Hey Everyone! Mkay so this is my first (and so far only) Lord of the Rings Fanfict. So yeah. I'm proud of this but worried it's not good. Reviews are much appreciated (and flame me if you want to I might listen to it).
** UPDATE** After some comments I went back and went over my grammar and spelling. Unsurprisingly there were a lot of errors. I'm sorry to those that noticed them and to those who didn't... oh well.**
I hope you like it~!!
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A Dance of Fate
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The night was dark and the battle that raged on, even darker. The Men of Helms Deep were testing the evil that was Sauron.
And as the elvish prince of Mirkwood fought on, he too could feel the bitter cold of this pure evil. Never the less he hacked and shot never missing a beat as the childish contest between himself and the dwarf went on.
"17… 18… 19!" Gimli roared sounding boastful. Legolas was already in the thirties, but there were bigger dangers approaching.
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The once puppet like king watched his people fight with pride. The elves as well, for their strength was a godsend. And yet this meager siege couldn't be all.
No Saruman had something much bigger planned for this small battle. He only hoped that they could fend it off and make it out of here alive.
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Aragon, son of Arathorn, stood upon the stone wall where orc after orc were surging viciously. His resolve never faded as he sliced and hacked them back.
His vision was hindered slightly, by the rain drenched hair plastered to his forehead, but when he turned and shouted out another order to the archers he saw something that made his blood run cold. A massive Uruk-hai was charging toward the wall. Carried in his hand was a torch of conjured flames.
Eyes flashing towards the wall Aragon realized Helms Deep's greatest weakness. The once waterway into the fortress! And within the orcs must have placed a type of bomb to destroy the wall and enter the stock hold.
Running across the wall he caught sight of the one elf that could bring that monstrosity down.
"Togo hon dad, Legolas!" Bring him down, Legolas!
With deadly grace his friend released a bolt that buried itself deep within the torchbearer's shoulder and yet it still ran on. If that thing is not stopped a breaching of the wall is sure! Panicked Aragon called once more,
"Dogo hon! Dogo hon!" Kill him! Kill him!
Another arrow flew piercing the other shoulder. With bated breath Aragon watched as the torch continued on towards the wall.
The arrows hadn't been enough! Stepping away from that part of the wall Aragon braced himself for the upcoming blast. Which would never come...
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The blood spilt this day would go down in mortal lore. So a defeat caused by an elf could not be allowed.
Legolas had long lost count of how many he had slain, for they just kept coming. Without fear he dispatched them, needing no guidance. He had knocked back a ladder along with the orcs upon it when he spotted something odd.
An Uruk-hai wielding a torch was running fast.
Then came Aragon's cries and alerted him further to the danger. Knowing what to do he embraced the task, vowing not to fail.
With two of his arrows buried in the Uruk-hai's chest it still ran on. It then gave Legolas no choice. Flashing a final glance at his friend the prince launched himself over the great wall and down into the path of the wounded Uruk-hai.
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The rain soaked ground gave dangerously as Legolas landed, but he used it to his advantage. Fainting losing his balance the elf dipped farther downwards and grasped the blades at his sides tightly ere using them to rip through the Uruk-hai's flesh.
A shrill cry echoed as the Uruk-hai and the torch fell into the mud. The conjured flame went out with a sizzling hiss.
Blades at the ready Legolas braced for the angered army surrounding him. The odds of him escaping this battle alive had now dwindled to short of a miracle.
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The desecration of that part of the massive protecting wall was expected and destined to happen. There were to have been cries of those thrown off and the rubble tumbling down. The soon to be king was to end up face down in the dirt and the dwarf would come to aide him.
But… none of this came to pass as Aragon turned horrified to watch Legolas jump into the enemy's army and kill the Uruk-hai with his own blades. Gathering strength he called for the archers, pointing towards the trapped prince; because he had just become a very easy target.
Praying that the protection would be enough Aragon continued to fight the orcs attacking him. All the while he searched for a way to bring his mad friend skyward once more.
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The peril down upon their level was far greater, Legolas found. Even the pile of dead orcs he had slain and was now using as a barrier had not deterred the orcs from advancing.
Fear drove his blades.
Fear drove his mind.
But fear didn't drive his heart. The act of killing hurt his heart while the barrage of arrows that fell to protect him strengthened it.
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The game he had invited to death's doorstep quickened with every step. Then, the game turned into a dance with the loser dancing forever in the halls of Mundos.
Black spots painted Legolas's vision as an orc broke the line charging forward to rip his sword through his entire left arm.
Dizzy with pain his right arm decapitated the orc as the left relinquished its blade. Staggering back the Mirkwood Prince sought purchase from the fortress wall.
The slippery stones of the wall were all he felt untill his hands hit the rough catch of a rope. Legolas looked upwards astonished to see the two saving him from death. With a harsh grunt of pain he began his ascent to a place much safer.
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Gimli didn't like elf folk in general. They were too… elf like. And yet here he was pulling his elf companion and comrade, who was the prince of those elfy people, up from the Orc army's jaws. With each heave he loathed the pride it gave him to be of help and yet he enjoyed it.
For in the marrow after the elf is well once more Gimli would parade around. Embarrassing the elf to no end on how he, a dwarf, had saved him, a elf.
But for now he was simply Gimli and he was helping to rescue Legolas a fellow member of the fellowship. And that sat well with the dwarf.
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The battle had long seceded. Helm's Deep had carried on its impenetrable reputation and Gandalf's reinforcements had arrived when needed. But Aragon feared that the battle had been too easy. With the orcs lying dead the evil was still watching angrily.
He could feel the eye of Sauron's gaze fall upon him as he turned away from the setting sun. And yet he knew this was not true. This was not the time to be thinking as such for they would, tonight, ride on.
Shaking away the feel of death Aragon mounted his horse and met the others outside the gates.
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Legolas's face was pale but he carried himself with elven grace even when wounded. Said wound was bound and seen to, even if the healers insisted that he should not travel.
Gimli watched his wounded companion as well but with an air of superiority which was amusing seeing as the dwarf was struggling to stay atop his horse.
Gandalf was simply Gandalf and when he gave the signal to move on they did.
Their pace was slower than normal due to Legolas's injury but it hindered them none. For now the darkness could wait. The white wizard was here and Aragon's companions were safe.
Legolas had barely escaped with his life but for now he too was safe. Their dance with death had slowed as the ring bearer's slowly began to speed up. And Frodo's dance would go on with only Sam until the day when their assistance was needed most.
Till then every step would take them closer to peace and a time where the dance with fate would forever be calm.