Hey all. Thought I should write this sooner rather than later, but I
probably won't upload it for ages, so there's really no point. Except that
I'm in science, and am really bored. We are supposed to be typing up prac
reports or something equally boring. But, as I said, there's one more week
of school, and I've done it anyway. Aren't I a good little cookie aren't
I? don't answer that unless the answer happens to be favourable to
myself
The other reason I'm writing this is because nothing happened last chapter and I HATE it when nothing happens. I hate reading fics when nothing happens, but I especially hate writing fics when nothing happens. So you're all excused for hating this fic. Why are you reading it? It's crap and nothing happens. Stuff will happen, but as yet nothing has happened. I will shuttup now and get on with it.
And about the worm in the matchbox, you have to put yourself in the worm's position, would you squirm and be extremely angry if you were a poor unsuspecting worm suddenly shoved into a matchbox? I believe so.
For your own, and my own, benefit, I will repeat the worm thing, in case you missed it.
Here goes
Chapter 5:
The fear that dwelled in her heart came to settle in her stomach like a sickening, squirming, angry worm trapped in a matchbox. She looked to Legolas for comfort. He was staring distractedly towards the on-coming marchers. He drew hi bow and set an arrow to it.
'We must find my friends,' he addressed her in accents of concern, 'they are in considerable danger, their fate affects the fate of the whole of Middle-earth.'
Mary-Jane nodded dumbly, not understanding much of it, only knowing that considerable danger was code for deadly peril, and that she too was in danger.
He looked at her steadily, she felt her confidence grow in her, like she was suddenly taller, as if she was somehow prepared for the coming battle. She flicked the hair (brown, case you wanted to know) from her face and stared determined towards the enemy. She caught the sound of harsh voices among the pounding feet. The voices sent shivers through her very soul, but still she stood, tall and proud.
A few minutes ago she had considered the trust of Legolas, and of his friends. Now she was placing her life in his hands, and she was prepared to risk her life for him and his cause. She didn't have much choice in the matter, as the approaching footsteps came yet closer, and the only thing that seemed at all reasonable was to stick with this stranger. He had promised to keep her safe. She saw in his eyes that he did not make promises lightly and was not prepared to break them.
She stared at his back as she trundled on. Even amidst her fear and confusion she was able to appreciate the grace of his step, the art of treading lightly as to make no noise on the forest floor. She appreciated his golden hair for it's gently swish as Legolas ran. His bow was still at ready, still with an arrow fitted to it. He was prepared for the attack, and he was facing it with the courage of a being who knew nought of death. His concern for his friends was touching, and Mary-Jane felt herself once again lost in the spell he had first cast upon her.
They reached the summit of the hill. Her energy was returning to her as the courage had rose in her before. She felt powerful and determined, and accepting of whatever fate was to come.
It was then that she saw them. A band of the most hideous creature ever to know the earth. They swarmed in their thousands, all wielding weapons and calling in hideous tongues. They were monsters, determined to bring about death and destruction.
'They are orcs,' explained Legolas, looking onto the horrific scene. 'Yrch in my tongue. They are the cruellest things to roam Middle-earth. They naturally despair under the face of our Sun's fair rays. These orcs do not know that fear. They are skilled fighters, for that is what they enjoy above all things, but do not care for numbers lost, or friends gone.' The tone of his voice revealed a mixture of contempt and sorrow: sorrow that the fair earth had to see these vile creatures.
Mary-Jane looked on in horror. Her courage and determination threatened to leave her, and the sword in her hand felt heavy and useless. She could not handle this weapon, even to defend herself. Doubts filled her mind. She could not help herself, and would become a burden on this new friend.
He turned to her, gave an encouraging smile before taking up a vantage point to shoot at the orcs. His smile brought back the courage that was still lingering in her heart, and drove her doubts away. She brandished the sword. It looked beautiful in the light. A warmth and power worked through her. It radiated from eth hand she held the sword in. It found its way to the deepest, most remote corners of her soul and dwelled there. She felt comfortable with the sword, as if she had been studying the art of swordplay for centuries.
Then the orcs were upon her. She raised her sword and glared at them with a hatred she had never known. They were trying to kill her, the only thing she could do was kill them back, she reasoned. She made a sweep with the sword, taking off the head of an orc as it charged at her. It was as if the world suddenly slowed down, as if someone had just pressed the 'slow motion' button. The head fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The body fell forward, to it's knees, then slowly, slowly it fell, chest first to the ground, coming to rest a few metres from its head. Mary-Jane looked upon it in shock. She could not believe what she had just done. Killing, no matter how foul the creature may be, she saw as wrong. A sin. The worst offence anyone could ever commit. She glanced up, another orc was charging at her, still in slow motion. She watched it come.
