Disclaimer: this story was written purely out of enjoyment and I own
absolutely nothing of Tolkien's work's....though Legolas would be nice!
Authors Note: the story takes place during the battle of Helm's Deep but has been changed to suit my imagination...don't kill me because of the ending!
He walked along the lines, feeling the stares upon his back. The sun shone brightly on their masses but only before darkness stretched its hand across the land. The sky grew angry as lightning crashed upon the ground, yet there he stood among his allies even as the rain pelted him. His hair blew wildly in the wind as he stood stock still, watching the horde in front.
In the distance a horn was sounded just before the minions of darkness charged. He heard his friend command their comrades to hold while all the archers, himself included, notched their bows. With a single word from his friends lips hundreds upon hundreds of arrows were loosened from their bows, all meeting their marks with deadly accuracy. He let loose arrow after arrow until the horde was at their wall, throwing ladders and ropes against the side to aid in their ascent. Steady streams of the enemy breached the wall as he discarded his bow, favoring his knives in such close quarters. Cries of triumph and death surrounded him as he concentrated on staying alive. He refused to stay idle in the same place but was forced to once the enemy realized who he was. He tried to remain inconspicuous but they saw through his deceit and circled him in.
From snarling faces came disgraceful taunts and promises of death. With a total of eight opponents encircling him he adopted a defensive stance as he observed their body language. A shuffle of feet and a tightening of claws on hilts alerted him of their advance. Two of the beast came at him with a thundering roar only to find themselves impaled on his blades. He jerked at the offending weight while ripping out his weapons, forcing himself to take a step back or else he lose his footing. With no time to recover he swung his right arm outward as he fell into a crouch, narrowly missing the sword aimed for his head. From his position he slashed his knives upward while at an angle, efficiently gutting the foul beast in front. As he attempted to unhinge his blades from the offending body he was unable to completely deflect a sword which caught on his arm, effectively slicing through his arm bracer and spilling forth his blood. Biting his lip to keep from crying out he tightened his grip on his knives while he crossed and uncrossed his arms, ridding one of the creatures of its head. Slowly he raised himself off of the ground listening as the body hit the ground with a muted thump. The others still lusted for his blood but in their eyes shown doubt. Before he could dispatch of the remaining foes four arrows, not of his bow, whistled by his head slaying his enemies. Giving a nod of thanks to his archers he ran onward, destroying any who crossed his path.
Black blood dripped from his blades and decorated his tunic yet more was to be spilt. His hair, once golden, was now streaked with black and red, leaving lines of filth on his face as it was whipped about. He kept his knives slashing even as his left hand threatened to give away. He started to call for another volley of arrows but was forced to muffle that order when he sensed a sword coming towards his back. Acting quickly, he jumped forward as he spun around, his blades slicing through the tender flesh of the creature's throat before the offending blade could fall. Without a second glance he continued forward, helping those who threatened to fall.
Rain poured down on the battle, making the ground slick with both water and blood. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating those locked in battle for a split second. But on the wall he fought on, oblivious to the elements and the effort he had to put forth to compensate for the treacherous footing. Dodging left and right he quickly slew all those who came within reach of his blades before moving to slaughter another. He tightened his grip as the hilts of his knives grew slick from the blood that coated them. He calmed his senses, trying to rationalize his raging thoughts but an earsplitting scream destroyed his ministrations. Quickly grabbing his bow he notched an arrow and watched it soar, striking down the beast before it stood ten paces from him. Friends saw that he still had his bow called him over since the archers were the ones who were felled first. Heeding the cry of his fellows he raced towards his friend, slashing right and left with his blackened blades. He ignored the pain as a sword hilt caught him on his side yet he could not stop his vision from clouding nor the snapping of his ribs. He disregarded the cries of the dead and dying, knowing it would do him no good to grieve. Instead he sought out his friend to add his blades to his sword.
A cry from his left alerted him of his friend's presence while he fought the surrounding creatures. He jumped to the right as he swung out with his left arm, fatally wounding one of two beings. He whipped around to strike out at the other only to watch its head fall from its body. Behind the falling corpse, confused blue eyes found gloating brown as he saw his friends smirking face as he sought another foe. He struck his new found enemy with deadly precision while maintaining an eye and an ear on his friend. He saw a creature sneak up on his back and noticed his friend's concentrated form unaware of the new threat. He watched as the beast raised its sword and as his friend slowly turned around, completely unprepared to defend himself. Without a thought of his own safety he threw one of his knives, watching with a sickening satisfaction as it lodged in the beings throat, killing it instantly.
So caught up in his friends newly acquired safety he was unable to detect the sound of a bow being notched. So caught up that his friend was alive for the time being he almost missed the expression of horror that slowly washed cross his face, almost. Blue eyes widening in fear he quickly turned around only to he thrown backwards. Fear turned to shock as he stared at the vial object protruding from his right shoulder, just below the collarbone. So absorbed in his astonishment that he was injured he did not hear the creatures shout of victory nor his friends bellow of rage. He did not witness his friend brutally kill the one who injured him or the expressions of terror plastered on his allies faces. All he saw was the shaft of an arrow in his shoulder, and his tunic steadily darkening with blood.
