The war of Rhovanion is raging.

[Tarmeon the Fading]

Clouds gather above the field of battle and rain started to pour from the sky. Flaming boulders from catapults light the air and a lone screech in the far announces the approach of one of the Nazgul. Battalions from both good and evil forces marched to the center to fight the last confrontation.

[screwda]

Screwda looked around. He made a strange contrast to all those elfs and humans, since he was a troll. But today he wore the signs of Rivendell and did he hid his brands from Mordor. He felt impressive in his custom fit chain mail and with his enormous sword. He only still wore his old worn cap to hide his brands. None should ever see them again, Screwda resolved. He walked back to his battalion which was preparing to leave. He was placed in a battalion with just a few elfs since they still feared Screwda.

"Where's me bow?" Screwda asked to the members of his battalion. One of the soldiers, a brave young man called Derric, yelled at Screwda while he pushed a small ballista in his direction. "Here's your ballista. It must be great to be that big, you know. Attacking with trees and ballistea instead of bows and swords." The man walked up to Screwda while he picked up the ballista. "Not be great if you must be tortured and everyone hates you." Screwda sadly replied. "Now I'm going for revenge, everyone ready!?"

Derric looked up at Screwda. "Not yet, not yet. Most people are tired of the journey trough Mirkwood, I think you have to wait till everyone is ready." Screwda looked angrily at the horizon and the firing catapults. Then he looked back at his allies and yelled. "No waiting, we must go. Everyone who wants to go with Screwda now must say. I'll lead tha first assault!" Derric pointed his thump in the air and stationed next to Screwda, ready to make a swift strike.

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen had been weary as it was, but now that she was preparing for a battle, things were tougher on her. Her travel from Rivendell had been long and tedious, but she had to deliver the banner of Gondor to Aragorn, as she knew that the fate of the battle would ride on the hope it brought. When she had stopped to camp near Fangorn, she never could have predicted that she would be riding into a battle of her own. Naturally, she had prepared to fight stray orcs and such when she had set out, but for a full battle she was ill prepared. There had been an organization of troops, though, and gear and equipment were to be had in plenty.

As she rode up and down the troop lines, ensuring people were well rested and fed, clothed and armed, she noticed that several people who had been waiting for a few days were getting restless. Yes, the other side had started to pummel them with rocks and flames, but there was nothing they could do if the whole lot was ready to fight. As she passed by, she repeated words of encouragement and peace, patience with their brothers who needed a touch of rest before the battle. To some of the most restless she gave tasks, so that their hands and minds would be occupied on things other than fighting, and so that needed chores could be done quickly.

As she neared Screwda's battallion, which had been pointed out to her that very morning, she noticed that he was ready to make an assult. She sped her borrowed horse forward, knowing that the impatient troll would more than likely try and lead an assult. Not that she didn't admire his enthusiam, it was simply not the time to strike. As the stand-in leader, she wanted to make sure that they all struck as one blow, so that the enemy would feel the bite and sting of the wrath of those that were left.

"Screwda!" Her voice rose and fell over the distance, landing and ringing in the battallion.

[screwda]

Screwda aimed his ballista at a faraway tree and fired. The enormous bolt flew trough the air and just missed the tree at an inch. Screwda took another bolt from his quiver made of together-bound barrels and aimed again. At the point of concentration just before the firing he heard his name in the far. He lost his concentration and the bold missed the tree on about four meters. Screwda swung the ballista over his back and looked around. He saw many people and everyone could have yelled to him. The voice was obviously Arwen's, but she was hard to find in the mass. Screwda wished humans didn't all look the same as he spotted Arwen approaching him.

"Hello Arwé, are you ready to crush tha orcs in a single blow? Hehe."

Screwda signed a stick-figure orc with his left hand and used his other hand to grapple it and smack it against his belly.

[Lady Arwen]

What Screwda said was something that she could have smiled about, but given the grim situation Arwen could not bring the corners of her mouth to rise. Her pony continued forward, not even flinching at the bursts of flame around her, brave and calm, a little like herself, as she was calm and working on the bravery. Besides, like everything, it was merely the appearance of emotion that was important, not the actual emotion itself. With that in mind Arwen forced a smile when she knew Screwda could see her, though in her heart she could not manage the accompanying feelings. When she spoke her voice was calm and soft, but not too quiet that she could not be heard.