She heard the shot of an arrow close to her head. The world was working at normal pace again. She saw the second orc fall, clutching an arrow stuck in his chest. She glanced up to see Legolas take aim and shoot again. She raised her sword once more.
More and more orcs charged at her. Every time an orc fell she felt a kind of achievement. She grew more courageous, not only fighting the orcs that charged at her. She found herself enjoying it, and loved the thrill that came with every new attacker. Together they were killing and wounding many orcs, but still they came. Mary-Jane dreaded the time when she would tire and she would have to turn and run from the orcs, or be killed.
Faintly she heard the sound of a horn in the distance, a little further upstream.
'Namigaal,' Legolas called to her. She glanced up at him momentarily. He was running in the direction of the horn, and motioned for her to follow him.
She turned and ran. She expected to hear the thundering of the orc-feet behind her. She expected to feel the pain of a weapon being driven through her back. But it did not come. She turned to look, only to see the orcs running in their direction, but following another path to their left. She could hear them, flattening the undergrowth with their heavy footfalls, struggling against low braches that snagged on their armour and weaponry.
Still they ran. Mary-Jane saw a clearing not too far off. The horn was still sounding, it's call seemed more desperate than before. Legolas quickened his pace. Mary-Jane willed herself to go faster, she did not want to be left alone to face the orcs. They were near the clearing. They would have to pass through it to get to the bearer of the horn. A feeling of foreboding settled in her mind.
It was at the clearing that the orcs attacked. They called in hideous voices, certain of their victory. Mary-Jane knew failure was inevitable, but she would fight to the end. She readied herself for the first wave of orcs. Drawing her sword she heard the sounding of the horn once more, a desperate plea for help. She fought across the clearing, trying to break free of the orcs' attack and run to the aid of the unknown horn-bearer.
Then, a signal was given, and the orcs retreated. Turned and ran after the thousands of others of their kind. The yelled triumphantly, s if they had found the token which they had set out to find, and having that, they were content to go whence they came.
Was staring at the retreating orcs, surprised and perplexed. Why would they turn to run like that? They certainly did not fear more bloodshed? The orc numbers were by far greater than theirs; the orcs could have defeated an army of ten times the size of the fellowship. He was suspicious. This did not make sense to his mind. His soul was not content with this outcome. He drew another arrow, not wanting to be caught unprepared, and made his way, like a hunter stalking his prey, to the place where they had heard the horn's last plea for help.
Mary-Jane followed. She sensed Legolas' tension and confusion, and she too was not comfortable with the outcome of the battle. The walked carefully, trying not to make a noise in the leaf litter. To their right came the sound of running footsteps. They both froze, as if reading each others' mind. One second analysis confirmed in Legolas' mind that these were not the footsteps of any orc. He did, however, draw his arrow taught, ready to shoot.
The footsteps grew louder. They were quick, heavy and laboured. A metal cap could be seen, and an axe Mary-Jane recognised as the one belonging to the small man she had seen before. The small man stumbled onto the path Mary-Jane and Legolas were following.
He stopped on seeing them, straightened, and then relaxed. He saw Mary- Jane, poised to attack, and Legolas likewise. Without a word being spoken they all continued to creep along the path. Mary-Jane was astounded by the sort of mutual understanding the two men had with each other. They continued, the pace was slow, as they made the way carefully through the litter of fallen branches, sticks and leaves, the small man making considerably more noise than the other two.
Finally they came to the edge of what had been a battle scene. The bodies of fallen orcs lay strewn across the landscape. Mary-Jane looked upon them in mounting contempt.
Legolas moved forward. Dragging her eyes from the destruction of the scene at her feet she saw two men, amongst the ruin, one bent over the other.
'He fought well,' he reflected. 'He tried to save Merry and Pippin. They took them and fled. It is obvious what they came for.'
Legolas hung his head in sorrow. Gimli stared at the ground, overcome with grief. Mary-Jane turned and left. It was her fault.
She was so ashamed. She tried her best and had failed miserably. Now a man was dead because of her. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked blindly. She didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away from it, and if she came across orcs who happened to kill her, so be it.
*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*
A/N: I don't think there was any weird expressions in that chapter involving worms, bunnies or any other animal. There was a mention of 'prey', but that expression is not mine.
