!"

The men, women, and elves raised their shields a little higher, fear still in their eyes but hope and purpose shinning their too.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! People of the West!"

And as one, the armies unsheathed their swords and nocked their bows. Aragorn rose his gleaming sword high, his horse turning and rearing defiantly towards the orcs.

The orcs were close enough to see the bloodlust shining in their eyes, close enough for all to hear the sound of their scimitars and armor. For all to see Alagosson and Duvaineth leading the armies.

Gimli shifted on his feet, eyes taking in the impossible number of orcs. "I never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf."

Legolas smiled softly at his short-bearded friend. "What about side by side with a friend?"

"Aye, I could do that."

*********

The battle raged. The air was hot and thick, the ground like mud, mixing with blood and excrement. This was the type of battle you wanted to rotate soldiers, sending some in and sending others out to rest. But here—they didn't have a choice. Even though Legolas had convinced his father to bring reinforcements, there weren't enough soldiers. Not nearly enough.

But they didn't need overwhelming numbers. Legolas knew this. They only needed to divert Mordor's attention from the possibility Sam was near the volcano. If he was still alive.

                And to get Lumornel back.

Legolas readjusted his grip on his knives, shaking the thought away. He needed to focus, he needed to—

—drive a knife into that orc's throat. He yanked the knife out, spinning it and thrusting it into another's eye.

From the corner of his eyes, through the throngs of grunts and knives, he saw Duvaineth. She twirled like death, sword cutting down Legolas' allies. He wasn't concerned with her, had no interest in fighting her. Even though she had probably been relaying information to Sauron when she had been traveling with him and Lumornel, even though she had attacked Lum. To him, she was a coward.

Aragorn—he was getting further away, the sea of orcs becoming wider in between them.

"Gimli!" Legolas called, engaged in action and unable to get out of it. He wouldn't get a rest until the battle was over or until he was dead. That's just the way of war.

"Twenty-three!"

Legolas smiled despite the death around him. "Aragorn—get to him!"

Then, once the dwarf gave a grunt that was either an agreement or effort of exertion, Legolas slew down another enemy. "Twenty-five!"

Gimli gave a furious yell, hacking his way to Aragorn more intensely.

As Legolas ripped out one of his white knives from a fallen orc, he allowed his eyes to sweep across the raging battlefield. There were so many orcs, too many. The plain was covered with warriors and blood, a carpet of battle. And yet he didn't see a luminous figure. Where was she?

Where are those monsters she told him about?

He'd find her if she was in this battle. He'd do so and detain her. She'd have already commanded the uur rauko, so stopping her wouldn't break the bargain. It'd be fulfilled and he could save her.

He saw another figure, a young blonde maiden of Rohan. Leofwyn fought side-by-side with her brother Dever. Legolas never got the chance to thank the man for saving Lumornel at Helm's Deep. If they both survived, maybe he would. And compliment him on his fighting skills. He had the perfect stance, a rage for enemy blood shining in his eyes as he cut down servants of Sauron like wheat in a field.

Legolas side-stepped an orc's attack, the creature stumbling. Quickly, Legolas ended its life, moving onto his next victim.

*********

Lumornel walked beside Sauron.

They walked behind the orc armies, the sounds of war reaching their ears yet neither of them were worried. Alagosson and Duvaineth were leading their countless forces ahead, clashing with the enemy. The air was hot and thick under their dark armor, yet they delighted in the blood-kissed breeze running past their noses. Only Lumornel didn't wear a helm, so she'd be recognized.

Sauron glanced at her, his little creation. That light, the part that was given to her but not by himself, was hidden well below the surface. Only the darkness was shown, shinning in her eyes. That dark ring around her finger would keep the darkness in control and keep Lumornel away.

He had no worries. Not with the small force of uur rauko behind them, mouths glowing with hunger. Sauron had more of the monsters—but they were not full grown yet. After this battle, he'd use the thousands of uur rauko yet to be ready to demolish the civilizations of Middle-Earth. Only then will the people finally bow to him and acknowledge him as their ruler.

Floating waves of shadows twirled slowly around Lumornel's shoulders, wreathing her frame. Those shadows would be a statement to the people who once looked up to her. No longer would they see her as a beacon of hope. She'd be named Traitor and her story would be rewritten in the history books. She'd be seen as a bringer of death.

