A single cry from the orc was all Aragorn needed to spring him into action. He fled along the river's shore, his boots kicking up muddy ash and the poisonous water. He knew he couldn't continue forever, because the orc were already gaining on him, their snorting getting louder still.
He could feel their hot, stinking breath on his neck and realized he could run no more. He removed the knife and turned, fighting off one orc. As another sword arched through the air, he grasped its blade with his bare hand, using the rest of him momentum to kick the orc away. Now with a sword in hand, he cast the useless orc blade aside. The sword cut swiftly through the advancing front of orc. Blades clanked on blade.
Suddenly his attention was drawn to his right, away from the river. A few of the orc had picked up larger objects, one a log, one a rock. He turned and ran again, trying to double his speed. But every breath brought more sharp pain from his broken ribs.
"I cannot do this much longer," he gasped between shallow breaths. There was a rock ahead, on the edge of the river. It was a bit higher. It would be there that he would make his final stand.
He leapt on the rock and turned to face the orcs. He beheaded the first, a stream of the oily black blood scattering itself on his sword. The second orc had an axe, but Aragorn's sword was faster, slicing through the orc's chest, again tainting his sword with the foul blood of the enemy.
One by one he cut through the orc. He could feel his energies depleting quickly as the bodies began piling up at his feet. His sword was graceful as it struck every single blow.
The first blow he felt was from the log. It caught him on the underside of the chin, reeling him backwards. Another blow came from the same log, wiping his face from left to right, turning his vision blurry and red. He could taste the blood in his mouth.
He stood up on shaky legs, quickly kicking the log-bearing orc from the rock and turning to boldly face the orc that seemed endless in their quest to detain him. He spat the blood from his mouth and smirked into the shadows, lowering his sword till the blade stood between his eyes.
King or no King, they will never take me without a fight. They will never give me to Sauron alive...
The relentless attack continued. The orc were beginning to crowd into the river behind the rock, using each other as stepping stones to reach Aragorn from behind.
He was soon surrounded. With a heavy breath, he knew the end was near. Yet he fought, striking into the hearts of many orc, filling the river behind him with their terrible bodies.
An axe struck him in the arm. Another orc leapt onto his back, swinging him in a painful circle. An perfect shot from a bow sent an arrow into his side. With a small moan, he pulled out the arrow, the weakness evident in his eyes as he glanced up. He stood again, for certain it would be last time he would ever stand. He lifted his sword to the side, his eyes narrowed in pain. His side, back and shoulders ached. The deep cut on his arm stung with every movement. And every breath caused a small stream of blood to escape his mouth.
He fought off two more of the disfigured beings. With a cry, a second knife struck him, in the back, near his left shoulder. This time, he could stand no further. The log came again, striking the back of his head, reeling him backwards until he was almost on his back. He lifted his bloodied hands to protect his face as the orc swarmed around him.
--
Legolas had had a flutter in his stomach all evening. Even as they rode at full pace across the lowlands toward the plateaus, the feeling hadn't left. It was getting stronger and stronger. Aragorn was nearby, and he was hurt. He knew the ranger well enough now to sense when something was terribly wrong.
He tried to recall when the feeling of terror had suddenly struck him. It was right after they had passed a large series of rocks that overhung the river. The elves had stopped a moment to let the men rest, since they had been riding hard since dawn and were not used to the excessive movements.
Legolas could feel his breath catching and glanced up, a concerned look on his face. His fair hair brushed gently off his shoulders in the cold wind blowing from the east, as the clouds scattered the remaining signs of day. Another dark day lay ahead, Legolas feared, which would make searching for Aragorn even more difficult.
"Orc!"
Legolas snapped from it, using his sharply trained eyes to scan the expanse. The spotter's voice had cut into his reverie like a knife. If Aragorn was nearby, he was perhaps in this party of orc. "Haldir! We must follow!"
Haldir nodded, his own fair hair blowing behind them as the steeds took off even faster, racing down into a lower valley. What few orc were there scattered quickly back into the shadows growing as night approached. Haldir quickly called the order to follow them. He turned and glanced at Legolas. The look in his pale blue eyes was clear: Legolas was to thoroughly search the area.