I thought I'd better put this chapter up too, as a gesture of apology for the chapters when nothing happened, those being all previous chapters. I will update soon. Promise. Please review! I love reviews! Yay for reviews and yay for reviewers.
The other reason I'm writing this is because nothing happened last chapter and I HATE it when nothing happens. I hate reading fics when nothing happens, but I especially hate writing fics when nothing happens. So you're all excused for hating this fic. Why are you reading it? It's crap and nothing happens. Stuff will happen, but as yet nothing has happened. I will shuttup now and get on with it.
And about the worm in the matchbox, you have to put yourself in the worm's position, would you squirm and be extremely angry if you were a poor unsuspecting worm suddenly shoved into a matchbox? I believe so.
For your own, and my own, benefit, I will repeat the worm thing, in case you missed it.
Here goes
Chapter 5:
The fear that dwelled in her heart came to settle in her stomach like a sickening, squirming, angry worm trapped in a matchbox. She looked to Legolas for comfort. He was staring distractedly towards the on-coming marchers. He drew hi bow and set an arrow to it.
'We must find my friends,' he addressed her in accents of concern, 'they are in considerable danger, their fate affects the fate of the whole of Middle-earth.'
Mary-Jane nodded dumbly, not understanding much of it, only knowing that considerable danger was code for deadly peril, and that she too was in danger.
He looked at her steadily, she felt her confidence grow in her, like she was suddenly taller, as if she was somehow prepared for the coming battle. She flicked the hair (brown, case you wanted to know) from her face and stared determined towards the enemy. She caught the sound of harsh voices among the pounding feet. The voices sent shivers through her very soul, but still she stood, tall and proud.
A few minutes ago she had considered the trust of Legolas, and of his friends. Now she was placing her life in his hands, and she was prepared to risk her life for him and his cause. She didn't have much choice in the matter, as the approaching footsteps came yet closer, and the only thing that seemed at all reasonable was to stick with this stranger. He had promised to keep her safe. She saw in his eyes that he did not make promises lightly and was not prepared to break them.
She stared at his back as she trundled on. Even amidst her fear and confusion she was able to appreciate the grace of his step, the art of treading lightly as to make no noise on the forest floor. She appreciated his golden hair for it's gently swish as Legolas ran. His bow was still at ready, still with an arrow fitted to it. He was prepared for the attack, and he was facing it with the courage of a being who knew nought of death. His concern for his friends was touching, and Mary-Jane felt herself once again lost in the spell he had first cast upon her.
They reached the summit of the hill. Her energy was returning to her as the courage had rose in her before. She felt powerful and determined, and accepting of whatever fate was to come.
It was then that she saw them. A band of the most hideous creature ever to know the earth. They swarmed in their thousands, all wielding weapons and calling in hideous tongues. They were monsters, determined to bring about death and destruction.
'They are orcs,' explained Legolas, looking onto the horrific scene. 'Yrch in my tongue. They are the cruellest things to roam Middle-earth. They naturally despair under the face of our Sun's fair rays. These orcs do not know that fear. They are skilled fighters, for that is what they enjoy above all things, but do not care for numbers lost, or friends gone.' The tone of his voice revealed a mixture of contempt and sorrow: sorrow that the fair earth had to see these vile creatures.
Mary-Jane looked on in horror. Her courage and determination threatened to leave her, and the sword in her hand felt heavy and useless. She could not handle this weapon, even to defend herself. Doubts filled her mind. She could not help herself, and would become a burden on this new friend.
He turned to her, gave an encouraging smile before taking up a vantage point to shoot at the orcs. His smile brought back the courage that was still lingering in her heart, and drove her doubts away. She brandished the sword. It looked beautiful in the light. A warmth and power worked through her. It radiated from eth hand she held the sword in. It found its way to the deepest, most remote corners of her soul and dwelled there. She felt comfortable with the sword, as if she had been studying the art of swordplay for centuries.
Then the orcs were upon her. She raised her sword and glared at them with a hatred she had never known. They were trying to kill her, the only thing she could do was kill them back, she reasoned. She made a sweep with the sword, taking off the head of an orc as it charged at her. It was as if the world suddenly slowed down, as if someone had just pressed the 'slow motion' button. The head fell to the ground with a sickening thud. The body fell forward, to it's knees, then slowly, slowly it fell, chest first to the ground, coming to rest a few metres from its head. Mary-Jane looked upon it in shock. She could not believe what she had just done. Killing, no matter how foul the creature may be, she saw as wrong. A sin. The worst offence anyone could ever commit. She glanced up, another orc was charging at her, still in slow motion. She watched it come.
