Well, I decided that I would leave this a cliff-hanger, sorry! I am still
unsure as to what will happen after this, so we'll see on the reviews I
receive. I am also afraid that I have a research paper due next Wednesday,
so I am unsure if I will be able to complete another chapter before then
(although sometimes I find the time to!). I am glad that so many of
reviewers continue to review, thank you so much for your support! But that
doesn't mean that others shouldn't join in! I hope you all enjoy this
chapter!
****
Haemerethwen dimly awoke as she felt her face roughly hit the ground; opening her tear-crusted eyes, she blurrily watched as the grass quickly moved below her. Blinking her eyes, the grass became individualized to blades, bending to accommodate her body being dragged over the plants. There were numerous hands clutching upon her bruised body, their sharp claws tightly gripping upon as they carelessly pulled her towards the uneven circle where the fire had raged the night before.
The she-Elf had no energy to resist the action she was now a participant in; her tortured body now poisoned to the extent where she no longer reacted to the harsh dealings being presented to her. Her once beautiful Elven features now faded into a memory: her dim eyes had slightly sunken within her skull as starvation and dehydration took its toll while her hair was tangled and clumped with both dirt and blood. Her tunic barely covered her skin, allowing the cold breeze to strike her skin powerfully. She was slowly succumbing to what Thrakdreg desired: a powerless object to violate.
The previous night was the first violation she was to withhold. Her mind, unable to prevent her body's outcry, was declining in its power to defend itself from harm. Her entire body ached from the wounds, although some were beginning to heal. Her chest flared menacingly, the pain being recognized as the Orcs threw her face down upon the scorched land. She was unable to catch a glimpse of the symbol they had branded her with, but the constant physical agony it caused forced her mind to ponder the possibilities. Her thoughts circled around how long the scar would last; she could not bear the thought of Elves catching a glimpse of her torture.
Reality was slowly diffusing into insanity, permitting the she-Elf to remain slightly optimistic that beyond her current status there was hope in survival. Yet, awakening from these dreams only harmed her as her situation scarred her deeper from the realization of her powerlessness. She quietly groaned as she tried to shift upon the ground, but the firm implant of a strong foot upon her still healing back stifled the action. She grimaced as dirt rubbed against the seared flesh of her skin, forcing her troubled mind to again reconsider the wound.
"How does the feeble feel this brilliant morning?" rasped a voice close to her ear. She closed her eyes, defying Thrakdreg's authority over her. A powerful kick to the ribs sharply opened the she-Elf's eyes and soon she was quickly turned over. Thrakdreg sinisterly smiled down upon her, his yellow eyes darkly peering into her eyes.
"Answer me," he commanded. She meekly looked up at him, glancing at his ears, trying to remember a time where she had once stroked that feature. Unwittingly, she began to smile and close her eyes once more, her view becoming soothed with the vision of the lost Erlaithion.
"Erlaithion," she whispered, the smile becoming broader as the illusion returned the gesture. The figure of her insanity then stepped closer and the she-Elf gasped in recognition for it was not the green-eyed Elf she had supposed it to be; the blue-eyes shined at her as his smile grew stronger. A sudden numbness then hit her body as she became soothed at the sight of Legolas.
"Why do you suddenly smile?" interrupted the impatient Orc as he grabbed her chin harshly and forced her to look up towards him.
"My mind is free," she whispered, her eyes regaining the shine that had recently been lost, "These fruitful thoughts circulate within my mind, allowing me to once again taste the harvest of such wonders." Thrakdreg only gripped upon her chin harder, his eyebrows hardening as he began to comprehend her words.
"What thoughts are those, wench?" he grumbled, daring her to openly admit her inner happiness. She merely continued to smile, her thoughts strewing from reality once more. "Speak!" the Orc shouted, violently slamming the back of her head into the ground. Haemerethwen's eyes shut as her view began to turn white, trying to regain balance within her distorted mind.
