To everyone who reviewed this thus far: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
I guess that it its true that reviews help you write more quickly. I had
hit a slight rut (looking at maps and reading up on things in Middle Earth
that I am not too conversant with (upcoming), but am studying them to try
and get it right. Thank you again.
Elenath sila erin le! [Stars shine on you!]
Egla Ash had tarried for a few moments after Legolas' departure. The air was warm and gentle, tempting him to linger beneath the oak tree. He closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips, his feelings of discontent faded as he contemplated his friendship with the Elf. He didn't see the three Elven archers that moved silently up the hill behind him, arrows ready.
"Gwanath tol an le, Orch!" [Death comes to you, Orc!]
He spun toward the unfamiliar voice, moving to his feet. So it was as he had feared. He saw the hatred shining in their beautiful eyes, but also something akin to the emotion he had seen in his fellow Orcs' eyes when they were about to kill an Elf: satisfaction. He would not make a move to defend himself, not against them, Legolas' kin. He had stood by silently, cursing his own weakness and fear, as the Elves had died screaming, bond to Mor Sarn, the vile black post beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Legolas was the only one that he had saved. He grieved that their friendship had been so short, but it had been a wondrous time. Even if it must end this way. He knew that the Elf would mourn his passing and that was a comfort.
"Namarie, Legolas Elvellon." He whispered, trusting that the tree would tell his friend of his final words.
He stood tall, hands at his sides as the first arrow slammed into him. He glanced down at it, seeing that it was slender, pale and fletched with beautiful feathers, much like the arrows that Legolas carried. The second arrow hit him and then something happened that sent shudders of horror through him.
One of the Elves cried out in pain and astonishment, his eyes on the long black arrow that pierced his chest. More black arrows filled the air. The Elves, wounded, staggered away; crying out for help that they knew was not coming.
Egla Ash dropped to his knees, his black blood seeping to the ground beneath the fair oak tree.
"Get up, Forsaken One. You are coming with us."
He was pulled roughly to his feet, his eyes filled with shock and fear.
Lumbule smiled.
"Didn't think to see us again, did you?" He rasped. He yanked the arrows from Egla Ash's body and smeared the thick black salve that Orcs favored over the wounds and bound them quickly. "Can't have you dying yet, can we?" He bound Egla Ash's wrists with black rope, the sharp metal cutting into even his rough skin.
"What about them?" One of the other Orcs called, gesturing after the fleeing Elves.
"Not now. None of them are the one we want. Let us go before they return in force."
Stumbling in numb horror, he glanced back up the hill. The sky was paling in the east. Dawn was approaching. But this morning he found no joy in it. He was going back to the darkness, back to Emyn Mor Esgal.
Legolas had allowed the guards to lead him away, becoming still and placid in their grasp. Relief filled them. The moment had been very awkward and they wished no ill to their prince, but something had to be done about the Orc. The moment that he sensed that their vigilance had dropped, Legolas pulled away and sprinted into the woods. One of the younger Elves started to follow, but the commander shook his head.
"It doesn't matter any more, Lasbelin. It will be all over by now."
Legolas turned west running harder than he had in a long time. He kept the feeling of panic and fear in check, trying not to think of what he would find when he arrived at Beleg Doron.
"Please don't let him die." He panted. "Not this way." His renewed anger gave him speed. But soon he met with a sight that chilled him. He saw the three archers staggering toward him, blood staining the bandages hastily wrapped about their wounds.
"Prince Legolas, don't go up there! The Orcs attacked us! Come away!"
He slowed and moved to meet them. He stared at their wounds in horror.
"What is this?"
"The Orcs rescued him, Legolas." One of the archers replied sternly, supporting the one who was most injured. His fair face was flushed with anger, his eyes hard as he stared at his prince. "I guess some of us do not know how to judge who our true friends are."
"I don't believe this. They would not rescue him. They would-" He gasped. "Will you be alright?" He asked them, torn between wanting to aid them and the greater cry of his heart – to find Egla Ash.
"Yes, my prince." The tallest archer replied, his voice hard and full of anger. "We will do well without you."
Legolas met the others eyes briefly, and then he turned and ran deeper into the forest. His heart pounded with dread. Orcs had taken Egla Ash. He could imagine only too well what torments they would inflict upon him. To them he was the worst kind of traitor. He feared greatly for his friend.
Don't let me be too late, he thought, relief flooding him when at last the oaks' hill came into view. His steps slowed and he reached for his bow and an arrow. He crept silently up the path. The wood was still, the birds' songs muted. He crouched low and eased behind a tree. Drawing a breath he peered into the clearing surrounding the oak. It was empty.
"No." He breathed, though he was not surprised he knew he was nearly an hour behind them. Carefully he made his way to Beleg Doron, his eyes scanning the trees below.