"Screwda, while I might be prepared for the upcoming battle, we have brothers who are not. If we were to strike now we would be the ones caught unawares, and many of our numbers would suffer."

She hoped that her logic would get through to the troll, because she could not afford the time to sit here and try to explain why they could not fight at the moment. Yes, they were there to kill orcs and the like, but the timing was just... off. Arwen could feel it in the air, a change, something that had not happened yet but would benefit them in the end if they just waited. The other elves no doubt felt it as well, though if they could understand what it meant she did not know. Elrond had known and taught his children the way to tell what certain signs given by nature meant, though he did not teach them everything. She could tell when something evil was coming near, and when something good was happening, and other senseless things as such. Her training was far from over, and Arwen knew as she marched toward Screwda and eventually Aragorn that it would never be complete.

[alvelon]

He was worried and angry, each emotion constantly enhancing the other. No, he had to get a grip of himself. He was a Maiar and he had to honor his 'masters'. Emotions would just distract him, he had to worry later and first just focus his anger for the oncoming battle. He rose from his crouching position between the dark trees of Mirkwood and softly touched the nearby tree with his hand. He could feel the pain of the land and he let out a silent scream. He moved his hand back quickly and stared into nothingness for a moment.

He got angry and worried again, and he couldn't help it. Worried, because he felt like something decisive was happening right now, somewhere in the world. He felt the earth being more tense and in a strange way he felt the enormous energy of Sauron feeling worried as well. This was the first time he felt Sauron being worried, even in the days when the White Council chased Sauron, who was then known as the Necromancer, out of Mirkwood he was not worried. The anger came not from him, but from the forest and the earth itself. The earth saw the Orcs and forces of Evil as a curse and it wanted them dead, and Alvelon would reflect this on the battlefield.

He started moving slowly through the encampment to get a better view of the soon to be battlefield. From all around him came looks of respect or disbelief. Some people knew he was as strong as he was, others just thought it was crazy that a man could move so calmly and emotionless without even a shred of armor to protect him when a battle was close. Alvelon ignored the looks and finally he saw something that intrigued him. The troll Screwda, who was fighting on their side. It was the strangest sight he had seen in years and he was relieved by it. If even the dim-witted trolls would stop 'supporting' Sauron not all was lost. He had not yet seen him fight, but he knew he would be an extremely positive addition to their ramshackle army.

However, the troll was not aiming at the opposing army right now, he was using the trees of Mirkwood and those on the desolate plain as a target. Nearing the troll he was suddenly surpassed by a horse riding Arwen, another one who intrigued Alvelon. She apparently forsaked eternal life for the love of one mortal man. That was unusual for Elves and their halfbreed offspring. As he came closer he caught fragments of the conversation between Arwen and the troll, both of them seemed the get along with the other quite well. He couldn't suppress a slight smile, even in these dire circumstances. He quickly returned to his emotionless face and followed their conversation while standing five meters away. With his right he drew a figure in the sky, which glowed bright green for a moment and then faded into nothingness. From the tree where Screwda shot to, two vine appeared which slowly moved downward. They grabbed one of the ballista arrows and with a loud crack broke it in two, after which they entered the safety of the leaves again.

[screwda]

Screwda listened carefully to Arwen while he laid another bolt on his ballista. He didn't care about the losses. For Screwda was a troll he didn't mind if humans died. Mostly since they were quite unfamiliar and partial because these humans always hated him, until these days. Screwda aimed at the tree again and before his eyes he saw his previous bolt being grappled and broken in twice. Screwda looked stunned at the broken bolt.

"Enough practice for today."

Screwda swung the ballista over his back and looked at the preparing soldiers. His battalion was almost ready, mostly because they saved much time with setting up their encampment since Screwda had aided them. And he was a big helping hand, as well figurative as literally. From the man he looked back at Arwen.

"My battalion is ready, we must go. Tha raining fire is no good to the... brothers. Why not sent all tha ready?"

Screwda was obvious ready to attack and a small group of man had gathered around him. Not too close, except for they saw him as an ally.

[Lady Arwen]

"I was not appointed as a leader of this battle to allow anyone to rush into fighting. Whatever we do will require everyone to be ready and able to fight."

Her voice was powerful and pressed, though Arwen was not growing impatient; she did not have the ability within her to be impatient. Most elves that she knew did not grow impatient, or even frustrated, because they did not usually deal with peoples outside of themselves. Her father had many dealings with peoples outside of the elves and had learned to act impatient to get results from these peoples, and a few times he had forgotten that she was an elf. From her father she had learned many a thing, including how to treat others who were not elves. Up until this point in time Arwen thought she had dealt with all the creatures of Middle Earth gifted with speech and fared well. Now she was not so sure.

