Here we have it. Our first completely new chapter since 2014.
Enjoy!
And so it was that three days after the feast, the band of King Elessar and his allies began their journey to the realm of The Forgotten People of Gondor, to aid them in their journey to Eryn Lasgalen.
The beginning of the journey was without event, for Calil took her place between Aragorn and Eomer, both of whom she had grown fond of during her week in Minas Tirith. Since their council and feast, she had gone to great lengths to avoid the fair Elvenking, so abrasive did she find him - for all he had agreed to take in her people. He rode at the far end of the line of kings leading the way, a shining figure atop his war-elk. They were only a few leagues away from her city when a black arrow flew past her. "Ambush!" voices around her cried, and she withdrew her sword with gritted teeth.
Soon the air was thick with arrows as Orcs, some marching on foot, some mounted on wargs, flooded them. Beside her, Anborn threw himself at her, pulling them both out of the saddle. "You're not armored," he snapped. "Make yourself less of a target!" Then he was off, sword flying as he struck down many an Orc. While the men had outfitted themselves for battle and rode heavily, clanking in their armor, the King of the Forgotten People of Gondor wore only a layer of mail, not caring to be slowed down by the weight of armor.
For a while, all was lost in the haze of battle. Her sword sang, leaving Orc-blood streaming behind her; her allies appeared to fair likewise. They made impressive figures, tearing through their attackers. She knew she would long hold the vision of Thranduil, blond hair streaming, flying through enemies, sword flickering this way and that in the light. No Orc was his match. She could smell the blood soaking the grasses, hear snarls of wargs and the cries of men and creatures dying around her. Even the Lord Elrond was a sight, gleaming in golden armor as foe after foe fell beneath shining blade.
They were, unfortunately, greatly outnumbered.
Each king had their own company of about fifty men; the Elvish lords Elrond and Legolas, as well as she, had brought with them fewer groups of about ten.
How did this happen? Calil wondered, swiping her forearm across her forehead to rid it of sweat before it dripped into her eyes. We should have known of a party this large crossing through our lands. Their scouts had returned for the past week without incident. Facing two Orcs of her own, she heard Anborn grunt in pain behind her, and a thud as he sank to the ground. Whirling, she dispatched the Orc who had cut deeply into his shoulder, and the two with whom she did battle. Taking advantage of the momentary peace, she knelt next to him, ripping her tunic to begin a makeshift bandage.
"How bad?" She asked him.
He grunted. "Not too deep, but the blade was poisoned; I expect I shall faint in a moment."
She cursed, rushing to bind his wound before they were surrounded again. His eyelids were already fluttering as he fought unconsciousness. She whistled, and her warhorse Hasleth came forward to guard his back. He caught her hands, and had begun to say something when she heard heavy feet thudding behind her, and was forced to whirl and give battle her focus once more. She had blocked the Orc's swing and run him through on a retick when she heard Anborn slump fully to the ground behind her. Gritting her teeth with purpose, she stood over him, protecting her friend and advisor as best she could as the battle raged around them. Unfortunately, being stuck in one position made her vulnerable, and her enemies realized it. Swiftly they redoubled their efforts to reach her and her fallen advisor. Orc after Orc she dispatched, and yet the stream of those willing to fill the place of the just-fallen never seemed to slow. She was tiring, she was aching and bruised from the fighting, and she was badly outnumbered. And worse, she could not lose focus for a second to check on her allies or call for aid; one mistake now would mean her or Anborn's life. Even with her horse and her well-aimed hooves defending her back, Calil was struggling to defend her front and sides from such a multitude of opponents. I am going to die here, she realized. Me and Anborn both.
Then Thranduil, of all people, was there. Toward them his elk swept, antlers tossing foes about. He whirled, sword out, never still, and left to her the Orcs to her left. When they had a moment of breath, he reached down a hand to her, a small smirk and a lifted eyebrow querying her. She knew he expected her to allow him to pull her up and out of the fray; instead she bent, slinging Anborn's arm over her shoulder and supporting his weight as best she could. She stretched the arm over her shoulder in Thranduil's direction. He held her gaze with his own steady one, and somehow in those depths, she fathomed she saw surprise. Surely he did not expect her to leave her best advisor behind, to death and torture? It mattered not, for in the end, he pulled Anborn up in front of him and defended her as she swung into the saddle.
"Fall back!" she cried, sword aloft and wheeling her horse nimbly to the south. "Fall back to my city!" With a glance to make sure Thranduil stayed with her, she lead the way to do as she had directed, slashing at those Orcs who tried to attack as they rode past. She heard many hooves pounding earth behind her as the rest of the company followed, the howls and eerie, ringing barks of the wargs behind them.
They rode for all they were worth, grasses and wind flying by, without gaining any distance from their pursuers.
"You would take them to your people?"
Calil did not bother to meet Thranduil's gaze as she smiled - a cold, bloodthirsty smile. "I would."
When they were but two leagues from her city, she withdrew a horn and began to blow. Three long blasts she gave, followed by two short ones. Twice she did this, and after the second time, a return horn call answered her. Ahead, the tent city grew on the horizon. As they rode forward, it seemed as if someone had kicked a hill of ants, so much movement was there going on inside. It was only a few moments after this, to Thranduil's surprise, that a force some two hundred strong galloped toward them at full speed, the cry "To the King!" ringing in the air. The Forgotten People's riders overtook them, opening to allow those from the battle through their ranks, and formed a line behind them.
Calil raised her sword, crying, "Fall in line!" to those behind them, directing them to join the new force of warriors. She, however, surged into the city with a gesture at Thranduil to follow her, sliding to a stop near the center courtyard and throwing herself off her horse. "We need healers here now!" she cried, again in that voice that seemed to be able to carry over the crash and bang of battle, as she yanked Anborn from Thranduil's elk. People came rushing forward to help her, and she left her advisor in their hands before swinging back into the saddle. "A fine steed you are," she told Hasleth, patting her gently. Grey eyes met cold blue as she looked at Thranduil. She was surprised he had been so helpful during the battle - he had saved both of their lives - but she could not fathom why he was allowing her the command she had taken, in the the heat of battle. Nor could she begin to guess what thoughts were lurking behind those unreadable eyes and expressionless face.
"Are you ready for one more?" She asked him, at length.
His only response was a kingly inclination of the head, a gesture forward with his sword, and "After you, Your Majesty."
Battle still lighting fire in her veins, she threw her head back and her laughter rang the air, before galloping toward the battle she could hear ensuing in front of her city.
Our first battle.
I know it's a short one. This chapter was actually started when this story was being regularly published - and then it died with my old laptop. So, here we are, completely afresh and written from scratch. I have a feeling that old chapter had gems of moments that are now forever lost, but what can you do?
Could it be? Will Thranduil stop being a shit and learn to respect our King of Thieves?
Up next: the city clears and our Kings get to finally see Calil in her natural habitat.
Many thanks,
KiwiChookie