The giant oak stood silent and tall, its leaves lit by the new sun. Legolas knelt touching the dark blood on the grass. He felt pain lance through him. He wouldn't let this happen. He stood and studied the trodden grass. The Orcs' trail was clear. They were heading northwest. He knew where they were going. He glanced back the way the other Elves had taken. His father would know where he was and perhaps he might even know what he was about to do. It didn't matter. Picking up the arrows that been pulled from Egla Ash, beautiful Elvish arrows, he shoved them into his quiver. He moved down the hill following the Orcs' trail.
They had bound Egla Ash's mouth, the rough material foul tasting and biting into his skin. When he had realized what Lumbule had planned he had begun to struggle and call out to Legolas. But to no avail. One of the Orcs had gone back, paralleling the trail, a hideous grin on its face, its bow grasped firmly in one hand.
No, he thought, misery filling him as he stumbled along behind Lumbule and the other two Orcs. He cannot kill Legolas. But then the realization hit him. No, they would not kill him. They would imprison him again. This time there would be no escape.
"Lousy traitor!" One of the Orcs snarled, kicking him viciously, causing him to fall.
"Stop it, Lorgat. Leave him until later. He'll pay for everything he's done to us."
Lumbule pulled him to his feet and backhanded him.
"Soon." He hissed into Egla Ash's face. "Soon he'll be sorry that he ever helped that Elf."
Egla Ash wondered vaguely how long he could withstand the torture that awaited. But it was only a distant fear. The greater fear was for Legolas. He knew that his friend would come after him and he knew that if he did they would capture him as well.
The trees and flowers that had once captivated him so slipped by unnoticed beneath the careless feet of the running Orcs. The sun overhead was soon going to force them to stop, but Lumbule showed no signs of tiring yet so on they continued. By tomorrow night he knew that they would be nearing Emyn Mor Esgal. He continued on blindly, not caring for what was to come. He only hoped that Legolas would be careful and safe.
Please don't follow me, my friend, he thought desperately. Stay away.
"He'll come for you," Lumbule barked, a grin on his face, seeing the way Egla Ash strained to look behind them. "If he is your friend as you seem to think. You do not know how it sickened us to see the two of you singing together."
The others laughed cruelly.
"We could have taken you then, but I like the odds better this way. Move out!"
They trotted forward, the sun moving slowly up into the sky. Egla Ash found that he could not remember the words of the song he had made about the dawn. Despair washed over him. There would be no escape.
Elbereth, he thought, wondering if he could call upon the Ainu most beloved by the Elves. Dartha ah enni. [Stay with me.]
Perhaps she might hear one of her fallen children.
Dalblung, the Orc sent back to await Legolas, was crouched behind the wide girth of a pine tree, his bow held loosely in his hands. Excitement coursed through him. His orders had been very clear: wound the Elf enough to disable him and then bring him to Emyn Mor Esgal. Easily done. And he would enjoy it. He chuckled delightedly, bouncing on his haunches slightly.
After some time he became aware of the Elf, trotting lightly down the forest path his eyes intent on the obvious trail. The determination on his face, gave the Orc slight pause, but he grinned and lifted the black bow.
If Legolas hadn't been concentrating so intently on the broken ground before him he would have been aware of his danger, but it wasn't until he heard the bowstring sing that he realized how much his guard had dropped. The black arrow sank into this thigh, but even as he recoiled under the blow, his own arrow was flying at the Orc. Unfortunately for Dalblung he had sprung from his hiding place to soon. He fell, the Elvish arrow piercing him through his forehead.
Legolas' head jerked about, waiting for another attack. When none came and he sensed nothing, he grasped the arrow and pulled it from his thigh. He threw it to the ground in disgust and taking one of his knives deftly cut a length of cloth from his under tunic. He wrapped it tightly about the wound, feeling the warm blood flowing down his leg. Grimly he cleaned the fell arrow and placed it in his quiver and retrieved the arrow from Dalblung. Ignoring the pain he started after the remaining Orcs.
He stopped once, quickly gathering herbs. He hated to lose the precious moments, but knew that his wound needed tending. He would be of little use to Egla Ash if he were lame or ill of poison.
Orc arrow tips were usually poisoned and the Elves knew the herbs needed to combat this.
He carefully unwound his makeshift bandage. It had stuck to the dried blood and he eased it off. Fresh blood erupted and he hurriedly staunched its flow. As he carefully chewed the leaves then packed them in the wound he knew that he would have to hurry when leaving here. If the Orcs reached Emyn Mor Esgal he would never be able to free his friend. Not alone. And he knew no one among the Elves would help him. So he had to catch them before they reached the dark hills.
