Arien's arm ached, her sword dripped blood, and still more orcs pushed her further and further back.

She had never been in a battle, except for the one where her people were massacred, and then she had been only three, too young to fully appreciate the monstrosity of what she was seeing. But now... This was worse than anything she'd imagined. The blood, the screams, the horror of battle, dead warriors surrounding her, faces that she did not dare to look at in case she knew them. And the orcs, the shear number of them, a sea of black bodies stretching into the distance...

Where one went down, two more took its place. Blood flowed from a wound in Arien's arm, crusting on her leather armour as she fought and fought, pushed, along with a small company of dwarves, right back to the eaves of the forest. The ground flowed wine dark with blood as she kept killing, kept slashing, the strength draining from her bones.

There was no chance in hell they were winning this battle.

Bodies littered the ground. Blood pooled on the rocks.

All she could see was an endless stream of enemies stretching into the distance, no allies, at least not ones that lived.

She staggered back, legs giving out in exhaustion, every part of her aching, hardly able to lift her sword arm to fight.

They were all going to die.

She would die, Thorin would die. There would be no going back.

But she could at least make a stand worthy of song. She could at least ensure that people would remember her, the last queen of the Taurhelim.

It was hopeless and useless, but for whatever good it would do, whatever time it would buy them, Arien lifted her mother's ancient blade and kept fighting, kept killing. For Thorin. For her prince.

Even though she knew they were already as good as dead.

***

Galadriel's words echoed in Glorfindel's head. I cannot.

She would abandon them. She would not help, and they would all be dead by morning, and he would have lost her, his daughter, his friend, his child. He could not endure it, could not let it happen, and he didn't care that he was begging, didn't care at all as he said

"Please, please help her, you cannot abandon them, you cannot..."

But the queen was not done. She held up a hand to silence him, and he stopped talking as if he had been struck dumb.

"I cannot," she repeated, face softening a little. "I cannot warn them myself. But you are right, Glorfindel. We cannot abandon them. So I will send a rider from the Galadhrim, and I will command him to speak to Arien, and only Arien, and warn her of Durin's Bane. This is all I can do for you."

Glorfindel's breath whooshed from his chest in a sigh of relief. He would not lose her. The world would not lose that bright light, the queen that was the last of her people. But the Lady fixed him with a stare, warning shining in her eyes.

"However, I do not know if he will reach them on time. It is a long journey, across many lands and mountains, from here to Moria. The battle has no doubt begun, and if they win, they will not waste time waiting before they enter the mines. Despite our efforts, the dwarves may still be destroyed."