Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Seventeen: Dead Men Tell No Tales
by Galadriel Tolkien
Time dissipated, then. It became a world of strike, parry, thrust, kill. Defend comrades, drag wounded off the battlements and out of the way of the enemy fire. It was a hopeless, timeless siege, despair taking everyone as it went on. Dawn came and went, and we fought on in the pearly grey darkness.
Faramir sent a page to my side, finally, informing me that the Forts were being abandoned for Minas Tirith. I followed the lad back to the captain's side, finding him in a moment of quiet between lunges. "Start getting the men out. I'll hold them back as much as possible, then follow."
He shot me a look, then nodded, "May luck be with you."
"You too."
I left him there, beginning the withdrawal. My task was now to convince the enemy to stay attempting to kill me while the men got out behind. I figured if they knew we were running, they'd swarm the fort, and none of us would make it far. I threw up another half-hearted barrier, some of the edges slicing into orcs as it sprang into being. I made this one opaque, too, so that they couldn't see how few were left on the battlements. I hoped they wouldn't guess the reason for that. Decided they were too stupid. They followed Sauron after all. Frightened of him or not.
Apparently, the Witch-King was tired of trying to break them, because he left it alone for a bit. I sent as many of the men around me away as I could. Some refused to take my orders, and I waited for Faramir's page to bring them, irritated. There wasn't a long wait, and I was soon left on the battlements alone, slipping here and there to peer down at the enemy.
They seemed to have paused for a regroup, or something. Maybe they were going to dance the macarena.
I couldn't tell, thanks to my barrier. But at least I was the only one they'd kill. Or frighten. Perhaps a ballet. Swan Lake would be nicely challenging for them, I thought. Nice big group. They could all hop around, toeing themselves.
::All gone.::
::Good.::
It was a very odd half hour. I wandered the battlements collecting arrows and knives, determined to put up a good front. I set throwing spells in every place they were feasible, pleased to find that there were more than enough half-broken arrows for the spell to be really effective. Dead orcs and humans littered the walkways, and I made certain of their demise as I crossed them. It was a macabre duty, but I didn't really want to get a sword in the back if one were still alive.
The Witch-King finally seemed to get bored, and tore down my latest barrier. Prepared for this eventuality (unlike before, more fool me), I took the brunt of the backlash and fed it to the trap-spells that littered the fort. I fired the arrows I scrounged, running along the walkway, picking the frontrunners off one after the other until I ran out of walkway. I doubled back, tripping the first of the throw-spells at the opposite end, since the orcs were beginning to swarm over that wall.
I ran out of space to run pretty quickly, and got off the last four arrows before having to duck an axe. Rolling, I came up to find archers firing at *me*. It was a very unpleasant surprise to say the least.
Without caring where they flew, I tripped all of the throwing spells at once, then ran for the side stairs into the courtyard.
Arrows slammed into me, piercing through the shirt I wore and hitting uselessly on the dragon mail. I was lucky none of them tried for my head. While the shock of my continuing movement paused them, I made it to the stairs and scampered down.
They followed me, demanding my blood. Or, rather, the blood of the sorceress who had destroyed so many of their comrades in Osgiliath.
Gee. And here I'd thought I'd stay anonymous.
I ran through the fort, ducking in and out of doorways and corridors, drawing the orcs and men in further and further.
::Like a hamster in a really elaborate cage.::
::Me or them?::
::You.::
::Does this mean I'm going nowhere fast?::
Alayna sent a mental snicker, and I dodged around another corner to find several orcs awaiting me.
They attacked and I had to stop one sword with my hand. The blade sliced into the skin, sending blood flowing at an alarming rate, and turning a useful appendage into a slippery mess. "Shit!"
As if sensing weakness, the rest surged forward as one, intent on my death. I kicked out, knocking several over. Never never follow each other closely. The slight gap gave me enough of a second to unsheath my sword, and after that, I made short work of the rest. Unfortunately, it gave those behind me time to catch up, and I turned to fight them, hand still bleeding profusely.
::Window.::
It might be a viable idea. It would cut my merry chase short, but I was losing blood, weakening quickly thanks to lack of sleep and magic use.