"I think of one," she finally answered, opening her eyes to watch the response of the Orc, "You know of whom." Thrakdreg slowly stood up, his yellow eyes never straying from the hard glance of the she-Elf. He then ordered a subservient Orc away, smiling at Haemerethwen as the creature scuttled away, eager to please his leader.
"I grow tired of hearing thoughts of him," he stated, his eyes darkening as he placed his foot upon her chest, "You violate your mind with such precious thoughts; that Elf is no more, unable to withstand my force. You are my possession, Haemerethwen, and I will have you recognize it!" The Orc came running back to Thrakdreg, licking his black lips as he placed the whip within his leader's hands.
"I am none's possession!" she spat out at him, but he only sinisterly laughed at her. The surrounding Orcs then flipped the she-Elf over; it took very little effort since she only restrained for the first minute. Soon, her body refused to react to her mind's requests, allowing the creatures to smile at how she had succumbed.
"You are mine," she heard him say as he unraveled the whip, "And I will hear you cry 'Master' or your skin will simply burn off."
"Never!" she shouted, but was quickly silenced as the crack of the whip broke through the air. She felt the leather dig into her flesh, searing off a tiny strip of skin. She grimaced in pain, slightly struggling against the hands that held her down. Suddenly she felt her skin become scorched again, allowing the blood to softly flow down her back. She shook her head as another lash stripped her of more restraint from the Orc's bidding.
"These physical scars shall become forgotten," she muttered into the ground as a sixth lash fell upon her back, "As will you." She closed her eyes, trying to force the pain away. Breathing heavily, she listened for the crack of the next whip, but she instead only heard silence. She rested her heavy head upon the ground, taking deep breaths of air and trying to guess the next action to be more prepared.
"Your mind will forever be disfigured, although your body may not," he slowly answered, seemingly consumed with some other task. She shook her head, but no words for a rebuttal could form within her tired mind. Her body then trembled as the leather scraped her skin thinner; he was attacking her faster now with less time between each lash. She began to quietly moan as her head swarmed from the pain it caused, her body buckling with the force of the whip.
"Utter my name and I shall stop," he then stated to her, suddenly stopping the torture he inflicted upon her.
"Your name is of no importance," she muttered back to him. He responded with a sharp attack upon her shoulders. She grimaced as the pain seared into her flesh; the Orc now attacked already burned skin and the she- Elf could only whimper in response to his harshness. Slowly, a small cry that had welled up within her was released, despite her mind's wishing against it. She realized that one cry would instill many more, but she could no longer control her responses. Another lash befell upon her and then another, until a stronger cry escaped her lips. She could no longer move her back when she finally pleaded to the Orc leader to cease.
"Speak my name," he commanded as the Orcs flipped her over, allowing her eyes to flash with the sunlight that shone between the branches. Her eyes, however, had lost the shining that was so evident within her Elven kindred and it was clear to the Orcs surrounding her that she had finally succumbed. She shivered as the pain suddenly strengthened, reminding her again of her weakness. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she stuttered out the name he desired to hear. An evil smile broke across his face as he took in the weak Elf lying half-naked in front of him. She was his.
"Leave her," stated Thrakdreg to the surrounding Orcs, "We will let her withstand now the torments of her heart." With a smirk, the leader turned and walked away jauntily, a different movement being exhibited in his departure. Haemerethwen barely noticed that the Orcs had left; her bereaved mind throbbed as it reconsidered what she had named Thrakdreg. She still shivered from the ripples of pain being sent through her nerves; she tried to curl into a ball to warm herself, but her movement only resulted in the stretching of the already taut skin of her shoulders. Her stomach began to convulse and the bile rose to her throat, causing her to bite upon her lower lip and refuse to open it. Swallowing down the accumulating spit within her mouth, she closed her eyes to seek solstice within the darkness.
A coldness now wrapped itself around Haemerethwen's heart as her eyes searched within the dark for comfort. Yet, all she found was the nothingness of her existence. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes as she reconsidered the events of the following week: it began with her heart's pleasant fluttering with desire for Legolas, but brutally ended with her being painfully marked as a possession of the one she passionately hated.
