"This day, our foes intend to take the war to our very door! But we shall push them back and defeat them! Those creatures shall not invade my realm again. They will have to crush our bodies into the ground first!" - Thranduil

15th March/ Gwaeron 3019, Mirkwood

From under his scarf, Thranduil's bright blue eyes observed the construction of the defences. All the time the smoke from the south grew evermore dense in the dull light of the morning. It was almost like twilight, just before the first stars appeared. His favourite time of day. However, the noxious vapors coming from Mirkwood's blackened trees filled his nostrils instead of the sweet-smelling scents of nocturnal flowers, creating this false twilight. The scarf did nothing to relieve the vile stench.

Calenamath and Bregwen approached him, deep in a heated discussion regarding some trees close to the Elven way, and had come to him for counsel. "We need to create firebreaks to prevent the flames from reaching the Halls. But it will mean cutting down some of the Great Beeches, Muindor. Do I have your consent?"

"Hir Aran Nin, these trees have housed my kinfolk for centuries. We know them well. There must be another way?" said Bregwen.

Thranduil was silent as he considered the matter. These were noble Beeches he had watched grow from seedlings. The thought of cutting them down broke his heart. But if the forest was to survive, even the trees would have to make sacrifices. "I am sorry, Lady Bregwen. We must ask the Great Beeches to submit to this. Explain to them what must be done and save any seedlings you can, Calenamath."

Calenamath nodded and turned to leave. "Wait!" cried Bregwen. "If it must be done, then let me. They will understand better if I do it."

"Very well, Lady Bregwen, you may assist Calenamath with his task. Give my gratitude to the trees. I hope they will understand." Both of them bowed their heads and hurried away. The Great Doors opened and scores of armed Elven warriors in leather armour exited the Halls singing war songs.

Thorwen, Celephinniel and her daughters followed, both armed and ready for battle. It was the first time he had ever seen Thorwen in full armour. With her visor down and the lower part of her face covered, she looked more like an Elven princeling of the Elder days than a maiden. Her dark and silver braids hung down her back almost to her waist. And her silver eyes cut through the gloom like gleaming swords.

They bowed low when they reached him. "What news, Hir Aran melleth nin?" said Thorwen.

Thranduil explained scouts had reported Orcs approaching from the west and south, lighting fires as they went. "And as for the Beornings, Orcs passed them a day or two ago. They fought bravely, but their casualties were high. The Great Hall of Beorn has been raised to the ground and Lord Grimbeorn is no more."

"What are your orders?" asked Celephinniel.

"I would ask you, Celephinniel, to take charge of the healers and water carriers. Faelnith and Merenthel to assist your mother. Thorwen and I will lead the armies westward to push back the Orcs."

Thorwen nodded without hesitation. He had expected as much. He knew if it came to it, she would rather die by his side than cower behind the Hall's defences. "May 'The One' keep you both safe," said Celephinniel. She and her daughters embraced Thranduil and Thorwen before they departed.

Thranduil and Thorwen walked across the bridge where the grooms were waiting with Calithiliel and Lagorphen. Both mounted their rides before Thranduil addressed the waiting warriors.

"This day, our foes intend to take the war to our very door! But we shall push them back and defeat them! Those creatures shall not invade my realm again. They will have to crush our bodies into the ground first!"

The warriors were jubilant in response. They called for the victory of the King and death to the Orcs! Waving their weapons in the air as they hailed Thranduil. The Huscarls now mounted their horses and Thorwen noticed Bregwen was not among them. But before Thranduil could reply, there was a large groan as two of the Great Beeches came crashing to the ground ahead of them. Thorwen looked at him, her eyes giving away her concern. "Why?" she asked.

Thranduil lowered his eyes. "It was necessary. We need to create barriers against the flames should they get this far." Calenamath and Bregwen came out onto the Elven way, leading a group of Wood Elves with axes who set about the trees like a swarm of bees, harvesting the wood to build another set of defences. Thranduil recalled them both, leaving the task to the foreman of the builders. While Calenamath and Bregwen fetched and mounted their horses to join the company.

Once they were ready, Thranduil and Calenamath discussed whether to split their forces. In the end, they agreed Thranduil would take half the army to defend the southern flank and Calenamath would continue west along the Elven Way. Thranduil clasped hands with Calenamath. "May 'The one' protect you, Muindor," he said.

"And you, Muindor. May 'The One' keep you both safe. Melleth..... Muineth Nin." Thorwen nodded in acknowledgement. Beloved Sister, he had called her. Had he at last accepted the way of things, or did he yet hold a secret hope for her? Thranduil cast his doubts aside. This was not the time to search his brother's heart.

The army now separated into two great hosts. But before Calenamath could take his leave, a horse came galloping up to them from the direction of the Elven Halls with a large brown bear running beside it. On the horse was Agnar, the messenger from Dale and his Dwarven companion, Boli. "Permission to join the assault, King Thranduil," asked Agnar.

Thranduil was grateful for his guest's assistance. Every extra axe or sword could tip the balance in their favor. "Permission granted, I am going south, but my brother will be going westward. Feel free to choose whichever flank you would prefer."

Boli the Dwarf raised his axe aloft. "Aye! The Southern flank is good for us, Elven King!"

"But I think our Beorning friend is westward bound," replied Agnar.

The Bear growled in agreement.

"Ah Ordthorn Mellon nin, your company is most welcome," called Calenamath. Agnar fell in beside Bregwen and Ordthorn lumbered over to Calenamath's horse before he and his company set off into the western gloom. The darkening sky turned to a red hue the further south Thranduil's host ventured and the smoke in the air grew so thick it was becoming more difficult to see ahead, even with his Elf sight.

