Dur En Thurin Naur: I am afraid that the twins won't be joining this party. They are awesome characters, but I can't find a way to enter them realistically. Maybe in a sequel?
Ash49: Thanks for the pointer about Arwen, (doncha just love stupid typos?)
As mandatory, a thank-you to all of my reviewers:) I know I've typed it before, but your guys are so nice, you all rock!
alrighty, on to the story!!!
Defeats
He dragged himself forward. It was agony to move so quickly, but such speed was necessary. If the tree had crushed Tanvir then he would have to be rescued as soon as possible, or else the elf would suffer horribly. Aragorn prayed that Sanul had not survived, that the tree had crushed the life out of him.
The dead leaves stuck to his leg, helping to clot the blood. Smoke was blown into his face and he coughed. The fallen tree was closer now, and as the smoke cleared, Aragorn saw a dark figure rise from it. From the distance he was at, and from the smoke in between he could not yet make out whom it was that was staggering to their feet.
With an effort, he crawled even faster. He pulled his leg behind him, supporting it with his hands. It was sending pain up into his stomach, and he wanted to stop and vomit, but did not. Instead, he looked up again towards his destination, hoping to see Tanvir.
His blood went cold, and he froze.
Sanul, reeling and covered in blood was sneering at him. In one hand he held a broken sword, the edges jagged, in the other, the mithril dagger tip. In his eyes was the look of madness, they were wild and blazing. Blood was dripping from his face onto the ground. He seemed as if to have just risen out of the very depths of the earth, some ancient forgotten evil. The corsair lurched forward, clearly intending to finish the fight.
Tanvir was nowhere to be seen.
"What's going on under these trees?" The commander glared about at the darkened woods. He was clearly frustrated. They had entered into Mirkwood, famed for its strict boarders, and they had yet to meet an elven patrol to escort them to the king. The commander was no fool and knew that this was odd.
And now, the sounds of battle had come to them. It became painfully obvious why the fire was so out of control. All of the dwarves had been instructed to prepare themselves for battle, and to keep sharp eyes out. The march had been quickened to a quick jog, warming their blood.
"Druvan!"
"Sir!" A burly dwarf hurried up at the commander's call.
"Go scout ahead and find us this source of noise. We will follow behind you."
"Right away!" The dwarf took off, putting on more speed in order to get ahead of the rest. But only after five minutes he was seen tearing back towards them, a worried expression on his face.
The commander looked at him sharply.
"Sir! The battle is only just further on, past a few more trees. Elves and Men are fighting, as well as the spiders!"
The commander grinned, it seemed that this trip would turn out to have some fun after all. With a roar, the dwarves put on full speed, and ran, axes ready to chop, the battle lust raised in their souls.
Gimli swung his axe back behind himself, felt it connect with a spider, and then swung it forward to hit the other beast in front of him. He was panting with the effort, but was satisfied. Thranduil was still holding strong as he was, it was Legolas who was worrying the dwarf.
Again the elf had been forced into a battle that he shouldn't have been fighting. The wounds were sucking away at his strength. His face had become more and more pale, and Gimli could see that he was tiring. One arm now clutched at the side, while the other was used to wield his weapon. The king and Gimli fought hard to keep spiders away, but many had snuck around behind the trees to ambush the prince. Suddenly, Legolas had found himself surrounded and overwhelmed by the foul creatures.
There were too many spiders in-between the friends for Gimli to get over quickly to help. He had been fighting steadily towards the elf for more than ten minutes, and had only managed to gain a few steps. The spiders were pressing in thick everywhere, it seemed that they had sent for reinforcements from the main battlefield.
In the back spiders were weaving together hastily a cobweb to fling over the three. This way it would be quite simple to bring the warriors down. Try as he might, Gimli couldn't think of a way to avoid this. There was no room for maneuvering away, by sheer force of numbers the spiders would defeat them. The warrior in his soul would not accept this; he gathered the last of his reserves and strove to break through the mob.
The web was almost complete, only a few more strands to go. The spiders grouped around it were eyeing Legolas greedily.
Aragorn knew he was in trouble. He couldn't fight, but he would never run. He was defenseless, hardly able to sit up, where as Sanul was both armed and upright. He looked around frantically for some sort of help. In only a few seconds Sanul would be upon him, with all of his battle rage to boot. Aragorn knew that it would be no match. With a crippled leg and a slashed chest he would not even present Sanul a challenge.
