The action is concluding! As the story begins to wind down, thank you all for being a part of it! Enjoy!
"Slowly, now," the Orc barked, "so we may enjoy your death!"
Legolas clenched his fists in anger, but complied. The lives of the company hung in the balance, he had to do as instructed. He was still protected by the boulder, standing behind it. His head and shoulders poked from behind it, and from there he was able to see the company.
An Orc broke away from the pack and stormed to Legolas' bow lying on the rocky gravel. With a hideous scream of glee, it stomped on his precious weapon and destroyed it.
Legolas turned away, feeling his heart flare with rage at the sacrilege.
"Step out from behind that infernal boulder."
"Do not, Legolas!" Gimli shouted, "Stay where-oof!"
Gimli doubled over as the fist of an Orc plunged into his stomach. He gasped for air, reeling from the sudden pain.
Legolas' eyes widened and he spoke urgently, "Do not hurt him!"
"Then do as told!" the Orc growled, "Or we take off his head next!"
Gimli was sputtering and huffing, but he managed to stand upright again after a few moments.
Legolas sighed and felt weary and weak. He staggered slightly, his heart pounding as he placed his hand on the boulder as guidance. The Elf slowly walked out from behind the shelter of the boulder and in full vulnerability of the Orcs and their weapons.
Frodo's eyes widened upon seeing the Elf, "Legolas! You are injured!"
The Mirkwood Prince had almost forgotten about his wounds, but he looked down at his abdomen to see that his bindings from earlier were coming loose. His tunic was stained with red.
"Release us this instant!" Gandalf bellowed, "Can you not see he will die should we not help him!"
Legolas stood tall, attempting to maintain his graceful composure, but knew that Gandalf's words heeded truth. He would die if he did not treat his wounds. The wizard could not act without his staff, which was quickly confiscated by the Orcs when they were captured.
Boromir struggled against the grip of his captors, "If the Elf dies, then I swear upon my the grave of my mother that the forces of the Kingdom of Gondor will pursue you until the ends of Middle Earth and tear you limb from limb!"
The Orc laughed menacingly, "We do not fear death! The Elf, however, deserves it! He will be good meat for our Wargs, and when word is sent to King Thranduil of Mirkwood that his Prince is dead, we will consume his territory for Mordor!"
At this point, the Orcs were not focused on Pip and Merry and their exchange of glances that issued a silent conversation. While the creatures of Mordor were growling and snarling, the hobbits had devised a plan.
They realized that Legolas needed immediate help, as he was injured and weaponless, and that their unintimidating appearance would create the perfect distraction for the Orcs.
Pip reared his leg back and kicked the nearest Orc so hard, a grueling yell emanated from the surprised beast.
"Now!" Merry shouted.
At this, Frodo and Sam took action too. They charged the nearest Orcs surrounding them with defiant yells and kicked and tackled them to the ground. The moment the remainder of the company saw the half-lings take courageous action, they all followed. Boromir reared his skull back and head-butted the Orc behind him. He kicked out and his boot collided with another. Gimli's tough armor provided the perfect battering ram as he knocked Orcs right and left. The company was fighting with what they could, including throwing sharp stones, blinding the enemy with dirt, kicking out with their legs, and doing everything they could to avoid the sharp weapons and blows of the Orcs.
Gimli was not as lucky, as the blade of an Orc cut his thigh. He crouched with a yell.
"Gimli!" Legolas shouted, enraged. He sprinted forward with a graceful leap and took down the Orc towering over the Dwarf. The Son of Gloin looked up gratefully, only for a moment, then resumed the fight as though his injury was nonexistent.
The Fellowship was fighting bravely upon the peak of the Jagged Crossing. The Orc numbers were dwindling, the Wargs not near as Legolas had managed to pick most of them off and the rest were unable to make the climb. The company formed a circle, back to back, fighting, kicking, and sparring with the enemies who snarled and spit at them.
"ENOUGH!"
An Orc shouted so loud that the skirmish came to an immediate halt. Both Fellowship and Orcs stopped and looked at the source of the powerful call.
The leading Orc was holding a half-conscious Aragorn by his hair, his head lolling against his chest. A blade was pressed against his throat, digging lightly into his skin.
"No!" Frodo shouted, eyes wide in fear.
"Release him this instant!" Gandalf bellowed.
"One more step and I slit his throat!" it snarled.
None of the Fellowship dared move.
"Your precious leader will be dead before his body reaches the floor," the Orc laughed, "Now, it is high time you and your pathetic company burn-"
THUNK!
The Orc's hideous speech ended abruptly. Its wide, yellow eyes looked down at its chest. A hastily made, wooden arrow stuck straight from his heart.
It choked and gagged for a moment, then fell to the floor dead.
All eyes turned to Legolas, who had managed to gather the broken pieces of his bow and release his final arrow to kill the leading Orc and free Aragorn.
"Now," Legolas said sternly, finally. He was addressing the remainder of the Orcs, "I advise the rest of you beasts flee, or you will share similar fates with that of your dead leader."
The few Orcs that remained went scattering down the mountain in all directions, dropping their weapons and screaming ugly cries as they scurried off down the treacherous path of the Jagged Crossing.
Legolas, however, did not allow this. Though his words had heeded warning, the Elf bounded atop a tall boulder and pulled six more arrows from his scuffed quill. With a steely, unfeeling expression, the Mirkwood Prince fired all arrows and killed every last one of the Orc pack who had chased him for days.
He lithely jumped down from the boulder, but staggered upon landing. A painful groan escaped his lips, as he held himself up against the boulder's surface for support.
Now that he was free, his adrenaline and survival instincts were fading. His body needed rest and healing.
"Legolas?" Gimli's hazy voice reached his ears. His blue eyes blinked, but his vision was spotty, "You alright, lad?"
"Aragorn!" Boromir and Sam bounded to the Ranger's side. Gimli and Gandalf crowded Legolas, who slowly slumped against the boulder. His breathing was quick and uneven, and he held his bleeding side weakly.
"Quickly now!" Gandalf instructed as darkness began to creep up around his vision, "Grab his legs, we must bring him down the mountain!"
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