I neither own nor created Estel/Aragorn, Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, Imladris, or Middle Earth. Tolkien did, and I am so grateful to him for it.
This story is for entertainment purposes only. So, please read and be entertained.
The twins' arrows had thinned their lines. Every warg in the charging forces was down. Their riders and a number of the larger orcs also lay on the green turf. Going over and around the bodies slowed the approaching mass of survivors. Still, the elves' arrows were spent, and the dark wave washed on.
"Take mine!"
"Nay Estel," Elladan replied. "You might have need of them yourself."
"He has to go before they reach us," Elladan added.
Estel glanced at both of his brothers' faces. They'd turned grey. He felt his must have as well. He looked back to the lines of orcs rushing towards them. Elrohir swallowed and spoke.
"Flee Estel! Ride until you reach Glorfindel and his company. Direct them back here. Go home with the warrior Glorfindel sends with you."
"But you'll be killed!"
Elladan turned a bright grin to his youngest brother. "You wound me Estel! Elrohir and I have faced worse odds against these brutes. Do as he tells you. Go!"
Estel bit his bottom lip, turned his horse, and rode off. Obeying orders was an ingrained habit for him. Still, the mortal felt a knot of shame burning in his stomach. The heat rose from there to flush his face.
When he was several yards away, Estel looked back. His brothers had dismounted and turned their own steeds loose allowing the horses to save themselves. The elves turned back towards the invaders holding their swords up points aimed at enemies now mere strides away. Estel clenched his teeth.
His horse reared. The youth turned to see a warg leaping at the mare's throat. The predator missed, but its rider had a clear shot at Estel's head.
The orc swung a war hammer at his temple. The youth jerked back. Instead of crushing the side of his skull it scraped away the skin of Estel's right cheek causing a burning sensation that assured the human he still lived. The teenger fell off his mount.
He landed rolling as he'd been taught. The turf continued the work of relieving him of his outer layer of skin. By the time he'd risen to his feet, and put a hand to the hilt of his sword, the mare's throat was torn out. Estel winced and almost retched at the sight. The warg's rider was yanking on his mount's ears and digging the end of his hammer into the beast's side struggling to tear his bloodied mount's attention from the fallen prey toward the prey still standing.
Estel drew his sword. With another pull and blow the orc got the warg to turn its eyes upon the human. They shone red with blood lust. The monster opened its bloodied jaws with a snarl and rushed Estel. Crimson drops of saliva flew from its open mouth. The teenager crouched. The warg pounced. It's prey thrust his sword up as the mouth descended.
The scent of rotting meat and decaying teeth wafted over the human. Estel scrambled backwards. His fingers seemed forged to the sword hilt. At the resistance it gave to his retreat, the youth pulled harder instead of letting go. With far more effort than it took getting the blade in, he yanked his sword out of the roof of the warg's mouth. After he'd backed away five steps on trembling legs, Estel realized the warg was dead.
A shout in the black speech tore his focus from the dead foe. His living one was dismounting it. The mortal's eyes were drawn to the war hammer in the orc's hand. The sting of his right cheek broke through his consciousness. Estel swallowed.
The orc strode up to him sharp teeth bared. Reddened eyes glared down at the teenager. Estel crouched low into a defense position. He thanked Iluvatar that Glorfindel wielded war hammers during training sometimes. The orc swung.
Estel dived to the right. The hammer whooshed over his head this time. He sprang forward and stabbed the sword upwards through the flesh beneath the left half of the orc's ribcage.
The teenager's eyes locked with other's widened in shock. The hammer dropped to the ground. Estel set his feet more firmly and yanked the sword out from reeking, sticky flesh that seemed to be pulling back. He backed away a second time. The orc fell.
Estel glanced at his dead horse. No aid for an escape there. He could run away on foot or . . . Estel looked back over his shoulder. His brothers were fighting back to back surrounded by a crowd of foes ten to thirteen orcs deep on every side. The youth set his teeth and ran to his fallen mount. He grabbed his quiver and bow. Always be ready to get in some practice . . .