He could find no aid in time. Sanul, with a scream of rage, broke into a staggering run. He reached Aragorn and instead of using his sword right away as anticipated, Sanul instead leaned downward and connected his fist solidly with Aragorn's face. The ranger saw stars.
The corsair then took his heel and drove it into the base of Aragorn's spine. Pain exploded in the ranger's back, and he groaned. Aragorn could not regain his bearings, and blow after blow rained down upon his already battered form.
Sanul took distinct pleasure in this. When the tree came down upon him he had been half crushed under the trunk. By luck, there had been a hollow in the ground, enabling him to crawl free. It had come with a costly price however. Even now pain radiated through him where his insides had become twisted and ruined. As he laughed a trickle of blood slipped out of the corner of his mouth, spilling down with the other blood across his face. The branches had scratched him terribly, and one branch had pierced through his shoulder. He found he didn't care. The pain from his chest area was enough to block out all other sensations. His ribs were shattered, piercing his other organs and he felt like at any point his guts would come spilling out of him. He could feel them moving around and knew that death would be waiting for him at the end.
But first he would finish this. He took sadistic pleasure in his dominance over the man in front of him. He was filled with rage that an elf would best him and took his anger out through his fighting. Each blow came down harder than the last. He knew the time would come when he'd feel the blackness approach, but before it claimed him, he would raise his sword, and bring it down straight into the head. He grinned, widely so that it stretched across his burnt face. It was terrible to behold.
Aragorn could not defend himself. He called upon all of his lessons in the art of combat, but was simply too injured to do much but try to roll away from the blows. He struggled not to cry out, but as the beating seemed never-ending, he found himself moaning low in his throat. He would not be able to take this forever.
Legolas pulled his dagger around and slid it smoothly along the base of the spider's head. It tumbled down to land at his feet, the mouth opening and closing a few times before going still. The prince now turned quickly to his left, and began to hack away at the spiders that were coming from that side. At points he swung widely, hoping to scare the creatures back a few steps. This was really a last measure to buy himself time. His side felt raw and the stitches were pulling at his skin, causing a distinct feeling of pain. Pulling lose threads of hair away from his face, he glanced down at himself to assess his condition.
He had pulled his arm down in close, and using his hand, put pressure on the wound, but this action comprised his ability to defend himself. There was nothing to be done for it. He wished that he had his bow so that he could break free and the pick the spiders off from the distance.
As he swung his dagger again the world around him went white. At first he thought that this was a result of his vision failing, but he soon realized the truth. The spiders had thrown the web over his form, and now they pulled on the ends with their claws and fangs. Legolas's feet were jerked out from under him, and he fell hard, his dagger falling from his hand. Fortunately for him, he landed on his other side so the injuries remained closed.
The fall had cost him his breath though, and shock waves radiated through the old wounds. He was winded, and couldn't move. But he knew he must or else the spiders would drag him off.
With an effort that brought more tears to his eyes, he tried to rise. The sticky web only entangled him, and a spider jumped forward, pushing him back down, its claw digging into his shoulder. He felt himself being dragged away, he couldn't tell which direction they were taking him. He knew that in a few moments it wouldn't matter, he would be undoubtedly stung.
The spiders were trying to haul him out of reach of the other two. Gimli and Thranduil had seen instantly Legolas's peril when the net dropped over him, but other spiders were scurrying in front of them, blocking their path. Gimli watched with horror as they began to drag his friend off into the darkness.
The blackness began to creep into his vision. Saul knew it was time. He dropped the mithril tip, and grasping his sword with both hands he raised it, ready to bring it down with the results of drawing Aragorn's life to conclusion.
Aragorn could see the metal rising. He was gasping for air, he could hardly move. Sanul's kicks had bruised him badly, and his nose was bleeding freely. He thought that there also might be a snapped rib or two. He lay there knowing that Sanul meant to finish it off this time. He could only stare ahead with a dazed look in his eyes. He had never expected to go out in this fashion.
A piece of gleaming metal caught his vision. It was the mithril blade. Aragorn's mind cleared and he suddenly knew what to do. As the sword fell to connect with his head, he rolled towards Sanul, the sword missing his head and only scratching his upper arm. He scooped up the mithril dagger and grasping it, plunged it into the stomach of the corsair.
Exhausted he sank back to the earth, clutching his shoulder hoping that his plan would work.
