The Return of the Sarah!! *cue ominous music*
EVERYONE: Map time again! There's a new Thorongil map in Siri's bio that should help with understanding where they went on their little spying trip and where they are now. :)
Anarril: Yep, Thorongil's rubbing off on him! And you're right: it happens to the best of us! Would you believe it? I was the most normal of children for two years straight… and then along came Hannah. :P Two years later, Chloe showed up. :O Things sort of spiraled out of control from there… ;) Galmod's love is a rather subtle thing, but you're right: any girl in her right mind would run for cover (I'll give you a hint: you know the girl he's talking about). As for the elven sleeping habits thing: we couldn't resist, I'm afraid. Fortunately: Thalion may be observant, but he's not very well informed on elves as a species. ;D
Gwyn: Positively giddy at the possibility of… another cliff hanger?? *rubs finger in ear* Maybe I misheard. Or maybe you were being sarcastic. Anywho, thanks! :D
None: Absolutely not! Thorongil and Legolas would stab themselves with a rusty screwdriver before they let anything happen to anyone they're trying to protect. *turns green* Yeah, or something like that… Thank you so much!!
sabercrazy: Who's been watching too much Aladdin? ;D Don't worry! Much. And yes, the drowned rat look is currently chic in Middle Earth, or so says Bree Beat Magazine. ;)
Elwen: *bows* Thank you! :)
Enigma Jade: Thanks! And now, in keeping with the villainous laughter: a new post! ;)
Lina: Yikes, girl, you sure know how to take the drama out of a scene! :P And dearie me, I thought for sure you were over the Meldir thing by now -- *is soaked instantly by Lina's deluge of tears; fumbles around after the fact for an umbrella* Sorry, sorry! Really, we didn't want to upset you! Well, not *that* much anyway. :) Glad you approve of Duurben's spark of humor! *Duurben doesn't seem to know what to do about the 'high five' and shakes Lina's hand* He's really glad to have fans; really! :D
Eomer: Oh my yes, get her out of here quick!! Knowing Lina, she'll probably try to protect her 'baby' and wind up getting squished herself. :O ;D
w: Once again, you have gotten our day off to the perfect start! Even though, yes, we do have to get up at 6. Honestly, it's not *that* bad, since we don't have to do school on Fridays because of it, but we're just not morning people: a porcupine with a hang-over often couldn't rival my morning mood! ;) Sorry if we confused you a bit with the conversation there: we were trying to keep it from taking too long, but I guess we cut some of the wrong corners… :P Glad you liked it anyway! That sort of thing so often never gets a chance to show up in a story because of the need to jump from one active portion to the next -- in spite of the occasional necessity of making negative characters more negative. ;) Even more than this: I'm glad you liked Duurben so much!! His joke (like so many other aspects of his personality) just suddenly popped out one day. I suppose it was to be expected after all the time he spent with Thorongil… ;) Thank you also on the boat conversation! Hannah did a lot of hard work on that, and as for their positions, you had it correct: Thorongil was sitting in front of Legolas. The idea was supposed to be that he half turned in his seat to face his friend a few times in the conversation, but that was a little confusing: partly because it's hard to imagine how he might do that and continue paddling, and partly because while Hannah did the conversation, I did all the stuff before and after it -- same old 'keeping the flow right' problem (and no pun intended whatsoever!) ;D Last of all: a big hug on our grammar! We don't often hear about it unless we get something wrong, so that was wonderful news! :D
Okay, confession: this is, I believe, the shortest chapter we have ever written for a fanfic! We're sorry that it turned out that way; it had mostly to do with working out the other chapters on either side of this one, and you'll be happy to know that the chapter after this is rather longer than normal. *smiles cheerily* Please check all torches, bows and arrows, swords, lightsabers, and other such possibly writer-damaging items at the thread door and we'll try not to be late with the next post! :}
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Thorongil
By Sarah and Hannah (Siri)
(disclaimers, explanations, and summaries
available at the top of chapter 1)
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MAP: See Siri's bio
Chapter 18
Oliphaunt Am I
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Oliphaunt am I,
Biggest of all,
Huge, old, and tall.