She clenched her fists, the anger replacing the sorrow that threatened to destabilize her. At first, it was anger directed towards him, the one who harmed only for his own benefit. Then, as she lay spread- eagled within the varying shadows and sunshine beneath the trees, the anger slowly churned into sorrow. She glanced down upon the skin of her chest, daring to set her eyes upon the emblem he symbolized her with. As her eyes traced the lines, her heart slowly sunk deeper into despair; any Elf who would see the symbol would immediately recognize the humiliating mark upon her. She closed her eyes violently and began to shake, unable to convince herself that this was true.
The sound of Thrakdreg's voice then reminding her it was.
****
The stench of filth flowed through the air as the Elves stealthily crept closer, but the unsettling scent of Elven blood tainting the breeze more. They could hear the raucous Orcs as they shouted amongst each other, pure hatred being exhibited within their thick voices. A shrill shriek echoed within the forest, ending the previous argument that had unsettled the calm of the land.
The Elves were but fifty feet away from the site of the previous night's fire; they had decided to attack from the numerous trees found within the forest of the Trollshaws, the land known for the numerous Trolls that roamed the area. The Orcs on lookout around the perimeter did not hear the Elves silently creep above them; indeed, the creatures only heard the soft thud of an Elf land behind him, but there was no memory afterward as the metal slit its throat and easily killed the hated being.
Elladan and Elrohir were the leaders of the group immediately followed by Legolas, an anxious determination shining within his blue eyes. Ten of the remaining Elves were behind Legolas while twenty more held back on the forest floor. The Elves within the branches could not yet see the horde of Orcs, but they could hear the events that were occurring as they continued to quickly travel towards the creatures.
The sound of a resounding and deep voice first ripped through the air, almost repelling the Elves at the sound of its harshness. However, the words he spoke were even more vile:
"To release myself into such a magnificent creature: what pleasure could be more achieved?" The Elves all were little reassured by this question: could he have already entered her, forcing her spirit to depart her body? Legolas reacted more violently than the others; he clenched his jaw in anger at himself: how could he have allowed her to be subject to such a creature as that?
"Death," a weak voice answered. Elladan continued to creep forward with a small smile upon his face, whether because of the insult the she-Elf bestowed upon the Orc or because the irony that the creature's death would come, none could tell. The messenger was still alive.
The Orc apparently responded with a swift kick to her body, where it landed the Elves did not know, but a disgusting crack echoed within the trees, wrenching the stomachs of all that heard her pain. The Elves quickened their pace, eager to surprise the Orcs and eradicate those that so easily tortured their kind. The twins vehemently despised the Orcs since they had poisoned their mother, disgusted in the creatures as they caused such harm to those undeserved of it. Legolas had also become acquainted with the wretched creatures, loathing them with a passion that could only be quenched with their death.
"Bind her," commanded the same Orc, "You shall become eternally mine, Elf. You cannot deny your master and none else shall!" A slight struggle then ensued as the Orcs bound the she-Elf, but it was quickly handled before she could defend herself.
"Avar," she then spat out, followed by the sinister laughter of the Orc. Elladan then stilled the following Elves with his hand, followed by his stern face glancing backwards towards his companions. He was in a position to attack the Orcs from above and now he commanded the other Elves to circle around the creatures and wait for his signal. The Elves quickly slipped through the branches, the leaves not stirring as their gentle feet traced the branches.
Legolas was quick to find a position beside Elladan, who was already aiming an arrow at the ignorant creatures below him. Legolas also drew an arrow to his bow, keeping the string taut as he pulled it backwards. A slight smile crossed his face as he aimed for the creature standing over Haemerethwen, understanding that the all the other Elves would aim for the other creatures. His sight did not waver from the Orc as the others encircled the creatures; he did not glance down upon the shaking she-Elf, a fallen image of her previous self.
