Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien!
Author's Note:
Sorry, but this chapter is going to have to be a bit short. It's mostly an action scene, and yeah yeah blah blah. I have a lot of work on my hands, including some work that is really supposed to be completed by a special little friend of mine that can't get up and write! So currently, I have... over seven different fics that I have to keep up with. I'll try the best I can! Wish me luck... I'll need it.
-Naurglahad
SET IT OFF!
A slim arrow was aimed at her neck from afar, strung in a bow by none other than Legolas Greenleaf. Their eyes met again. Legolas showed great disgust of her in his clear orbs of blue. She had done enough damage to his companions, had she not? First striking them, then imprisoning them, threatening to eat them, chasing them across a wild desert, and now she toyed with the One Ring between her filthy mortal fingers; clad in the most disgraceful garments he had ever laid his eyes upon. Now if only that presence in the corner of his mind could stop telling him to resist firing the arrow.
Naurglahad's eyes bore no mercy. She had the Dark Lord Sauron and his mighty army for an alliance. It was impossible for such a insignificant team of troops to conquer Mordor and it's ruler. She could prove this to herself so easily. Taking two long strides to the elf, she clasped the blade of his arrow between her index finger and thumb. For some reason, the arrow seemed to sting and burn her fingers, but His Strength was still running in her veins. This next movement would determine her power. Her time had come. She'd set it off!* ...But then again, it was just an arrow, so---
Snap!
The head of the arrow fell to the earth, and with a sweep of the mortal's foot, it had been cast into the flames of the small campfire.
An all-out offense.
"Is this yours?" she asked finally, breaking the tension of silence. The Ring was still in her grasp. "Because if it is..." The hobbits seemed to rise on their grubby little toes as she spoke. "Then you should come and claim it!"
The whispers of Sauron came into sound as she carelessly tossed the Ring high into the air... directly over the flames. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The loop of gold reflected the simple crackle of the campfire turned as a spurt of Ancalagon's breath. And when that blast of inferno began to subside, the elvish markings began to glow in its perfect engravings. Frodo jumped. Boromir jumped. Soon after, almost the rest of the Fellowship came leaping into the action.
It was lucky that Aragorn had good aim this time.
He had strung an arrow into his bow and knocked the Ring off it's falling course. No-one caught the Ring. Not even the three Nazgul that had leaped over the rock just as the Ring took it's decline from the air. Another arrow from the Heir of Isildur came flying, but it was blocked by a gleaming Morgul blade, wielded by the first Wraith on the right.
Boromir and Joe parried to the left, then cut to the right. As the Rider jabbed, the mortal took another parry and tried to trip his opponent. But Joe's plant on the ground was too firm, and he kicked Boromir to the side on his back. He was about to plunge his wicked sword into his fallen foe, until a hot coal came flying into the Nazgul's face.
His inconvenient vulnerability to fire came obvious again as the rest of his robes burst into flames. Naurglahad watched in horror at her far corner of the scene. She heard his cries of pain clearly in her head. It hurt to hear them. To hear the only real friend she had made in this world shriek in torment. Who was the foolish member of that accursed band that tossed that coal?
Her furious eyes did not miss in spotting a hobbit dust his sooty hands off before reaching at his waist to claim his short sword. Without care for anyone else in the world, save Joe, she unleashed her titanic blade from Mordor. She took quick, strong steps toward her victim, twirling her shining spear in the air. The hobbit realized her approach and tried to escape by scrambling onto his feet in attempt to hide behind a rock. She knew he couldn't escape from her. She wanted her revenge.
A whistle in the air signaled her flying dagger, which stabbed right through the hem of the poor halfling's cloak, tethering him to the earth. He stumbled and fell onto his stout knees. Now was the perfect and planned chance to slay her first victim, and that would be all she needed to do to complete the mission.
But another whistle came into existence. And it ended with a soft thud... in Naurglahad's right ribcage. Legolas had finally managed to fire an arrow at his new foe. She stopped dead in her position; blade raised and foot on the dagger. But a rip told her that her prey had escaped and took shelter with his friends behind a rock that was in the far corner. That stupid elf! Not only had she lost her well-chosen target because of him, but now she was wounded. She had failed Joe.
Naurglahad would have been completely out of control with frustrated anger if Sauron's given abilities hadn't reached her. His Mind gave her a message:
"Leave the Wraiths," it spoke in it's deep withering tone, "Claim the Ring. The Wraiths shall be live. Claim the Ring."
As she fell to her knees, smearing her bleeding wound with her fingers, she watched Joe and his companions flee from the site. At least she was glad to know that he would be all right. He would live. And she knew she would. She had never been shot by an arrow before, but her harsh training in her homeland had taught her what to do in these situations; to commit the obvious: ...pull it out.
Relaxing, she lay the rest of herself down to the dirt, and clutched the arrow firmly with her right hand, occasionally readjusting her grip to make sure that it would come out easily and quickly enough. The voices of different people echoed in her ears, eventually fading into her gradually darkening thoughts.
"No! Naurglahad! Don't---"
"She's going to---"
"I can't watch!"
A sharp slip and and agonized cry announced that she had successfully pulled it out.
Then, everything went black.
Working as fast as I can.... I'll get chapter 8 up some time by the end of this Age... wait. Do we have Ages?
Joe: No. But I do, and I would say that you'll get it done by the end of the... forty-ninth Age of the Sun.
Okay, then by this century.
Joe: Better.
