Welcome again!

I was excited to get this chapter out and so I set out to get the fourth chapter finished, even if these chaps are not all that long or extensive either.

But here it is!

Enjoy!!


Chapter Four

"Orcs!"

The thundering cry rang through the air, echoing throughout the surrounding trees that loomed above the band of survivors. Its speaker belonging to a running Meneldil as he stumbled along the softened soul beneath his feet. The wide look of horror in his eyes seemed to double in size when his gaze fell on the group just ahead of him, growing panicked. He waved his hands around frantically above his head and raced past the whispering people to the front; his destination intended for the frozen form of Elestirnë. And when his scattered words rose once more the terrified cries of the others came with it. A surge of fear awoke in the hearts of the men and women as they sprinted forward with their arms full of packs, children, fumbling weapons, and partly carried elders.

"Orcs are approaching from beyond the hill! They're upon us!" Meneldil cried as he skidded to a halt before her, chest heaving from the exertion. His face was completely white from the mixture of fear and grief that wreaked havoc within his body. But still he spoke. "The others of the rear guard are battling them now!"

A sudden sense of grim determination blossomed in her heart.

"Captain Beregond! Belecthor!" She met the men's eyes and grit her teeth as a sudden wave of fierce anger enveloped her being. The feeling flooded her chest and had her jaw clenching. "Muster the frontal guard up. We're meeting the orcs beyond the hill!"

Eldacar went still at her orders, reaching for her wrist when she began to turn away from his. "Sister! Sister, you can't leave. You cannot!"

With a pained look rippling along her feature's, Elestirnë swiveled around to meet his horrified expression directly. Her hands wrapped around his shoulders and steered him towards the silent Arvegil before her.

The commotion picking up amongst the people seemed to become almost blurry to her eyes and silent to her ears as she forced herself to guide the resisting boy along. It left tears in her vision and stung her already aching heart. But the anger she felt was too strong to ignore. She was tired of the running and the mourning that her people had been put through; each face she'd imprinted into her mind spoke to her with yearning. Their fading apparitions nearly begging her to take a stand. To avenge them. To do something that would draw their enemies gazes elsewhere, while the living made a run for it - far away from the sounds of battle.

"Listen to me now, little brother," she said then, quietly. "Our chance to withhold the enemy from reaching our people is before us, here in these woods. And I will not let it slip from my grasp. Not when the lives of every man and woman depends on us succeeding in defeating them."

Eldacar struggled even harder at this point, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"N-no! No, I will not lose you to their foul blades!" He shouted in denial, trying to twist himself from her hold, though it did nothing to break her iron grip. His hysteria grew when he was tugged closer to the solemn faced scholar. "Please, do not leave us. Please sister! They will kill you and chase after us, regardless of any stand against them! Do you not see that?!"

The tears she tried to hold back fell in rows. It smeared her sight as she forcibly dragged her now weeping brother towards the somber man in front of them.

"Take him! Take him and keep going, do not stop for no one! Leave the lone-lands and find the Last Homely House!"

Arvegil took the sobbing boy and secured him under his two arms, meeting her crumbled expression with one of his very own.

"And what of you, Princess." He asked quietly. "What will you do…"

"I have told you," Her resolve strengthened, awaking a fire in her very soul. "I shall stay and fight."

With that she turned away from them, making her way through the rushing crowd. Her chest throbbed with pain with every step she took. The action pulling her further and further from the cries of Eldacar, who was practically hefted above Arvegil's shoulders. But she had to do something. This was it. Their people's fates would be decided here and now within the looming, frost covered, trees. The next part of this journey would either save the refugees fleeing in panic or it would eventually doom them. And the thought of them falling to the hands of the bloodthirsty orcs had left her lips curling and blood singing with vengeance. She had to ensure that the latter did not happen. The families that traveled with her since the flight from their burning home did not deserve to die. As did the warriors who'd placed themselves in the throes of battle.

So, she had to fight, whether she wished to or not.

"My lady! Who will protect the people while they flee?!" Asked one of the warriors she'd been thinking of, Forlong was his name. His terror infused gaze was widening at the angered look on her face. "My Lady?!"

Elestirnë flicked her sharpening stare to him. Her right hand fisted tightly on the handle of her sword as she drew the long weapon from the scabbard.

"You are to protect them with six of the warriors among our guard. Choose who will go with you and ensure that they will make it." The strength in her voice seemed to bolden. "Swear it. Swear that you'll guide them to safety and remain there!"

The startled, and moved, Forlong dipped his head with an emotional depth to his gaze as he fell into a respectful bow. "I swear on the One and our ancestors that we shall bring our people to safety!"

"Then go, while the fight has not reached the other side of this hill yet." Her eyes flaring with unflinching resolve that foretold her will to fight, growing only stronger as she urged him onwards to the people who continued to run. "Protect them and yourselves! We will find you if our fates are set to remain here as the One has judged it. Go now!"