The teenager jogged towards the center of strife. When he'd reached the crest of a hill, he stopped and strung his bow. So intent were they on reaching the elves who continually hunted them, none of the orcs noticed the human.
Estel had not put in as many hours with a bow as he had with a sword. His hands were shaking. His foes were as far off as the farthest of the targets he'd hit. His arrows did hit the orcs he aimed at, but they didn't kill them. They gained his enemies' notice and wrath instead.
The ten he'd hit rushed Estel. Like his brothers he'd aimed for the biggest enemies he could get a clear shot at. The youth put more arrows into his ten attackers. Four fell before the rest reached him.
One threw a spear. The youth flung himself to the ground. The spearhead sliced a trail along the skin of his shoulder blades before burying itself in the turf. The first orc had almost reached him. Estel yanked the spear out of the ground and spun back around pain shooting through him. The orc sped up to reach his opponent before the spear was turned on him. He ran right into it.
Estel's eyes met others widened in shock again. A long-sword slashed down at his throat. Estel rolled away. He drew his blade, rose to his feet, and deflected the second blow of the second orc to reach him. With a twist and sweep the teenager cut the tendons of his enemy's wrist. His foe's hand went lax. The orc's blade slipped from it.
An axe flew toward Estel's head. The youth ducked beneath the swing. The third orc lifted his ax again. Estel saw the second orc picking up the long-sword with his uninjured hand. The third orc lifted his ax again. Estel stepped back and almost into the second orc standing up with his blade. His foe drew his arm back to stab Estel between the shoulders. As the third orc swung, Estel threw himself to the ground. The sword gave him another cut along his back, but the ax connected with the second orc's head.
Estel rolled and sprang to his feet. A second shot of pain joined the now familiar one. The third orc was prying his ax-head out of his fellow's skull. A fourth orc was rushing him. The youth turned and ran.
This foe also had an ax. The orc held the weapon raised over and behind his head to chop downwards into Estel's skull. So intent was the orc upon catching and cleaving his prey's' head, he was not prepared for the teenager's sudden stop. Estel turned and swung his sword in an upwards arc. His hands felt the resistance through the blade as it cut through the orc's throat. His foe dropped, gurgling.
Estel turned and groaned. The final two orcs were coming towards him. However, the orc with the spear through him was still not dead, and had stabbed Estel's third attacked in the back before he'd freed his axe, from the second orc's skull. The speared orc also caught the ankle of one of the last two approaching now. That one turned to deal with the speared orc. Estel lifted his head in hope as the other reached him.
This orc also had a sword. He wielded the blade in simple stabbing motions. Estel deflected and dodged as he'd been taught. The orc's broad motions left Estel openings his brothers and Glorfindel never left unless they were trying to boost his confidence. The human took full advantage. His opponent fell, dying, as the orc delayed by the one with the spear came towards him.
He'd finished the speared orc. He'd even taken time to mangle the body a bit, perhaps out of frustration. Perhaps they were old enemies. Now he was Estel's enemy.
This orc had a war hammer too. As the blow came down, Estel dodged. He slashed through one of the hands wielding the weapon cutting it half-through.
The orc paused to scream. The sound was so terrible, Estel reacted to stop it. He set his feet and pulled the blade out of the bone it had lodged in. Then he cut the orc's throat. The scream turned to a gurgle as his enemy fell. The youth surveyed the scene. None of his enemies were moving.
It took a few moments for the mortal to realize he'd succeeded and wasn't dead. He winced at the sting of sweat pouring into his scrapes and the cuts in his back. He bit his bottom lip until it hurt and bled too. Then the noise of battle caught his attention. His brothers' struggle went on. Estel jerked into action.
He rushed down toward the skirmish, pelting more than running. The teenager was beginning to feel his weariness. The young mortal reached the backs of those on the outer circle shoving and clawing at those before them for their chance to attack his brothers. Estel paused. Strategy, he needed a strategy.
Remembering his biology lessons and tired of being chased, Estel drew his sword and stabbed an orc through the back of the knee. It screamed and spun around the leg collapsing beneath it. Estel cut the orc's throat. He was also tired of orc screams.