If ever you met me
You wouldn't forget me.
If you never do,
You won't think I'm true;
But old Oliphaunt am I,
And I never lie.
- old Shire rhyme
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Legs rose above them, as thick as tree trunks. Four long tusks stood out, two above its mouth and two protruding from its lower jaw. Dark gray skin sagged on its massive frame. Its steps shook the ground as it reared and plunged. Its trunk rose in a wild, screaming trumpet — its mouth frothed — and its eyes were red with madness.
Hands reached for weapons automatically, but on a beast so huge, how could such small swords and arrows make an impression? Thalion saw that he could walk between the beast's legs easily, without the slightest need to stoop. And its upper tusks and trunk were longer than a horse. The mûmak stamped again and charged over the low crag and in amongst them, causing them to scatter out of its path. Legolas just leapt aside in time to miss the wildly swaying lower tusks as the beast head lolled from side to side.
Kelegalen brought up his sword and slashed at the nearest leg, but the blow, though heavy, drew no blood. Thorongil heaved Nethtalt with him into the underbrush as the creature nearly trampled them, and then he leapt up again, watching as the animal realized its prey had been missed and wheeled about to charge a second time.
Gálmod hauled free his bow and fired off an arrow, but it struck the monstrous thing's side and ricocheted off. The hide was simply too thick. On the creature's back it carried a partially smashed platform, such as would carry a dozen men or more, but there was nobody on it and its scarlet canopy drifted in tattered shreds. Around the mûmak's back legs were two band of iron, with pieces of broken chain still dangling from them.
Legolas also fired an arrow, but it fared the same as Gálmod's, and he turned quickly to Duurben, "How do you injure them?"
"It is too strong," Duurben said, his face still partly frozen from the shock of the creature's arrival.
Legolas tried not to be impatient, "Duurben, you told me Thorongil's men killed three of them: how did they do it?"
The lieutenant righted himself and drew his own bow readily, but his answer was unhelpful, "He never said."
The elf's gaze darted madly through the undergrowth, trying to determine where his friend had gone. A distance to his left, Thalion was dashing out of the mûmak's path as it ran for him, and Legolas fired again, with little hope. The arrow sprang away.
Thorongil stepped into the open, drawing his own bow and aiming high, hoping to distract the beast from the fleeing Rohirrim. The shaft flew straight, but the beast moved, and it stuck in the softer folds of skin below the eye. The mûmak reared, its front feet lifting from the ground, twice the height of a man, and plunging back to earth again, causing the trees to tremble and Thorongil to stumble slightly. And then the beast's head came down, shaking violently from side to side, as if to rid itself of a stinging insect. Thorongil heard Nethtalt cry out a warning, looked up, and caught the end of the long upper tusk in his chest, flying backwards with the blow to land hard upon the ground.
The younger man pulled him further away from the angered beast, sighing with relief as Thorongil tried to right himself almost immediately, gasping.
"No, Thorongil," Nethtalt held him down, "not too fast."
"The — the eyes," the captain gasped, his bruised chest heaving, "they must — must aim for — eyes!"
"Of course," Nethtalt nodded, rising quickly, "I will tell them."
Gálmod's fourth arrow did no better than his previous attempts and he cursed as it nearly hit him after bouncing off. The beast was making noises like thunder and lightening confined in one massive form, but he just managed to hear a voice yelling above it, faintly.
"The eyes! The eyes!"
Swinging his bow up, he fired at the small, flickering red place that was the beast's eyes. It was too small and too fast a target to hit from his distance, but the arrow caught the mûmak above its trunk and finally stayed there. Two more arrows followed from Legolas and Duurben's position, and also found a mark: one to the side of the left eye, and the other below the creature's jowls.