Turning, I ran over the bodies in my way, dodging at least two arrows and a sword. The window I needed was just a bit further along the corridor. I reached it as one of the Nazgul turned the corner, its voice screeching in triumph.
"Not today, kiddo." I saluted cockily, smashed the window with my sword, and jumped.
I picked up glass bits as I tumbled down the short roof. Several exposed sections of skin were gonna hurt (I could already feel blood on my nose). And my clothes would never be the same. Sadly. Open air swallowed me a second later, and I controlled my tumble, aiming for the haystack I knew to be there. I was off slightly and stumbled as I twisted my left ankle on landing. With a curse, I rolled over and back onto my feet and began running across the courtyard, aiming for the small door which let out onto the road. It was a postern-gate, self-locking from the inside.
The bar was jammed.
Behind me, orcs began pouring into the courtyard. Either they were the same ones chasing me, or others. I didn't know, at this point. It didn't matter, really.
Cursing, I wrapped both hands around my swordhilt, raised my arms above my head and swung them down, slicing the door straight down the middle. The bar paused me for a moment, but I perservered. With the crack there, I kicked one side out and slithered through as the first of the orcs swung a sword at me. It got caught in the lintel, and I was free.
I ran like the wind towards the road, cursing my sword and my still-bleeding hand.
Alayna galloped into view, and skidded to a halt long enough for me to drag myself into the saddle. And then we were off, orcs on foot in close pursuit.
Which means we out-distanced them swiftly.
I sheathed my sword and began bandaging my hand as Alayna galloped to catch up with Faramir and the others.
Blood had stained my shirt sleeve and several splotches decorated my pants leg. I sighed, irritated. At least the glass had ripped more holes in them.
::Rags.::
::Yeah.::
::We're closing on them.::
I nodded, gazing about me at the road, trying to remember how much closer the Pelennor was. The sky was dark above us, the edges of Sauron's evil spell leaching out into the air of Middle Earth the longer it lasted. I could see in the dark, but not many others could.
::About a mile.::
Which was sort of good. It meant we'd be inside of it before the army of Sauron caught up. But it also meant they were that much closer to Minas Tirith. And the Pelennor certainly wasn't going to stall them. In fact, I doubted it would do more than give them pause, like a small toenail that's come loose.
::Oh, crap.::
::What?::
::Images from the horses Faramir and his men are riding. They've been ambushed. The Witch-King is there.::
::Dammit. They must have circled around the barrier--no wonder he didn't bother taking it down! He was after bigger prizes.::
She sped up, her stride lengthening, hooves pounding against the road.
We heard the battle before we saw it. Horrible sounds of metal clashings and the screeching of the Nazgul. I tapped into the last of my magic reserves and began an incantation for light as we rounded the last corner.
Brightness exploded into the space, shining starkly on brushed steel and blood and blackened iron alike. The Witch-King gave a strangled cry, and turned to me, angry.
I rode straight at him, fearless and uncaring as to what happened. I could kill him. Probably. Even though I knew he wasn't mine to kill, I didn't care anymore. I was tired, bloody, exhausted, worn out, and ready to quit this world for someplace better. Not that that would happen.
He must have sensed the implacability because he ran. He sent his steed into the air above us, and ran.
My mocking laughter followed him.
Before the light had faded, the remaining men of Gondor had subdued the last of the rather startled orcs. A page caught my foot as I sat there, watching back up the road. "Milady?"
"Yes?" I was so tired. The army would keep coming, never stopping. It was probably mid-afternoon, but it felt like I'd been up and moving for a thousand years.
Maybe I had.
"Captain Faramir, milady, he's hurt."
I dismounted slowly, my mind knowing what I would find as I followed the lad back to his master.
He lay on the ground, eyes staring blankly at nothing. I knew he was alive, but that didn't matter. "Dammit." I dropped to my knees and touched his face, striving to sense the man behind those eyes. I couldn't find him. It was irritating, because I *could* feel he was there, but I couldn't reach him. And there was no time for a trance.
Alayna nudged me with her nose. ::We need to get to the city.::
::I know.:: I looked up at the page. "I can't do anything now. We have to get to the city."
