Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.
Author's Notes: Another tough chapter to write. Because it's another battle scene! Tough stuff, that. Tolkien is brilliant to have written so many and made them all different. Anyway…
Tathar- Calm down. Ever read the books? Frodo and Sam don't come back for a little while yet.
JastaElf- Aragorn would be a healer, but how would a wolf heal people? Darn. That would have been cool, though.
Tenshiamanda- Why did I injure Legolas? Well, I wanted to show the destructive capabilities of the Naugrim, and since the Dwarves and Elves don't like each other, Legolas seemed the natural target.
TK- Glad the story is so powerful to you. I got all worked up writing that scene.
Amarth- Wolf corpses, yes. It had to be the Paths of the Dead for a reason, and wolf ghosts just didn't work for me.
Okay, enough chattering from me. Now, what you've all been waiting for!
Chapter Fourteen
~
Sunlight barely made it to the ground that day; the sky was so clustered and streaked with clouds. Only the occasional patch of light illuminated the cold earth, and tension crackled on the air.
Elrond and Glorfindel spoke long of the impending march to Mordor, wondering also why their Pack had not arrived yet. A little ways away, Pippin was moping on a hilltop while Arwen slept next to him, hoping to comfort the Hobbit wolf. Denethor and Faramir were nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, Faramir came exploding over the horizon, his voice screeching in warning and terror. Gunshots kicked up the dirt behind him, and the other wolves were on their feet in an instant. Flying past them Faramir, howling for them to follow, and follow they did.
Shooting across the tundra in fear and confusion, Elrond chanced a look back over his shoulder. It was a mere glance, but he saw enough. The Enemy was moving, and Gondor could not hold out against it alone. Barking a command to Arwen, he bade her break off from the pack and run for the reinforcements that lingered on the trail.
Obediently, the Elven female pressed her ears back and fled, her long legs stretching out as she poured on speed and winked from sight.
Still the Gondor pack ran, at last pouring into a canyon that Faramir had long known was there. One end was blocked up entirely, creating a narrow channel with high walls and only one way in. However, moments after they entered the hideout, Glorfindel realized the tactical error and cried aloud.
Four Nazgul perched up above the canyon walls, peering down through their infrared goggles with rifles in their hands. With a yelp, Elrond commanded that all take cover. The wolves complied, pressing their slender bodies under whatever slight overhang they could find, even as gunfire rained down into the canyon.
Glorfindel made a run for the opening, to risk an escape to seek help. However, a wall of Orcs blocked the exit. Curiously, the Orcs did not advance into the channel, but remained without, keeping the wolves within. The Imladris alpha returned and reported the grievous news.
Gondor was trapped in a siege.
And their only hope lay with a young female sprinting across the tundra for reinforcements.
~
Arwen ran, ran as fast as she ever had in her life, her mouth gaping open to allow air to rush into her lungs. The speed blinded her and her eyes watered, but she thought only of the wolves she had left behind in the grip of death.
And she thought of Aragorn.
When it felt that her legs would falter or give out, she thought only of her beloved alpha and her strength was renewed. She wondered where he was, and if he was all right…
Quite unexpectedly she whipped around a great rock and collided with Celeborn.
The Lorien male tumbled backwards from the force of the impact, and he instinctively flipped his 'attacker' over his head with his powerful hid legs. So it was that Arwen was dumped quite unceremoniously at Galadriel's feet.
At once the older female knew that something was terribly wrong, for Elrond would not let his pup go running about in times of danger for no good reason. Nuzzling Arwen, she whimpered the urgent question of what was the matter.
Breathless and exhausted, the black female lay panting on the ground, trying to catch her air again. At last she blurted out a call for help, a cry of need to the East.
In an instant Galadriel commanded her pack into motion. Her soft eyes turned to Arwen and insisted that she remain here, to regain her strength. Maternal instincts had clicked in the alpha female, and she did not wish to see the pup she considered her on the battlefield again.
