A/N - --; I think I shall go insane. For the last time, people, I KNOW
that Thranduil did not originally have a ring! Honestly minna, can you
guys not READ??? *glares* Please be aware that this is addressed to the
NON-readers out there, not my supporters. This is a fanfiction. Those who
cannot understand that, please stop reading. Thank you.
The deadline for the art contest is February 3rd. I am hoping by then, I will have finished this story. --; The prize has been changed to: telling me what scene you would like to have written in the prequel and sequel of this story.
Huh? Prequel? Sequel? YUP!!!!! More info later!
Now. . . DUN DUN! Chapter 8!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Shiara came to, the first she was aware of was the intense pounding in her head. The back of it ached terribly and she winced. Groggily, the elf glanced at her surroundings. Trees in every direction. She sighed in relief; she was not outside of the forest. Then where was she?
Just as Shiara was about to get up to get her bearings, an evil grinning face shoved in front of her and a foul stench reached her nostrils. With a yelp of terror and surprise mixed together, she attempted to scoot backwards, only to find that her feet and hands were bound and falling onto her back.
A clawed hand reached down and grabbed her by the shirt, hauling Shiara upwards and slamming her against the tree. A leering orc held her, his breath filled with the stink of decay. In broken speech, it growled, 'We will have fun with this one, won't we?' More growls of assent came from behind him; Shiara peered around with dismay. There about 3-score of the loathsome creatures behind the one holding her.
She glanced quickly to the right of the orc. Her bow was lying there, unstrung; along with her quiver, still full. There would be no chance of getting over there without getting killed in the process. She could still feel her knives hanging in their sheaths at her sides; evidently they had not searched her.
Shiara glared furiously at the orc in front of her, who's other clawed hand was moving towards the neckline of her tunic. They could capture her, but it would NOT enslave her. Quickly, she brought up her two bound hands in a fist and slammed it into the orc's ugly face. Swiftly, she knelt and managed to cut the ropes on the fallen axe of the creature.
Standing up, Shiara faced the others. They were advancing steadily, their lips curled in derision. She glanced once again at her bow. It was well guarded, the orcs knew the danger that a bow held in the hands of a wood- elf. Silently, she slipped her two rapier-knives into positions, with a moment's useless wish that she had more, or at least had Galier with her. He was a master at throwing sharp objects to kill.
Taking a deep breath, she sent a quick prayer to Valar. 'Keep my kindred safe!' She whispered fiercely. Then, picturing Linel and Galier's faces in turn, she said, 'Cuio mae, muindor, mellon!' Then, the young king's youthful smiling face came to mind. 'Melethor. Ai, I've waited too long to say it! Alas, for I shall never see you again!'
With no further thoughts, Shiara leaped into the fray, taking the orcs completely by surprise. Stabbing, thrusting, dodging, and kicking, more and more of the hideous creatures littered the ground around her, their foul blood spilling over the ground. The keen blades of the knives glistened as they moved, cold steel biting into ugly flesh. The orcs subsided for a moment, obviously not expecting such an aggressive attack from an elven maiden.
As they moved backwards, Shiara took a moment to regain her breath. If it weren't for the rips and tears in her clothes, it would have looked as if she hadn't been fighting at all. A sudden sting of pain drew her glance to her arm. The dark tunic was beginning to stain red around the torn fabric. Azure eyes narrowed in annoyance. {So they've gotten me after all,} she thought peevishly. {And here I was hoping that my clothes would stay clean!}
The orcs began to move again, and Shiara saw that whatever they did, they firmly guarded the tree where her bow was laying. 'Cowards,' she muttered. Again, she continued her slaying, always managing to stay one step away from the blade of the axe or scimitar. It wasn't until she had fell around five orcs before she noticed something strange. Shiara's eyes narrowed. Why were the orcs only staying in front of her? None had even attempted to cross to her back, to attack from behind. She was grateful for that, but still suspicious. Surely, they knew that they would have the advantage like that? Trying to see if something was behind her that was preventing them from doing that, she started to turn around.
With a cry of pain, she spun back around as a scimitar blade bit into her side in her carelessness. Furiously, she drove her long knife into the orc that held the scimitar as her other hand slashed at the face of an orc to the left of her.
~~~~~
About 15 minutes later, Shiara had her back a little ways from the tree. Every limb in her body ached, and her hands could barely grip the knives, slick as they were from all the blood. Her tunic was splattered with foul blood and her hair was now ruffled. She prepared for a half-hearted stab to the right, when suddenly, cold steel pressed at the back of her neck.
