A/N: Warning: bloody battle scenes
South of Forochel. March 30, SA 542
ELROND didn't think. He didn't have time to think. He hacked and slashed, pivoting around to block, stab, and slash again. All he knew was that there were Orcs and wolves, not ordinary wolves but beasts willing to tear him apart.
Orcs were one thing; they were the creatures of the dark, but the wolves were not evil by nature and Elrond wanted to spare them if he could. But the beasts were not themselves. Their eyes burned red with dark flames and no matter the wounds he gave, they attacked relentlessly.
Elrond ducked as a hammer whizzed past his head. He stepped back from the whirling hammer of an Orc when something clamped onto his leg, making him swerve at the weight of it.
Elrond flipped his sword, sinking his steel in the wolf which bit into his greave when the Orc, stepping closer, swung his hammer once again. Elrond saw it coming, but he could not move out of its way with his foot caught in the wolf's snarling jaw.
Gritting his teeth for an impact, Elrond held up his left arm to block the incoming hammer knowing how inadequate his vambrace was against the power of the weapon when a blur of red crashed onto the Orc, throwing it down and its hammer away.
Thranduil kicked away the hammer and moved to stab the Orc when a wolf jumped in front of it, snarling and growling.
Thranduil moved back to Elrond's side.
"Hurt?" Thranduil asked, his eyes never leaving the wolf.
"No." Elrond yanked his foot out of the maw of the dying wolf which had slackened its hold.
"Behind you!" Thranduil shouted before turning to meet another sword.
Elrond turned to block the incoming sword, taking a step to stab it, then stepped back, his back to Thranduil.
Elrond felt Thranduil move to his right. Keeping his back to Thranduil, Elrond followed Thranduil's move, instinctively understanding the Sinda's need to look around. He knew the feeling, the need to assess the battlefield, to see how others fared. Since they crashed into this glade, they did not have the time to assess the situation.
The wolves, four in numbers, along with the two Orcs they were fighting, circled the two of them. These Orcs were no mere foot soldiers.
Quickly, Elrond scanned the glade. Bodies of the wolves and the Orcs lay strewn around the two of them and on the forest floor. Several strides away from them, Orcs and several wolves surrounded the Elven soldiers in the King's uniform, a hunter and two Elves dressed in a muddy white tunic. They were standing, but clearly on their last bit of strength.
Just then, a long howl came from a cluster of trees surrounding the glade.
Elrond felt his stomach knot into a lump of ice. Have they spent too much time? Were they now to face the Wargs? Elrond glanced at the others again. The faces of the Elves were grim, dark, and hopeless.
"Kekeke," the Orc with a hammer cawed. "Give it up, scums. More will come."
As if on cue, three Wargs with riders on them emerged. Large as a horse and black as tar, they sauntered into the clearing, raising the furs about their necks like thorns. Their riders were smaller Orcs, each carrying long spears. Their dark, greenish skin and clothing made them look like a gigantic wart on the back of the beasts.
One warg and its rider moved over to the cluster of soldiers. The remaining two Warg riders moved over to Elrond and Thranduil, lowering their spears to aim for the two Elves.
Hearing Thranduil mutter a curse, Elrond swallowed. Wargs alone he could handle, but the riders with the long spears were another matter. The enemy riders not only had the advantage of the height, but they also had a weapon capable of a long reach, a lethal combination. To kill them, he would have to get close, but the Wargs were like armored trolls, difficult to kill unless you hit certain weak spots which required precision.
"We need to deal with the riders first," Thranduil whispered through his gritted teeth. "Or this is going to be a very short battle."
Elrond wondered how many more are coming. They had seen at least a dozen Wargs.
"Lay down your weapons, Elf-scums," the Orc with the hammer said.
"Or what?" growled Thranduil.
"We will feed the rest of your friends to our rides."
"I like to see you try."
Elrond leaned away when he heard something whizz past him. It hit one of the Wag-riders full on the face. The Orc rider screamed, dropping his spear. An arrow protruded from his sallow cheek.
