Author's note: This is Tolkien's sandbox, I'm just playing in it for awhile. No profit is being made by me except the fun I'm having writing this. I'm totally broke, so suing me is futile.
Chapter 3
Almost at once the small group of elves was rushed from all sides by orcs and wargs. The elves accounted for themselves quite well, but they were woefully outnumbered and were grimly aware of that fact. Thranduil and Legolas fought back to back against any attacker that slipped past the ring formed by their defenders. Legolas was a blur of flashing metal as he wielded his twin knives with a deadly skill borne of much practice. Thranduil's sword separated orc heads from orc bodies in a fatally beautiful dance. Around them their defenders were falling one by one, overwhelmed by the sheer number of foes. With a shock, Legolas saw an arrow fly from the trees beyond them headed for his father's unprotected side. Without a second thought, he threw himself in the arrow's path taking the bolt that was meant for Thranduil's torso in his left shoulder. The impact sent him reeling backwards into his father. Somehow, he managed to regain his balance and continue fighting. " It is a scratch, Ada, nothing to worry about, " he called out, before Thranduil got too distracted and gave the vile creatures he was battling an opening to wound him. The lie came easily, for once. Legolas knew that it was unlikely that they would survive this attack, and he for one preferred to die in battle rather than in an orc's dank tunnel. The use of his arm was hampered by the fresh wound, as was his agility by the wound he had taken earlier. He was moving more and more slowly, and knew he would not last much longer. He also knew by the dizziness that was beginning to fog the edges of his vision that the arrow in his shoulder had been poisoned.
Thranduil barely managed to parry an orc sword when Legolas fell against him. He was about to turn when Legolas' report reached his ears. He knew it for the lie it was, but was as aware of the hopelessness of their situation as his son and he chose to respect Legolas' wishes. Grim determination filled his normally impassive face as he prepared to meet his death in battle. He had taken only small hurts thus far, slashes and bruises but nothing more serious. It was at this point that he felt Legolas lurch against his back as yet another arrow found it's mark in the younger elf's body. This time Legolas fell to the ground and did not rise. Shifting his position so that he stood over his fallen son he continued to defend both of them. He could not take his attention off the creatures surrounding him long enough to spare a look to see if his son still breathed. With a shock, he realized that he was the only elf left fighting. Growling and jeering, the orcs closed in.
Loud voices drew the attention away from Thranduil. Startled, he realized he was hearing human voices. A well armed, mounted group of human warriors broke the treeline to his left and rode toward his attackers, lances and spears to the fore. The orcs broke and ran, fleeing into the trees with the humans in pursuit. Thranduil dropped his sword and knelt by his son's side dreading what he might find.
Chapter 3
Almost at once the small group of elves was rushed from all sides by orcs and wargs. The elves accounted for themselves quite well, but they were woefully outnumbered and were grimly aware of that fact. Thranduil and Legolas fought back to back against any attacker that slipped past the ring formed by their defenders. Legolas was a blur of flashing metal as he wielded his twin knives with a deadly skill borne of much practice. Thranduil's sword separated orc heads from orc bodies in a fatally beautiful dance. Around them their defenders were falling one by one, overwhelmed by the sheer number of foes. With a shock, Legolas saw an arrow fly from the trees beyond them headed for his father's unprotected side. Without a second thought, he threw himself in the arrow's path taking the bolt that was meant for Thranduil's torso in his left shoulder. The impact sent him reeling backwards into his father. Somehow, he managed to regain his balance and continue fighting. " It is a scratch, Ada, nothing to worry about, " he called out, before Thranduil got too distracted and gave the vile creatures he was battling an opening to wound him. The lie came easily, for once. Legolas knew that it was unlikely that they would survive this attack, and he for one preferred to die in battle rather than in an orc's dank tunnel. The use of his arm was hampered by the fresh wound, as was his agility by the wound he had taken earlier. He was moving more and more slowly, and knew he would not last much longer. He also knew by the dizziness that was beginning to fog the edges of his vision that the arrow in his shoulder had been poisoned.
Thranduil barely managed to parry an orc sword when Legolas fell against him. He was about to turn when Legolas' report reached his ears. He knew it for the lie it was, but was as aware of the hopelessness of their situation as his son and he chose to respect Legolas' wishes. Grim determination filled his normally impassive face as he prepared to meet his death in battle. He had taken only small hurts thus far, slashes and bruises but nothing more serious. It was at this point that he felt Legolas lurch against his back as yet another arrow found it's mark in the younger elf's body. This time Legolas fell to the ground and did not rise. Shifting his position so that he stood over his fallen son he continued to defend both of them. He could not take his attention off the creatures surrounding him long enough to spare a look to see if his son still breathed. With a shock, he realized that he was the only elf left fighting. Growling and jeering, the orcs closed in.
Loud voices drew the attention away from Thranduil. Startled, he realized he was hearing human voices. A well armed, mounted group of human warriors broke the treeline to his left and rode toward his attackers, lances and spears to the fore. The orcs broke and ran, fleeing into the trees with the humans in pursuit. Thranduil dropped his sword and knelt by his son's side dreading what he might find.