*I do not own Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or anything related to it.
*Arothir, however, belongs to me.
The shadows of ancient trees covered the path on which the thief walked, his silent footsteps making no impression in the foliage and the dirt. The noonday sun filtering through the branches above him. The wind in the trees rustled the green leaves, causing a few to come loose and flutter in winding patterns to the forest floor.
The sun shone on him, warming him with its light and the breeze ruffled his long hair. An air of confidence surrounded him, due to the successful heist he had finished that previous week in Coastlight. As he strode along the dirt path, the back of his neck prickled suddenly with the sense of his being watched.
He glanced around himself making sure not to move his body in such a way that would give away his knowledge of the watcher. Seeing nothing that could have caused his sudden feeling, he continued on. The path he walked continued on a steady incline, and the sound of rushing water could he heard. Eventually tapering off at the final rise which overlooked the Great River, known as Anduin, the path continued down, leading to the rocky shore below. As his clear gray eyes surveyed the wide river his attention caught on two pale elven boats which were pulled onto the rocky shore far up the shoreline to his right and a third boat located on the opposite shore. All empty. Odd.
A sudden clamor of noise caught his attention, the thundering of many feet and the clang of metal striking metal caught Arothir's leaf-shaped ears. He snapped his head towards the noise and both of his hands reaching to grab the hilts of two hidden throwing daggers in the folds of his charcoal-colored cloak. Scanning the area, he spotted a large Orc, holding a strung black bow, step out from behind one of the trees, Arothir had just come through.
'So, this is the creature who was watching me,' Arothir thought to himself as he turned to square-off against the large beast. His eyes quickly calculating the best approach, though he knew this would be an easy kill. Arothir, for all his quirks, was an old-hand at killing. He was trained well and by the best.
The Orc growled, snapping Arothir out of his thoughts. The beast raised his bow and in a harsh voice demanded, "Where is the Halfling?"
'A half-what?' Arothir wondered to himself. Instead of answering verbally, Arothir in an almost languid move, snapped one of his hands forward, his dagger spinning through the air and lodging itself into the beast's throat, killing the horrid creature. The Orc collapsed, its dark blood staining the ground around its putrid body. Arothir strode forward, bending down, he grasped the hilt of this dagger and jerked it out of the beast's clothing. Rising to his feet, he could still hear the sounds of battle coming from the woods beyond.
As he debated getting involved further in this mess, knowing Orc's commonly travel in packs, the clear sound of a horn pierced the air. 'That's a Gondorian horn. What are Gondorians doing here, far beyond the reach of their borders, especially in these dark times?' As he thought this, the horn blasted again. In a split second, knowing the urgency of the plea in the second blast, Arothir bolted forward following the loud blast.
As he ran through the woods, he spotted Orcs beginning to swarm in droves over the low wooded hills of Amon Hen. Their heavy footsteps vibrating the ground, the continuing of sounds of fighting still far off, beyond his sight.
As he continued forward, several Orcs came at him with heavy swords and sharp claws, all of which were easily dispatched with quick, fluid movements and sharp blades. As he crested another hill, he stopped suddenly.
A man on his knees filled Arothir's sight, three dark shafted arrows pierced the dark blonde man's chest and abdomen. The man's eyes never shifted towards the thief, his wild eyes focusing only on the retreating forms of large Orcs, that were racing away towards the West.
Arothir approached him cautiously, another massive Orc could be seen in the distance drawing another arrow. Knowing the inevitable and that time was growing scarce for the man, Arothir's keen elven eyes helped locate the thin string of the enemy's bow. He launched two daggers simultaneously through the air; one slicing the string of the bow and proceeding to bury itself in the Orc's shoulder; the other burying itself in the beast's thigh. This causing the Orc to be temporarily disarmed and slowing it down. Arothir did not miss when he attack the Orc, he had no intention of killing this single beast, he had plans to interrogate it… after the tended to the man.
He swiftly approached the blonde man. As he neared, Arothir noticed a sword and a horn, cloven in two, lying near the stranger.
"So, you were the one who blew the horn," Arothir softly states, bending down to one knee while keeping the slowly approaching Orc in the corner of his eye.
"They took the Little Ones! You must aid them… I have failed," the man cried out in distress, finally turning his head to look at the thief. The blond man's eyes widened slightly at the sight of an Elf before him.
"Master Elf, I beg you, on the last of my honor, I beg you, save them! I have heard that Elves will always be a good people, so I ask this of you. They are innocent, they do not deserve such a fate!" The man begged quickly, his blue eyes filled with pain and losing focus with the coming shadow of death.
Arothir thought quickly, understanding what the man was asking and weighing the cost of such a task would do to him personally. Although, as the Man said, elves will always be a Good People.
"I will save your companions, if I am able," Arothir solemnly swore to the fallen man, grasping the stranger's shoulder and lightly squeezing to assure him.
The sound and sight of the wounded Orc approaching grew steadily louder and closer.
Arothir rose swiftly to his feet again, his hands sliding towards another set of his stilettos. As he took a step in front of the man to protect him, a gloved hand came to grasp weakly at his elbow. The hand, of course, belonged to the man of Gondor, who looked to Arothir with pleading eyes and said, "Leave this foul beast of darkness to me. Save Pippin and Merry!"
Arothir turned his back, once more to the coming Orc, and looked straight in to the man's eyes. Locking gazes with the man, a rush of emotions entered Arothir; the feelings of extreme pain and sorrow, of bravery and a flickering hope, and most of all the pride and strength of determination flowed swift and strong through the man before him. Arothir feeling the man's strong resolution, nodded and the man's face showed a sense of relief at this.
With a final glance at the man filled with honor before him and the coming beast, the Elven Thief turned swiftly towards the West and began to give chase.
Notes:
If you are wondering about Coastlight, please read my story "Dwarves Don't Do Subtle"
Also note, the members of the fellowship will show up in later chapters.
I also ask not to judge me too harshly on my writing ability, OC making ability, or any LOTR fact I screwed up on, or any inconsistency I may make in regards to my stories.