"King's soldiers! King's soldiers are coming!" Somewhere Eryn shouted. At the same time, several more arrows cut through the air. And the ground trembled. Something was coming at a top speed.
The Orc with the hammer withdrew behind the Wargs.
"Elrond, spear!" Thranduil moved the same time he called out. Elrond knew exactly what Thranduil wanted.
Thranduil jumped on the Warg where the rider was still screaming. Elrond rolled, grabbing the dropped spear, he thrust it into the belly of the other Warg. The beast yelped, rearing and swiping at Elrond. The sudden motion threw off the rider. Ducking the snapping jaw, Elrond pounced on the rider, stabbing his sword into the Orc's neck as he fell on the rider.
With a furious snarl, the Warg attacked, snapping its jaw with a savage growl. Then, instead of lunging at Elrond, it backed up, growling and snarling.
Elrond turned, sensing something coming at him. An enormous bear, greater than any he had seen, let out a roar. As it charged, it swung its enormous, clawed paw. Elrond held up his sword to block it, but instead, the bear clobbered the Warg in the front of Elrond, throwing it clear across the clearing.
Elrond did not waste the opportunity. He flew over to the Warg, splitting it in two. He turned to watch the Bear turned to an Orc near it, took a bite of its arm, ripping it free as the Orc screamed. It swiped away the wolves as if they were mere pests. It sent the wolves flying with its powerful paws. The wolves yelped as they hit the ground, but gathered around and circled the bear.
The bear snatched up the white tree trunk lying by its feet, but the oiled tree trunk slid in its paws as the bear tried to grab hold of it. The wolves, seeing the great beast unsteady, jumped one after another, each sinking its fangs into the furry flesh.
Elrond sprinted and Thranduil followed, their swords slashing at the wolves whose maws held onto the bear as the gigantic creature went down. The white tree trunk flew up as the bear flung its paws. One paw hit the tree. The tree trunk soared into the air, then landed smack on the great beast's head as the bear hit the ground with a loud thud.
The wolf which had bit the back of the bear squealed loudly once before it fell silent.
Elrond ran to the bear, kicking away the dying wolves. The bear growled softly, its breath heavy and slow. Its eyes rolled upward.
"You killed it, Thranduil. It was trying to help us, and you killed it."
Elrond looked about him. The remaining wolves had turned their tails and ran away. He could not see any Orcs in the glade.
"I didn't do anything," Thranduil leaned down for a look. "It was the tree trunk."
"The tree trunk you brought down here." Elrond felt the bear's pulse. It beat strong and steady. "Thank the Valar, it's not dead, just knocked down. Still, we could have used its help."
"Where're the king's soldiers?" Elrond looked up, then called out.
"Eryn? Mistress Eryn?" Elrond called when he didn't see her anywhere. Elrond left the side of the great bear, trying to find a glimpse of the Elven woman.
"Here," Eryn dropped down from the nearest tree.
Elrond quickly scanned her and sighed with relief when he saw that she was unhurt. Elrond turned when Thranduil who was looking around next to him moved away, sheathing his sword.
"The King's soldiers?"
Eryn shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I thought you could use a break."
"Aron!" Thranduil called out loud.
The Elven soldiers and the hunter were sitting on the ground as if their legs could not support them. Only one of them stood up, an elderly Elf who leaned heavily on his sword. He was bleeding on the side of his neck and one thigh.
"How's your injury? Have you seen Commander Aron?" Thranduil asked.
The soldier looked up, his eyes grave. Elrond's heart sank. The old soldier opened his mouth to speak when there was a sound from a tree just at the edge of the glade where the battle took place.
An Elf, dressed in the dirty white tunic embroidered with the two silver swans, walked out from behind a tree. He wore no armor, and his feet were bare. His face was bloody and swollen. He stumbled as if he could barely walk.
Thranduil ran to him. But before the Sinda could reach him, the Elf was yanked back.