Sanul dropped his sword. A startled choking noise came from him, there was no other sound. He clutched at his stomach and a confused look came into his eyes. He stared down at Aragorn, then turned his gaze to his hand, which was coated with blood. He turned away and staggered a few steps, his vision doubling.
A burning sensation was rapidly spreading throughout his body. Ah yes, the poison. Sickly he remembered that no antidote existed. It was why he had used it in the first place. As he felt it course through his body, he legs locked and he tumbled to the ground. He made an attempt to cough, but could only manage a weak gasping. His throat was closing up.
As he lay there, in the last moments of his life, he saw dimly the other man pull himself upright to a sitting position. The man was watching him, a strange look of satisfaction and pity mixed on his face. Sanul wanted to kill him, but he knew that this would be impossible. The man was still holding the mithril tip, an ironic twist of fate that Sanul should be the one to die from it.
Darkness pulled at his mind, and the captain gave in to the shadows. His last breath left through his bloodied lips, and life fled his body.
He had finally been defeated.
Thranduil was furious. Rage overcame his mind and he attacked every moving thing in his path in order to reach his son. He was determined not to lose him again. Spiders flew left and right from the king's path, some from coming into contact with his weapon, others just running in fear. He and Gimli now fought and raced through the spider masses, trying to reach Legolas in time.
They didn't make it.
But the dwarven army did.
Ten dwarfs who were only a small fraction of the larger force came jumping out from the trees, into the clearing. Glee was on their faces as the surveyed the desperate situation. This was not because they took pleasure in suffering, but rather because they took pleasure in battle, slaying enemies. With battle cries they rushed into the fray, slicing and hacking with their mighty weapons. The spiders didn't know what hit them.
Gimli gave a shout of surprise and laughter. His people had finally come. New hope surged through his chest. He knew the determinedness a dwarf feels in battle, which meant that this one would soon be over. The dwarves of the Glittering Caves were formidable fighters.
The dwarves hewed their way over to Legolas, quickly and deftly slicing through the webbing that crippled the elf prince. Now he rose from the sticky net and added his skills to the fight. Two dwarves, seeing that he suffered from injuries, stayed by his side to help defend him. No more spiders made it past.
Spiders around them all were panicking; they fled in random directions, some heading deeper into their territory, others towards the battle. Their bodies littered the ground where some of the more clumsy beasts tripped over them, leaving them open to death. Others tried to stop and eat the dead, but most just fled off into the darkness.
The group of dwarves took off after them, Thranduil, Gimli and Legolas running with them. All were headed out of the territory and into the main battle. It was one Thranduil was looking forward too. It would be satisfying to teach the corsairs a lesson.
"Tanvir?"
Aragorn had managed to drag himself to where the fallen tree was smoldering. Sanul had died, his green eyes staring open at nothing for all eternity. Aragorn had not even bothered to go and examine the body. He knew now why those three scratches were so deadly. His attention was focused only on one thing, the elf warrior.
He could barely make it over to the tree. Pain erupted with his every move, and the ground spun and rocked before him, causing him to crawl in lurches. He had finally managed to approach the tree.
"Tanvir, answer if you can!" No reply returned to him.
Anxiously he peered through the branches. Smoke rose up and caused him to cough harshly, but he only leaned down further, he was in no danger of being burned. Finally he spotted the elf.
Pulling the burnt wood away, he grabbed hold of Tanvir's upper arm and began moving the elf out. Tanvir had not been trapped underneath the trunk, something for which Aragorn was immensely thankful.
The elf did not respond to his touch, nor did he answer any of Aragorn's queries. Finally his whole body was pulled away from the tree. Aragorn had his first clear view of him.
The ranger cringed, and bit back tears. Tanvir's arm was twisted at a sickening angle, but that was not what bothered the ranger. The elf had been burnt. Horribly. Much of his tunic was nothing more then singed thread, and his skin was bloody.
But it was the face that made Aragorn want to cry. The once handsome and fair features of Tanvir were now scarred and burnt. His skin was black and raw, blood running down tiny paths onto the shoulders. At one place Aragorn could see a bit of white bone. Tanvir's long dark hair, which had been braided back earlier was mostly burned away, leaving a bloodied scalp exposed. The elf's lips were open slightly, and he seemed to be murmuring to himself. It was this that gave Aragorn the only comfort he could find. It meant that the elf was at least still alive.