She heard the shot of an arrow close to her head. The world was working at normal pace again. She saw the second orc fall, clutching an arrow stuck in his chest. She glanced up to see Legolas take aim and shoot again. She raised her sword once more.
More and more orcs charged at her. Every time an orc fell she felt a kind of achievement. She grew more courageous, not only fighting the orcs that charged at her. She found herself enjoying it, and loved the thrill that came with every new attacker. Together they were killing and wounding many orcs, but still they came. Mary-Jane dreaded the time when she would tire and she would have to turn and run from the orcs, or be killed.
Faintly she heard the sound of a horn in the distance, a little further upstream.
'Namigaal,' Legolas called to her. She glanced up at him momentarily. He was running in the direction of the horn, and motioned for her to follow him.
She turned and ran. She expected to hear the thundering of the orc-feet behind her. She expected to feel the pain of a weapon being driven through her back. But it did not come. She turned to look, only to see the orcs running in their direction, but following another path to their left. She could hear them, flattening the undergrowth with their heavy footfalls, struggling against low braches that snagged on their armour and weaponry.
Still they ran. Mary-Jane saw a clearing not too far off. The horn was still sounding, it's call seemed more desperate than before. Legolas quickened his pace. Mary-Jane willed herself to go faster, she did not want to be left alone to face the orcs. They were near the clearing. They would have to pass through it to get to the bearer of the horn. A feeling of foreboding settled in her mind.
It was at the clearing that the orcs attacked. They called in hideous voices, certain of their victory. Mary-Jane knew failure was inevitable, but she would fight to the end. She readied herself for the first wave of orcs. Drawing her sword she heard the sounding of the horn once more, a desperate plea for help. She fought across the clearing, trying to break free of the orcs' attack and run to the aid of the unknown horn-bearer.
Then, a signal was given, and the orcs retreated. Turned and ran after the thousands of others of their kind. The yelled triumphantly, s if they had found the token which they had set out to find, and having that, they were content to go whence they came.
Was staring at the retreating orcs, surprised and perplexed. Why would they turn to run like that? They certainly did not fear more bloodshed? The orc numbers were by far greater than theirs; the orcs could have defeated an army of ten times the size of the fellowship. He was suspicious. This did not make sense to his mind. His soul was not content with this outcome. He drew another arrow, not wanting to be caught unprepared, and made his way, like a hunter stalking his prey, to the place where they had heard the horn's last plea for help.
Mary-Jane followed. She sensed Legolas' tension and confusion, and she too was not comfortable with the outcome of the battle. The walked carefully, trying not to make a noise in the leaf litter. To their right came the sound of running footsteps. They both froze, as if reading each others' mind. One second analysis confirmed in Legolas' mind that these were not the footsteps of any orc. He did, however, draw his arrow taught, ready to shoot.
The footsteps grew louder. They were quick, heavy and laboured. A metal cap could be seen, and an axe Mary-Jane recognised as the one belonging to the small man she had seen before. The small man stumbled onto the path Mary-Jane and Legolas were following.
He stopped on seeing them, straightened, and then relaxed. He saw Mary- Jane, poised to attack, and Legolas likewise. Without a word being spoken they all continued to creep along the path. Mary-Jane was astounded by the sort of mutual understanding the two men had with each other. They continued, the pace was slow, as they made the way carefully through the litter of fallen branches, sticks and leaves, the small man making considerably more noise than the other two.
Finally they came to the edge of what had been a battle scene. The bodies of fallen orcs lay strewn across the landscape. Mary-Jane looked upon them in mounting contempt.
Legolas moved forward. Dragging her eyes from the destruction of the scene at her feet she saw two men, amongst the ruin, one bent over the other.
'He fought well,' he reflected. 'He tried to save Merry and Pippin. They took them and fled. It is obvious what they came for.'
Legolas hung his head in sorrow. Gimli stared at the ground, overcome with grief. Mary-Jane turned and left. It was her fault.
She was so ashamed. She tried her best and had failed miserably. Now a man was dead because of her. Tears welled in her eyes as she walked blindly. She didn't know where she was going, she just wanted to get away from it, and if she came across orcs who happened to kill her, so be it.
*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*~**~**~*
A/N: I don't think there was any weird expressions in that chapter involving worms, bunnies or any other animal. There was a mention of 'prey', but that expression is not mine.
I thought I'd better put this chapter up too, as a gesture of apology for the chapters when nothing happened, those being all previous chapters. I will update soon. Promise. Please review! I love reviews! Yay for reviews and yay for reviewers.