More Story...sorry.

The next day dawned cold and grey. Legolas stepped out of his tent and gazed at the sky: a mass of clouds, no sun. He made his way through the maze of tents that spread out that way and this and headed towards the river. But before he got there the cry of a messenger was heard throughout the camp. An army of Dwarves was seen heading towards the mountain, and their leader appeared to be Dain. The force boasted of axes and iron caps, and they looked ready for battle. The call to arms was heard next, and the sound of it sent a sharp pang of thrilling excitement through his body. It was time. The battle for the mountain would begin soon. In his heart he had been longing for the day, and when it came, such a fire was lit within him that you could see the light of it shining in his eyes. The army lined up, and Legolas joined his father at the front line. Bard and Bilbo went out to meet the approaching branch of the large Dwarf army. Not much of what was said Legolas could hear, but the duo returned soon.

"Well, what did they say?"asked Thranduil.
"In a polite way," said Bilbo, "they basically told us ‘You have no business here; we are going on, so make way or we shall fight you!’"
"But for the moment their attack is stayed," said Bard. "I will send a messenger up the mountain to see if the payment in gold is there as promised. Then I will leave this desolate place and gladly!" So a scout was sent back up the Mountain. But when he returned, his arm was soaked with blood.
"What happened?" Thranduil called.
"There was no gold my lords," replied the Elf, somewhat through gritted teeth. "Only arrows."
Bard was furious.
"We attack, and attack swiftly! Before they can be rested from their march. Let us set upon them!" The fire of battle leaped up in Legolas’ heart.
"Long will I tarry, ere I begin a war for gold," replied Thranduil. "Let us wait while–"
Suddenly a great shout was heard from the east. While the Men and Elves had debated, the Dwarves had seized the opportunity. With a roaring battle cry they charged forward. Arrows began whizzing towards and around the armies of Mirkwood and Lake Town. It wouldn’t be long; Legolas drew his two knives, spinning them each twice in succession. Even more suddenly, a darkness suddenly covered the sky. In winter the cover overhead was dark, but something else hurried across it. Lightning flashed at the top of the Mountain. Whatever the darkness was, it was coming their way and coming fast.
"Halt!!!" came a voice from behind. Suddenly Gandalf rushed forward. He stood between the two armies and held his hands aloft. "Halt! Dread has come upon you all! Alas! it has come more swiftly than I guessed. The Goblins are upon you! Bolg of the North is coming, O Dain! whose father you slew in Moria. Behold! the bats are above his army like a sea of locusts. They ride upon wolves and Wargs are in their train!"
Goblins? Bats? Wargs? How did those horrid creatures hear of this? The thoughts whirled in everyone’s head, but there was no time. Mithrandir called Dain to join the Men and Elves and fight off this new army that had arisen, and as there was no time to argue, he did so speedily. The Dwarves all formed ranks among the other two armies and prepared for the coming storm. The huge cloud of bats blotted out most of the remaining light from the sun, making things even more confusing.
"To the Mountain! To the Mountain while there is still time!" called Bard. With great haste, the armies moved all around the base, arrayed themselves accordingly, and readied their weapons. The Elves were on one side, the Dwarves on one, and the Men on another. The Goblin army came ever nearer. As soon as they were within range, a volley was released, but the darkness above them caused many shots to go astray. Legolas’ heart was pounding. The time was ripe, the enemy before them. With great ferocity, he twirled his knives faster and faster. Adrenalin surged through him, and he bounced slightly from foot to foot, awaiting the signal. Finally, the moment came. Keirdron came forward, and in a loud voice shouted out the call: "CARRIO*!!" With a great shout, the armies of Mirkwood charged forward. Legolas raced on like one of his own arrows released from the string. In a few more paces, the battle would begin. He was close enough to see the ugly face of the nearest Goblin, who shrieked loudly at him, his jagged sword raised. Then...clash!! The whole force surged into the ranks of the yrch*. Legolas slashed his knives before him, and the first creature fell, screaming. He ducked a blow to the head and came from behind, driving both tips deep into the back of another. Black blood spurted out and covered the Elf’s hands, but that mattered little to him. With one knife he sliced the throat of an opponent, and with the second he swiped the legs out from under another. After the initial onslaught of the Eldar began, a cry was heard from behind, and down charged Dain and Bard, their armies behind them. The combined forces pushed foward. The Goblins were beginning to route the field. A smile crossed Legolas’ face, but then disappeared. A shrill cry rang out from above. A vast majority of the cursed yrch* had scaled the sides of the mountain, and were firing down upon the armies below. Any who tried to climb up after them found an arrow in their chest and met a very unpleasant end by falling back down to the earth. Any thought of victory vanished. They had only stemmed the first tide.