Shiara froze.
'I do believe that is enough for the moment.' A smooth voice came from somewhere behind her. It managed to sound oily and harsh at the same time, while maintaining a sinister air. 'Cease.' The orcs bowed respectfully and walked backwards without any regards to the dead. 'I am impressed,' the voice continued. 'You have improved in your prowess greatly, Lady, to have been able to fight off my forces armed only with knives. I commend you.'
Shiara stood motionless, masking her face and keeping the anger and fear in her eyes. 'So, you were the one who set these orcs on me and brought me here.'
'Precisely. I have waited long to reacquaint myself with the Lady Dewfire.'
'Reacquaint? Have we met before? I don't seem to recall your voice.'
'You don't? What a pity.'
Shiara could barely keep the rage out of the expression on her face. Was he mocking her? Finally, the blade on her neck pulled away, but before she could react, she was turned around roughly until she was facing her capturer.
It was a man, with pale red hair and eyes that were black and cold. He gave a thin, unfriendly smile. Shiara stared back at him, keeping her face carefully masked. {Who is this?} she wondered. {Have we truly met, or is he lying?} Carefully, she focused in on the eyes. The were dark and unforgiving, reminding her of dark tunnels, without any light to shine on them. The back of her mind gave a small shiver. Where had she seen those eyes before?
And then, briefly, she recalled a night years long past in her childhood. She had been hurrying from the Dining Hall; she, Linel, and Galier had been searching for the prince all afternoon but had unable to find him. The young elf had collided with a tall figure. Looking up, she said, 'Good evening, Instructor Ratham.' She had pressed her lips together in dislike; all 3 of them disliked Legolas's instructor. 'I apologize, but have you by chance seen Prince Legolas?'
He had stared down with those black hollow eyes of his. 'Prince Legolas,' he replied with a sneer. 'is practicing long-overdue hours of his failing archery. I advice you not to disturb him Lady, and bid you goodnight.' Then with a final twisted smirk, he pushed past her with a twitch of his cloak.
Shiara glared at the man in front of her with hatred. 'You!' she hissed. 'What do you think you are doing? Nothing will come of you holding me like this, nothing!'
Ratham gave the elf a horrible look, half smirk, half sinister grin. 'Nothing?' His voice almost slithered from his mouth, like a snake. 'I believe you should think again, Lady. Whether you are aware of it or not, you are a great power behind the throne in Mirkwood. As soon as the King-' he put awful emphasis on the word, '-sees you captive, he shall give up the kingdom without a thought.'
Shiara's eyes sparked. 'You are mistaken,' she replied icily. 'The king would not forsake his kingdom for such one as me.'
He gave a short laugh. 'Is that so? He cares about you. I don't think he would like to see his 'beloved' hurt.'
Rage roared in Shiara's ears. Beloved? {How dare he!} she thought furiously. {To play with emotions like that!} 'No!' she cried angrily. 'What good will the kingdom do for you? You cannot control it, you cannot rule the elves of the wood!'
'True, I cannot rule the kingdom by myself, can I?' Then Ratham smiled slowly. 'But that is the reason I have this, is it not?' He held up his hand. There on the index finger, glittered the gem-set ring stolen from Thranduil.
'You!' Shiara choked. 'You are the one who killed the King Thranduil! You traitor!' Fighting to keep tears of anger and rage from streaming down her face, she glared at the man with all the hatred she felt.
'Indeed,' said the man with contempt. 'Thranduil was a fool. I did not mind driving my sword into him one bit. As I won't ending the life of your precious king, Legolas.'
Shiara's eyes widened. 'No!' she cried in horror. 'You cannot kill him! I won't allow it!' She clenched the knives in her palms and raised her arm to strike. Before she could, the blade was at her throat again.
'I am through playing games,' said Ratham coldly. 'I will say this once, and once only. You are to cooperate with me or Legolas will die earlier then he has to. Stay still and follow and I will see to it that he lives. Do you understand me?'
The maiden clenched her teeth and glared back with steely eyes radiating hatred as she allowed the orcs to warily tie her up again. Releasing her bloody grip on the two knives, she ground out, 'I understand perfectly. But step wary, for soon you shall die by my hand, by Valar I swear it.'