When the Elves had aligned themselves, Legolas anxiously waited for Elladan's signal. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the twin nodded his dark-haired head slightly, motioning to the surrounding Elves to fire. Legolas sucked in a breath as he slowly released the string, allowing the arrow to shoot forward towards the vile creature. He watched in slow motion as the tail of the arrow spun towards the Orc, still unaware that he was under attack. He began to smile as the arrow continued its path, but it was immediately pushed aside by a frustrating frown.
The Orc, at the last second, moved slightly forward and the arrow just skimmed the back of his skull. Clenching his teeth and immediately pulling out another arrow to the bow, Legolas took aim at the fleeing creature, which was obviously now aware of the attack. However, the creature ran too quickly and caught the second arrow in his shoulder. It stumbled forward into the surrounding trees, instilling more anger within Legolas at his failure to kill the creature.
The other Elves had hit their targets and the other Orcs, shrieking in both anger and fear, unsheathed their blades and pulled out their bows. The Elves aimed for the archers, aware that they offered the more present danger. Arrows sang through the air as Orc after Orc fell, their black blood splotching the green floor and the shrill cries of the dying disturbing the serenity. Soon, the twenty Elves on foot came running into the area, quickly pulling out their bows and shooting down the fleeing Orcs.
The loss of their leader caused many of the black creatures to be confused as to what action to take; the attack had been so strong and quick that their had been no immediate reaction, except to watch their companions fall dead. Soon, the creatures rushed out to attack the Elves upon the ground; the ground Elves were attacked so forcefully that they had to unsheathe their blades and use their skill as a swordsman to survive. The Elves within the trees continued to attack those that fled, an anger burning behind their eyes as they remembered the scream of the she-Elf.
Legolas, after losing sight of the Orc leader, had begun to lithely climb the trees towards the area where he had last seen him. 'He will not escape alive,' angrily thought Legolas as he quickly stepped along the branches of the trees. When he had reached his desired location, he quickly scanned the surrounding area, desiring to find some evidence of where the Orc had gone. Knotting his brows, he swung down from the branches and continued to search along the forest floor. Ducking from shadow to shadow, he easily escaped the view of the fleeing Orcs, who cared not for what lurked in shadows but only for running from where the arrows rained down.
Legolas grabbed hold of his sword, unsheathing it and holding it close to his body in a protective stance. He scoured the land for the Orc, almost certain that he would not leave his companions to die. He grew frustrated as he searched between the trees and not being able to find a trace of where the Orc had disappeared to. Ducking into another shadow, he slowly searched the floor for a sign of him. Then he saw him.
Legolas paled as he watched the unseen Orc leader, hidden behind a large bush, take aim with an arrow into the frenzy underneath the trees. He turned his head quickly to glance upon whom he aimed and when he recognized the Elf, he yelled into the already disturbed air, his delusion now complete as his reverberating yell echoed within his skull:
"Law!"
****
CylentWind: I'm glad that you like the connection between the two Elves; I found it interesting to write because I based it on their own delusions, which is always fun to write about! I'm glad you're still reviewing my story and I hope you like this past chapter, even though the conflict is still not over. I promise next chapter it will be!
Ana: You cried? I'm sorry! I had no idea that I would have that effect on people! I promise that for the next chapters there will be more romance and less (but still some, of course) adventure. I'll contact you about your fic, although I'll admit that I've never read one!
Catrina: Thank you so much! It always makes me happy to read that people think my story is one of their favorites; I hope I can continue to please you!
Galadriel Lorien: I will read your fan-fictions as soon as possible; I am sure they are excellent! Thank you again for your review, I am extremely pleased that you enjoyed it!
Sokochan: I hope you couldn't feel the anguish of hot iron against your flesh, probably not a very desirable feeling! However, I am glad that I had that affect upon you! There will be more of Elrohir and Elladan joking around in the later chapters; I hope to explicate on them because Tolkien never really did (oh well).
