The shriek of another orc was heard in the ear of every man, elf,
dwarf, which would be Legolas and Gimli, as it fell upon the cold ground;
it's death given by Anduril, Flame of the West. Before, the plains of Rohan
were storming with orcs and their beasts of Mordor. Now, their bleeding
bodies surrounded the fighters.
The yell of Gimli was heard as he slay another orc. The swift arrows from Legolas's bow hit his target every time. The cries of the orcs and the smell of their dark blood were in the air.
Aragorn's sword, Anduril, gleamed as he drove it into an orc. Pulling his sword out, a warg charged at him from behind. It collided, knocking Aragorn to his feet. Trying to stab the foul creature, Aragorn did not realize the distance between them and the edge of the cliff. It came too near to them. And in that spilt second, Aragorn disappeared over the cliff.
The battle was over. Around all, the stench of death lingered. Though also, the scent of victory was there. Gimli, strong and sturdy dwarf, still lived up to his description of never tiring; however, it was deep in his dark eyes. Legolas stood, quiver almost empty of arrows, with no scratches or gashes on his fair, light skin. All of King Theoden's men, including Theoden himself, were worn, yet still fresh and ready for anything.
King Theoden sighed relief that the battle was over. He searched his men, seeing who had unfortunately lost. His eyes widened when he noticed who was missing.
"Where is Aragorn?" Theoden asked concerning, his eyes searching the ground for any trace. Legolas's blue, elvin eyes widened with fear as he scanned, looking for his friend. He was not there.
A harsh laughter came from an orc, hanging to life by a few breaths.
"Your friend has met his death." Gimli and Legolas turned angrily towards the orc. Legolas's brow creased while his once soft, blue eyes blazed with anger. Gimli could not hold his tongue and rage, therefore sprinting towards the orc, axe ready in his hand.
"Do not lie, foul creature of Mordor!" Gimli gruffed, now holding his axe at the black, bleeding neck of the orc.
"The warg proved stronger," laughed the orc. "He fell past the edge of the cliff trying to resist the uncontrollable strength of the beast!" The orc began laughing, a laughter that would have even put a chill down a wizard's spine. Gimli pulled up his axe, about to let go and behead the orc; however, his chance passed with the orc giving out with the last laugh.
Legolas stood in shock, still turning his head from side to side, searching for his leader, his friend. He stepped lightly to the cliff's edge, praying to Galadriel that his instincts were wrong.
A small, silver object gleaming in the sunlight caught Legolas's eye.
"This cannot be," his voice trailed off. It was Arwen's jewel to Aragorn: it was there promise of love to each other. Legolas held the treasure in his fair hand, unable to grip the death of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, in his mind.
"Mornie alantie..darkness has fallen." Legolas closed his hand, the jewel still in his palm. He walked back to Gimli and King Theoden with sorrowful, blue eyes. Gimli bowed his head, knowing the truth. Aragorn was gone.
Everyone remaining from the battle mounted their horses to go forth to Helm's Deep. Riding along, the only sound heard was the horses' feet, galloping hard through the plains of Rohan. Legolas could not concentrate. His thoughts were only on the event that had happened. He could not grasp it: Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur, Elfstone, wielder of Anduril had met his death on the plains of Rohan. There was also another thought that had entered his mind: "Am I to blame for Aragorn's death?"
The yell of Gimli was heard as he slay another orc. The swift arrows from Legolas's bow hit his target every time. The cries of the orcs and the smell of their dark blood were in the air.
Aragorn's sword, Anduril, gleamed as he drove it into an orc. Pulling his sword out, a warg charged at him from behind. It collided, knocking Aragorn to his feet. Trying to stab the foul creature, Aragorn did not realize the distance between them and the edge of the cliff. It came too near to them. And in that spilt second, Aragorn disappeared over the cliff.
The battle was over. Around all, the stench of death lingered. Though also, the scent of victory was there. Gimli, strong and sturdy dwarf, still lived up to his description of never tiring; however, it was deep in his dark eyes. Legolas stood, quiver almost empty of arrows, with no scratches or gashes on his fair, light skin. All of King Theoden's men, including Theoden himself, were worn, yet still fresh and ready for anything.
King Theoden sighed relief that the battle was over. He searched his men, seeing who had unfortunately lost. His eyes widened when he noticed who was missing.
"Where is Aragorn?" Theoden asked concerning, his eyes searching the ground for any trace. Legolas's blue, elvin eyes widened with fear as he scanned, looking for his friend. He was not there.
A harsh laughter came from an orc, hanging to life by a few breaths.
"Your friend has met his death." Gimli and Legolas turned angrily towards the orc. Legolas's brow creased while his once soft, blue eyes blazed with anger. Gimli could not hold his tongue and rage, therefore sprinting towards the orc, axe ready in his hand.
"Do not lie, foul creature of Mordor!" Gimli gruffed, now holding his axe at the black, bleeding neck of the orc.
"The warg proved stronger," laughed the orc. "He fell past the edge of the cliff trying to resist the uncontrollable strength of the beast!" The orc began laughing, a laughter that would have even put a chill down a wizard's spine. Gimli pulled up his axe, about to let go and behead the orc; however, his chance passed with the orc giving out with the last laugh.
Legolas stood in shock, still turning his head from side to side, searching for his leader, his friend. He stepped lightly to the cliff's edge, praying to Galadriel that his instincts were wrong.
A small, silver object gleaming in the sunlight caught Legolas's eye.
"This cannot be," his voice trailed off. It was Arwen's jewel to Aragorn: it was there promise of love to each other. Legolas held the treasure in his fair hand, unable to grip the death of Aragorn, son of Arathorn, in his mind.
"Mornie alantie..darkness has fallen." Legolas closed his hand, the jewel still in his palm. He walked back to Gimli and King Theoden with sorrowful, blue eyes. Gimli bowed his head, knowing the truth. Aragorn was gone.
Everyone remaining from the battle mounted their horses to go forth to Helm's Deep. Riding along, the only sound heard was the horses' feet, galloping hard through the plains of Rohan. Legolas could not concentrate. His thoughts were only on the event that had happened. He could not grasp it: Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir to Isildur, Elfstone, wielder of Anduril had met his death on the plains of Rohan. There was also another thought that had entered his mind: "Am I to blame for Aragorn's death?"