The sergeant nodded to me and disappeared to get the men started on to the city again. I remounted Alayna, and had them hand Faramir into my grasp. With him across the saddle in front of me, we marched onwards.
The gates of the Pelennor rose in the distance and I sensed a lightening in the men around me. I let them feel relief, knowing it would be the last time they could feel it for some time.
The sergeant seemed to share my concerns as he turned to me, face worried. "We have no time to stop."
"No." His name was Jasan, I'd learned. At some point. Behind us I heard the drums slowly close. "In fact, we have less time than you think." I turned Alayna and gestured everyone past me. By now they were used to such orders and quickly moved, not bothering to say anything.
With precision I threw up another barrier across the road. It would only hold until the Witch-King shattered it, but at least it would give them a slight pause.
As fast as I built barriers, he was taking them down. It really irked me because I knew I could take him if I had to. And I couldn't. He was someone else's kill, and it would screw up some universal balance if I did so.
Didn't stop me from wanting to, though. Hadn't stopped me earlier, either, I reflected as the barriers came down. I considered setting a feedback loop, but decided it would take too much time. And there were wounded among us besides Faramir.
Once we reached the Pelennor, some of them actually felt safe. Idiots.
A small contingent stayed behind as we crossed into the grasslands. I felt sad, but couldn't really focus on that feeling much.
They would die. We might yet live.
I liked our odds better.
Five minutes later, a panting scout knocked my odds considerably. Sauron's army had broken through the Pelennor to the north of us.
"Shit." I turned to the nearest rider. "Ride to the city. Call Gandalf and the men of Minas Tirith to our aid."
Jasan shot me an irritated look, but seconded my command.
I then handed Faramir down to his page and Phred. "Get him to the city as quickly as possible."
"Yes, milady."
Phred grinned at me, "Don't die."
"Not planning on it."
We rode to the north, aiming at an angle to be between the approaching army and the city. There wasn't far to go.
I could have sworn, as I approached a slight rise, that I heard a distant crowd shouting. They screamed at the army I saw as I topped the rise, telling them to "Get on with it!"
But it had to have been a figment of my imagination. Really.
After all, the image of Sauron's troops loitering about painting each other's nails and giving dating advice was highly absurd.
They spotted me seconds later, and charged, intent on destroying me so that I couldn't warn the city of their approach. I think my sitting there calmly waiting for them sort of startled them. They over-ran me.
It was not a good thing. Well, their surprise was. But the being surrounded by a sea of orcs thing was not.
Alayna spun, her hooves knocking several orcs down before an Uruk-Hai hooked a hand around my neck and dragged me off her back. I didn't go easily and he died before I hit the ground. But I did go. The ground was very irritatingly hard.
::Get up.::
::Doing so.::
Rolling to my feet, I grabbed the nearest axe and appropriated it for my own use.
It was a nice axe, I decided, as I used it to sheer through armour and flesh. But just not as good as my sword.
Taking a moment to throw it into the next opponent, I unsheathed my sword.
::Oh, fuck!::
::Wha?:: I cut the legs out from under a thing that might once have been an antelope.
::Rock troll.::
::Damn.::
I spun away, trying to fight back to Alayna, since height would be useful.
Sadly, I didn't make it.
"ROAR!"
"Hey! Keep it down! Some of us already HAVE headaches, you know!" I yelled at him, irritated.
He (it was definitely a he. Apparently, male genitalia is NOT a taboo thing to see in Middle Earth) replied by screaming at me again, then taking a swipe with his mace. I dodged back, then forward, nicking him in the side.
I thrust into him as he reared back in surprise, my sword burying to the hilts in a moment. The creature bellowed as I twisted the blade, preparing to pull it free and run like hell while he crashed to the ground.
::Look out!::
Half-turning, I caught his flailing fist in the side of my face. Reeling, I fell, stubbornly refusing to release my grip on my sword as it slid from the chest of the monster, a river of foul blood streaming from it. Another bellow shattered the air and he fell, burying me underneath his mass in an instant.
Time slowed as I struggled to free myself, to crawl from beneath the behemoth and reach clean air again that didn't smell of blood and death. I was too drained to attempt even a bit of telekinesis, and my angle was too awkward for actually pushing it off of me. With a curse, I maneuvered about until my sword was again buried to the hilts in it.
