At The Black Gate
"The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"
This was the third time that call had been raised, but the dwarf covered in disgusting Troll blood paid no heed to it. He had but one agenda on his mind, and that agenda was currently lying in his arms as he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. He dodged to avoid the skirmishes surrounding him whilst the battle raged on and on and seemed to be never-ending. He was not totally overlooked however; two Orcs caught sight of him and sought to take him out at an easy target. They were fools. Gimli was known for being irate and ferocious even when removed from battles, but when any delay could mean the death of his young friend he was unstoppable. Gimli lay Pippin's still form down as gently as the circumstances allowed, and quickly drew his beloved axe. Two sharp hits made a pile of meat out of the first Orc, and one hard swipe at the seconds head took him out. Not bothering to wipe the blood from his weapon or his face and torso-after all it would only mix with the troll blood-Gimli scooped up the hobbits and made for the healing tents again. He swerved to dodge an elf that fell dead into his path, giving the warrior a quick, but anxious glance to set his mind at rest. It was a stranger to him, whose death saddened Gimli, but at least he wasn't Legolas. He had seen neither head nor tail of his elf friend, nor for that matter had he seen Aragorn or Gandalf either. He had only come across Pippin by chance; having seen the monstrous troll and having decided to take him on; Gimli had spotted a small figure stabbing his sword upwards and into the foul beast. The troll had toppled forwards onto Pippin who'd not had chance to get away, and Gimli had made it his mission to rescue the brave hobbit. Now he was running for dear life; the life of his good friend Peregrin Took.
Gimli reached the healing tents on the outer sides of the battlefield and opened his mouth wide to call for assistance.
"Help!" he cried, breathlessly, "I need some help here!" A harassed looking healer stepped outside the tent, and came to the dwarf's aid.
"Bring him in here," she instructed briskly and lead the way.
The tent was a nightmare of colour. The white canvas walls were stained, for the most part, with blood; the brightness of the blood contrasting with the stark whiteness of the walls. For that matter, so was the attire of the healers and when Gimli's assistant reached down to help him lift Pippin onto a makeshift bed, he noticed that she was tainted with blood and viscera from her fingertips to her elbows.
Gimli looked around, stunned. This was madness. How anyone could be healed in such a blood-spattered place was beyond him. Everywhere showed signs of death and its stench hung in the air like a macabre perfume. He noticed a young man on the bed beside Pippin. The two must've been the same ages, or equivalent ages, and the man, or boy he supposed, was in a bad state. One of his arms had been badly hacked through and his face bore a cut, which ran from his right ear to his left collarbone. He would bear a scar til the end of his days. However long or short that might be.
The healer was checking Pippin for vital signs. Gimli watched in agony for a few seconds before bursting out "He is alive, isn't he?"
"Yes, but it will be touch and go from now on in." The healer explained so matter-of-factly that she almost sounded rude. "There's nothing you can do master dwarf. I'd suggest returning to the battle-if such a thing might be suggested." Gimli's shoulder's sagged-not at the prospect of returning to the fray of the mêlée, but at the though that pippin might not survive, and there was nothing he could do to prevent that fate. Then he steeled himself to leave the hobbit lad.
"Very well," he said, brashly, "but you had better make sure that that hobbit lives-or you'll not only have me to answer to, but you'll have to face up to Aragorn and Gandalf the great wizard, and I for one would not like to have to break any bad news to either of them." The healer heard Gimli, but chose to ignore him and focus all her attention on keeping Pippin alive. Gimli left the tent
"The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!"
This was the third time that call had been raised, but the dwarf covered in disgusting Troll blood paid no heed to it. He had but one agenda on his mind, and that agenda was currently lying in his arms as he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. He dodged to avoid the skirmishes surrounding him whilst the battle raged on and on and seemed to be never-ending. He was not totally overlooked however; two Orcs caught sight of him and sought to take him out at an easy target. They were fools. Gimli was known for being irate and ferocious even when removed from battles, but when any delay could mean the death of his young friend he was unstoppable. Gimli lay Pippin's still form down as gently as the circumstances allowed, and quickly drew his beloved axe. Two sharp hits made a pile of meat out of the first Orc, and one hard swipe at the seconds head took him out. Not bothering to wipe the blood from his weapon or his face and torso-after all it would only mix with the troll blood-Gimli scooped up the hobbits and made for the healing tents again. He swerved to dodge an elf that fell dead into his path, giving the warrior a quick, but anxious glance to set his mind at rest. It was a stranger to him, whose death saddened Gimli, but at least he wasn't Legolas. He had seen neither head nor tail of his elf friend, nor for that matter had he seen Aragorn or Gandalf either. He had only come across Pippin by chance; having seen the monstrous troll and having decided to take him on; Gimli had spotted a small figure stabbing his sword upwards and into the foul beast. The troll had toppled forwards onto Pippin who'd not had chance to get away, and Gimli had made it his mission to rescue the brave hobbit. Now he was running for dear life; the life of his good friend Peregrin Took.
Gimli reached the healing tents on the outer sides of the battlefield and opened his mouth wide to call for assistance.
"Help!" he cried, breathlessly, "I need some help here!" A harassed looking healer stepped outside the tent, and came to the dwarf's aid.
"Bring him in here," she instructed briskly and lead the way.
The tent was a nightmare of colour. The white canvas walls were stained, for the most part, with blood; the brightness of the blood contrasting with the stark whiteness of the walls. For that matter, so was the attire of the healers and when Gimli's assistant reached down to help him lift Pippin onto a makeshift bed, he noticed that she was tainted with blood and viscera from her fingertips to her elbows.
Gimli looked around, stunned. This was madness. How anyone could be healed in such a blood-spattered place was beyond him. Everywhere showed signs of death and its stench hung in the air like a macabre perfume. He noticed a young man on the bed beside Pippin. The two must've been the same ages, or equivalent ages, and the man, or boy he supposed, was in a bad state. One of his arms had been badly hacked through and his face bore a cut, which ran from his right ear to his left collarbone. He would bear a scar til the end of his days. However long or short that might be.
The healer was checking Pippin for vital signs. Gimli watched in agony for a few seconds before bursting out "He is alive, isn't he?"
"Yes, but it will be touch and go from now on in." The healer explained so matter-of-factly that she almost sounded rude. "There's nothing you can do master dwarf. I'd suggest returning to the battle-if such a thing might be suggested." Gimli's shoulder's sagged-not at the prospect of returning to the fray of the mêlée, but at the though that pippin might not survive, and there was nothing he could do to prevent that fate. Then he steeled himself to leave the hobbit lad.
"Very well," he said, brashly, "but you had better make sure that that hobbit lives-or you'll not only have me to answer to, but you'll have to face up to Aragorn and Gandalf the great wizard, and I for one would not like to have to break any bad news to either of them." The healer heard Gimli, but chose to ignore him and focus all her attention on keeping Pippin alive. Gimli left the tent