A/N Hey guys! My name is Elenielwen aka "the river hippo" right now haha! (I AM pregnant so I FEEL like a hippo .) Going to try out a LOTR fanfic for the first time.. Wish me luck! :D
Now.. I don't want to waste time writing a long author's note, but as usual there are some things I do need to say.
First of all, I'm not a native speaker. Secondly, I work as an editor, however that leaves little time to edit my own stuff, so if I make huge errors, please tell me so I can correct them. Third, please tell me what you think of my plot, my OC etc, I appreciate all the feedback I can get! Then lastly, I don't mind critique as long as it is kept on a level that is possible to learn something from ;) Meaning I am asking you to refrain from flaming me ;)
Warnings:
Same sex attraction, meaning A MALE LOVING ANOTHER MALE 3
Will contain lime (light sexual encounters)
May contain lemons (explicit encounters)
Contains gore
Contains an OC (!)
Mainly follows the books but with a touch of the movies if needed
The world itself and its inhabitants are not AU although the setting/plot could be considered as AU
Disclaimer:
I do NOT own any of Tolkien's work or Peter Jacksons interpretations!
Unwanted desire
Prologue
A blood chilling howl echoed over the plains. In its wake followed another, soon joined a chorus of snarls and howls that were carried on the slightly chilly autumn wind.
A lone rider, all covered in ragged looking clothes, sped by as a blood curling howl echoed on the plains, this time not so far away from the fleeing rider.
Long dark tousled hair swirled behind the rider as it steered the bay horse to the left. Another howl was followed by a loud string of sharp sounding words. The almost eerie silence that followed was quickly broken by loud noises of metal grinding against metal.
The horse snorted in fear as it raced on in uncontrollable panic, the rider clinging to its dark mane as to not fall off from the speed. The stallion's brown hooves pounded into the ground as it barely avoided a sizzling arrow coming towards its hindquarters.
The rider let go of the mane and grabbed the reins to try and control the panicked animal as it bucked in protest. Long dark horse hair mixed with a curtain of long black tresses as the horse boomed on.
The grassy land's tall dead grass soon turned into yellowing forest vegetation.
The rider took a firmer hold of the reins, ducking for a pair of mallorn branches just as the pursuers turned up behind the horse.
Trying to flank the fleeing rider, the wargs snarled as their orc riders aimed their arrows towards the horse's muscled sides and back to try to make it turn back.
Ducking again and yanking the reins, the rider raised a glimmering and slender sword to defend the defenceless mount from the oncoming attacks. Having to focus intently to be able to dodge each arrow, the rider failed to notice the presence of more wargs just besides the two.
With a screeching halt that caused a spray of dirt, the horse whinnied in fear and reared up. A large brown warg, almost as large as the horse, broke the formation, rushing towards the bucking animal with blinding speed. The rider barely had the time to yank at the horse's reins to stop the bucking as the creature's massive jaws snapped towards the animal's front legs. The horse whinnied once more and reared up, rolling its eyes in pure fear.
With another yank of the reins, the rider swept down swiftly to the side with the lean looking sword, effectively cutting off the foul creature's head before it could injure the mount. The rider of the warg, a grimy four-foot tall orc wearing nothing but filthy looking pieces of cloth and some ring mail armour, growled in menace as he fell to the ground with a clanking sound.
The horse whinnied again as the foul creature fell, once more rearing up as the rider tried to steady the now incredibly sweaty animal. Its large flanks heaved as it shook from the effort.
Then rolling its eyes in panic, the horse darted away when yet another arrow came sizzling towards its hind quarters.
This time the blackened arrow reached its target.
With a whinny, the horse bucked and kicked, just avoiding another black arrow hitting its front leg. The rider steadied itself in the saddle and quickly switched to an intricate carved wooden bow, aiming towards the place the arrows had come from.
Large mallorn trees with long arched branches passed by in a blur as the horse raced on, its neck and body covered in a thick layer of white sweat.
The air of the beautiful forest was filled with the stench of filth, sweat and blood as the rider took aim at another warg dashing towards them. A high pitched yelp sounded as it fell to the ground, a wooden arrow sticking right out its large head. The rider of the vile animal may have been an orc, but it had no chance to catch up on the fleeing rider. A string of curses in a language that made the rider cringe echoed as the pursuit went on.
The entire area was filled snarls and howls as the rider tried to make its exhausted and wounded mount run faster all the while firing arrows in motions faster than the eye could blink.
But the more creatures that were killed, the more there seemed to appear, until the gigantic mallorn tree trunks' beige was completely drowned out by black and brown.
All of a sudden the wounded horse tripped on a protruding root, throwing the rider off as the it fell like a heavy rock. A loud thud and a crunching noise as if snapping a large branch in half sounded as the horse hit the ground.
The rugged leather cape of the rider tore as the horse thrashed its back legs and body that had gotten tangled in the material.
One white and bloody bone was protruding out of its left front leg, and the other leg lay in an abnormal angle. The rider looked at the horse, then braced itself against the seemingly endless wave of wargs coming towards them. With a motion too fast to catch with the bare eye, the rider slit the horse's throat.
The horse shuddered and groaned as the thrashing slowly stopped.
The rider lowered its head for a fraction of a second in respect to the courageous animal and offered a sentence of respect, just as the first wave of wargs hit. Moving faster than the eye could blink, the rider picked up the lean sword from the ground and countered a snapping jaw.