Others heard the cry of their fellow and turned to look at his killer. Expecting this, Estel was already backing away. He knelt and removed a dagger from its hiding place in his boot. He threw it into the heart of the biggest orc coming at him. The cuts in his back screamed at the movement. Still, the mortal ducked under the swing of another orc and swung his own blade across its exposed, fat stomach. His arms ached with the effort. He'd never had to pull his sword through actual flesh until this day.
Estel thought to himself that Glorfindel and his brothers had forgotten to tell him how disgusting the results of gutting an enemy were and how things other than blood got on your clothes and stuck to you. He backed up. His foe fell. Estel held his sword up so the orc tripping over the body of the gutted one would fall on its point. The warg had taught him that was a efficient tactic. As the full weight of the orc fell on his sword arms, Estel realized his mistake.
The youth twisted and stepped to the side, praying it would work. The orc's body shifted in its descent. It fell on its side instead of its face and slipped off the sword as it landed. Estel sighed in relief. Then he noticed whole rows of orcs had turned to stare at him.
Uh-oh
. . .
Elladan and Elrohir hated this type of fighting. Battling back to back meant being in the others' way if he wanted to back up. Thankfully, they handled this better than other pairs of warriors could. The twins fell into their connection of the mind and knew the thoughts of the other so they could react to each other's needs. This talent helped at times likes these, but only so much.
Every second, an orc took the place of the one they'd slain. Sometimes they had to slay two at a time, getting one with the back-stroke that took down the other. The onslaught hadn't let up. It wouldn't until all their enemies were dead or fleeing.
After a time, neither elf knew how long, they noticed the tide flowing away from them. The orcs were fleeing in a particular direction. The elves used this opportunity to focus on those who remained. They slew the enemies still coming at them first. Then they killed those distracted by the flight of the others. Finally, Elladan and Elrohir had time and space to breathe as they finished the orcs around them. At last they let themselves gaze at those running away and saw these orcs were chasing a smaller dot flying before them.
Both elves screamed together.
"Estel!"
. . .
The human had forgotten weariness. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Estel was discovering his true top-speed, or would have been if the thought speeding through his mind had left room for any other.
I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!
Estel barely noticed the pains shooting through him. All fear for his brothers had evaporated from his thoughts. No images of their sorrowful faces flashed through his mind, nor did those of his Ada, or his friends. He didn't even speculate on that mysterious fate of men's souls when they fled Arda.
Thankfully, he was wearing no armor, unlike many of his pursuers. His form was long and lithe. Their's were squat and stocky. So he drew steadily farther ahead of them, for now.
However, the steady, untiring pace of orcs was legendary. Estel's lungs already burned. His cuts stung with every stride. When he slowed or simply fell, he knew exactly what would happen.
I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to die!
. . .
Elladan and Elrohir had similar predictions racing through their joined minds. As the twins came up behind orc after orc, they cut their legs out from under them, and finishing them where they fell. Battle tactics of honor were forgotten or blocked out. Their little brother was racing for his life. These monsters must not taste his blood.
. . .
None of the orcs were going to throw a projectile at the lanky, but sweet smelling target before them. To do so would cause them to fall behind their fellows. Even if they made the tender youth fall, their reward would be having another catch up to and taste him first. No other would be first!
The scent of man-flesh and blood filled their nostrils. The idea of another tasting it filled their minds. They began to swing their weapons at those ahead of them, crushing the skull of the orc running before them, stabbing their sword into his back, or simple cutting his leg, anything to get ahead, to be first in line for that tender morsel. The pounding of their feet and clanging of their armor drowned out whatever sound the pursuing elves were making as they cut their way through the dawdlers and made their way to the true competitors that were already thinning their own ranks.
. . .
The growling breath of one of the orcs was becoming clearer and clearer behind him. Estel's legs began to cramp. He couldn't suck enough air into his chest. What he managed to take in burned like hot metal. The toes of one of his feet connected with something hard. He fell.