Behind him stood the Orc who had swung the hammer at Elrond. The Sauron's creature grabbed the Elf, his arm around the Elf's throat, another hand holding a dagger under the Elf's chin.
Thranduil lowered his sword and straightened. Elrond grabbed his sword.
"Let him go," Thranduil growled.
"Lay down your weapons, or Turok kill this one."
Thranduil took a step closer. "Your master would not want him harmed, Turok."
"Kekeke," The Orc laughed. "You don't know Master. He don't need him no more so if you not lay down your weapons, I kill this one and all of you."
Just as Turok said so, the Orcs and the wolves returned to step next to the Orc. There were about ten of them.
"Thranduil." Elrond moved in front of the soldiers, knowing they were in no condition to fight now.
Just then, another loud howl rang through the glade. Elrond glanced back at the Elves behind him. They tried to get up, but they were exhausted and most of them were injured. Eryn alone stood a few step behind him, near the two dead Wargs, her bow ready.
"Where's your army? I don't see them. Mine are almost here. Kekeke," the Orc cawed. "More are coming. You have no choice. Drop your weapon."
"You want us alive," Thranduil frowned as he took another step closer.
"You and him," the Orc gestured toward Elrond. "You two come with us and I will let this one and the others live. If not," The Orc dew the Elf closer against him and pushed the dagger in, drawing blood. The captured Elf gritted his teeth, his face turning red with strain.
"This one will be the first to go," the Orc growled, its dark eyes flaming with hatred.
"Go on then." Thranduil's voice was ice cold. "Kill him. If you can." Thranduil took another step, just a stride away from the Elf and the Orc.
"Thranduil," Elrond warned as he raised his sword as the wolves and the Orcs drew closer.
"Eryn?" Elrond turned to Eryn behind him. He was asking if she could make the shot.
She didn't say a word but drew her bow, but her eyes moved to Elrond. In her eyes, Elrond got his answer. Even if she could, it would have been almost impossible without hurting the Elf. The Orc was almost completely hidden behind his prisoner.
Just then arrows whistled through the trees. At the same time, Thranduil moved. There was a flash as Elrond blinked.
The Orc fell, a spear through his head while his hand, severed of its arm and still holding the dagger, flew up in the air. The Elf fell forward into Thranduil's arm.
The Orcs and the wolves pounced, and Eryn's arrows flew past Elrond as he raised his sword to meet the oncoming attack. But they didn't come.
More arrows came flying out of the trees behind the Orcs, shooting down the wolves. And when the Orcs turned, two warriors stood there. Elrond's heart sang when he recognized them.
"You know, your Warg riders should not have killed Thoron's horse. Now, he is pissed. Don't say I didn't warn you." Baldor laid the great sword in his hand against his shoulder and stepped aside. Thoron stepped forward. In his hand, he held two long spears, the kind the Warg riders had. The Silmacil was a terrible sight to behold. He was covered in black blood, his armor torn and dented here and there. His face had a fresh gash on one cheek, and his eyes burned like the bonfires.
With a terrible battle cry, Thoron charged. He hurled one of the two spears, catching one of the five remaining Orcs in the neck. With the other, Thoron whirled it around his arms, then swept it across the feet of the three Orcs who stood close together. As soon as the Orcs hit the ground, they found Baldor's great sword. The last remaining Orc turned, met Eryn's arrow as well as Elrond's blade that found the gap between the iron plates of its armor.
"There, there, Thoron. Feel better?" Baldor padded Thoron's back which heaved like ocean waves.
Elrond ran to the two Silmacil. "It is so good to see you."
Thoron turned, his eyes narrowed into slits.
Elrond felt sweat run down his back. "You…uh…want me to check that," he pointed to the bloody gashes on Thoron's cheek."
"Nah, he'll be fine. We've had our share of Warg slashes. This is nothing. You should have seen the…"
"We trusted you," Thoron said, cutting off Baldor. "The king trusted you."