~~~~~
We turn now to Legolas, who was considerably more cheerful than he had been for days. The forest was coming to an end, chunks of sky were now visible. Fresh air blew through his hair, along with the scent of the far-off sea. With a smile upon his face, the king broke into song.
'To the sea, to the sea, the white gulls are crying, the wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling.' Alternately singing softly and humming, he now ran lightly across the forest floor, eager to be out in the open. Then a thought came to him that sobered his mood.
Once again, Legolas slowed to a walk, furrowing his brows. The ring. It had been nearly five days, he had expected to find his enemies by now. He was traveling straight west, out of the forests, towards Rivendell. That was the way the tracks had pointed, but the trail had ended abruptly a day back. He had continued following, hoping that they had gone straight.
Legolas frowned. He had been so occupied with getting out of the forest, he had not realized how odd it was how the tracks had ended. Orcs were normally clumsy creatures, horrible at covering trails. There was always a fallen ax here, a decaying carcass there, broken twigs and grass everywhere. Which had been so in the beginning, but then-- 'It was if they had taken to the skies,' Legolas mused. 'Or to the trees. . .'
Startled by that thought, he looked up. The trees seemed suddenly looming and menacing. Legolas frowned. 'Foolish thoughts,' he murmured.. 'Orcs cannot climb!' Yet for the remainder of the morning, the elf continued to glance at the surrounding trees uneasily.
It was the afternoon when Legolas heard a far-off whinny of a horse.
He stopped immediately, drawing out his bow and kneeling to the side of the path. Orcs did not ride horses, but he could not be sure that whoever was with the horse was a friend. The steed came running onto the path moments later. It was a beautiful dark-chestnut colored horse with a fiery mane. There was a look of terror in its eyes and it shook its mane repetitively while neighing in an agitated manner. It ran straight towards Legolas's hiding place and snorted.
Legolas blinked in wonder at the horse. 'Arod?' he said incredulously. 'How did you come to be here?' Quietly pressing his hands over the horse's eyes and muzzle, he softly sang a few words to soothe the horse as he wondered how the Rohan horse had gotten out of his stable in Mirkwood. 'Now how did you follow me all the way here?' he murmured. 'You won't allow anyone but myself to handle you except for—'
Legolas paled. 'Alas, no!' he cried. 'Valar, no, tell me she did not follow!' He spun around to look wildly behind him, as if expecting Shiara to be standing there. Seeing no one, he continued turning. 'Yrch!' he cried in agitation. 'She shall surely come to trouble in these woods!'
'True,' said a voice from behind. 'But she fought bravely.'
Legolas turned to see a man with red hair and an unpleasant smile on his face. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'How do you know of Shiara?'
The man chuckled. It was hollow, with no humor or laughter in it. 'Ah, your Majesty, have you forgotten your old teacher so soon?' Ratham smiled nastily as Legolas's eyes darkened with unspoken rage. 'Yes, me. As for the other question, that would be because-' He turned over his shoulder and said, 'Bring her.' Turning back, he said, '-she's right here.'
Legolas's eyes widened in horror. Shiara walked forward stiffly from between two particulary big orcs. Twin axe blades were at her throat, ropes bound her hands behind her back and her tunic was ripped in places, and the whole of her left sleeve was stained crimson with dried blood. 'What have you done to her?' he yelled, all of the normal politeness and reserved manner gone. His now steely with rage eyes met with her clear blue ones.
Legolas grew even more angry. 'Release her at once!' he snapped to Ratham. 'You have no reason to hold her captive like that!'
'On the contrary,' Ratham replied smoothly. 'It has been one of my personal goals for the longest time to seize Mirkwood for my own. Violence has never been a preference of mine, so I shall ask you nicely King Legolas.' His black eyes glittered with malice. 'Surrender your kingdom to me and your Lady will be spared.'
The elf stood still. After a while he said, 'What do you need with the kingdom? You can do nothing with it without the ring.'
'That is so. Which is why I have the ring.'
'What?' Legolas cried in fury. 'You—you were the one who killed my father?'
Ratham held up the ring, glinting on his finger. 'Me,' he replied coolly. 'I despised Thranduil. What a fool he was, ruling the forests, thinking he could keep them from harm. When he married her, I hated him all the more. A lovely thing she was, like a flower, with hair like a river of gold.' A look of intense longing appeared on his face and Legolas started when he realized that Ratham was speaking of Lelendil.
