I have already passed my submission allocation by double. I might even triple the 2,500 word maximum by the time I finish this thing. This is either the second-to-last or third-to-last part. This story has been an interesting challenge for me. Thank you for the reviews!
Hopefully the next part will be posted sometime Monday.
Without further ado...
~*~*~*~
Legolas and his group quickly met with Haldir, who was in heavy battle. They were already surrounded by mounds of orcs, which seemed to be coming from the hills below the plateau where they stood.
Haldir fought with his bow, every arrow flying gracefully from the string and striking each target. Next to him, two elvish guards stood, their small curved knives in their hands, fighting each enemy hand-to-hand.
Legolas knew it was his opportunity to take point and did so, leaping gracefully from the small plateau to a rocky structure below, taking his turn.
His knives sliced quickly and brutally through the orcs which attacked in large numbers. Soon, other elves and even men joined him, swords against blades creating a sound so terrifying.
As soon as all fourteen had gathered on the rocky outcrop directly below the ledge of the precipise, the orcs seemed to retreat back into the dawn light.
Legolas turned to Haldir, who stood boldly above, his golden hair blowing gently off his shoulders. He turned to the younger elf and nodded firmly, turning back to recover his horse. Legolas took a breath and quickly leapt back to the grassy outcrop, reaching down to help the other men and elves scrambling back to their horses.
They had ridden into the afternoon before they saw any traces there had been movement in the area. Carcases of wild beasts were strewn carelessly over ash-covered fire pits. The riders slowed down to pass the debris, carefully scanning the area for any traces or remains of the human.
"There is nothing here," Haldir reported after a quick scan. "We must press on. They were heading north and east." He gestured to the footsteps laid sloppily in the ash, tracing closer to the mountains bordering Mordor.
"We must watch for orc," another elf chimed. "They are notorious scouters. If Aragorn has escaped, they will be searching for him."
Legolas tuned the voices, burying his energies elsewhere. He was trying to reach, to feel Aragorn's presence. It had been drawing nearer to him, and yet he never felt farther away. He turned his sight, his eyes unseeing, to the deepness of his mind, concentrating. He could not sense Aragorn's movement or motions. All he knew was that Aragorn was less than a day's journey away. And with every step, the distance between them was closing. It either meant the orcs were dead, or that they had stopped completely.
Knowing there could be an entire army of Uruk-Hai ahead of him turned his blood cold. He opened his vision, his soft blue eyes staring across the murky expanse. Dark clouds were beginning to pour out over Mordor's mountains. A cold wind was seeping through the great plateaus.
"We must move on," Haldir called out in front of him. "Legolas!"
Legolas glanced up. "We move on!" He eased his steed back into an easy trot as the elves and men rode quickly to the north and east, the clouds of darkness closing in above their heads.
--
The dark clouds were beginning to blot out what remained of daylight. Aragorn turned and surveyed the shadows of the great plateaus. With a heavy breath, he sat on the hard ground, staring as the shadow spread across the river and up through Gondor.
He was too weak to swim to Gondor, he was certain of that. He had broken ribs, he knew, from his initial attack. His hands and head were still bloody from the orc's ruthless whips. And the bruise between his shoulder blades ached whenever he lifted his arms over his head.
He removed the jagged orc blade from his belt and carefully doused it with water from the river. He watched as the water glistened and sparkled, dripping off the blade. "If I ever get through this, I will not forget the elvish blades. Orc blades are dull and obscene."
He knew he was speaking in tongues. Sleep had been diminished by the constant threat of attack. He had been attacked twice since he had left the orc camp the night before. He wished he could find a way to get out of the Mordor-controlled territory and make his way back to Gondor.
Gondor.
Even speaking the word on his tongue was magical. How he wanted to return! Gondor reminded him of Boromir, though twisted through the ring's controlling power, had been the true son of Gondor. Strong, independent and bold. Dashing, even. Aragorn swallowed hard, trying to force away the tears that threatened his control. Boromir should never have died.
His last words echoed in Aragorn's head. "I would have followed you, my brother. My Captain. My King."
The tears he had been fighting to control slipped down his cheeks. "I owe it to you to stand my ground and promise you that Gondor will never fall." His words spoken, he rose to his feet and replaced the blade. He turned to face the darkening shadows of the mountains of Mordor.
And his heart stopped.