With a wrench, I ripped it open from ribs to pelvis, immediately regretting it as a lake of blood and intestine soaked me to the bone. Perservering, I pushed upwards, using the sword as a shovel, digging for the surface through the rock troll's body. The point finally broke through, and I gulped a deep breath then dove upwards into the body, carving the back open as I slowly stood.
Fresh air hit me in moments, and I gulped gratefully at it. I probably looked horrible, intestine and other matter strewn about my body. But there was no time to care about it as another wave of orcs bore down on me.
I spared an amused thought for what their reactions would be when I sprang out of the corpse, then did so.
::You really do look silly, you know.:: Alayna remarked caustically.
::Thank you.::
Again and again, I took heads and arms and legs, stabbing into and through blackened armour like it was so much cheesecloth. I lost track of where I was, my feet slipping and sliding as I danced in blood and other things. We crept inexhorably closer to the citadel of guard, but I didn't care, absorbed in doing as much damage as I could while I could still stand. Alayna caught me up again eventually, and from her back I could see that we were in the middle of a vast sea, bobbing on a current of weapons and death. It was only by luck that we remained floating, since every orc and uruk-hai and human and creature tried to pull us down. A deadly undertow that would end with nothingness.
We broke through, finally, becoming a fugitive in front of the army as the gates of Minas Tirith loomed. I could sense that dusk was falling, night preparing us for more siege. At least this would be more exciting.
::We sleep.::
::Yeah.:: They must have seen us at the gate, even coated with blood and Fate knows what else, because they were open as we staggered through, our energy gone, our bodies exhausted.
Gandalf was there. And Jasan. Both sent us up into the city. To bed, and to the stables. I was past paying attention to anything, mind narrowed down to the idea of rest.
I was down with that.
Because it was either fall into bed, or fall asleep in the saddle. While Alayna fell asleep in the street.
We'd sleep through a war. Or die in the middle of one.
And the Pelennor was over-run.
--
Chapter Seventeen: Dead Men Tell No Tales
by Galadriel Tolkien
Time dissipated, then. It became a world of strike, parry, thrust, kill. Defend comrades, drag wounded off the battlements and out of the way of the enemy fire. It was a hopeless, timeless siege, despair taking everyone as it went on. Dawn came and went, and we fought on in the pearly grey darkness.
Faramir sent a page to my side, finally, informing me that the Forts were being abandoned for Minas Tirith. I followed the lad back to the captain's side, finding him in a moment of quiet between lunges. "Start getting the men out. I'll hold them back as much as possible, then follow."
He shot me a look, then nodded, "May luck be with you."
"You too."
I left him there, beginning the withdrawal. My task was now to convince the enemy to stay attempting to kill me while the men got out behind. I figured if they knew we were running, they'd swarm the fort, and none of us would make it far. I threw up another half-hearted barrier, some of the edges slicing into orcs as it sprang into being. I made this one opaque, too, so that they couldn't see how few were left on the battlements. I hoped they wouldn't guess the reason for that. Decided they were too stupid. They followed Sauron after all. Frightened of him or not.
Apparently, the Witch-King was tired of trying to break them, because he left it alone for a bit. I sent as many of the men around me away as I could. Some refused to take my orders, and I waited for Faramir's page to bring them, irritated. There wasn't a long wait, and I was soon left on the battlements alone, slipping here and there to peer down at the enemy.
They seemed to have paused for a regroup, or something. Maybe they were going to dance the macarena.
I couldn't tell, thanks to my barrier. But at least I was the only one they'd kill. Or frighten. Perhaps a ballet. Swan Lake would be nicely challenging for them, I thought. Nice big group. They could all hop around, toeing themselves.
::All gone.::
::Good.::
It was a very odd half hour. I wandered the battlements collecting arrows and knives, determined to put up a good front. I set throwing spells in every place they were feasible, pleased to find that there were more than enough half-broken arrows for the spell to be really effective. Dead orcs and humans littered the walkways, and I made certain of their demise as I crossed them. It was a macabre duty, but I didn't really want to get a sword in the back if one were still alive.
