(Author's Note – Sorry about the incredibly long update time.  All of my free time between the last chapter and now has pretty much been dedicated to my senior honors thesis for college.  I also had a major computer crash around Thanksgiving and lost a bunch of files, which I have had to slowly rebuild.  The good news is, I'm almost done with everything now and such be able to get more regular updates posted)

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Instinctively, Legolas searched the table near his bed for something – anything – to defend himself with.  There was nothing.  He thought about calling for help, but the cry fell dead on his lips as he saw the first dirty hand grasp the window ledge.  After a moment, the body that it belonged to pulled up into the window frame as the orc eased himself inside.

Legolas' eyes were fixated on the orc.  He never heard the slight shuffle off to his right that signified another's presence in the room.  Only a guttural cry emerging from the figure's lips caught Legolas' attention.

There stood Boromir, his bright sword reflecting the moonlight that filtered through the scattered clouds, dappling the room with uneven patches of light.  Sword drawn, he leapt upon that lone orc.  Metal met metal with a resounding clang.  Both stumbled back a few paces from the shock of the collision.  More orcs poured in through the window.

At last, Boromir's sword found a resting place in the chest of the first orc, after feigning a blow to one side before pulling out and striking at the other.  Dark blood flowed freely as the Gondorian pulled his blade free.

Glancing at Legolas, he could see that the elf would need assistance, for several dark figures were steadily approaching the bedside.  Another host was rushing towards Boromir himself. 

"Legolas!" the man called out.  "Catch!"

Boromir had unsheathed a dagger that he held at his belt, the very belt that the Lady Galadriel had bestowed upon him in Lothlorien.  He tossed it to the elf, who deftly caught the handle.  Without a moment to spare, Legolas turned the weapon to a large orc, who held his own knife in hand, preparing to strike a killing blow.  The orc swung downwards, but Legolas was faster with his upwards swing, and the knife impaled the orc in the gut. 

The orc gasped and fell dead upon Legolas, the crude dagger falling harmlessly to one side.  With a half grunt, the elf pushed the dead orc from the bed, pulling Boromir's hunting dagger free.  Dark blood stained the blue sheets of the bed and Legolas kicked them away.

Boromir was fighting off two orcs of his own, his sword singing as it clashed with the orc scimitars as he parried blow after blow.  He managed to wound one long enough to give himself the opportunity to slay the other, his once bright sword becoming covered in blood as it sank into the orc's chest.  Pulling it free, he turned on his heel and lopped off the other's head.  Now he made his way towards Legolas' bed, for the elf was fending off the blows of three others, and from the looks of it, he was struggling.

With a sick feeling in his gut, Boromir knew that under normal circumstances, three would be a mere exercise for the elven prince.  But now – now Legolas was weakened due to the poison that had nearly claimed his life. 

Boromir's path to Legolas was interrupted as new orcs climbed in through the window and another attacked him from the rear.  His sword was knocked from his hand.  A kick from behind sent the man reeling until he crashed to his knees, surrounded in a dark sea of orcs around him.  Blows rained down upon him - savage orc punches - before he heard their weapons being unsheathed.  He groped around on the floor for his sword until at last he grasped the handle.  As quickly as he could, he swung the sword in a low arc, slicing at the legs of several of his attackers.  His plan worked well enough and the orcs fell back, stumbling to stay standing.  Boromir had just enough time to get to his own feet and deal a few quick blows to some of the orcs, ripping their chests open and making them fall at last. 

With his path clear for the moment, he glanced towards Legolas.  The elf was still struggling with the three orcs that hovered by his bedside, and the man could see how the elven prince yearned to be able to stand and fight as normal.  What Boromir did not expect was to see the few lighting quick dagger thrusts that claimed the life of the middle orc.

Satisfied for the moment that Legolas could still hold his own, the Gondorian turned from the sight and made his way towards the window, battling any orc that dared to stand in his way.  After three more orcs spilled their blood upon his sword point, the man made it to the window sill.  Here he stood and raised his sword above his head in the way that an executioner raises his axe to deal punishment.  With a primal yell he brought the blade down, severing the rope in one clean blow.  From below, he heard the yells of surprise and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the soft earth.

It was then that arrows began to whiz towards the window.  Most bounced harmlessly off of the stone walls surrounding it, but a deadly few came close to entering, and Boromir quickly withdrew into the middle of the room.  There were plenty of orcs still left he grimly noticed.  Once again he set to his task to make his way to Legolas.

Legolas had since disposed of the other two orcs and was facing a fresh onslaught from both sides.  Boromir took to the left side, skillfully moving himself into position between the elf and the orcs.  Using his momentum and his warrior skills, he forced the orcs back towards the opposite wall, felling his opponents as they came to meet his blade.  Oh how he wished he still had his horn!  He would gladly have given anything for the chance to blow but one note upon the Horn of Gondor one last time, for it seemed clear to him that none in the palace knew of their plight.  He would have to do something to raise the alarm.

He dealt several more blows, claiming the lives of five of the orcs that he was facing.  This provided him with the opening he needed, for he realized with a sudden jolt that there was a small bell resting on the top of the night table that stood next to Legolas' bed, though if one of the orcs had not crashed into it and sent the bell crashing to it's side, the man would have forgotten about it completely.  He dealt a few quick sword thrusts, slaying the remaining foes that barred his way to the door.  He he threw open the door and using all of his might, he hurled the small silver bell down the hallway, listening as it made a satisfying clamor as it bounced down two small steps at the corner.

"Help us!" he yelled after it.  "Send back up!  Orcs have breached the palace!"

Hoping that someone heard him, he pushed off of the door frame and leapt back into the thick of the battle.