A swirling, swarming mass of Elves, Men, Goblins, and Dwarves suddenly surged around Legolas. It was absolute organized chaos. Suddenly, a body slammed into the Elf’s back. He turned to find a dwarf, brandishing his axe at a Warg nearby. The short, stubby figure had obviously not even noticed that he had run into another. But then, it was hard to tell in all of the confusion. The young-looking Dwarf had a iron cap on his head and his face almost disappeared in the mass of his red, braided beard.
"Come on!" it was the gruff voice of the Dwarf. "Bring your pretty face to my axe!" Then, from somewhere nearby, another deep voice called:
"Gimli! Get your sorry hide over here. You’re axe is needed at the front!" Gimli growled.
"This isn’t the last you’ll hear of me," he called to the Warg. He turned around and once again smacked into Legolas.
"Watch where you're going, pointy ear!" he growled. Then he sauntered off.
Dwarves, Legolas said beneath his breath.
The Goblins reformed their lines and sent their Wargs out before them. They came fast and full of fury, and it was all Legolas could do to keep them at bay with his arrows. Soon, the armies were overrun. The Elf spotted Bard a little ways away. Through the blur of bodies in motion, it was hard to tell what exactly the state of their combined armies were. Legolas spied Gandalf, and although his arm bled, he seemed none the worse for ware. Dain was putting up a fair struggle with a giant of a Warg, but he was too far off for Legolas’ shafts to be of any help.
Keirdron had been killed in the second assault. That left...
Legolas searched this way and that for his father, but could not find him. A sword swung down at him, but he blocked it with crossed knives and sent the foul creature into eternity. He fought his way to a high point at the very feet of the mountain and sought for a better look. The bats swarmed the heights now, and an strange darkness covered the sun, making it even more difficult to see. But with his keen Elven eyes, Legolas spotted at the far end of the field his father, surrounded by the last of the Elf lords, who were bound to protect their king at all costs. But one by one, they were being picked off, and soon the Goblins would reach Thranduil. A new fear shot through the Elf prince. And a new anger and hatred. With a great cry he charged once more into the fray of battle. His onslaught was fierce and terrible. It looked as though the fire in his soul was carried to his knives, for they seemed to be devoured in a white flame. Left and right he cut down his enemies. He would not let his father die. Not while he himself still lived. His attack was stayed as Goblins suddenly crowded the area around him. From every side, every angle, they came at him with all they had; swords, spears, arrows and axes. It was all Legolas could do to dodge, block and parry. He was close now, so close that he could see the fear that marked the Elf lords’ faces. With all his might he tried to fight his way through the swarm of bodies, but every time they filled in with more. At the edge of his hearing, he caught a sound. A voice. It was shouting something, and it was coming from his right. What was it saying? Through the chaos around him he strained to hear the words. Then, very faintly he caught the last of it.
"Elendil!!!" it cried. It was followed by the sound of metal against metal. Legolas knew the voice, but somehow he couldn’t place it. But soon the sound was fitted with a figure, for out of the mass of black shapes a person in a grayish-green cloak surged towards the Elven King and his defenders. His clothes were tattered and dirty, his youthful face marked with stubble, and deep brown eyes could just be seen beneath the hood. Legolas slashed hard at the giant of a Goblin before him. A renewed sense of joy mingled with worry filled his heart. Once more he fought forward, his knives swinging. The cloaked figure caught sight of the approach of the Elf out of the corner of his eye and turned. And at once Legolas was sure of the face.
"Eles—" but the Elf’s cry was cut short. A sudden sharp pain gashed across his chest, and the words caught in his throat. The knives dropped from his hands, and it seemed that everything moved in slow motion. He tried to take in a breath and got a raspy, unstable gasp in return. His vision blurred and his hands went absently to the source of the pain. They came back completely covered in dripping red. Blood. His own blood. Another huge Goblin had come forward while his attention had been turned. Now, Legolas looked into it’s slant-eyed face, then to it’s dripping axe. His legs gave way and he slammed to his knees. His breaths were becoming ragged and were beginning to sound wet. A sudden cough seized him and he spit out the blood that came to his mouth. Through the mass of ever darkening bodies around him, Legolas caught another glimpse of the man he had recognized. He was desperately pushing towards the Elf, slashing his sword left and right.
"Elessar," Legolas whispered. He felt another blow, this one to the side of his head. Warm liquid began to run down his face. A pair of strong arms grabbed the Elf and pulled him back before he would have fallen forward. The last thing Legolas saw was the brooding face of a jeering Goblin. Then everything fell into darkness.