Elrond felt himself shrink. He could not meet Thoron's eyes.
"I'm sure Elrond feels bad. It happened already. Nothing that can be done now. We have to get ready for the Orc army. We have less than an hour, Thoron."
"The Wargs," Eryn said, stepping next to Elrond. "There were at least a dozen more Wargs on their way, and they should be here about now."
"You need not worry about them, little mistress," said Baldor. "We took care of them. Otherwise, we would have been here much earlier upon hearing the horn." He turned to Elrond. "But, how did you get down here so fast? The Wargs took us longer than we expected, but I thought we would arrive here before you two got down here."
"We did not know these many wolves would be joining the Orcs," Thoron said looking around the glade. There were more than a dozen wolves on the ground. "Perhaps we should have come here straight."
"We thought our soldiers would be enough to hold until we joined them before you two rascals come down that cliff." Baldor shook his head.
"Elrond!" Thranduil called. Elrond ran to the Sinda, grateful to escape the presence of the two Silmacil.
"The bleeding, I can't stop it." Thranduil moved over as he held a torn tunic wrapped around the Elf's neck. It was soaked in blood.
Elrond checked the Elf over and was relieved to find that the wound was not deep despite a lot of blood.
"Are you Gwinion?" Elrond asked. The young elf nodded, his face white.
"They took him. That warg and the rider took Commander Aron," Gwinion said.
Elrond glanced at Thranduil whose face was devoid of emotion.
Eryn handed Elrond a bottle. "It will keep the wound sanitized."
After washing the wound with what Eryn gave him, he let Eryn bind the wound. She seemed to know how to handle injuries.
Thoron and Thranduil gathered the Orc weapons as Elrond and Eryn examined the four soldiers and the hunter. None of them were mortally injured, but their wounds were bad enough that they needed time to heal. Baldor handed out food and drinks from his pouch.
The hunter, dragging his injured leg, went over to see to the bear.
"We don't have much time to prepare," Thoron said. "A company of Orcs are headed this way. They should arrive within an hour. We need to prepare our defense if we are to survive their onslaught."
"I could still use a bow," the elder soldier said. "And so do other three, except the youngest," he pointed to a soldier whose arm was broken.
"There is a spot just in front of the cliff," Eryn offered. "It is surrounded by boulders. We could use the rocks as a shield, keep the horde off for a little while."
"And then what? What can we do once our arrows are spent? With just five, six," Thranduil turned to Gwinion, "of us standing. Six of us against fifty, sixty Orcs?"
"We sent my horse to go find the other soldiers who had taken the other trail," Baldor said. "But, I am unsure how soon they can arrive."
Someone spoke or growled. It was more of a mixture of a growl and a hiss than words.
"A village?" Thranduil said suddenly, then turned. They all turned. A man stood there. A very tall and bulky man with a thick curly head of hair and beard. The almost fur-like hair covered most of his chest. He was a tallest man Elrond had ever seen. He was perhaps even taller than Thranduil who was the tallest amongst them.
"Who are you and where did you come from?" Thranduil asked.
The hunter who stood behind pointed to the man. "It's a bear. The bear turned into this man. He a Skin-changer. I heard about it from my fellow hunters. There is a whole village of people who can shift their body into the shape of a bear."
The man stepped closer. He had no weapons in his hands but had a powerful presence. The corded muscles of his arms and legs were thick, almost twice that of Gwinion who was a lanky young lad.
The man's voice was deep and growling. He spoke again, half a growl and half a hiss. Elrond knew all the languages that were known among the Elves, but he could not make anything out.
"Over those hills? Will they help us?" Thranduil asked as if he understood.
"You understood that?" Baldor raised his eyebrows.
"Don't you?" Thranduil knitted his forehead. "It sounds like Sindarin to me although very hissy."
"What part of it sounded Sindarin?" Elrond asked. "There is nothing intelligible in what he said and I think I studied most of the known languages in the Middle-earth."
"What is he saying?" Thoron asked.