The Witch-King finally seemed to get bored, and tore down my latest barrier. Prepared for this eventuality (unlike before, more fool me), I took the brunt of the backlash and fed it to the trap-spells that littered the fort. I fired the arrows I scrounged, running along the walkway, picking the frontrunners off one after the other until I ran out of walkway. I doubled back, tripping the first of the throw-spells at the opposite end, since the orcs were beginning to swarm over that wall.
I ran out of space to run pretty quickly, and got off the last four arrows before having to duck an axe. Rolling, I came up to find archers firing at *me*. It was a very unpleasant surprise to say the least.
Without caring where they flew, I tripped all of the throwing spells at once, then ran for the side stairs into the courtyard.
Arrows slammed into me, piercing through the shirt I wore and hitting uselessly on the dragon mail. I was lucky none of them tried for my head. While the shock of my continuing movement paused them, I made it to the stairs and scampered down.
They followed me, demanding my blood. Or, rather, the blood of the sorceress who had destroyed so many of their comrades in Osgiliath.
Gee. And here I'd thought I'd stay anonymous.
I ran through the fort, ducking in and out of doorways and corridors, drawing the orcs and men in further and further.
::Like a hamster in a really elaborate cage.::
::Me or them?::
::You.::
::Does this mean I'm going nowhere fast?::
Alayna sent a mental snicker, and I dodged around another corner to find several orcs awaiting me.
They attacked and I had to stop one sword with my hand. The blade sliced into the skin, sending blood flowing at an alarming rate, and turning a useful appendage into a slippery mess. "Shit!"
As if sensing weakness, the rest surged forward as one, intent on my death. I kicked out, knocking several over. Never never follow each other closely. The slight gap gave me enough of a second to unsheath my sword, and after that, I made short work of the rest. Unfortunately, it gave those behind me time to catch up, and I turned to fight them, hand still bleeding profusely.
::Window.::
It might be a viable idea. It would cut my merry chase short, but I was losing blood, weakening quickly thanks to lack of sleep and magic use.
Turning, I ran over the bodies in my way, dodging at least two arrows and a sword. The window I needed was just a bit further along the corridor. I reached it as one of the Nazgul turned the corner, its voice screeching in triumph.
"Not today, kiddo." I saluted cockily, smashed the window with my sword, and jumped.
I picked up glass bits as I tumbled down the short roof. Several exposed sections of skin were gonna hurt (I could already feel blood on my nose). And my clothes would never be the same. Sadly. Open air swallowed me a second later, and I controlled my tumble, aiming for the haystack I knew to be there. I was off slightly and stumbled as I twisted my left ankle on landing. With a curse, I rolled over and back onto my feet and began running across the courtyard, aiming for the small door which let out onto the road. It was a postern-gate, self-locking from the inside.
The bar was jammed.
Behind me, orcs began pouring into the courtyard. Either they were the same ones chasing me, or others. I didn't know, at this point. It didn't matter, really.
Cursing, I wrapped both hands around my swordhilt, raised my arms above my head and swung them down, slicing the door straight down the middle. The bar paused me for a moment, but I perservered. With the crack there, I kicked one side out and slithered through as the first of the orcs swung a sword at me. It got caught in the lintel, and I was free.
I ran like the wind towards the road, cursing my sword and my still-bleeding hand.
Alayna galloped into view, and skidded to a halt long enough for me to drag myself into the saddle. And then we were off, orcs on foot in close pursuit.
Which means we out-distanced them swiftly.
I sheathed my sword and began bandaging my hand as Alayna galloped to catch up with Faramir and the others.
Blood had stained my shirt sleeve and several splotches decorated my pants leg. I sighed, irritated. At least the glass had ripped more holes in them.
::Rags.::
::Yeah.::
::We're closing on them.::
I nodded, gazing about me at the road, trying to remember how much closer the Pelennor was. The sky was dark above us, the edges of Sauron's evil spell leaching out into the air of Middle Earth the longer it lasted. I could see in the dark, but not many others could.