"He'll be here," Lumornel said. "But the dwarf and elf will be at his side."

Sauron waved a hand. "Mere specks, they'll be no match."

Under his helm, his eyes roved over the large forces colliding, looked past all the death. Isildur's heir would be in the fray, searching for him, hoping they wouldn't meet. Well, Aragorn could rest assured. Sauron wouldn't risk his corporeal form, not after centuries of gathering his strength. But he would send someone out to kill him.

"Go isolate him, bring carnage down around him."

And so she went, a wicked grin plastered on her lips. The uur rauko followed in her midst.

*********

Death. She'd bring death to these people.

The darkness sang in her, pleasure almost making her sigh. She sent those shadows over the uur rauko, trying to calm their eagerness for death. It'd be no use for them to be blinded by their hunger, they needed to be calmer, more calculating.

Orcs made way for her. In the rear, the forces had yet to meet with the enemy. Why weren't they spreading then? Going around the enemy?

Lumornel couldn't care. She only moved through the ranks, the orcs too scared to be in the way for fear that she'd send an uur rauko on them. Or shove her darkness down their throats.

Would she even need her sword? Why would she have to slay using a blade when she could do so just as easily—easier—with tongues that melt and claw that mutilated? Or with darkness, smooth and suffocating?

Finally, the fighting was just before her. Despite the darkness, fear rose. Already blood watered the grass, the stench horrific.

"Go," she commanded, the word falling softly but as loud as clashing thunder in the monsters' minds. She tried keeping a few around to protect her. She needed to be focused enough to control the fire demons.

Immediately, sleek bodies shot past her, some even jumped over her head. The black humanoid dragons tore into the ranks, screams erupting in melodies. The uur rauko didn't discriminate, not one bit. They didn't care whether they were killing men, elf, or orc. A slight drawback, perhaps, that the uur rauko killed some of the forces of Sauron's side as well. Maybe if she had had more time, she'd be able to control them better.

No, she definitely would've been able to.

Although the uur rauko created carnage around her, some of the enemy evaded them. Many of the dirty men saw fit to attack her, seeing that she was the source of the demons. Lumornel was forced to unsheathe Gorthaden, parrying a rohan blade.

Recognition ignited in his eyes, then fear. It was enough to make him falter, for Lumornel to stick him through. He fell, his blood coating her blade. She then shoved her shadows down his throat to finish the job.

Rohan, Gondor, Mirkwood. Soldiers from all three kingdoms met her wrath, some recognized her while others didn't. But all feared her. They saw the shadows dancing furiously around her, saw her eyes dart to the monsters killing their men. They even heard her shout commands to them, ordering a few to go this way and another to go that way. Some tried to do the honorable thing and kill her, but others avoided the prophecy-written. Soon, footrunners had relayed the information about the new enemy back to their leaders.

Not only were they afraid of Sauron, they were afraid of her too.

*********

"Sir! Sir!" A young man said, blood running down his temple. "My King!"

"Yes?" Aragorn grunted as he lunged forward, finally felling a particularly strong orc. Another immediately took its place.

"It's been reported that..." the man licked his lips, dodging a blow.

"What is it?" Aragorn shouted to keep his voice audible over the screams and grunts, he stepped back from the fight, allowing his vanguard to take over and provide him and the messenger cover.

The messenger hesitated. "The prophecy-written... she's on his side." He cleared his throat of fear. "She's on the enemy side, sir. She's killing our men, by her hand and by the hands of demons."

Aragorn nodded grimly. Of course, he expected as much would happen—she had a bargain to fill, yet, some part of him thought she'd escape it. "Report this to Gandalf, then to as many captains as you can. Tell them not to kill her. She isn't doing this willingly. This is Sauron's doing."

For Lumornel would never willingly kill good men and women.

As soon as he thought it, doubt started to trickle in. He tried banishing it, but a small seed remained.

The footrunner nodded, then went to do his bidding. Aragorn relayed the same message to as many footrunners as he could. Hopefully, some would survive long enough to get the command around.

Legolas.

The next messenger Aragorn found, he sent in the direction of the elf.

He couldn't find the elf in the fray of death, he was far too busy trying to survive and not slip on the reddening ground. Too busy not letting all the screams and moans and yells affect him.