Night Interlude: Well, I love your reviews, even if they are late! And, no, I could never tire of hearing your "Great Jobs." How could I? I am surprised that you say that Haemerethwen has depth, I thought that many of my readers did not particularly like her. So that's a good thing to know! I'm glad you still like Thrakdreg, although now you see more of the malicious side of him. Thanks again for your reviews!
****
Haemerethwen dimly awoke as she felt her face roughly hit the ground; opening her tear-crusted eyes, she blurrily watched as the grass quickly moved below her. Blinking her eyes, the grass became individualized to blades, bending to accommodate her body being dragged over the plants. There were numerous hands clutching upon her bruised body, their sharp claws tightly gripping upon as they carelessly pulled her towards the uneven circle where the fire had raged the night before.
The she-Elf had no energy to resist the action she was now a participant in; her tortured body now poisoned to the extent where she no longer reacted to the harsh dealings being presented to her. Her once beautiful Elven features now faded into a memory: her dim eyes had slightly sunken within her skull as starvation and dehydration took its toll while her hair was tangled and clumped with both dirt and blood. Her tunic barely covered her skin, allowing the cold breeze to strike her skin powerfully. She was slowly succumbing to what Thrakdreg desired: a powerless object to violate.
The previous night was the first violation she was to withhold. Her mind, unable to prevent her body's outcry, was declining in its power to defend itself from harm. Her entire body ached from the wounds, although some were beginning to heal. Her chest flared menacingly, the pain being recognized as the Orcs threw her face down upon the scorched land. She was unable to catch a glimpse of the symbol they had branded her with, but the constant physical agony it caused forced her mind to ponder the possibilities. Her thoughts circled around how long the scar would last; she could not bear the thought of Elves catching a glimpse of her torture.
Reality was slowly diffusing into insanity, permitting the she-Elf to remain slightly optimistic that beyond her current status there was hope in survival. Yet, awakening from these dreams only harmed her as her situation scarred her deeper from the realization of her powerlessness. She quietly groaned as she tried to shift upon the ground, but the firm implant of a strong foot upon her still healing back stifled the action. She grimaced as dirt rubbed against the seared flesh of her skin, forcing her troubled mind to again reconsider the wound.
"How does the feeble feel this brilliant morning?" rasped a voice close to her ear. She closed her eyes, defying Thrakdreg's authority over her. A powerful kick to the ribs sharply opened the she-Elf's eyes and soon she was quickly turned over. Thrakdreg sinisterly smiled down upon her, his yellow eyes darkly peering into her eyes.
"Answer me," he commanded. She meekly looked up at him, glancing at his ears, trying to remember a time where she had once stroked that feature. Unwittingly, she began to smile and close her eyes once more, her view becoming soothed with the vision of the lost Erlaithion.
"Erlaithion," she whispered, the smile becoming broader as the illusion returned the gesture. The figure of her insanity then stepped closer and the she-Elf gasped in recognition for it was not the green-eyed Elf she had supposed it to be; the blue-eyes shined at her as his smile grew stronger. A sudden numbness then hit her body as she became soothed at the sight of Legolas.
"Why do you suddenly smile?" interrupted the impatient Orc as he grabbed her chin harshly and forced her to look up towards him.
"My mind is free," she whispered, her eyes regaining the shine that had recently been lost, "These fruitful thoughts circulate within my mind, allowing me to once again taste the harvest of such wonders." Thrakdreg only gripped upon her chin harder, his eyebrows hardening as he began to comprehend her words.
"What thoughts are those, wench?" he grumbled, daring her to openly admit her inner happiness. She merely continued to smile, her thoughts strewing from reality once more. "Speak!" the Orc shouted, violently slamming the back of her head into the ground. Haemerethwen's eyes shut as her view began to turn white, trying to regain balance within her distorted mind.
"I think of one," she finally answered, opening her eyes to watch the response of the Orc, "You know of whom." Thrakdreg slowly stood up, his yellow eyes never straying from the hard glance of the she-Elf. He then ordered a subservient Orc away, smiling at Haemerethwen as the creature scuttled away, eager to please his leader.