Thranduil ordered the host to rest and take water. The red glow was getting closer and he could feel the heat of the flames. After dismounting Lagorphen, he lowered his scarf, took out his flask and let a little cool fresh water wet his dry lips. Before sipping a little more to relieve his dry throat. Turning to Thorwen, he gave her a reassuring smile while trying to hide his anxiety. She, too, was taking a sip from her flask. Without a word, she lifted her visor and took him into her arms. "My heart tells me we shall be victorious, Melleth nin."

Thorwen's molten mithril eyes gave him hope that together they would overcome whatever came their way. It was as if she was chasing his darkest fears away, and filling him with a sense of hope he had not experienced since his youth. He kissed her gently. "If you die, Almárie, I shall not survive the grief," he whispered.

"Then I shall do my best not to die then," said Thorwen and she chuckled. Suddenly a horn blast sliced through the calm. "Orcs!" called Bregwen. "To arms! To arms!"

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A cloud of thick black smoke engulfed the entire company. Thorwen quickly replaced her scarf and lowered her visor. The enchantments on the helm enabled her to see beyond mortal sight, and she could see as well as any Elf. But before she could mount Calithiliel, hundreds of Orcs came tearing out of the darkness towards them. The warriors sprang into action, cutting down the enemy in quick succession. The Orcs retaliated with flaming arrows, setting alight the surrounding trees. Her blades at the ready, Thorwen remained close to Thranduil. For what felt like hours, they fought together without rest.

But the smoke grew even more dense, and it became harder for them to see each other. Suddenly Thorwen lost sight of Thranduil and became surrounded by several Orcs, their weapons drawn. She backed up against the burnt-out remains of a trunk, sheathed her blades and held up her hands as if surrendering. The Orc who appeared to be their captain, swaggered up to her and pulled the scarf from her face.

The stench of his breath was almost as foul as the smoke as his blackened teeth grinned in her face, the other Orcs laughing maliciously from behind him. "What do we have here? This is no She-Elf. And look at those eyes. This one is the master's prize, a king's bounty he has promised." To which the other Orcs cheered mercilessly. Thorwen also joined in the laughter. The Orc looked puzzled. "Do I amuse you, my lady?"

"Very much so," replied Thorwen calmly.

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Thranduil felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. Thorwen she must be in trouble. He looked about him, calling out for Thorwen as he tried to navigate his way through the Melle of smoke, flames and fighting. He continued to fight in the stifling heat, hoping she would reply. At first, there was nothing, then he heard a shout of. "look, out!" and a flaming Orc arrow went whizzing past his shoulder. He turned around to see the silhouette of Thorwen running her blades through the culprit and slicing him in half. Her eyes shone through the smoke like beacons as she made her way towards him.

"I felt the earth move. Did you use your Will?" he asked.

"There was no other way for me, I was surrounded."

"You must be careful, Melleth Nin. If you become spent, they will kill you or worse, carry you off."

Thorwen's scarf was missing, and she began coughing. She opened her water flask, letting the last few drops land on her tongue. Thranduil removed his scarf and opened his flask. He poured a little water on the scarf to moisten it and handed Thorwen the rest. "Here, drink this."

Thorwen took a couple of sips before handing it back. Thranduil then offered her his scarf. "But it is yours."

"I insist. You need it more than I do."

He moved behind her, tying the scarf to her face, ensuring it covered her nose and mouth again.

"There, that's better. Now take my flask. I have another."

Thorwen attached the flask to her belt, just before the Orc army pushed forward again and they were both in the thick of battle. The hours flew by as Thranduil battled with the enemy in a blaze of fury. But at the close of the day, the Wood Elves of Mirkwood had pushed the Orcs back into a retreat. The flames died down, and the smoke cleared. Victory horn blasts echoed about the forest and the Elves roared with victory. "Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!" they cried. Thranduil allowed himself to smile. "We did it, Almárie. We are Victorious!"

When she did not reply, Thranduil looked about him and found he was alone. A feeling of dread hit the pit of his stomach and he called out her name, over and over. Frantically, he picked his way through the battlefield, turning over bodies to find her. Each slain face, he met with a mixture of disappointment and relief.

"Hir Aran Nin!" Bregwen's voice called out clearly in the half-light and she came running out of the shadows.

"Lady Thorwen, have you seen her?"

Bregwen shook her head. "We thought she was with you."

Thranduil blew three blasts on his horn and several Huscarls came to him-the only ones who had not been slain. "Lady Thorwen is unaccounted for. Search the area and be she dead or alive, return her to me." Bregwen and the Huscarls bowed low and spread out, calling for Thorwen as they searched.

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The fighting was fierce, and the smoke grew denser and darker until Thorwen realised she and Thranduil had become separated. She called out to him as she fought off the Orcs, but no reply came. Then the smoke became so thick it was like a blanket wrapping around her that she could not escape from. The surrounding sounds became distorted as she stumbled through the darkness.

Every time Thorwen heard fighting, she tried to follow the sound. But could never quite reach it and became more disorientated. For hours she blindly staggered, hacking her way through any Orcs she came across. The acrid heat sapped her strength and soon she had used up her water supply. So it was a relief when she finally came across a small river until she realised the water was black.

"The enchanted river? How did I get this far south?" It was hard for Thorwen to tear herself away from the water, but she knew that to even touch a drop would result in her falling into a magical sleep. However, she knew that the Enchanted River flowed southward. If she followed it against the current, she would at least be able to get back to the Elven Way. With relief, she looked northward with fresh determination. Then a sound behind her caught Thorwen's attention.

Turning quickly, she saw shadows moving in the darkness, and instinctively called for Thranduil. Then realised far too late that the shadows were too short for Elves. Fearing the Orcs would soon be upon her. Thorwen prepared to defend herself.