"There are factors in this battle that have yet to reveal themselves," she tried to explain. Would he even understand the concept of planning a battle? This was indeed going to try her patience, so she changed her tone and tactic. "I'm ordering you to stand down, soldier. There will be but one call to fight."

Hopefully this would prove the correct tactic. Again, she was not used to dealing with trolls but elves, who she knew would listen and heed her. Screwda was a bit more... unpredictable than any lot of young elves that she knew of. But even if he would not listen to her, the men around him would, and if he charged alone he would surely die. Hopefully he was aware of this, and would stand down. She would hate to lose such a player on the battlefield.

[screwda]

Screwda listened again very careful to Arwen. Mostly he listened carefully because she was hard to understand for Screwda. He learned his speaking language from listening to Orcs, and they spoke far more informal than Arwen and with a strong accent. Furthermore did Screwda only learn often-used words, which includes 'scum' and 'slaughter' for Orcs. Anyway, Screwda understood Arwen's main message: don't attack until we are all ready to strike. Or in Screwda's language: Don't smack till tha slug boys are ready.

"Yes Arwé, me has to wait but we's strong to take down tha army with tha mine boys. We should..."

Screwda interrupted his sentence as he saw a big burning boulder flying toward the encampment. The boulder flew with an enormous speed, and at that moment Screwda started to run. He knew he was the only one who could stop such a devastating force. A man looked up as a dark shadow slid over him. He saw the boulder, only the boulder. Then he remembered every part of his life. His childhood with his mother and father. Then the funeral of his mother. Then it was the fight with a lost Uruk-Hai what he saw, the ambush. He smiled. Then the day he picked up swords and joined the Rohan army. His order to stay at base, the plan of his friend Jonathan, the journey, the strange brotherhood or army he was a part of, darkness and a horrible pain.......

The rock tumbled trough the encampment crushing only one man but many tents and resources. Then it got jammed against a tree which partly broke. Then silence covered the camp. They all looked at the troll that knelt at a dead body. Those that where close to him could have heard him mummer a prayer. A prayer without a god nor the words, but with its warmth and respect. Then the troll named Screwda raised and unleashed a terrible roar.

"Not again!!! They will rain no more suffering over my, and life. Slay them all! Revenge tha leader and poor Dan here!"

Screwda moved back his squad and he and many others made the last preparations for the battle.

"See, Arwé, we no more wait, we fight!"

More fire rained from the sky.

"We'll fight like tha Dan didn't could. FOR VENGEANCE!!"

Many replied as floating ash and dust obscured the sunlight.

"FOR VENGEANCE!!"

[alvelon]

The Troll was impatient, too impatient. He knew Screwda hated the Orcs intensely, but he never asked why. He didn't really care, Screwda was just a useful pawn in game where no-one wins. Arwen showed she had the skills to be a leader, she radiated a calmness that helped people to relax in these dire times.

But then something terrible happened, one of the massive boulders that were being shot off by the Orcs came further then they used to and it was going to hit something. The Troll Screwda wanted to save the person who was straight on the landing space of the rock but he failed. Only one kill, but still, their resources and the forest were defiled. This had to stop, that was something he got in common with Screwda. He spread his legs and looked over to the forest. His eyes lighted green and a tree seemed to move.

"Forest, listen to my call. Rise up and defeat your usurpers."

The tree near the main "good" camp stood up like a person with its roots above the ground. To the disbelief of many humans the tree moved over to the camp and towards the boulder. The Huorn picked up the boulder and with one massive movement it threw the rock straight over the plain against one of the trebuchet of the Orcs, toppling and destroying it. Then the Huorn slowly moved back towards the forest. Alvelon grinned and the fire in his eyes stayed. He grabbed his curved sword from under his belt and stood ready to let the earths power loose when the great battle would begin.

[Lady Arwen]

Arwen didn't even blink as the flaming boulder landed not but a few meters away from her. Her eyes had seen it coming long ago, but she could not predict its trajectory. She had no idea it was coming this close until it was too late. With a silent heart she watched as a man was crushed, and Screwda ran to aid his friend, only too late. A blink escaped her and her eyes closed for but a moment, and whilst she opened her eyes again trees took on life and hurled the stones back at their masters. Finally her eyes were opened again, and she felt nothing save but a warm breeze against her cheeks. Screwda could not wait any longer, Alvelon was ready, and the men further down the line were starting to prepare for the battle.