'Then they had YOU!' Ratham snarled. 'Your Highness, your Majesty, I could not stand it! But I got my revenge did I not? Thranduil is dead! So choose now, Legolas Greenleaf, either give up your kingdom or see her suffer! NOW!'
Shiara gave a small cry of pain one of the orcs pressed his blade a little harder on her throat. A trickle of red ran down from the edge. Furiously clenching his fists and willing himself not to shoot his bow right then, Legolas stood still. He slowly raised his bow to hand to Ratham.
'No!' Shiara cried. 'Don't, Legolas, forget about me!' She cried again as the orc tightened his grip on her wounded arm.
Legolas raised his head to look her straight in the eyes.
Shiara. What could he do? He could not give up the kingdom, too many people were counting on him. Galier, Linel, his kindred, his dead father. But he could never leave Shiara to be killed by them. Never. {No,} he thought, as he saw the pain in her azure pools. {I could never leave you to them, melethril. Father died by his hand, I shall not lose you.} The home he had lived in for so long, the woods where his people lived—or the one person that ever understood him, the one person that he could love?
'Yes.' Then swiftly, he notched his arrows and shot each of her guards in the heart.
'Fool!' yelled Ratham. 'If you both want to die so much, then DIE!' Furiously, his face blotching red, he turned and drove a dagger towards Legolas.
Quickly, he stepped back, but too late, the blade bit into flesh, driving itself into his shoulder. Dimly, Legolas heard Shiara cry out, but he couldn't do anything now. His vision slid in and out of focus as he backed up from the still advancing Ratham.
Notch, pull, aim. Fly. The arrow embedded itself straight into Ratham's heart. He stopped and staggered forward with almost a maniacal look on his face. Hazily, Legolas pulled out another arrow. Notch, pull, aim, fly. Notch, pull, aim, fly.
'Legolas!!!' The blackness surrounded him, as if it was night. Notch, pull, aim.
Fly. Fly with all your love.
With the final arrow, the king fell, the dagger still protruding from his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N- Major out-of-character'ness. --; Happy? It's done! The major fight scene! Yay! Now review! Good people…by the way, in case you guys are bored, I would really appreciate if you would read another one of my works, The Keys to the Gates. It's an original fantasy, but I would like to get some opinions on it. Just type in my author name. Arigato, and REVIEW!!!!!
Valar – uh, the type of god, I guess of elves and Middle-earth melethril – love (female) muindor - brother
The deadline for the art contest is February 3rd. I am hoping by then, I will have finished this story. --; The prize has been changed to: telling me what scene you would like to have written in the prequel and sequel of this story.
Huh? Prequel? Sequel? YUP!!!!! More info later!
Now. . . DUN DUN! Chapter 8!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Shiara came to, the first she was aware of was the intense pounding in her head. The back of it ached terribly and she winced. Groggily, the elf glanced at her surroundings. Trees in every direction. She sighed in relief; she was not outside of the forest. Then where was she?
Just as Shiara was about to get up to get her bearings, an evil grinning face shoved in front of her and a foul stench reached her nostrils. With a yelp of terror and surprise mixed together, she attempted to scoot backwards, only to find that her feet and hands were bound and falling onto her back.
A clawed hand reached down and grabbed her by the shirt, hauling Shiara upwards and slamming her against the tree. A leering orc held her, his breath filled with the stink of decay. In broken speech, it growled, 'We will have fun with this one, won't we?' More growls of assent came from behind him; Shiara peered around with dismay. There about 3-score of the loathsome creatures behind the one holding her.
She glanced quickly to the right of the orc. Her bow was lying there, unstrung; along with her quiver, still full. There would be no chance of getting over there without getting killed in the process. She could still feel her knives hanging in their sheaths at her sides; evidently they had not searched her.
Shiara glared furiously at the orc in front of her, who's other clawed hand was moving towards the neckline of her tunic. They could capture her, but it would NOT enslave her. Quickly, she brought up her two bound hands in a fist and slammed it into the orc's ugly face. Swiftly, she knelt and managed to cut the ropes on the fallen axe of the creature.
Standing up, Shiara faced the others. They were advancing steadily, their lips curled in derision. She glanced once again at her bow. It was well guarded, the orcs knew the danger that a bow held in the hands of a wood- elf. Silently, she slipped her two rapier-knives into positions, with a moment's useless wish that she had more, or at least had Galier with her. He was a master at throwing sharp objects to kill.