::About a mile.::
Which was sort of good. It meant we'd be inside of it before the army of Sauron caught up. But it also meant they were that much closer to Minas Tirith. And the Pelennor certainly wasn't going to stall them. In fact, I doubted it would do more than give them pause, like a small toenail that's come loose.
::Oh, crap.::
::What?::
::Images from the horses Faramir and his men are riding. They've been ambushed. The Witch-King is there.::
::Dammit. They must have circled around the barrier--no wonder he didn't bother taking it down! He was after bigger prizes.::
She sped up, her stride lengthening, hooves pounding against the road.
We heard the battle before we saw it. Horrible sounds of metal clashings and the screeching of the Nazgul. I tapped into the last of my magic reserves and began an incantation for light as we rounded the last corner.
Brightness exploded into the space, shining starkly on brushed steel and blood and blackened iron alike. The Witch-King gave a strangled cry, and turned to me, angry.
I rode straight at him, fearless and uncaring as to what happened. I could kill him. Probably. Even though I knew he wasn't mine to kill, I didn't care anymore. I was tired, bloody, exhausted, worn out, and ready to quit this world for someplace better. Not that that would happen.
He must have sensed the implacability because he ran. He sent his steed into the air above us, and ran.
My mocking laughter followed him.
Before the light had faded, the remaining men of Gondor had subdued the last of the rather startled orcs. A page caught my foot as I sat there, watching back up the road. "Milady?"
"Yes?" I was so tired. The army would keep coming, never stopping. It was probably mid-afternoon, but it felt like I'd been up and moving for a thousand years.
Maybe I had.
"Captain Faramir, milady, he's hurt."
I dismounted slowly, my mind knowing what I would find as I followed the lad back to his master.
He lay on the ground, eyes staring blankly at nothing. I knew he was alive, but that didn't matter. "Dammit." I dropped to my knees and touched his face, striving to sense the man behind those eyes. I couldn't find him. It was irritating, because I *could* feel he was there, but I couldn't reach him. And there was no time for a trance.
Alayna nudged me with her nose. ::We need to get to the city.::
::I know.:: I looked up at the page. "I can't do anything now. We have to get to the city."
The sergeant nodded to me and disappeared to get the men started on to the city again. I remounted Alayna, and had them hand Faramir into my grasp. With him across the saddle in front of me, we marched onwards.
The gates of the Pelennor rose in the distance and I sensed a lightening in the men around me. I let them feel relief, knowing it would be the last time they could feel it for some time.
The sergeant seemed to share my concerns as he turned to me, face worried. "We have no time to stop."
"No." His name was Jasan, I'd learned. At some point. Behind us I heard the drums slowly close. "In fact, we have less time than you think." I turned Alayna and gestured everyone past me. By now they were used to such orders and quickly moved, not bothering to say anything.
With precision I threw up another barrier across the road. It would only hold until the Witch-King shattered it, but at least it would give them a slight pause.
As fast as I built barriers, he was taking them down. It really irked me because I knew I could take him if I had to. And I couldn't. He was someone else's kill, and it would screw up some universal balance if I did so.
Didn't stop me from wanting to, though. Hadn't stopped me earlier, either, I reflected as the barriers came down. I considered setting a feedback loop, but decided it would take too much time. And there were wounded among us besides Faramir.
Once we reached the Pelennor, some of them actually felt safe. Idiots.
A small contingent stayed behind as we crossed into the grasslands. I felt sad, but couldn't really focus on that feeling much.
They would die. We might yet live.
I liked our odds better.
Five minutes later, a panting scout knocked my odds considerably. Sauron's army had broken through the Pelennor to the north of us.
"Shit." I turned to the nearest rider. "Ride to the city. Call Gandalf and the men of Minas Tirith to our aid."
Jasan shot me an irritated look, but seconded my command.
I then handed Faramir down to his page and Phred. "Get him to the city as quickly as possible."
"Yes, milady."
Phred grinned at me, "Don't die."
"Not planning on it."
We rode to the north, aiming at an angle to be between the approaching army and the city. There wasn't far to go.
I could have sworn, as I approached a slight rise, that I heard a distant crowd shouting. They screamed at the army I saw as I topped the rise, telling them to "Get on with it!"
