I own nothing to do with Lord of The Rings. Review please. Enjoy.
Gimli was fighting. There were far too many enemies, his breath came out too shallow and fast. Another Orc got too close and realized it too late. It fell with a heavy thud. How many was that? 50? 52? Drat he'd lost count again. To be fair there was a lot of noise at the moment and that wasn't helping his thinking in the slightest. He'd just have to start over. He hit an Orc in the gut with his ax. One. He spun around when he felt hot breath on his neck. Thud. Two... He continued his rapid kill-counting for ten more minutes.
Then he stiffened as he sensed something was wrong. The tide of the battle seemed to shift, He looked around in slight confusion, Did he hear war drums? Or was his hearing acting strange because it was too loud. The noise stopped almost as soon as it had started. He shook his head to stop the buzzing in his ears. It only made his headache worse. He cursed his head and then continued to fight.
Ten more minutes and twelve more kills later he sensed another shift in the battle. His kill total was now thirty-seven. More Orcs surged toward him like a black wave of evil. He felled three more Orcs to his mighty ax and then realized that in his killing frenzy he'd been pushed away for the main battle ground. He cursed as he looked around for his companions in the black tide of Orcs. He didn't see them. He hadn't gotten that far away. Had he? The Orcs cornered him. He wouldn't be cornered his pride would not allow it. He slashed even harder with his ax, not even bothering to count how many Orcs he killed. He didn't care anymore. Was it his fear or his anger that made him lust for his enemies blood like he lusted for wine even when he was drunk? Yes that was how he felt. He felt drunk with rage and his desire to see his enemies fall. Suddenly his energy seemed to melt. The world seemed to slow down. While the Orcs advanced faster and faster. Red spots danced before his eyes.
He'd been stabbed in the back.
He fell to the ground as a red hot fire entered his veins. only this time the fire weakened him instead of giving him the strength and the rage he had possessed only moments ago. This was not a fire made of rage and strength. This was a fire made of pain. The Orcs left him and went on to prey that was still able to fight them. Where was everyone else? Why hadn't they saved him yet? Anyone. Eomer, Gandalf..Anyone at all at this point he'd even accept help from one of the Hobbits or even that irritating, annoying, know-it-all of an Elf. His pride flared up within him. Was that what he'd come to? He spit on the ground, the gesture was meant has a sign of defiance. He would not except help from anyone. He was not going to die out here in front of his enemies. He stumbled to his feet and walked slowly away towards the Glittering Caverns. The last of the distance seemed longer than he'd remembered. His heart beat slowly. The world still seemed unnaturally slow to him.
The stone felt cold against his back as he lay down in one of the many caves that made up the Caverns. He tried to calm his shallow breathing. He looked around him, trying to find something to focus on besides the pain. Diamonds hung above him, like stars set in stone. Red rubies made up the walls of the cave. Rubies as red as his blood. His pride left him and was replaced with fear. What was going to happen? He wanted to blame someone or something for his misfortune. Had it always been this hard to breathe? The pain subsided for a moment, only to return with new force.
His tears mingled with his blood. It hurt, the fact that he was dying hurt. He had no idea how long he was in that cave. But the stones blocked out the sounds of battle, peaceful silence. He gave a sigh of relief, and stared at the diamonds above his head. In that moment he would have traded all the gold and silver in the Caverns for his life.
For a moment he closed his eyes and saw white nothingness. Was this death? He'd always thought death was black and cold, but this death was numbing and blindingly sliver-white. What would he do in death, would he walk with the Valar or would he stand frozen in time? The light behind his eyelids dimmed and he awoke as if he'd been dreaming.
He thought he heard footsteps, hurrying footsteps that echoed on the stones so loudly that he wanted to cover his ears. "Go away." He mumbled. Although he wasn't quite sure that the words were more than random whispers. Somebody entered the cave but all Gimli saw was a fuzzy black outline. He focused on the diamonds again, he wished they were real stars. He was losing his wits again, slipping away towards the sliver light again. The black outline of the person moved toward him and he felt a cloak fall down around him, the gray fabric felt soft. He wanted to stay under it forever as if it would protect him from anyone or anything. He heard a voice. "Is he gone?" It sounded like one of the Hobbits. Another voice, although Gimli couldn't tell who the voice belonged to answered. "He's gone, though where he's gone to I don't know?" Then Gimli couldn't feel the cloak anymore, and he saw silver lights. Diamond stars.