"You must wait but a moment more," she told Screwda, before kicking into her horse and riding as fast as she could toward down the front. In what seemed like no time she was facing one of her commanders, who only raised an eyebrow at her sudden appearance. "Commander, I need to know if all the soldiers are ready for combat."

The man looked over his shoulder to his left, and then to his right. The men behind him rose, grabbing sword and shield alike, knowing the time to fight was now. He turned back to look at Arwen, and nodded once, leaving his head bowed. This was the signal she was looking for, and taking a banner from the Commander she took off towards Screwda, unfurling it as she went. This was the signal that the battle would shortly begin, and to prepare one's self for the fight ahead. Behind her, men rose to their feet and started clanking their swords on their shields, until only a unified thump could be heard.

Now Arwen was in front of Screwda and Alvelon, her pony prancing at the tension it felt coming from both sides. Time seemed to slow as she turned to look at the few hundred men that were gathered, not even a viable army, but the last defence for this part of Middle Earth. Now she drew her sword, and her pony raised up on its hind legs, neighing and snorting. The time for the battle was now, and Arwen didn't look back as she let the charge cry sound.

"For Gondor! For Rivendell! For Middle Earth!"

[screwda]

The ground trembled as a few hundred feet started to move. I must have been an impressive sight, to see this strange army move out. Screwda s a troll between many humans and elves. Even some dwarfs from the lone mountain joined the army to repay the monsters for what they had done to the dwarfs of Moria. And a furious dwarf is a dreadful opponent. Furthermore some inexperienced pupils of the riders of Rohan rode at the first line together with Arwen. General Morden rode at Arwen's side to protect or aid her when she would get into trouble. The elves where scattered allover the army and moved mostly behind the fully armoured humans to make sure they had the best cover from arrows. A pity for Jonathan that he missed this view.

Screwda ran in front of the line, however he kept on moving behind Arwen like he was ordered to. Most of his thoughts faded. He knew this would be his end. This is his final resting place, after he'd slain every single orc and dark human he faced on the battlefield. A man who approached his death would be scared and demoralized. This however didn't count for Screwda. He lost most of his mental abilities as he had changed them into his primal instincts. He only knew about prey and predator, and the orcs where prey. The presence of the Mayar seemed to grow bolder every step. Screwda felt a primal fear for this person. He felt the power and the anger flowing from this person. However, the Valar looked surprisingly normal. Like an old fool who wanted a honorable death.

More fire rained from the sky. The smaller boulder were still unable to reach the army but one surprisingly big trebuchet managed to cross the distance and crush soldiers with every shot.

"Screwda! Can't you do anything about the boulders!?"

Derric rode next to Screwda. His fierce steed didn't show any fear but it's rider was obviously startled by the flying massive rocks. Screwda looked at Derric, he wanted to reply but he couldn't find the words. Then he turned back opun the enemy. Derric sighed and thought aloud.

"I wish the white wizard was here. He would have saved us."

Then the army moved into the range of the deadly, burning shower.

[Lady Arwen]

"I wish the white wizard was here. He would have saved us."

Arwen felt her heart sink. Were she but a man, then maybe she could command these men and they would ride with valor and vigor, the way men rode under Aragorn's banner. It was not that she did not command the men well, in fact, she commanded them better than many generals that had previously done, it was simply that she was not the kind of leader that an army needed. Arwen's presence demanded respect from all kinds of creatures, both good and evil. It was quite unlike her to falter in a moment when she needed to be strong.

Just as these thoughts crossed her mind, the threshold of battle was reached and a wave washed over Arwen. It was like all things had gone silent, yet the force of everything around her was still present. She could feel the heat from the flames before her, and the wind caused by the large boulders, but the battle cries of those around her were acknowledged only by the movement of mouths. Her own throat was screaming something, but she could not hear her words. Instead, her mind was focusing on the water that was under her, around her in the form of dew and rain. The motion of the world was now almost stopped, but Arwen's heart beat wildly in her ears. Finally, a sound.

"Water of the skies and earth, hear my plea." Were these words spoken or thought? Was the language Common or Sindarian? Did it matter? "Come forth and quench my enemies, flow over them."