Legolas gracefully got off his horse and circled the area, his eyes searching. A second elf followed him, the rest following Haldir. The two elves carefully scanned the remains of a camp. There was a metal cut tipped against a rock near a firepit. Legolas was drawn to it and knelt down. He realized why when he saw the traces of human blood.
He gently touched the thick ash where the blood was scattered. "Aragorn."
It was a voice tinted raw with pain.
The elf behind him called out. Legolas turned from his crouch, his eyes full of confusion. The elf was holding up a thin chain, from which dangled a small object. In less than a second Legolas held the chain in his hand. "He would never part with this unless he wanted us to know where to find it." His fingers lovingly traced the curves of the small jewel. He quickly put it in a small sachel attached to his belt.
"The Evenstar," the other elf breathed. "I believed it to be a myth."
"It was given to him by someone who has a dear hold on his heart," Legolas replied, swallowing hard. He would never cry, but the emotions welling inside of him were overpowering. Sorrow, for his dearest friend, lost in the wilderness, surrounded by the greatest enemy man had ever known.
Also, rage. He was just beginning to feel it. The rage over what they might have done to Aragorn. And because he had seen the blood, the pain washed over him in waves.
It was almost as though he were living Aragorn's pain vicariously. Because he was nearby, the pain almost doubled.
"He is around here someplace," Legolas whispered, turning and scanning the river. Darkness had now completely fallen, but with his superior vision, he could see beyond the darkness. "I can sense him."
The other elf stood still, his own superior vision trying to spy any glimpse of the elf.
Suddenly a large cry came from over the hill.
"Come!" Legolas cried as both elves raced to the edge of the hill and peered over the crest.
The other elves and men under Haldir were engaged in a battle with more orcs then most would ever see. Legolas had only seen this many before, and that was when Helm's Deep was attacked. Helm's Deep fought with a strength of two thousand. He had no idea how delicate the odds were when fourteen fought a thousand orc.
Or how high a price he would pay to find out.
He could feel their hot, stinking breath on his neck and realized he could run no more. He removed the knife and turned, fighting off one orc. As another sword arched through the air, he grasped its blade with his bare hand, using the rest of him momentum to kick the orc away. Now with a sword in hand, he cast the useless orc blade aside. The sword cut swiftly through the advancing front of orc. Blades clanked on blade.
Suddenly his attention was drawn to his right, away from the river. A few of the orc had picked up larger objects, one a log, one a rock. He turned and ran again, trying to double his speed. But every breath brought more sharp pain from his broken ribs.
"I cannot do this much longer," he gasped between shallow breaths. There was a rock ahead, on the edge of the river. It was a bit higher. It would be there that he would make his final stand.
He leapt on the rock and turned to face the orcs. He beheaded the first, a stream of the oily black blood scattering itself on his sword. The second orc had an axe, but Aragorn's sword was faster, slicing through the orc's chest, again tainting his sword with the foul blood of the enemy.
One by one he cut through the orc. He could feel his energies depleting quickly as the bodies began piling up at his feet. His sword was graceful as it struck every single blow.
The first blow he felt was from the log. It caught him on the underside of the chin, reeling him backwards. Another blow came from the same log, wiping his face from left to right, turning his vision blurry and red. He could taste the blood in his mouth.
He stood up on shaky legs, quickly kicking the log-bearing orc from the rock and turning to boldly face the orc that seemed endless in their quest to detain him. He spat the blood from his mouth and smirked into the shadows, lowering his sword till the blade stood between his eyes.
King or no King, they will never take me without a fight. They will never give me to Sauron alive...
The relentless attack continued. The orc were beginning to crowd into the river behind the rock, using each other as stepping stones to reach Aragorn from behind.
He was soon surrounded. With a heavy breath, he knew the end was near. Yet he fought, striking into the hearts of many orc, filling the river behind him with their terrible bodies.