Taking a deep breath, she sent a quick prayer to Valar. 'Keep my kindred safe!' She whispered fiercely. Then, picturing Linel and Galier's faces in turn, she said, 'Cuio mae, muindor, mellon!' Then, the young king's youthful smiling face came to mind. 'Melethor. Ai, I've waited too long to say it! Alas, for I shall never see you again!'
With no further thoughts, Shiara leaped into the fray, taking the orcs completely by surprise. Stabbing, thrusting, dodging, and kicking, more and more of the hideous creatures littered the ground around her, their foul blood spilling over the ground. The keen blades of the knives glistened as they moved, cold steel biting into ugly flesh. The orcs subsided for a moment, obviously not expecting such an aggressive attack from an elven maiden.
As they moved backwards, Shiara took a moment to regain her breath. If it weren't for the rips and tears in her clothes, it would have looked as if she hadn't been fighting at all. A sudden sting of pain drew her glance to her arm. The dark tunic was beginning to stain red around the torn fabric. Azure eyes narrowed in annoyance. {So they've gotten me after all,} she thought peevishly. {And here I was hoping that my clothes would stay clean!}
The orcs began to move again, and Shiara saw that whatever they did, they firmly guarded the tree where her bow was laying. 'Cowards,' she muttered. Again, she continued her slaying, always managing to stay one step away from the blade of the axe or scimitar. It wasn't until she had fell around five orcs before she noticed something strange. Shiara's eyes narrowed. Why were the orcs only staying in front of her? None had even attempted to cross to her back, to attack from behind. She was grateful for that, but still suspicious. Surely, they knew that they would have the advantage like that? Trying to see if something was behind her that was preventing them from doing that, she started to turn around.
With a cry of pain, she spun back around as a scimitar blade bit into her side in her carelessness. Furiously, she drove her long knife into the orc that held the scimitar as her other hand slashed at the face of an orc to the left of her.
~~~~~
About 15 minutes later, Shiara had her back a little ways from the tree. Every limb in her body ached, and her hands could barely grip the knives, slick as they were from all the blood. Her tunic was splattered with foul blood and her hair was now ruffled. She prepared for a half-hearted stab to the right, when suddenly, cold steel pressed at the back of her neck.
Shiara froze.
'I do believe that is enough for the moment.' A smooth voice came from somewhere behind her. It managed to sound oily and harsh at the same time, while maintaining a sinister air. 'Cease.' The orcs bowed respectfully and walked backwards without any regards to the dead. 'I am impressed,' the voice continued. 'You have improved in your prowess greatly, Lady, to have been able to fight off my forces armed only with knives. I commend you.'
Shiara stood motionless, masking her face and keeping the anger and fear in her eyes. 'So, you were the one who set these orcs on me and brought me here.'
'Precisely. I have waited long to reacquaint myself with the Lady Dewfire.'
'Reacquaint? Have we met before? I don't seem to recall your voice.'
'You don't? What a pity.'
Shiara could barely keep the rage out of the expression on her face. Was he mocking her? Finally, the blade on her neck pulled away, but before she could react, she was turned around roughly until she was facing her capturer.
It was a man, with pale red hair and eyes that were black and cold. He gave a thin, unfriendly smile. Shiara stared back at him, keeping her face carefully masked. {Who is this?} she wondered. {Have we truly met, or is he lying?} Carefully, she focused in on the eyes. The were dark and unforgiving, reminding her of dark tunnels, without any light to shine on them. The back of her mind gave a small shiver. Where had she seen those eyes before?
And then, briefly, she recalled a night years long past in her childhood. She had been hurrying from the Dining Hall; she, Linel, and Galier had been searching for the prince all afternoon but had unable to find him. The young elf had collided with a tall figure. Looking up, she said, 'Good evening, Instructor Ratham.' She had pressed her lips together in dislike; all 3 of them disliked Legolas's instructor. 'I apologize, but have you by chance seen Prince Legolas?'
He had stared down with those black hollow eyes of his. 'Prince Legolas,' he replied with a sneer. 'is practicing long-overdue hours of his failing archery. I advice you not to disturb him Lady, and bid you goodnight.' Then with a final twisted smirk, he pushed past her with a twitch of his cloak.
Shiara glared at the man in front of her with hatred. 'You!' she hissed. 'What do you think you are doing? Nothing will come of you holding me like this, nothing!'