Author's Note:
Sorry, but this chapter is going to have to be a bit short. It's mostly an action scene, and yeah yeah blah blah. I have a lot of work on my hands, including some work that is really supposed to be completed by a special little friend of mine that can't get up and write! So currently, I have... over seven different fics that I have to keep up with. I'll try the best I can! Wish me luck... I'll need it.
-Naurglahad
SET IT OFF!
A slim arrow was aimed at her neck from afar, strung in a bow by none other than Legolas Greenleaf. Their eyes met again. Legolas showed great disgust of her in his clear orbs of blue. She had done enough damage to his companions, had she not? First striking them, then imprisoning them, threatening to eat them, chasing them across a wild desert, and now she toyed with the One Ring between her filthy mortal fingers; clad in the most disgraceful garments he had ever laid his eyes upon. Now if only that presence in the corner of his mind could stop telling him to resist firing the arrow.
Naurglahad's eyes bore no mercy. She had the Dark Lord Sauron and his mighty army for an alliance. It was impossible for such a insignificant team of troops to conquer Mordor and it's ruler. She could prove this to herself so easily. Taking two long strides to the elf, she clasped the blade of his arrow between her index finger and thumb. For some reason, the arrow seemed to sting and burn her fingers, but His Strength was still running in her veins. This next movement would determine her power. Her time had come. She'd set it off!* ...But then again, it was just an arrow, so---
Snap!
The head of the arrow fell to the earth, and with a sweep of the mortal's foot, it had been cast into the flames of the small campfire.
An all-out offense.
"Is this yours?" she asked finally, breaking the tension of silence. The Ring was still in her grasp. "Because if it is..." The hobbits seemed to rise on their grubby little toes as she spoke. "Then you should come and claim it!"
The whispers of Sauron came into sound as she carelessly tossed the Ring high into the air... directly over the flames. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The loop of gold reflected the simple crackle of the campfire turned as a spurt of Ancalagon's breath. And when that blast of inferno began to subside, the elvish markings began to glow in its perfect engravings. Frodo jumped. Boromir jumped. Soon after, almost the rest of the Fellowship came leaping into the action.
It was lucky that Aragorn had good aim this time.
He had strung an arrow into his bow and knocked the Ring off it's falling course. No-one caught the Ring. Not even the three Nazgul that had leaped over the rock just as the Ring took it's decline from the air. Another arrow from the Heir of Isildur came flying, but it was blocked by a gleaming Morgul blade, wielded by the first Wraith on the right.
Boromir and Joe parried to the left, then cut to the right. As the Rider jabbed, the mortal took another parry and tried to trip his opponent. But Joe's plant on the ground was too firm, and he kicked Boromir to the side on his back. He was about to plunge his wicked sword into his fallen foe, until a hot coal came flying into the Nazgul's face.
His inconvenient vulnerability to fire came obvious again as the rest of his robes burst into flames. Naurglahad watched in horror at her far corner of the scene. She heard his cries of pain clearly in her head. It hurt to hear them. To hear the only real friend she had made in this world shriek in torment. Who was the foolish member of that accursed band that tossed that coal?
Her furious eyes did not miss in spotting a hobbit dust his sooty hands off before reaching at his waist to claim his short sword. Without care for anyone else in the world, save Joe, she unleashed her titanic blade from Mordor. She took quick, strong steps toward her victim, twirling her shining spear in the air. The hobbit realized her approach and tried to escape by scrambling onto his feet in attempt to hide behind a rock. She knew he couldn't escape from her. She wanted her revenge.
A whistle in the air signaled her flying dagger, which stabbed right through the hem of the poor halfling's cloak, tethering him to the earth. He stumbled and fell onto his stout knees. Now was the perfect and planned chance to slay her first victim, and that would be all she needed to do to complete the mission.
But another whistle came into existence. And it ended with a soft thud... in Naurglahad's right ribcage. Legolas had finally managed to fire an arrow at his new foe. She stopped dead in her position; blade raised and foot on the dagger. But a rip told her that her prey had escaped and took shelter with his friends behind a rock that was in the far corner. That stupid elf! Not only had she lost her well-chosen target because of him, but now she was wounded. She had failed Joe.
Naurglahad would have been completely out of control with frustrated anger if Sauron's given abilities hadn't reached her. His Mind gave her a message:
"Leave the Wraiths," it spoke in it's deep withering tone, "Claim the Ring. The Wraiths shall be live. Claim the Ring."
As she fell to her knees, smearing her bleeding wound with her fingers, she watched Joe and his companions flee from the site. At least she was glad to know that he would be all right. He would live. And she knew she would. She had never been shot by an arrow before, but her harsh training in her homeland had taught her what to do in these situations; to commit the obvious: ...pull it out.
Relaxing, she lay the rest of herself down to the dirt, and clutched the arrow firmly with her right hand, occasionally readjusting her grip to make sure that it would come out easily and quickly enough. The voices of different people echoed in her ears, eventually fading into her gradually darkening thoughts.
"No! Naurglahad! Don't---"
"She's going to---"
"I can't watch!"
A sharp slip and and agonized cry announced that she had successfully pulled it out.
Then, everything went black.
Working as fast as I can.... I'll get chapter 8 up some time by the end of this Age... wait. Do we have Ages?
Joe: No. But I do, and I would say that you'll get it done by the end of the... forty-ninth Age of the Sun.
Okay, then by this century.
Joe: Better.