Aragorn's honor guard moved with him, keeping most of the orcs away while still allowing him to slay some enemy. Gimli was among the honor guard, swinging his ax valiantly.

The king withdrew, letting the soldiers form rank around him as he assessed the battle. They were making headway, yet they were still losing. Leofwyn and her squadron were doing well in keeping the left flank of enemy soldier from completely surrounding them, a group of elves were doing the same thing on the southern flank. Aragorn could still win this, but they needed a miracle to do so.

He only had to hope Sam, Merry, and Pippin were climbing that volcano now. He knew they had to be close. Faramir had recently seen them in Osgiliath.

His brown eyes searched through the chaos. Dark creatures tore a path ahead of him, some of them using their muscled haunches to jump above men and elves, coming down and killing soldiers. He saw even from this distance an orange glow coming from their mouths as if they held fire within them. For just a second, he caught sight of white hair.

The ellon and elleth—Duvaineth—who had entered the battlefield leading the armies, stuck relatively close together. They both killed as if they had been born for it.

But Sauron—his tall figure, taller than any man or elf, could barely be seen all the way at the back of his ranks. What was he waiting for?

His eyes went back to Lumornel and the uur rauko. They were closer to him, facing exactly in his direction.

Aragorn gritted his teeth.

"Lumornel is coming for me, men, from the north-east. Don't kill her! She's not acting according to her own will."

Gimli stopped his slaying for just a moment, peering in the direction Aragorn had mentioned. Yet he couldn't see over the heads of orc, men, and elf.

"That lass," Gimli grumbled as he resumed his killing before he himself could be killed. "Always getting herself into trouble."

"I'm beginning to think she likes getting into trouble," Aragorn commented, smiling despite the blood spattered on his grimy face.

"You need to learn something lad; all lasses like getting into trouble. It's the way of the females."

Aragorn laughed, but it was immediately cut off as a greenish-gray orc nearly took off his arm.

"She's going to kill us, Aragorn," Gimli stated grimly in between foes. "She or those demons will."

"She can try." But he agreed with Gimli. Lumornel was different. She was powerful. Sauron controlling her made her even more dangerous, as were those demons she controlled.

He didn't want to kill her—Aragorn didn't want to do that to Legolas—but if it came to it, he would.

*********

The enemy was pulling a flanking maneuver. With the numbers they had, the orcs could do so easily without stretching their forces thin. If they were to successfully pull off the maneuver, Leofwyn's allies would be trapped, having enemies on three sides. There would be only two options if it came to that: have honor and fight until they die or be cowards and flee. It was Leofwyn's job to prevent their leaders from having to make that decision.

"Wedge formation!" She bellowed, taking up her sword and having her brother take up a position at the front of the formation alongside her. Her squadron quickly retreated from their positions to take their places into the triangle shape. Their captain, Leofwyn, at the front. The formation was great for an attack, for if someone on the outer ranks got injured or were too fatigued to continue, they could switch with the second layer of soldiers. The injured or fatigued soldier could quickly bandage themselves or rest before their 'replacement' needed to switch. And if someone died, they'd just quickly close in the spot, leaving no holes.

Leofwyn's squadron attacked diagonally, trying to cut through orc ranks that way instead of straight. Hopefully, it'd drive back the orcs, like it was designed to do.

Even as Leofwyn led the charge, blood-potent wind whipping back her brown braided hair, Dever stayed by her side. She had grown up with her older brother—although he was only two years older—always by her side. Until he joined Eomer's eored and they were banished by Grima Wormtongue. Then she thought he was dead, along with all the other rohan men who were slaughtered in Edoras. And in the neighboring towns. Now that they were reunited, they weren't ever going to part.

Dever had her back, never ever having failed her. Leofwyn urged to do the same.

So she fought ferociously, just as she was trained to do, cutting down orc after orc while staying at the head of the wedge. They were making headway! Finally, although it was a problem, they were stepping on orc corpses, blood squelching underneath their boots.

But she caught sight of demons jumping through the ranks like wild cats, mouths glowing fiercely, leaving screams in their wake. A shiver went down her spine, followed by pure fear. Terror made her wobble, her breath catch in her lungs. Demons. The work of Morgoth.

And she saw something that made her almost stumble, nearly losing her life to a blade. White, flowing hair, a face she knew well. Wreathed by living shadows.