Ratham gave the elf a horrible look, half smirk, half sinister grin. 'Nothing?' His voice almost slithered from his mouth, like a snake. 'I believe you should think again, Lady. Whether you are aware of it or not, you are a great power behind the throne in Mirkwood. As soon as the King-' he put awful emphasis on the word, '-sees you captive, he shall give up the kingdom without a thought.'
Shiara's eyes sparked. 'You are mistaken,' she replied icily. 'The king would not forsake his kingdom for such one as me.'
He gave a short laugh. 'Is that so? He cares about you. I don't think he would like to see his 'beloved' hurt.'
Rage roared in Shiara's ears. Beloved? {How dare he!} she thought furiously. {To play with emotions like that!} 'No!' she cried angrily. 'What good will the kingdom do for you? You cannot control it, you cannot rule the elves of the wood!'
'True, I cannot rule the kingdom by myself, can I?' Then Ratham smiled slowly. 'But that is the reason I have this, is it not?' He held up his hand. There on the index finger, glittered the gem-set ring stolen from Thranduil.
'You!' Shiara choked. 'You are the one who killed the King Thranduil! You traitor!' Fighting to keep tears of anger and rage from streaming down her face, she glared at the man with all the hatred she felt.
'Indeed,' said the man with contempt. 'Thranduil was a fool. I did not mind driving my sword into him one bit. As I won't ending the life of your precious king, Legolas.'
Shiara's eyes widened. 'No!' she cried in horror. 'You cannot kill him! I won't allow it!' She clenched the knives in her palms and raised her arm to strike. Before she could, the blade was at her throat again.
'I am through playing games,' said Ratham coldly. 'I will say this once, and once only. You are to cooperate with me or Legolas will die earlier then he has to. Stay still and follow and I will see to it that he lives. Do you understand me?'
The maiden clenched her teeth and glared back with steely eyes radiating hatred as she allowed the orcs to warily tie her up again. Releasing her bloody grip on the two knives, she ground out, 'I understand perfectly. But step wary, for soon you shall die by my hand, by Valar I swear it.'
~~~~~
We turn now to Legolas, who was considerably more cheerful than he had been for days. The forest was coming to an end, chunks of sky were now visible. Fresh air blew through his hair, along with the scent of the far-off sea. With a smile upon his face, the king broke into song.
'To the sea, to the sea, the white gulls are crying, the wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying. West, west away, the round sun is falling.' Alternately singing softly and humming, he now ran lightly across the forest floor, eager to be out in the open. Then a thought came to him that sobered his mood.
Once again, Legolas slowed to a walk, furrowing his brows. The ring. It had been nearly five days, he had expected to find his enemies by now. He was traveling straight west, out of the forests, towards Rivendell. That was the way the tracks had pointed, but the trail had ended abruptly a day back. He had continued following, hoping that they had gone straight.
Legolas frowned. He had been so occupied with getting out of the forest, he had not realized how odd it was how the tracks had ended. Orcs were normally clumsy creatures, horrible at covering trails. There was always a fallen ax here, a decaying carcass there, broken twigs and grass everywhere. Which had been so in the beginning, but then-- 'It was if they had taken to the skies,' Legolas mused. 'Or to the trees. . .'
Startled by that thought, he looked up. The trees seemed suddenly looming and menacing. Legolas frowned. 'Foolish thoughts,' he murmured.. 'Orcs cannot climb!' Yet for the remainder of the morning, the elf continued to glance at the surrounding trees uneasily.
It was the afternoon when Legolas heard a far-off whinny of a horse.
He stopped immediately, drawing out his bow and kneeling to the side of the path. Orcs did not ride horses, but he could not be sure that whoever was with the horse was a friend. The steed came running onto the path moments later. It was a beautiful dark-chestnut colored horse with a fiery mane. There was a look of terror in its eyes and it shook its mane repetitively while neighing in an agitated manner. It ran straight towards Legolas's hiding place and snorted.
Legolas blinked in wonder at the horse. 'Arod?' he said incredulously. 'How did you come to be here?' Quietly pressing his hands over the horse's eyes and muzzle, he softly sang a few words to soothe the horse as he wondered how the Rohan horse had gotten out of his stable in Mirkwood. 'Now how did you follow me all the way here?' he murmured. 'You won't allow anyone but myself to handle you except for—'
Legolas paled. 'Alas, no!' he cried. 'Valar, no, tell me she did not follow!' He spun around to look wildly behind him, as if expecting Shiara to be standing there. Seeing no one, he continued turning. 'Yrch!' he cried in agitation. 'She shall surely come to trouble in these woods!'