Forlong broke into a mad dash for the few men and women in armor, pulling and directing.

A shout rang in the air then.

"My Lady!" The cry came from the rushing Captain as he bolted towards her with thirteen out of their band of thirty-six survivors, the assembled warriors that had gathered at his orders. The man himself was glaring behind them at the rising hill that separated their herding fighters and fleeing people from the approaching patrol of orcs.

He glanced from the grim expressions gathered and back to her.

"We've a count of ten and three, including you, willing to fight off the orcs and their filthy beasts. And I saw that you sent some of our guards to escort the people to safety, then."

"Aye. We're to regroup with the rear guard beyond the hill and we must do so now." She told the man while directing herself towards the said hill with all the intention to hurry to the others that fought over the great mound. "They've been holding the orcs off for the time being. But I don't wish to prolong their fight with so little allies among them."

Stating that she began to break into a mad run, not caring if any even followed her.

Elestirnë pushed her legs forward, faster.

She weaved her way through the looping trees and their jutting branches with her ears picking up on the noisy sound of battle; shrieks and bellows of man and creatures singing into the waning daylight. The skirmish was growing closer when she rose to the top of the snow-covered hill. Her eyes narrowing in on the mix of mortal beings amidst monstrous beasts. A sudden sense of resolution filled her at the fighting down below. Her shoulders loosening as she gripped the leather worn handle of her sword tightly. She could feel the fast beating of her heart within her chest and the quick pulse of her blood flowing. It drowned the noise out as she inhaled and exhaled deeply, lifting her sword before her chest and face, calming her heartrate.

For a brief moment she could almost visualize her father and his Tower guards training her. Their voices giving out firm and stern commands in her mind. It was a memory that gave her the courage for what she'd do next.

"Wedge formation!"

Her voice cut through roars and shouts, severing the commotion down below. Many having stopped mid swing of their sword or pike to gaze up at the hill, orcs flinching at the setting sun's rays as it reflected around her and the other Tower guards and knights glistening armor, though they were dirtied. But the sight of the Gondorians forming into a near perfect arrow-shaped formation had the men below crying out with rejoice and praise, tears stinging their eyes at the sight of the glaring Princess and her equally scowling warriors behind her.

The snarls from their orc foes shattered the air and shook the very ground beneath them, causing some of the wearied warriors to fall quiet at the returning bellow.

But the answering response did nothing to dim the fire that flickered to life in her heart, which then burst into heated flames as they licked at her heels once she moved to descend the hill. She thrusted her sword into a forward motion, pointing straight at the beast below them. The sneer on her lips was telling of her loathing of the hateful creatures, speaking of the hatred she felt for their wrongdoings and attacks against her people and home. She glared with her entire being. The rage that snaked around her was near palpable and it shocked the few who ran beside her, though they too understood the wrathful emotions that sang in her bloodstream.

"Attack!"

The clashing sound was akin to thunder.

Elestirnë swung her sword with all her might; her lips parted with the howl which scorched her throat as it echoed around their crashing forces. The deadly collision between their kinds was instantly met with blood and death. Her sword severing the brutal head of a screeching orc as it leapt at her with its jowls unhinging and blade swiping at her waist, though it was parried by the help of Belecthor's quick parry. Any thanks she'd offer was silenced by the attacks thrown at them. The parries, thrusts, and evades were one after another. Black and red blood soon stained the armors of every warrior, whether it be of mortal or orc kind. She could taste the foul liquid upon her tongue when she kicked her way through the mass of foes. Its stench filling her nose and sticking to her as she swept under more blows and returned them with as much strength, they gave to her.

The blur of their battle was fast paced and yet endless. A moment seemed to overcome her when she looked around. Bodies and bodies were littering the forest floor – of her people and the evil it fought.

A sudden tackle from behind had dropped her to said blood-soaked ground. The growling hiss from atop her was followed with a set of rough, leathery, hands snaking across her throat and squeezing.

'No! Not now!' She struggled under the hands of the cackling orc above her.

The creature's yellow-red orbs turning into slits at the wide look of frustrated anger swimming in her eyes. A desperate feeling ate at her. The sensation caused her to jerk and yank from side to side, wriggling more and more beneath the orc. Her legs kicked, making her hips lift off the soaked soil. And that's when a sense of clarity settled on her momentarily panicking form. She worked her body even harder; right arm stretching and searching for the sword that laid just before her fingertips. The pain of her airway being squeezed had her vision darkening. It had the honey-blonde female squirming more than before. Because she could not die here, not when her people and brother still needed her.

Then, with the anger that curdled in her very soul, she heaved her hips upwards and shoved at the orc's mangled chest armor till the wretched thing was sent flying above her head and crashing on its back beyond her. It gave the now coughing Elestirnë enough time to raise to her shaking feet so she could pick up her displaced sword. With it now held firmly in her hands, she stomped towards it and drove the tip of her weapon straight into the frantically yowling beast's heart, forever silencing the damned thing's squealing bellows.