He tied the bandage tightly and stood, grimacing as pain shot through him. But he bent and retrieved his bow and jogged off into the trees.
Elenath sila erin le! [Stars shine on you!]
Egla Ash had tarried for a few moments after Legolas' departure. The air was warm and gentle, tempting him to linger beneath the oak tree. He closed his eyes, a small smile touching his lips, his feelings of discontent faded as he contemplated his friendship with the Elf. He didn't see the three Elven archers that moved silently up the hill behind him, arrows ready.
"Gwanath tol an le, Orch!" [Death comes to you, Orc!]
He spun toward the unfamiliar voice, moving to his feet. So it was as he had feared. He saw the hatred shining in their beautiful eyes, but also something akin to the emotion he had seen in his fellow Orcs' eyes when they were about to kill an Elf: satisfaction. He would not make a move to defend himself, not against them, Legolas' kin. He had stood by silently, cursing his own weakness and fear, as the Elves had died screaming, bond to Mor Sarn, the vile black post beneath Emyn Mor Esgal. Legolas was the only one that he had saved. He grieved that their friendship had been so short, but it had been a wondrous time. Even if it must end this way. He knew that the Elf would mourn his passing and that was a comfort.
"Namarie, Legolas Elvellon." He whispered, trusting that the tree would tell his friend of his final words.
He stood tall, hands at his sides as the first arrow slammed into him. He glanced down at it, seeing that it was slender, pale and fletched with beautiful feathers, much like the arrows that Legolas carried. The second arrow hit him and then something happened that sent shudders of horror through him.
One of the Elves cried out in pain and astonishment, his eyes on the long black arrow that pierced his chest. More black arrows filled the air. The Elves, wounded, staggered away; crying out for help that they knew was not coming.
Egla Ash dropped to his knees, his black blood seeping to the ground beneath the fair oak tree.
"Get up, Forsaken One. You are coming with us."
He was pulled roughly to his feet, his eyes filled with shock and fear.
Lumbule smiled.
"Didn't think to see us again, did you?" He rasped. He yanked the arrows from Egla Ash's body and smeared the thick black salve that Orcs favored over the wounds and bound them quickly. "Can't have you dying yet, can we?" He bound Egla Ash's wrists with black rope, the sharp metal cutting into even his rough skin.
"What about them?" One of the other Orcs called, gesturing after the fleeing Elves.
"Not now. None of them are the one we want. Let us go before they return in force."
Stumbling in numb horror, he glanced back up the hill. The sky was paling in the east. Dawn was approaching. But this morning he found no joy in it. He was going back to the darkness, back to Emyn Mor Esgal.
Legolas had allowed the guards to lead him away, becoming still and placid in their grasp. Relief filled them. The moment had been very awkward and they wished no ill to their prince, but something had to be done about the Orc. The moment that he sensed that their vigilance had dropped, Legolas pulled away and sprinted into the woods. One of the younger Elves started to follow, but the commander shook his head.
"It doesn't matter any more, Lasbelin. It will be all over by now."
Legolas turned west running harder than he had in a long time. He kept the feeling of panic and fear in check, trying not to think of what he would find when he arrived at Beleg Doron.
"Please don't let him die." He panted. "Not this way." His renewed anger gave him speed. But soon he met with a sight that chilled him. He saw the three archers staggering toward him, blood staining the bandages hastily wrapped about their wounds.
"Prince Legolas, don't go up there! The Orcs attacked us! Come away!"
He slowed and moved to meet them. He stared at their wounds in horror.
"What is this?"
"The Orcs rescued him, Legolas." One of the archers replied sternly, supporting the one who was most injured. His fair face was flushed with anger, his eyes hard as he stared at his prince. "I guess some of us do not know how to judge who our true friends are."
"I don't believe this. They would not rescue him. They would-" He gasped. "Will you be alright?" He asked them, torn between wanting to aid them and the greater cry of his heart – to find Egla Ash.
"Yes, my prince." The tallest archer replied, his voice hard and full of anger. "We will do well without you."
Legolas met the others eyes briefly, and then he turned and ran deeper into the forest. His heart pounded with dread. Orcs had taken Egla Ash. He could imagine only too well what torments they would inflict upon him. To them he was the worst kind of traitor. He feared greatly for his friend.
Don't let me be too late, he thought, relief flooding him when at last the oaks' hill came into view. His steps slowed and he reached for his bow and an arrow. He crept silently up the path. The wood was still, the birds' songs muted. He crouched low and eased behind a tree. Drawing a breath he peered into the clearing surrounding the oak. It was empty.
"No." He breathed, though he was not surprised he knew he was nearly an hour behind them. Carefully he made his way to Beleg Doron, his eyes scanning the trees below.