"I grow tired of hearing thoughts of him," he stated, his eyes darkening as he placed his foot upon her chest, "You violate your mind with such precious thoughts; that Elf is no more, unable to withstand my force. You are my possession, Haemerethwen, and I will have you recognize it!" The Orc came running back to Thrakdreg, licking his black lips as he placed the whip within his leader's hands.
"I am none's possession!" she spat out at him, but he only sinisterly laughed at her. The surrounding Orcs then flipped the she-Elf over; it took very little effort since she only restrained for the first minute. Soon, her body refused to react to her mind's requests, allowing the creatures to smile at how she had succumbed.
"You are mine," she heard him say as he unraveled the whip, "And I will hear you cry 'Master' or your skin will simply burn off."
"Never!" she shouted, but was quickly silenced as the crack of the whip broke through the air. She felt the leather dig into her flesh, searing off a tiny strip of skin. She grimaced in pain, slightly struggling against the hands that held her down. Suddenly she felt her skin become scorched again, allowing the blood to softly flow down her back. She shook her head as another lash stripped her of more restraint from the Orc's bidding.
"These physical scars shall become forgotten," she muttered into the ground as a sixth lash fell upon her back, "As will you." She closed her eyes, trying to force the pain away. Breathing heavily, she listened for the crack of the next whip, but she instead only heard silence. She rested her heavy head upon the ground, taking deep breaths of air and trying to guess the next action to be more prepared.
"Your mind will forever be disfigured, although your body may not," he slowly answered, seemingly consumed with some other task. She shook her head, but no words for a rebuttal could form within her tired mind. Her body then trembled as the leather scraped her skin thinner; he was attacking her faster now with less time between each lash. She began to quietly moan as her head swarmed from the pain it caused, her body buckling with the force of the whip.
"Utter my name and I shall stop," he then stated to her, suddenly stopping the torture he inflicted upon her.
"Your name is of no importance," she muttered back to him. He responded with a sharp attack upon her shoulders. She grimaced as the pain seared into her flesh; the Orc now attacked already burned skin and the she- Elf could only whimper in response to his harshness. Slowly, a small cry that had welled up within her was released, despite her mind's wishing against it. She realized that one cry would instill many more, but she could no longer control her responses. Another lash befell upon her and then another, until a stronger cry escaped her lips. She could no longer move her back when she finally pleaded to the Orc leader to cease.
"Speak my name," he commanded as the Orcs flipped her over, allowing her eyes to flash with the sunlight that shone between the branches. Her eyes, however, had lost the shining that was so evident within her Elven kindred and it was clear to the Orcs surrounding her that she had finally succumbed. She shivered as the pain suddenly strengthened, reminding her again of her weakness. Lowering her eyes to the ground, she stuttered out the name he desired to hear. An evil smile broke across his face as he took in the weak Elf lying half-naked in front of him. She was his.
"Leave her," stated Thrakdreg to the surrounding Orcs, "We will let her withstand now the torments of her heart." With a smirk, the leader turned and walked away jauntily, a different movement being exhibited in his departure. Haemerethwen barely noticed that the Orcs had left; her bereaved mind throbbed as it reconsidered what she had named Thrakdreg. She still shivered from the ripples of pain being sent through her nerves; she tried to curl into a ball to warm herself, but her movement only resulted in the stretching of the already taut skin of her shoulders. Her stomach began to convulse and the bile rose to her throat, causing her to bite upon her lower lip and refuse to open it. Swallowing down the accumulating spit within her mouth, she closed her eyes to seek solstice within the darkness.
A coldness now wrapped itself around Haemerethwen's heart as her eyes searched within the dark for comfort. Yet, all she found was the nothingness of her existence. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes as she reconsidered the events of the following week: it began with her heart's pleasant fluttering with desire for Legolas, but brutally ended with her being painfully marked as a possession of the one she passionately hated.