Authors Note: the story takes place during the battle of Helm's Deep but has been changed to suit my imagination...don't kill me because of the ending!
He walked along the lines, feeling the stares upon his back. The sun shone brightly on their masses but only before darkness stretched its hand across the land. The sky grew angry as lightning crashed upon the ground, yet there he stood among his allies even as the rain pelted him. His hair blew wildly in the wind as he stood stock still, watching the horde in front.
In the distance a horn was sounded just before the minions of darkness charged. He heard his friend command their comrades to hold while all the archers, himself included, notched their bows. With a single word from his friends lips hundreds upon hundreds of arrows were loosened from their bows, all meeting their marks with deadly accuracy. He let loose arrow after arrow until the horde was at their wall, throwing ladders and ropes against the side to aid in their ascent. Steady streams of the enemy breached the wall as he discarded his bow, favoring his knives in such close quarters. Cries of triumph and death surrounded him as he concentrated on staying alive. He refused to stay idle in the same place but was forced to once the enemy realized who he was. He tried to remain inconspicuous but they saw through his deceit and circled him in.
From snarling faces came disgraceful taunts and promises of death. With a total of eight opponents encircling him he adopted a defensive stance as he observed their body language. A shuffle of feet and a tightening of claws on hilts alerted him of their advance. Two of the beast came at him with a thundering roar only to find themselves impaled on his blades. He jerked at the offending weight while ripping out his weapons, forcing himself to take a step back or else he lose his footing. With no time to recover he swung his right arm outward as he fell into a crouch, narrowly missing the sword aimed for his head. From his position he slashed his knives upward while at an angle, efficiently gutting the foul beast in front. As he attempted to unhinge his blades from the offending body he was unable to completely deflect a sword which caught on his arm, effectively slicing through his arm bracer and spilling forth his blood. Biting his lip to keep from crying out he tightened his grip on his knives while he crossed and uncrossed his arms, ridding one of the creatures of its head. Slowly he raised himself off of the ground listening as the body hit the ground with a muted thump. The others still lusted for his blood but in their eyes shown doubt. Before he could dispatch of the remaining foes four arrows, not of his bow, whistled by his head slaying his enemies. Giving a nod of thanks to his archers he ran onward, destroying any who crossed his path.
Black blood dripped from his blades and decorated his tunic yet more was to be spilt. His hair, once golden, was now streaked with black and red, leaving lines of filth on his face as it was whipped about. He kept his knives slashing even as his left hand threatened to give away. He started to call for another volley of arrows but was forced to muffle that order when he sensed a sword coming towards his back. Acting quickly, he jumped forward as he spun around, his blades slicing through the tender flesh of the creature's throat before the offending blade could fall. Without a second glance he continued forward, helping those who threatened to fall.
Rain poured down on the battle, making the ground slick with both water and blood. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating those locked in battle for a split second. But on the wall he fought on, oblivious to the elements and the effort he had to put forth to compensate for the treacherous footing. Dodging left and right he quickly slew all those who came within reach of his blades before moving to slaughter another. He tightened his grip as the hilts of his knives grew slick from the blood that coated them. He calmed his senses, trying to rationalize his raging thoughts but an earsplitting scream destroyed his ministrations. Quickly grabbing his bow he notched an arrow and watched it soar, striking down the beast before it stood ten paces from him. Friends saw that he still had his bow called him over since the archers were the ones who were felled first. Heeding the cry of his fellows he raced towards his friend, slashing right and left with his blackened blades. He ignored the pain as a sword hilt caught him on his side yet he could not stop his vision from clouding nor the snapping of his ribs. He disregarded the cries of the dead and dying, knowing it would do him no good to grieve. Instead he sought out his friend to add his blades to his sword.
A cry from his left alerted him of his friend's presence while he fought the surrounding creatures. He jumped to the right as he swung out with his left arm, fatally wounding one of two beings. He whipped around to strike out at the other only to watch its head fall from its body. Behind the falling corpse, confused blue eyes found gloating brown as he saw his friends smirking face as he sought another foe. He struck his new found enemy with deadly precision while maintaining an eye and an ear on his friend. He saw a creature sneak up on his back and noticed his friend's concentrated form unaware of the new threat. He watched as the beast raised its sword and as his friend slowly turned around, completely unprepared to defend himself. Without a thought of his own safety he threw one of his knives, watching with a sickening satisfaction as it lodged in the beings throat, killing it instantly.
So caught up in his friends newly acquired safety he was unable to detect the sound of a bow being notched. So caught up that his friend was alive for the time being he almost missed the expression of horror that slowly washed cross his face, almost. Blue eyes widening in fear he quickly turned around only to he thrown backwards. Fear turned to shock as he stared at the vial object protruding from his right shoulder, just below the collarbone. So absorbed in his astonishment that he was injured he did not hear the creatures shout of victory nor his friends bellow of rage. He did not witness his friend brutally kill the one who injured him or the expressions of terror plastered on his allies faces. All he saw was the shaft of an arrow in his shoulder, and his tunic steadily darkening with blood.