Before the pack could go five feet, Haldir whirled on Merry and commanded him to stay. He saw no use for the little wolf, and certainly didn't want the pack's speed to be hindered by him. Merry sent a pleading call after Galadriel, but she agreed with her beta's motives. The Hobbit wolf would only slow them down.
And so a very forlorn Merry and a spent Arwen flopped out in the snow side by side, watching as the pack sped onwards in hopes of relieving the Gondor pack before it was too late.
~
But the road ahead was difficult for such a large pack to maneuver. Elrond and his small party had easily navigated tight quarters and perilous crossings. But here, the might of the Great Pack was a strong disadvantage.
Carefully and one by one they eased across a narrow log fallen across a ravine. Slowly and delicately they slid across an iced-over lake that could crack at any moment under their weight.
So it was that the help was greatly delayed, and no hope seemed to remain for Gondor in its' state of siege.
~
Night drew on, and still the bullets rained like hellfire into the canyon where Gondor lay hidden. Sparks were flying from the rocks, ricocheting down onto them and frightening some out of their wits.
That frightened one was Pippin, as a great terror clutched at his heart while doom fell from the sky. Every so often a bullet would strike near his body, and he would cry out in agony as though he had been struck. And each time he would realize it was not so, even as Elrond barked in alarm from his unseen hiding place.
In truth, Pippin could not see where any of the others were, save Glorfindel, as his brilliant golden coat was clearly visible to the eyes of any wolf, even in the dark. Faramir was somewhere nearby, as his voice always seemed to be very close whenever he howled for his father. Elrond himself none could see, for his coat was as black as night and he remained for the most part silent. Pippin guessed that he was somewhere across the canyon, for his voice sounded the furthest away.
Still the guns showed no sign of stopping, and still the alpha Denethor was nowhere to be seen. The moon was now high in the sky, and the stars twinkled, though they remained mostly smothered under a thick blanket of clouds.
In a burst of movement Denethor came flying over the blocked edge of the canyon, skittering frantically down inside to entomb himself with the rest rather than search for help. He had climbed up the opposite side of the blocking, and now he entered, heedless of the bullets that ate up the rocks at his feet.
Springing from the darkness to greet his father, Faramir did not realize the tempting target his pale brown coat made in the darkness…
One of the bullets made its' shot.
With a yelp Faramir dropped to the ground, skidding across the floor of the canyon from the force of his run. Immediately Elrond leapt from his safety, white teeth shining in the black as he seized the young Gondor male by the ruff and dragged him back under cover.
Although bullets continued to fire, it seemed as though silence had fallen. Anxiously Elrond nuzzled Faramir's side, and he received a weak whimper in response. The Half-breed turned his burning green eyes on Denethor.
The Gondor alpha was crouched just a little ways away, his tail wagging absurdly at the grim sight and tongue lolling out from the running. With a sharp bark Elrond reprimanded his foolishness, but he was ignored.
Pippin whined fearfully in the dark.
Throwing his head back, Denethor howled a challenge to the moon and stars, and was answered by a rain of gunfire. Then with a snort of disgust he flatly announced the doom of them all. In his scouting he had seen no sign of the reinforcements, and had thus concluded that help would never come at all. Glorfindel snarled in argument, but he, too, did not receive an answer from the Numenor male.
As the murky dawn gradually gave them dim light to see by, hope still had not appeared. And it was then that a horrible sound was heard.
The Orcs were advancing into the canyon.
Standing straight and tall, Elrond hoarsely ordered them into position to attack. A glance upwards revealed that the Nazgul had vanished, so at least no bullets threatened them from above.
Elrond, Glorfindel, and Pippin marched down the channel to meet the foe. Denethor trotted along behind them, but seemed little interested in battle. And Faramir they left tucked under an overhang, hidden from danger.
The two forces met, but even as the three wolves prepared to attack, the Orcs drew back. Angrily the wolves advanced, and still the foe back-pedaled. Elrond then realized that they were being led out into the open.
So be it.
When at last they reached the end of the canyon, they saw that hundreds of Orcs were spread before them, greedily awaiting the army of three. Elrond was about to give the attack cry…
When someone else did.
The Great Pack had come at last.
~ To Be Continued