She clenched her fists, the anger replacing the sorrow that threatened to destabilize her. At first, it was anger directed towards him, the one who harmed only for his own benefit. Then, as she lay spread- eagled within the varying shadows and sunshine beneath the trees, the anger slowly churned into sorrow. She glanced down upon the skin of her chest, daring to set her eyes upon the emblem he symbolized her with. As her eyes traced the lines, her heart slowly sunk deeper into despair; any Elf who would see the symbol would immediately recognize the humiliating mark upon her. She closed her eyes violently and began to shake, unable to convince herself that this was true.
The sound of Thrakdreg's voice then reminding her it was.
****
The stench of filth flowed through the air as the Elves stealthily crept closer, but the unsettling scent of Elven blood tainting the breeze more. They could hear the raucous Orcs as they shouted amongst each other, pure hatred being exhibited within their thick voices. A shrill shriek echoed within the forest, ending the previous argument that had unsettled the calm of the land.
The Elves were but fifty feet away from the site of the previous night's fire; they had decided to attack from the numerous trees found within the forest of the Trollshaws, the land known for the numerous Trolls that roamed the area. The Orcs on lookout around the perimeter did not hear the Elves silently creep above them; indeed, the creatures only heard the soft thud of an Elf land behind him, but there was no memory afterward as the metal slit its throat and easily killed the hated being.
Elladan and Elrohir were the leaders of the group immediately followed by Legolas, an anxious determination shining within his blue eyes. Ten of the remaining Elves were behind Legolas while twenty more held back on the forest floor. The Elves within the branches could not yet see the horde of Orcs, but they could hear the events that were occurring as they continued to quickly travel towards the creatures.
The sound of a resounding and deep voice first ripped through the air, almost repelling the Elves at the sound of its harshness. However, the words he spoke were even more vile:
"To release myself into such a magnificent creature: what pleasure could be more achieved?" The Elves all were little reassured by this question: could he have already entered her, forcing her spirit to depart her body? Legolas reacted more violently than the others; he clenched his jaw in anger at himself: how could he have allowed her to be subject to such a creature as that?
"Death," a weak voice answered. Elladan continued to creep forward with a small smile upon his face, whether because of the insult the she-Elf bestowed upon the Orc or because the irony that the creature's death would come, none could tell. The messenger was still alive.
The Orc apparently responded with a swift kick to her body, where it landed the Elves did not know, but a disgusting crack echoed within the trees, wrenching the stomachs of all that heard her pain. The Elves quickened their pace, eager to surprise the Orcs and eradicate those that so easily tortured their kind. The twins vehemently despised the Orcs since they had poisoned their mother, disgusted in the creatures as they caused such harm to those undeserved of it. Legolas had also become acquainted with the wretched creatures, loathing them with a passion that could only be quenched with their death.
"Bind her," commanded the same Orc, "You shall become eternally mine, Elf. You cannot deny your master and none else shall!" A slight struggle then ensued as the Orcs bound the she-Elf, but it was quickly handled before she could defend herself.
"Avar," she then spat out, followed by the sinister laughter of the Orc. Elladan then stilled the following Elves with his hand, followed by his stern face glancing backwards towards his companions. He was in a position to attack the Orcs from above and now he commanded the other Elves to circle around the creatures and wait for his signal. The Elves quickly slipped through the branches, the leaves not stirring as their gentle feet traced the branches.
Legolas was quick to find a position beside Elladan, who was already aiming an arrow at the ignorant creatures below him. Legolas also drew an arrow to his bow, keeping the string taut as he pulled it backwards. A slight smile crossed his face as he aimed for the creature standing over Haemerethwen, understanding that the all the other Elves would aim for the other creatures. His sight did not waver from the Orc as the others encircled the creatures; he did not glance down upon the shaking she-Elf, a fallen image of her previous self.
When the Elves had aligned themselves, Legolas anxiously waited for Elladan's signal. From the corner of his eye, he watched as the twin nodded his dark-haired head slightly, motioning to the surrounding Elves to fire. Legolas sucked in a breath as he slowly released the string, allowing the arrow to shoot forward towards the vile creature. He watched in slow motion as the tail of the arrow spun towards the Orc, still unaware that he was under attack. He began to smile as the arrow continued its path, but it was immediately pushed aside by a frustrating frown.