No! She... she couldn't have done this to us!

But wasn't Sauron once good? A maia that was even favored by one of the Valar?

"Dever," she breathed, struggling for breath as blood spattered her face. "Dever, we're going to have a problem."

"What," he grunted, shoving his blade through muscle and bone, "could be more of a problem than orcs and war?"

"The prophecy-written—she's turned on us. And there are demons." She didn't put enough strength through a blow, although the cut did kill the orc, the blade became caught in muscle. Grunting and putting a boot to the still warm corpse, she yanked out her weapon.

The fear already in her multiplied tenfold. If the prophecy-written had changed sides, then what hope did they have?

"People turn all the time, Leaf. And demons?" He tried scoffing, but it came out more like a grunt as he parried a blow. "Aren't these things demons?"

"No," she responded, dodging a scimitar. "Orcs are just... well, maybe they are."

Her brother smiled, but it looked gruesome—blood coated his teeth. But the smile immediately vanished.

"Duck!" He bellowed.

Leofwyn did so.

Dever pulled out a knife from somewhere on his brown garb, throwing it at an orc who had been seconds away from slaughtering his only immediate family.

He gritted his teeth as the orc fell, turning rageful eyes on his sister, but his rage was not directed at her. "All these things are demons, Leaf. Almost everything is."

Leofwyn fell silent, falling into the rhythm of battle. Dever had always been loathing towards orcs, but after the slaughtering of Rohan—their father being among the dead—and Eomer's eored's banishment, he had come back different. More detached.

Although Leofwyn, Dever, and their soldiers were packed tightly into formation, the battle threatened to separate them. Confusion and chaos reigned these lands; raving bodies, bloody weapons, screams and moans, and death. The very air made Leofwyn want to gag. The scent of blood, everywhere. And excrement. War didn't allow soldiers to take breaks, not even for bladders. Some who didn't take their seniors' warning seriously to relieve themselves beforehand became distracted by the trickle running down their leg, most of them dying as consequence.

And then there were the rasping, terrible roars of those demons as they jumped and pounced and devoured. In battle, Leofwyn had learned that yells and screams and moans all blended together into one cacophonous sound of chaos, yet the screams of those who fell victim to the demons seemed to rise above all else.

As she battled an orc, she suddenly saw a cloud of black burst from within the battling. It twirled in on itself with a velocity she had never seen. The living shadows rose in the air, seeming to hang for the eternity of a second—then it dropped, consuming a handful of soldiers. It was as if Morgoth's spirit had come and was devouring souls!

Leofwyn almost stumbled back as she gauged their position—they were falling back! A loud voice, belonging to an elleth with black, black hair, had taken charge of the orcs in this section, urging them on, encouraging them even more. They began gaining ground, becoming a force that even Dever had trouble pushing back.

*********

Legolas fought furiously, desperately, trying to cut through the ranks of orcs as the messenger scurried away. His mind raced thousands of miles, his desperation renewed.

Lumornel. She was killing people—she'd never forgive herself—she's going to kill Aragorn and Gimli.

The bodies of Orc, Man, and Elves were like a living, pounding wall. Warm, thick air hung around them, helping to produce a sheen of sweat on everyone. Swords clanged like thunder, the glinting blades—lightning, spraying blood as rain. The storms of war.

Legolas was lost amid this, curtains of chaos hindering him and making him lose his way.

He grunted in frustration, seeing Aragorn and the ever approaching Lumornel but not being able to get there.

Using his knives, he cut through orcs, not bothering to take the extra time to kill them. They each yelped, promptly giving him a second to run past. But he could still see Lumornel's white hair moving closer and closer to Aragorn. She was almost on them.

And there were dark, moving shadows around her.

                What has Sauron done...?

With renewed effort, Legolas finally broke through the battle to where he needed to be.

But he was too late.

*********

"It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were"

        —Samwise Gamgee

EEEEEE

PREDICTIONS???????

THOUGHTS???????

CONCERNS?????

If you couldn't tell I'm a bit excited.

Schedule:
Monday 7/30: Chapter 68
Tuesday 7/31: Epilogue part 1 and 2, Acknowledgments

Anyone planning to see The Darkest Minds movie??? I read the book and am now reading the second.

Okay well, I gotta go.

Novaer mellyn
~phoenix~