But it had to have been a figment of my imagination. Really.
After all, the image of Sauron's troops loitering about painting each other's nails and giving dating advice was highly absurd.
They spotted me seconds later, and charged, intent on destroying me so that I couldn't warn the city of their approach. I think my sitting there calmly waiting for them sort of startled them. They over-ran me.
It was not a good thing. Well, their surprise was. But the being surrounded by a sea of orcs thing was not.
Alayna spun, her hooves knocking several orcs down before an Uruk-Hai hooked a hand around my neck and dragged me off her back. I didn't go easily and he died before I hit the ground. But I did go. The ground was very irritatingly hard.
::Get up.::
::Doing so.::
Rolling to my feet, I grabbed the nearest axe and appropriated it for my own use.
It was a nice axe, I decided, as I used it to sheer through armour and flesh. But just not as good as my sword.
Taking a moment to throw it into the next opponent, I unsheathed my sword.
::Oh, fuck!::
::Wha?:: I cut the legs out from under a thing that might once have been an antelope.
::Rock troll.::
::Damn.::
I spun away, trying to fight back to Alayna, since height would be useful.
Sadly, I didn't make it.
"ROAR!"
"Hey! Keep it down! Some of us already HAVE headaches, you know!" I yelled at him, irritated.
He (it was definitely a he. Apparently, male genitalia is NOT a taboo thing to see in Middle Earth) replied by screaming at me again, then taking a swipe with his mace. I dodged back, then forward, nicking him in the side.
I thrust into him as he reared back in surprise, my sword burying to the hilts in a moment. The creature bellowed as I twisted the blade, preparing to pull it free and run like hell while he crashed to the ground.
::Look out!::
Half-turning, I caught his flailing fist in the side of my face. Reeling, I fell, stubbornly refusing to release my grip on my sword as it slid from the chest of the monster, a river of foul blood streaming from it. Another bellow shattered the air and he fell, burying me underneath his mass in an instant.
Time slowed as I struggled to free myself, to crawl from beneath the behemoth and reach clean air again that didn't smell of blood and death. I was too drained to attempt even a bit of telekinesis, and my angle was too awkward for actually pushing it off of me. With a curse, I maneuvered about until my sword was again buried to the hilts in it.
With a wrench, I ripped it open from ribs to pelvis, immediately regretting it as a lake of blood and intestine soaked me to the bone. Perservering, I pushed upwards, using the sword as a shovel, digging for the surface through the rock troll's body. The point finally broke through, and I gulped a deep breath then dove upwards into the body, carving the back open as I slowly stood.
Fresh air hit me in moments, and I gulped gratefully at it. I probably looked horrible, intestine and other matter strewn about my body. But there was no time to care about it as another wave of orcs bore down on me.
I spared an amused thought for what their reactions would be when I sprang out of the corpse, then did so.
::You really do look silly, you know.:: Alayna remarked caustically.
::Thank you.::
Again and again, I took heads and arms and legs, stabbing into and through blackened armour like it was so much cheesecloth. I lost track of where I was, my feet slipping and sliding as I danced in blood and other things. We crept inexhorably closer to the citadel of guard, but I didn't care, absorbed in doing as much damage as I could while I could still stand. Alayna caught me up again eventually, and from her back I could see that we were in the middle of a vast sea, bobbing on a current of weapons and death. It was only by luck that we remained floating, since every orc and uruk-hai and human and creature tried to pull us down. A deadly undertow that would end with nothingness.
We broke through, finally, becoming a fugitive in front of the army as the gates of Minas Tirith loomed. I could sense that dusk was falling, night preparing us for more siege. At least this would be more exciting.
::We sleep.::
::Yeah.:: They must have seen us at the gate, even coated with blood and Fate knows what else, because they were open as we staggered through, our energy gone, our bodies exhausted.
Gandalf was there. And Jasan. Both sent us up into the city. To bed, and to the stables. I was past paying attention to anything, mind narrowed down to the idea of rest.
I was down with that.
Because it was either fall into bed, or fall asleep in the saddle. While Alayna fell asleep in the street.
We'd sleep through a war. Or die in the middle of one.
And the Pelennor was over-run.
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