He just had enough time to turn over, grabbing his sword hilt with both hands. He rolled onto his back and held the sword point up as the orc pounced. The bloodlust in its eyes faded as Estel sucked in its final, exhaled breath. He winced at the taste it left in his mouth.
The warm body was torn away along with the blade. An even larger orc stood over him. Bereft of weapons, Estel leapt after his sword.
The orc grabbed his reaching arm. He slammed Estel back against the earth. What little air was left in the youth's lungs left them. His cuts burned at the blow. The human stared up into the gaze of the enemy who would finish him. The orc raised his clawed hand over the teenager's midsection. The sight of the innards of the orc he'd gutted came back into Estel's mind.
He was about to shut his eyes when the fire of blood-lust fled the orc's. His large body fell towards the youth. The teenager rolled out of the way. The dead orc landed next to him.
The human lay panting and awaiting the next attack. Instead he heard the cries of his brothers' identical voices shouting his name. Pain shot through him again as Estel started to rise to his feet. Partway up all the images of his dying foes filled his mind. The youth retched and lost the contents of his stomach before falling back down and passing out.
. . .
Glorfindel pressed the stallion to it's greatest speed. The dark forms of fallen invaders became clearer as he neared the spot he'd heard the horn of Elladan sound from. The group of orcs his own company had encountered on their way had taken too much time to slay. A thought kept running through the ancient soldier's mind.
Why have we not come across Estel fleeing the battle?
The question was answered when he saw the empty eyes and torn throat of the mare the mortal had ridden away on. He scanned the landscape and paused to glance at the still bodies of the orc, warg, and horse. At his command, the other elves spread out to sweep over the area and comb through the bodies. Suddenly, Glorfindel's eyes spotted two, tall, thin forms striding towards them.
Glorfindel turned his mount. The steed's strides ate away the distance between them and the figures. Two of his soldiers followed on their own mounts without him having to command them to.
The captain neared the figures he raced towards. They looked exactly the same except that one carried another form in his arms. Glorfindel pulled up his mount a few yards from the sons of Elrond.
"What has happened here?"
"We slew an army of invading orcs," Elrohir replied.
"Guess who slew his share," Elladan added.
"Though we told him to ride out and meet you," Elrohir finished.
"His horse was slain," Glorfindel informed the twins.
"That doesn't seem a good excuse after you've really seen him run," Elladan laughed.
"What ails him?" The Balrog-slayer asked, gazing at the slack form of the youth and the blood-stained back of his shirt.
"The valiant warrior fainted," Elrohir replied.
"Slaying and running from orcs is tiring work for a mortal."
"We bandaged a few shallow cuts on his back and rubbed ointment on scraped areas of his skin. He should recover before a month has passed."
As Elladan said this, Estel stirred in his arms. Glorfindel dismounted and strode to them. Estel blinked up into the elf's fair face.
"Glorfindel . . . I was supposed to get you."
"Yes," Elladan agreed, "you were."
"You can tell us why you didn't later," Elrohir added.
"You said to ride to him . . . my horse died."
"Ah, so that is your excuse," Elladan laughed.
"I'm glad River-runner went lame so I wasn't riding him, but I'm sorry the mare died," the boy added.
"It was not your fault young one," Glorfindel said.
"Can we go home?"
The elves laughed at the mortal's question. "Yes, we can Elrondion," the Balrog-slayer replied.
Reviews are greatly appreciated and often responded to. They help me know what I did right so I can do more of it and what I did wrong so I can fix it. For example . . .
Frodo's sister wrote she thought Estel would have been seriously injured during his first battle. At the time, I responded that Estel would have had intense training with his famous, elven, orc-killing brothers and Glorfindel the Balrog slayer. Therefore, it made sense the slower and awkward moving orcs wouldn't land any blows against him. However, after reading more sources on writing, I reread this story and realized Estel remaining unscathed throughout did hurt the story's effectiveness.
I wanted to keep the lighthearted ending. So, Estel is still not seriously wounded. However, I rewrote parts and allowed him to be scathed. I believe the story became both more exciting and more believable from these changes. Thanks for the helpful review Frodo's sister! :)
God Bless
ScribeofHeroes