The Orc, at the last second, moved slightly forward and the arrow just skimmed the back of his skull. Clenching his teeth and immediately pulling out another arrow to the bow, Legolas took aim at the fleeing creature, which was obviously now aware of the attack. However, the creature ran too quickly and caught the second arrow in his shoulder. It stumbled forward into the surrounding trees, instilling more anger within Legolas at his failure to kill the creature.
The other Elves had hit their targets and the other Orcs, shrieking in both anger and fear, unsheathed their blades and pulled out their bows. The Elves aimed for the archers, aware that they offered the more present danger. Arrows sang through the air as Orc after Orc fell, their black blood splotching the green floor and the shrill cries of the dying disturbing the serenity. Soon, the twenty Elves on foot came running into the area, quickly pulling out their bows and shooting down the fleeing Orcs.
The loss of their leader caused many of the black creatures to be confused as to what action to take; the attack had been so strong and quick that their had been no immediate reaction, except to watch their companions fall dead. Soon, the creatures rushed out to attack the Elves upon the ground; the ground Elves were attacked so forcefully that they had to unsheathe their blades and use their skill as a swordsman to survive. The Elves within the trees continued to attack those that fled, an anger burning behind their eyes as they remembered the scream of the she-Elf.
Legolas, after losing sight of the Orc leader, had begun to lithely climb the trees towards the area where he had last seen him. 'He will not escape alive,' angrily thought Legolas as he quickly stepped along the branches of the trees. When he had reached his desired location, he quickly scanned the surrounding area, desiring to find some evidence of where the Orc had gone. Knotting his brows, he swung down from the branches and continued to search along the forest floor. Ducking from shadow to shadow, he easily escaped the view of the fleeing Orcs, who cared not for what lurked in shadows but only for running from where the arrows rained down.
Legolas grabbed hold of his sword, unsheathing it and holding it close to his body in a protective stance. He scoured the land for the Orc, almost certain that he would not leave his companions to die. He grew frustrated as he searched between the trees and not being able to find a trace of where the Orc had disappeared to. Ducking into another shadow, he slowly searched the floor for a sign of him. Then he saw him.
Legolas paled as he watched the unseen Orc leader, hidden behind a large bush, take aim with an arrow into the frenzy underneath the trees. He turned his head quickly to glance upon whom he aimed and when he recognized the Elf, he yelled into the already disturbed air, his delusion now complete as his reverberating yell echoed within his skull:
"Law!"
****
CylentWind: I'm glad that you like the connection between the two Elves; I found it interesting to write because I based it on their own delusions, which is always fun to write about! I'm glad you're still reviewing my story and I hope you like this past chapter, even though the conflict is still not over. I promise next chapter it will be!
Ana: You cried? I'm sorry! I had no idea that I would have that effect on people! I promise that for the next chapters there will be more romance and less (but still some, of course) adventure. I'll contact you about your fic, although I'll admit that I've never read one!
Catrina: Thank you so much! It always makes me happy to read that people think my story is one of their favorites; I hope I can continue to please you!
Galadriel Lorien: I will read your fan-fictions as soon as possible; I am sure they are excellent! Thank you again for your review, I am extremely pleased that you enjoyed it!
Sokochan: I hope you couldn't feel the anguish of hot iron against your flesh, probably not a very desirable feeling! However, I am glad that I had that affect upon you! There will be more of Elrohir and Elladan joking around in the later chapters; I hope to explicate on them because Tolkien never really did (oh well).
Night Interlude: Well, I love your reviews, even if they are late! And, no, I could never tire of hearing your "Great Jobs." How could I? I am surprised that you say that Haemerethwen has depth, I thought that many of my readers did not particularly like her. So that's a good thing to know! I'm glad you still like Thrakdreg, although now you see more of the malicious side of him. Thanks again for your reviews!