Thalion, freed from the creature's attention, scrambled to the top of the rock face that the beast and charged over and hurled his knife forwards. It nicked the upper tusk and skipped sideways, lodging in the mûmak's lower jaw up to its hilt. The beast's lashing trunk swung out like a whip as it turned, and Thalion ducked once under it, and then was pulled off the rock face by it, falling suddenly straight down. His frantically grasping arms caught a fist full of grass growing from the crevices in the stone, slowing his descent, but then the creature moved sideways, threatening to crush him to the rock with its back leg, and he released his hold, trying to relax at the impact, and rolling aside as the animal's foot flattened the place where he had landed. He lay huddled against the rock, too winded to rise.
Stavhold drove his spear into the back of the creature's knee joint and blood trickled over the handle, causing him to lose his grip and back hastily away when the mûmak's leg jerked backwards, nearly into his face.
Again and again Nethtalt fired, but as the creature became more frenzied, it became more and more difficult both to avoid it and to hit it. Behind him Thorongil had recovered enough to use his bow also. The monster's face had taken on the appearance of being stuck full of pins, but still all the shafts did was anger it.
At last, after stamping about in one place, the mûmak charged suddenly and directly towards the two men. Thorongil let off a final arrow, then followed Nethtalt and fled — knowing to face the monster as it charged would be foolhardy. Yet ever the beast came on, snorting and gaining as they ran, getting further and further from their companions.
Their only warning was the change in the level of the trees. Abruptly, the ground dropped off again, crumbling away into a massive pile of rock and brown grasses. They spun back before going over it, but already the mûmak was upon them, tusks waving and catching up both earth, rocks and trees as they swung. Thorongil and Nethtalt dove to either side as a large stone came flying towards them at head height, hit the ground behind them, and tumbled over the slope to smash on the other rocks below.
Nethtalt had only just scrambled his knees before a tree, half dead and dragged out by its shriveling roots, crashed in upon him.
"Nethtalt!" Thorongil cried, as the young man fell, pinned under the rotting trunk. Nethtalt was only half conscious, his green eyes staring dully from between half closed lids, and he was incapable of defending himself, pinioned as he was. The mûmak bellowed again, echoing off the hills, and Thorongil stood before the tree, his arrows at hand. It was a bad corner from which to defend himself, but he could not flee and leave Nethtalt unprotected. The beast came on, and the first arrow stuck through its ear. Its monstrous head hung low and its tusk jutted forwards, prepared to gore its prey directly through the chest. And at last its eye was close enough.
The second arrow struck directly in the left eye, turning slightly on an angle and missing the brain, but blinding the mûmak on one side and sending blood coursing down the gray leather of its face. The monster ground to a halt, screaming in pain, and jerking its head sideways. Thorongil could not back up with the tree behind him, and the oncoming tusk once more caught him in a heavy blow that knocked him straight to the side.
Thorongil let out a startled cry as he was sent hurtling over the drop, striking the rocky incline, and rolling heavily and painfully down. With a last numbing crack he reached the bottom and lay amongst the stones, wondering that he was still conscious. The morning sky spun above him.
Hearing the animal retreating from the ground above, Thorongil staggered up, bleeding from several scrapes and feeling his head pound. He knew he needed to retrieve Nethtalt and return to help the others, for the beast was not slain yet, but dizziness overcame him and he was forced to stand still a moment, just breathing.
So absorbed was he in this, he did not hear the footsteps until they were directly behind him. Whirling about he brought up his sword, but was caught in the stomach by the butt of a spear. The air left him and he doubled over slightly, his body protesting. In response his attacker struck him again and he collapsed. His fingers knotted in the grass as he lay there, fighting for air. Then, with a final blow over the head, he was at last rendered unconscious. Catching up his limp arms, the enemy took him and headed back the way they had come, satisfied at their accomplishment.
As he had seen when he turned: they were Southron scouts.
TBC…