Snow and ash fall together, turning the battlefield into a grey storm. Steel screams against steel. Orc blood hisses on frozen stone.

My Company holds the line around me—Dwalin to my right, Balin behind, Kíli and Fíli driving arrows into the tide. We are outnumbered. We are tired. We are breaking.

An orc raises its blade toward my neck—too fast for Dwalin to intercept.

But before iron falls, a silver spear strikes the creature clean through the chest, driving it backward like a rag doll. The shaft hums like a plucked harp string.

I turn—and freeze.

She stands where the orc fell.

Tall—gods above us, tall. Seven feet if an inch, towering over every dwarf on this field. Armor silver fading into deep moss-green, as if riverlight and living forest had been hammered into steel. Her pale hair lashes in the wind, crowned by birch branches that should look delicate, yet carry the authority of a kingdom.

Kíli stops mid-draw, jaw open. Fíli’s arrow falls from numb fingers. Ori drops his quill in the snow.

Dwalin mutters, voice rough with awe:

“By Durin’s beard… the legends are true.”

She moves before thought returns—fluid, silent, precise. A war-beast charges from the flank. We start toward it, but she is already sprinting—long, effortless strides carrying her faster than any of us could hope to match.

She plants the spear, vaults upward, and lands on the creature’s spine. Two white daggers flash. Blood sprays. The beast collapses beneath her like a felled tree.

She steps off calmly, as though stepping from a stone stair.

The Company stares.

Even the battlefield seems to pause.

Balin breathes the words he once swore were myth:

“The Queen of Taur Im Duinath… I thought her only a tale.”

My heart clenches hard. Not just at the sight of her—but at the shape of her.

Elf-like. Beautiful. Grace carved into motion.

And I hate myself for noticing.

Because I have sworn never to trust her kind again.

And yet—she saved my life without hesitation.

I force my voice steady, though something in me cracks:

“Name yourself.”

Even though I know the answer... a myth stands before me.

River against mountain. Water against stone.

And for the first time in an age… I feel something like hope.