An axe struck him in the arm. Another orc leapt onto his back, swinging him in a painful circle. An perfect shot from a bow sent an arrow into his side. With a small moan, he pulled out the arrow, the weakness evident in his eyes as he glanced up. He stood again, for certain it would be last time he would ever stand. He lifted his sword to the side, his eyes narrowed in pain. His side, back and shoulders ached. The deep cut on his arm stung with every movement. And every breath caused a small stream of blood to escape his mouth.
He fought off two more of the disfigured beings. With a cry, a second knife struck him, in the back, near his left shoulder. This time, he could stand no further. The log came again, striking the back of his head, reeling him backwards until he was almost on his back. He lifted his bloodied hands to protect his face as the orc swarmed around him.
--
Legolas had had a flutter in his stomach all evening. Even as they rode at full pace across the lowlands toward the plateaus, the feeling hadn't left. It was getting stronger and stronger. Aragorn was nearby, and he was hurt. He knew the ranger well enough now to sense when something was terribly wrong.
He tried to recall when the feeling of terror had suddenly struck him. It was right after they had passed a large series of rocks that overhung the river. The elves had stopped a moment to let the men rest, since they had been riding hard since dawn and were not used to the excessive movements.
Legolas could feel his breath catching and glanced up, a concerned look on his face. His fair hair brushed gently off his shoulders in the cold wind blowing from the east, as the clouds scattered the remaining signs of day. Another dark day lay ahead, Legolas feared, which would make searching for Aragorn even more difficult.
"Orc!"
Legolas snapped from it, using his sharply trained eyes to scan the expanse. The spotter's voice had cut into his reverie like a knife. If Aragorn was nearby, he was perhaps in this party of orc. "Haldir! We must follow!"
Haldir nodded, his own fair hair blowing behind them as the steeds took off even faster, racing down into a lower valley. What few orc were there scattered quickly back into the shadows growing as night approached. Haldir quickly called the order to follow them. He turned and glanced at Legolas. The look in his pale blue eyes was clear: Legolas was to thoroughly search the area.
Legolas gracefully got off his horse and circled the area, his eyes searching. A second elf followed him, the rest following Haldir. The two elves carefully scanned the remains of a camp. There was a metal cut tipped against a rock near a firepit. Legolas was drawn to it and knelt down. He realized why when he saw the traces of human blood.
He gently touched the thick ash where the blood was scattered. "Aragorn."
It was a voice tinted raw with pain.
The elf behind him called out. Legolas turned from his crouch, his eyes full of confusion. The elf was holding up a thin chain, from which dangled a small object. In less than a second Legolas held the chain in his hand. "He would never part with this unless he wanted us to know where to find it." His fingers lovingly traced the curves of the small jewel. He quickly put it in a small sachel attached to his belt.
"The Evenstar," the other elf breathed. "I believed it to be a myth."
"It was given to him by someone who has a dear hold on his heart," Legolas replied, swallowing hard. He would never cry, but the emotions welling inside of him were overpowering. Sorrow, for his dearest friend, lost in the wilderness, surrounded by the greatest enemy man had ever known.
Also, rage. He was just beginning to feel it. The rage over what they might have done to Aragorn. And because he had seen the blood, the pain washed over him in waves.
It was almost as though he were living Aragorn's pain vicariously. Because he was nearby, the pain almost doubled.
"He is around here someplace," Legolas whispered, turning and scanning the river. Darkness had now completely fallen, but with his superior vision, he could see beyond the darkness. "I can sense him."
The other elf stood still, his own superior vision trying to spy any glimpse of the elf.
Suddenly a large cry came from over the hill.
"Come!" Legolas cried as both elves raced to the edge of the hill and peered over the crest.
The other elves and men under Haldir were engaged in a battle with more orcs then most would ever see. Legolas had only seen this many before, and that was when Helm's Deep was attacked. Helm's Deep fought with a strength of two thousand. He had no idea how delicate the odds were when fourteen fought a thousand orc.
Or how high a price he would pay to find out.