Orc, thousands of orc, were standing beyond the plateau he had rested, slowly creeping up on him, awaiting their order to attack.
Hopefully the next part will be posted sometime Monday.
Without further ado...
~*~*~*~
Legolas and his group quickly met with Haldir, who was in heavy battle. They were already surrounded by mounds of orcs, which seemed to be coming from the hills below the plateau where they stood.
Haldir fought with his bow, every arrow flying gracefully from the string and striking each target. Next to him, two elvish guards stood, their small curved knives in their hands, fighting each enemy hand-to-hand.
Legolas knew it was his opportunity to take point and did so, leaping gracefully from the small plateau to a rocky structure below, taking his turn.
His knives sliced quickly and brutally through the orcs which attacked in large numbers. Soon, other elves and even men joined him, swords against blades creating a sound so terrifying.
As soon as all fourteen had gathered on the rocky outcrop directly below the ledge of the precipise, the orcs seemed to retreat back into the dawn light.
Legolas turned to Haldir, who stood boldly above, his golden hair blowing gently off his shoulders. He turned to the younger elf and nodded firmly, turning back to recover his horse. Legolas took a breath and quickly leapt back to the grassy outcrop, reaching down to help the other men and elves scrambling back to their horses.
They had ridden into the afternoon before they saw any traces there had been movement in the area. Carcases of wild beasts were strewn carelessly over ash-covered fire pits. The riders slowed down to pass the debris, carefully scanning the area for any traces or remains of the human.
"There is nothing here," Haldir reported after a quick scan. "We must press on. They were heading north and east." He gestured to the footsteps laid sloppily in the ash, tracing closer to the mountains bordering Mordor.
"We must watch for orc," another elf chimed. "They are notorious scouters. If Aragorn has escaped, they will be searching for him."
Legolas tuned the voices, burying his energies elsewhere. He was trying to reach, to feel Aragorn's presence. It had been drawing nearer to him, and yet he never felt farther away. He turned his sight, his eyes unseeing, to the deepness of his mind, concentrating. He could not sense Aragorn's movement or motions. All he knew was that Aragorn was less than a day's journey away. And with every step, the distance between them was closing. It either meant the orcs were dead, or that they had stopped completely.
Knowing there could be an entire army of Uruk-Hai ahead of him turned his blood cold. He opened his vision, his soft blue eyes staring across the murky expanse. Dark clouds were beginning to pour out over Mordor's mountains. A cold wind was seeping through the great plateaus.
"We must move on," Haldir called out in front of him. "Legolas!"
Legolas glanced up. "We move on!" He eased his steed back into an easy trot as the elves and men rode quickly to the north and east, the clouds of darkness closing in above their heads.
--
The dark clouds were beginning to blot out what remained of daylight. Aragorn turned and surveyed the shadows of the great plateaus. With a heavy breath, he sat on the hard ground, staring as the shadow spread across the river and up through Gondor.
He was too weak to swim to Gondor, he was certain of that. He had broken ribs, he knew, from his initial attack. His hands and head were still bloody from the orc's ruthless whips. And the bruise between his shoulder blades ached whenever he lifted his arms over his head.
He removed the jagged orc blade from his belt and carefully doused it with water from the river. He watched as the water glistened and sparkled, dripping off the blade. "If I ever get through this, I will not forget the elvish blades. Orc blades are dull and obscene."
He knew he was speaking in tongues. Sleep had been diminished by the constant threat of attack. He had been attacked twice since he had left the orc camp the night before. He wished he could find a way to get out of the Mordor-controlled territory and make his way back to Gondor.
Gondor.
Even speaking the word on his tongue was magical. How he wanted to return! Gondor reminded him of Boromir, though twisted through the ring's controlling power, had been the true son of Gondor. Strong, independent and bold. Dashing, even. Aragorn swallowed hard, trying to force away the tears that threatened his control. Boromir should never have died.
His last words echoed in Aragorn's head. "I would have followed you, my brother. My Captain. My King."
The tears he had been fighting to control slipped down his cheeks. "I owe it to you to stand my ground and promise you that Gondor will never fall." His words spoken, he rose to his feet and replaced the blade. He turned to face the darkening shadows of the mountains of Mordor.
And his heart stopped.
Orc, thousands of orc, were standing beyond the plateau he had rested, slowly creeping up on him, awaiting their order to attack.