'True,' said a voice from behind. 'But she fought bravely.'
Legolas turned to see a man with red hair and an unpleasant smile on his face. 'Who are you?' he asked. 'How do you know of Shiara?'
The man chuckled. It was hollow, with no humor or laughter in it. 'Ah, your Majesty, have you forgotten your old teacher so soon?' Ratham smiled nastily as Legolas's eyes darkened with unspoken rage. 'Yes, me. As for the other question, that would be because-' He turned over his shoulder and said, 'Bring her.' Turning back, he said, '-she's right here.'
Legolas's eyes widened in horror. Shiara walked forward stiffly from between two particulary big orcs. Twin axe blades were at her throat, ropes bound her hands behind her back and her tunic was ripped in places, and the whole of her left sleeve was stained crimson with dried blood. 'What have you done to her?' he yelled, all of the normal politeness and reserved manner gone. His now steely with rage eyes met with her clear blue ones.
Legolas grew even more angry. 'Release her at once!' he snapped to Ratham. 'You have no reason to hold her captive like that!'
'On the contrary,' Ratham replied smoothly. 'It has been one of my personal goals for the longest time to seize Mirkwood for my own. Violence has never been a preference of mine, so I shall ask you nicely King Legolas.' His black eyes glittered with malice. 'Surrender your kingdom to me and your Lady will be spared.'
The elf stood still. After a while he said, 'What do you need with the kingdom? You can do nothing with it without the ring.'
'That is so. Which is why I have the ring.'
'What?' Legolas cried in fury. 'You—you were the one who killed my father?'
Ratham held up the ring, glinting on his finger. 'Me,' he replied coolly. 'I despised Thranduil. What a fool he was, ruling the forests, thinking he could keep them from harm. When he married her, I hated him all the more. A lovely thing she was, like a flower, with hair like a river of gold.' A look of intense longing appeared on his face and Legolas started when he realized that Ratham was speaking of Lelendil.
'Then they had YOU!' Ratham snarled. 'Your Highness, your Majesty, I could not stand it! But I got my revenge did I not? Thranduil is dead! So choose now, Legolas Greenleaf, either give up your kingdom or see her suffer! NOW!'
Shiara gave a small cry of pain one of the orcs pressed his blade a little harder on her throat. A trickle of red ran down from the edge. Furiously clenching his fists and willing himself not to shoot his bow right then, Legolas stood still. He slowly raised his bow to hand to Ratham.
'No!' Shiara cried. 'Don't, Legolas, forget about me!' She cried again as the orc tightened his grip on her wounded arm.
Legolas raised his head to look her straight in the eyes.
Shiara. What could he do? He could not give up the kingdom, too many people were counting on him. Galier, Linel, his kindred, his dead father. But he could never leave Shiara to be killed by them. Never. {No,} he thought, as he saw the pain in her azure pools. {I could never leave you to them, melethril. Father died by his hand, I shall not lose you.} The home he had lived in for so long, the woods where his people lived—or the one person that ever understood him, the one person that he could love?
'Yes.' Then swiftly, he notched his arrows and shot each of her guards in the heart.
'Fool!' yelled Ratham. 'If you both want to die so much, then DIE!' Furiously, his face blotching red, he turned and drove a dagger towards Legolas.
Quickly, he stepped back, but too late, the blade bit into flesh, driving itself into his shoulder. Dimly, Legolas heard Shiara cry out, but he couldn't do anything now. His vision slid in and out of focus as he backed up from the still advancing Ratham.
Notch, pull, aim. Fly. The arrow embedded itself straight into Ratham's heart. He stopped and staggered forward with almost a maniacal look on his face. Hazily, Legolas pulled out another arrow. Notch, pull, aim, fly. Notch, pull, aim, fly.
'Legolas!!!' The blackness surrounded him, as if it was night. Notch, pull, aim.
Fly. Fly with all your love.
With the final arrow, the king fell, the dagger still protruding from his body.
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A/N- Major out-of-character'ness. --; Happy? It's done! The major fight scene! Yay! Now review! Good people…by the way, in case you guys are bored, I would really appreciate if you would read another one of my works, The Keys to the Gates. It's an original fantasy, but I would like to get some opinions on it. Just type in my author name. Arigato, and REVIEW!!!!!
Valar – uh, the type of god, I guess of elves and Middle-earth melethril – love (female) muindor - brother