"-cess! Princess!" The familiar voice belonged to a bruised and bloodied woman with dark hair and frightened eyes, Beruthiel. Her hands opened in a display of offered peace. "Calm, my Lady. We've killed them. They lay dead…"

This brought her immediate attention to the sprawled-out corpses of the orcs, and some Gondorians.

A ragged gasp came from her as she rose to her full height, straightening her sore and bruised body up from the slouch she'd been put in. Her hands trembled from strain. She ached all over from the skirmish that seemed like it had lasted far longer, though it clearly hadn't. With a shaky exhale, she sheathed her bloodstained sword and rose shaking hands to wipe away at the blood and sweat on her face, which was smeared.

"They've all perished?" Her voice was rough and husky, coaxed with exhaustion and the rasp of being choked. It was a strain to hear. "H- How many of ours lay wounded or dead?"

Beruthiel gave a sad look around.

"We've lost half of our rear guard, including those who came to our aid." The younger woman spoke truthfully and with grief lingering in her tone as she shifted from foot to foot. "I can only estimate that ten and two remain. If about that… I… I do not know, Princess."

Elestirnë rubbed at her face with a weight of unbearable sorrow seeming to press down on her already stressed and wounded heart, as well as her body. "Where is Captain Beregond and Belecthor?"

The sad look grew sadder at the mention of the names.

"What? What is it?" The rasp of her voice deepened with the uneasiness which flamed inside her being at the sorrowful expression taking hold of the other woman's face. She stepped over the fallen orc's corpse and strode to Beruthiel with her brows furrowing.

The purpose in her steps had shaken the slight quiver from her legs, strengthening them.

"What has happened, Beruthiel? What is it that you won't even speak of?"

"Belecthor," the woman began with a soft sigh. "I'm afraid that he was killed in the midst of battle. An orc stabbed him in the back with one of their poisoned pike's. It was an instant death… He lays by the fallen tree. The captain placed him there, hoping it'd keep him out of the fight."

Tears stung her eyes at this.

"Go… Gather those able to move and collect the wounded." She kept her voice blank of emotion, not wanting to break down. Not while standing in the middle of fallen bodies. "Find Beregond, tell him we're to leave when the wounded are up. And tell him that we're to leave the o- others that passed…"

Beruthiel bows with her hand folding over her chest as she turns to go and find the older man.

This left her behind to try and withhold the creaking sobs that worked up her throat; hands starting to tremble as she forced herself to keep her control. It took most of her will to not scream out loud with grief renewed. She clenched her eyes shut to blink away the tears. (Having already swam in her vision when she'd saw the bodies of her fellow comrades littered on the forest floor.) After a while she was able to settle her wavering emotions, enough to walk again.

Her feet were heavy as she trudged over the corpses for the slowly regrouping warriors some ways from her, gathering at the beginning of the hill they'd came down from.

Captain Beregond's bloodstained frame met her as she came closer. His eyes were red, and his face drawn with sorrow. He lunged forward and wrapped her into a desperate embrace, keeping her close to him.

"Ai, you're alright!" He inhaled deeply. "I saw that beast tackle you and I couldn't help but worry for you! Though it seems I was wrong to do so."

Elestirnë dropped into his embrace, releasing her earlier tension.

"Are the wounded ready?" She asked roughly, not managing to hide the horrid rasp from the older man. It had a frown coming over his features at her voice. She ignored that and glanced around at the others, assessing them.

"Aye." He told her with a sympathetic nod. "I've sent Meneldil to search for those that fled when the warnings of the orcs came. But we won't know until he comes to find us."

"That isn't needed, Beregond," Her left hand slipped between her chest armor and her under tunic and cloth. With a simple tug she'd pulled out the crumbled and ruffled shape of a folded map, which she had taken from Arvegil after having a feeling that she would need the map later – and only after the scholar had redrawn it on one of his spare scrolls.

The somewhat relieved look he gave at the sight of the map brought a smile to her tired lips. His gaze was still darkened with new sorrow for those they lost to the skirmish, but not terribly.

"We'll find him along the way, if he trekked after their tracks." She said after unfolding it carefully for them to look at. "I sent Arvegil to with the rest of them to abandon the lone-lands."

She glanced around to the surrounding, and remaining, tower guards and knights.

"Help those who need it," she told the men and women listening. "We must regroup with the others before nightfall. They do not know what has happened to us, yet. And I won't let them fade with despair, when we are close to safety."

"Aye!" They replied, doing as she'd told.


Thank you all for reading!

We are just one chapter away from entering the one and only Imladris!!! I'd planned for them to eventually clash with the orcs, especially the orc patrol that of course would have been sent to look for them. And so this came out from the back of my mind...

If you want to comment, then go ahead!