"His name is Bodvar, son of Bjorn. They have a village over the hill north of here, about four to five leagues."
The man took a pendant in a leather string from his neck.
"He said to send someone to his village and show his father the pendant. His father is the chief there. They will send people to help him. He said he will fight with us."
"That is great news, but north of here, that means someone has to go through the coming Orcs. But who will we send? It has to be someone fast and stealthy. Someone in top of his form." Thoron looked about the four of them.
Elrond pulled at his braid. Besides Eryn, only the two Silmacils, Thranduil and himself were uninjured, but that would also leave one less warrior to face the oncoming Orcs. Four or five leagues meant four hours of travel if he was running.
"I'll go," Eryn said. "You will need every able-bodied warrior to survive. I am not a melee fighter, so will not be much help here. But I can run fast. Five leagues would be about four hours. I think I can do it in three if I push myself."
"Four hours through rough terrain and uphill, Mistress Eryn. It is too dangerous." Elrond shook his head. Running was not all that was involved.
"There are Orcs. You may outrun Orcs, but not their arrows."
"I've done it before. This region is mountainous and there are trees to hide me. And, of course, I have my bow."
"Mistress Eryn, you are not an archer. I think we both know you are not all that you represented yourself to be," Thranduil said.
"I represent? What did I represent to you except what you assumed because of how I dressed and wore my hair? And why should you think my people are so different from Noldor and Sindar? Because we look different? But are we not Elves? Our women do not kill nor enjoy doing so, just as the women of Sindar and Noldor. Why would we be different? We wear armor and braid our hair because we do not live in walled cities nor do we have large armies as you do. If our location is known and we feel a threat, we must take our belongings and move to avoid conflict. And we train to learn how to use bows and knives. We live in smaller numbers so everyone has to contribute, whether it is defending our homes or gathering food. And yes, some of us are great archers and some do well with the daggers. But not all are. Our women prefer gardening, growing, and making bread over other chores as all yours do. If you assumed all of us wielded knives and shot bows because that is how we looked, that is the fault of yours, not mine."
"Fine. I assumed wrong. But, that does not change the fact that you are not a warrior, and the way is dangerous."
Eryn looked up, her chin raised, her eyes shining bright and defiant.
"What is a warrior to you, oh great prince? Must all warriors wear shining armors and wield bright swords? Must they stand in front of his vast army, brandishing weapons and strike down his enemies left and right? Do you think soldiers are only those who work with their hands? There are those of us who use our eyes and ears, and those who use our legs. Do you think an army consists only of those who wield weapons? How about those nameless people who forgo sleep and food to feed, clothe, and arm those soldiers? They are never acknowledged and never thanked, but are they not warriors? How about those mothers who stand as the last defense, who died protecting their children? Are they not warriors? I have served my people, I spied for my people with these eyes. I made thousands of arrows with these hands. I carried hundreds of baskets of arrows, food, medicines, and provisions for our warriors through the chaos of battlefields when the sky and the forest burned with the fires of the dragons; I ran through the throng of Orcs and wolves and wargs, carrying the messages to other villages, to other allies with these legs. Am I not a warrior because I don't swing swords, shoot straight with my bow? I served my people, risked my life many times over. I believe I have earned the right to call myself a warrior."
"Dear Valar, you are your people's veritable Silmacil," Baldor laughed.
"Silmacil? White Sword? What's that?"
"The ones who work in the shadows as our eyes and ears, hands and feet in the most difficult assignments, the great hidden warriors who don't get recognition or even thanks, but are our greatest warriors," said Elrond, bending his head slightly toward Baldor and Thoron.
Skin-changer—Beorn (one who can change into a bear) is the only Skin-changer known in the Third Age. But, Tolkien states that there used to be many more. It is believed that the inspiration for Beorn came from the Saga of Hrolf Kraki, a Norse saga about the King of Denmark. So, the names of the Skin-changer OCs for this story are drawn from this Norse saga.