The warg growled as the blade located itself into its maw, the large creature furiously shaking its head and rearing up.
With another just as quick motion, the rider took out pair of twin daggers and ended both the orc's and warg's life with practised ease. A spurt of blood came out, as black as the night. The stench was almost unbearable for one without a strong stomach as the orc's innards poured onto the ground. But the paid no heed and quickly grabbed its sword lodged in the foul oversized warg's mouth. The creature was still shaking in death throes as the sword loosened with a plop.
Barely having time to breathe between the attacks, another maw snapped towards the rider along with the raking of massive claws. With an agile movement, the rider plunged the bloody blade into the snapping maw. The warg gurgled on the steel and fell and immediately the rider whirled to meet another attacker. The dead warg's rider was quicker than the last, swinging an axe towards the rider's unprotected back.
Sensing danger from behind, the rider quickly rolled away and sped towards the only path that wasn't littered with dead bodies. A loud string of gurgling noises and sharp sounding words followed as the small orc and other warg riders took pursuit.
Knowing one against a dozen were bad odds, the leathery clad figure headed into the woods followed by a chorus of frustrated howls and angry curses.
How long would the rider last? The orcs' strategy was most obviously to tire their prey out, as they swarmed the place on all sides, effectively cutting off the retreat.
Parrying an arrow, the hood of the rider fell off revealing a dirty and angular face. Long dark hair hung down, clotted with blood and grime.
But there was no doubt it was a man behind the mask of grime and dirt. A pair of purple eyes narrowed in veiled disgust as the snarling creatures descended upon him like a furious wave of black.
Parrying jagged swords on each side, the man barely had the time to duck and dodge as an foul smelling arrow sizzled past his high cheekbone, leaving a long stripe of filth. The arrow, causing a current of air, revealed a slender yet pointed ear.
It was an elf.
Mocking laughs sounded from every direction as the rider rolled away from a pair of massive paws.
"You know you gonna lose pretty one! Give up now and we might take it easy on you!" an orc with a deformed head screeched.
Its sickly yellow eyes shone with malice as it licked his broken lips.
"We will bring you to the master! He will eat your flesh, slippery one!" laughed another orc who was missing two fingers.
His too large head was full of spikes and intimidating metal piercings. A few of which pus oozed from, adding to the vile stench of the twisted creature.
"He will gorge on your eyes, yes he will!" yet another grunted out, barely able to say the words with heavy accent of its own language.
The orcs laughed in chorus at that, and the wargs chimed in as the man disposed of one more of his pursuers.
But despite having lowered the numbers of enemies, it soon became apparent that the elf was fighting a losing battle. No matter how many heads he cut off or how many wargs that fell, there seemed to be just too many to replace the last.
The man's clotted hair fell around him like a curtain, glued to the leathery outfit.
Parrying two sets of jagged swords, the rider was forced to jump away to keep his balance. The ground had become increasingly hard to fight on, the more bodies and innards that befouled it.
And the smell was... overwhelming.
Even the battle hardened elven man seemed to have trouble not gagging.
But as he spun to dodge another set of swords, he had to bend his upper body as well to avoid the snapping of a pair of jaws. What he had not counted on was the arrows that swiftly lodged themselves in his right and left shoulder.
The flinch he made was enough for one of the wargs to make a lucky sweep of claws on the man's chest. With a sharp exhale of air, the only indication the attack had hit, the man quickly rolled on the ground on reflex.
With another exhale, the elf was just as quick to rise and try to roll away from another pair of jaws. But the movement was not fast enough.
Slowed down by the bleeding, a grotesque paw hit home and raked through leather and into flesh. A slight squelching sound was heard as the fair pale skin underneath the protective gear split open. This time there was a gasp of pain from the man as he stumbled backwards, the entire back bleeding profusely.
The orcs laughed in triumph as the elf stumbled backwards and was forced to roll to the side, barely avoiding another attack from a sweeping axe. Hissing in pain, the elf parried it, but the force of the strike had him falling backwards.
Dark clotted hair mixed with leaves and dirt as he stumbled upwards, but was immediately shoved backwards by a punch in the stomach.
With an "oof" he fell, dizzy from the loss of blood. It was hard to get up again, but the rider forced himself, barely parrying a strike that had his head ringing from the force.
Had he not heard them correctly? Did they not want him alive? At this rate, he was not going to last that long.
But the elf would not surrender willingly. However as seconds turned into minutes, and the orc only laughed while relentlessly struck, though not in vital areas, it became clear that he had lost the battle.
The elf had managed to cut down their numbers to ten, but ten against one were bad odds even for an uninjured person.
Distracted by a sudden dizziness and onslaught of nausea, the rider failed to dodge an oncoming punch.
The punch hit his solar plexus, and with a gasp of pain the elf keeled over from the force.
Despite knowing the battle was lost, he still tried to stand up and defend himself. His legs wobbled and his sight was blurry as another punch landed in his face, sending him sprawling for good on the grimy ground. With fervour, the elven man gripped his slippery sword, not ready to surrender freely. But his limbs would not obey.
The effort to block the kick that came hurling towards his bruised and bloody body was futile. The force had him gasping and coughing up a large amount of blood.
The orc laughed at the elf's futile struggle, and as the elf tried to raise the sword once more the orc kicked the weapon away.
With a demeaning comment, the orc then put a foot on the man's face, all the while signalling to the ones around them.
The last thing the elf heard before everything went black, was a chorus of mocking laughter followed by a whizzing of arrows.