The giant oak stood silent and tall, its leaves lit by the new sun. Legolas knelt touching the dark blood on the grass. He felt pain lance through him. He wouldn't let this happen. He stood and studied the trodden grass. The Orcs' trail was clear. They were heading northwest. He knew where they were going. He glanced back the way the other Elves had taken. His father would know where he was and perhaps he might even know what he was about to do. It didn't matter. Picking up the arrows that been pulled from Egla Ash, beautiful Elvish arrows, he shoved them into his quiver. He moved down the hill following the Orcs' trail.
They had bound Egla Ash's mouth, the rough material foul tasting and biting into his skin. When he had realized what Lumbule had planned he had begun to struggle and call out to Legolas. But to no avail. One of the Orcs had gone back, paralleling the trail, a hideous grin on its face, its bow grasped firmly in one hand.
No, he thought, misery filling him as he stumbled along behind Lumbule and the other two Orcs. He cannot kill Legolas. But then the realization hit him. No, they would not kill him. They would imprison him again. This time there would be no escape.
"Lousy traitor!" One of the Orcs snarled, kicking him viciously, causing him to fall.
"Stop it, Lorgat. Leave him until later. He'll pay for everything he's done to us."
Lumbule pulled him to his feet and backhanded him.
"Soon." He hissed into Egla Ash's face. "Soon he'll be sorry that he ever helped that Elf."
Egla Ash wondered vaguely how long he could withstand the torture that awaited. But it was only a distant fear. The greater fear was for Legolas. He knew that his friend would come after him and he knew that if he did they would capture him as well.
The trees and flowers that had once captivated him so slipped by unnoticed beneath the careless feet of the running Orcs. The sun overhead was soon going to force them to stop, but Lumbule showed no signs of tiring yet so on they continued. By tomorrow night he knew that they would be nearing Emyn Mor Esgal. He continued on blindly, not caring for what was to come. He only hoped that Legolas would be careful and safe.
Please don't follow me, my friend, he thought desperately. Stay away.
"He'll come for you," Lumbule barked, a grin on his face, seeing the way Egla Ash strained to look behind them. "If he is your friend as you seem to think. You do not know how it sickened us to see the two of you singing together."
The others laughed cruelly.
"We could have taken you then, but I like the odds better this way. Move out!"
They trotted forward, the sun moving slowly up into the sky. Egla Ash found that he could not remember the words of the song he had made about the dawn. Despair washed over him. There would be no escape.
Elbereth, he thought, wondering if he could call upon the Ainu most beloved by the Elves. Dartha ah enni. [Stay with me.]
Perhaps she might hear one of her fallen children.
Dalblung, the Orc sent back to await Legolas, was crouched behind the wide girth of a pine tree, his bow held loosely in his hands. Excitement coursed through him. His orders had been very clear: wound the Elf enough to disable him and then bring him to Emyn Mor Esgal. Easily done. And he would enjoy it. He chuckled delightedly, bouncing on his haunches slightly.
After some time he became aware of the Elf, trotting lightly down the forest path his eyes intent on the obvious trail. The determination on his face, gave the Orc slight pause, but he grinned and lifted the black bow.
If Legolas hadn't been concentrating so intently on the broken ground before him he would have been aware of his danger, but it wasn't until he heard the bowstring sing that he realized how much his guard had dropped. The black arrow sank into this thigh, but even as he recoiled under the blow, his own arrow was flying at the Orc. Unfortunately for Dalblung he had sprung from his hiding place to soon. He fell, the Elvish arrow piercing him through his forehead.
Legolas' head jerked about, waiting for another attack. When none came and he sensed nothing, he grasped the arrow and pulled it from his thigh. He threw it to the ground in disgust and taking one of his knives deftly cut a length of cloth from his under tunic. He wrapped it tightly about the wound, feeling the warm blood flowing down his leg. Grimly he cleaned the fell arrow and placed it in his quiver and retrieved the arrow from Dalblung. Ignoring the pain he started after the remaining Orcs.
He stopped once, quickly gathering herbs. He hated to lose the precious moments, but knew that his wound needed tending. He would be of little use to Egla Ash if he were lame or ill of poison.
Orc arrow tips were usually poisoned and the Elves knew the herbs needed to combat this.
He carefully unwound his makeshift bandage. It had stuck to the dried blood and he eased it off. Fresh blood erupted and he hurriedly staunched its flow. As he carefully chewed the leaves then packed them in the wound he knew that he would have to hurry when leaving here. If the Orcs reached Emyn Mor Esgal he would never be able to free his friend. Not alone. And he knew no one among the Elves would help him. So he had to catch them before they reached the dark hills.
He tied the bandage tightly and stood, grimacing as pain shot through him. But he bent and retrieved his bow and jogged off into the trees.