Aragorn continued to move his friend. New rage against the corsair entered his mind, making his chest tighten, and he wished that the death had been painful. Tanvir had given everything to save his life, nearly sacrificing his immortal one. The burns upon the face were most likely sending him into shock, and from shock death would follow.
Aragorn looked around. He needed help to get out of this area. The fires were moving in, cutting off paths of escape. He didn't have time, nor the energy to be able to switch directions and crawl another way. The battle ultimately had taken too long, the fires had spread. He and Tanvir were rapidly becoming trapped in an ever-closing circle of flame.
A great battle now took place. The dwarves rushed upon their enemies, sweeping through them like the wind. Elves and men cheered tiredly, and took up the arms one last time.
Corsairs and spiders were panicking. The pirates stayed and fought, confident that their captain would appear with an amazing solution. It was only a few minutes before they realized that Sanul was nowhere to be found. Then, as the cowards they were, they turned a fled into the forest. A cry of victory rose from the elves.
The retreat did not last long. The corsairs were met with the problem of having no place to flee to. Fire cut off seemingly every single one of their entrance paths. With the dwarves behind them and the fire in front of them the corsairs were trapped and effectively wiped out.
Axes sliced through heads, spilt open guts, and decapitated limbs. Spiders were also included in the dwarves' victorious run. They fell from trees, being shot by elven archers, and any who were not in the trees were cut up by the deadly, wielded axes. In between areas of flames the enemies of Mirkwood were being destroyed. There was no way for the advantage to be retaken. The dwarves had upped the odds greatly to the elves favor.
Those who tried to run through the wall of fire couldn't do it. The inferno was too great. The heat from just from getting too close was enough to burn. And beyond the first initial wall there were hundreds of other smaller barriers of ash and burning trees. In short, the corsairs were soundly defeated.
Legolas had a grim smile on his face. An immense feeling of satisfaction was in his chest. He had borrowed a bow from one of his folk, and was taking distinct pleasure in the way the arrow shot forward and lodged itself into his enemies.
He was walking calmly in pursuit of them. They who were fleeing in terror. With the dwarfs on his side he didn't need to worry any more about the outcome of the battle. At his left, Gimli fought, picking off the corsairs who fell behind, and who did not fall to Legolas's marksmanship.
The bow was his weapon of choice. Never was there another weapon so elegant, graceful and deadly. He loved the way it felt in his hands, and he loved how the tension of the bow controlled the power of the shot. He also appreciated the challenge it set for him. With each shoot, Legolas calculated the distance, force required, and wind strength. He also took into account chance of error and his enemy's movement. All this and a hundred other variables had to be taken into consideration before each shoot was fired, and Legolas never missed.
He sighted a target and let another arrow lose. The corsair stopped short, then fell to the ground, dead, an arrow lodged firmly through the back of his head and out the front.
Legolas reached back into his quiver, pulled and fitted another shaft, and then with his keen eyes, went to spot a spider. It felt good to take his vengeance.
Aragorn crawled some more, dragging Tanvir behind him. The elf had not yet regained consciousness for which Aragorn was thankful. The pain he knew, would be great. He hoped that Tanvir might be spared that for as long as possible.
He also knew that they weren't going to make it. The fire was moving too fast, and even as he crawled he could see their path becoming cut off. The flames were consuming everything around him, and that would mean him and Tanvir too.
He tried hard not to look at the burnt face, but his only other option was to look at the burnt away path to freedom. He whole body ached, and already numerous times he had tried to stand, but each attempt ended with the same result: failure.
His injuries were still too fresh for him to be able to brush them off as he usually did. He cursed at himself, and then finally yielded to the situation. He straightened out Tanvir's body and then sat up a little straighter. His hand had moved to his breast where the Evenstar lay. He caressed it gently and new tears sprung to his eyes. How he wished to see Arwen one last time! Her image floated before his eyes, her beauty stunning him. He held the Evenstar tightly in his hand, and closed his eyes. He wished to die thinking of and seeing his wife in his mind. If only someone would notice their peril and come to help them.
No one came. Only the flames moved in, tightening the ring.
Legolas looked around him. The corsairs were dying; there were only a few stragglers. The spiders had fled into the darkness, and Mirkwood was now the unchallenged kingdom of the elves once more.
Except it was not. The victory became hollow before the elf's eyes. Legolas saw how the fire was beyond controlling, even with the new aid from the dwarfs. It raged out beyond restriction, a huge blazing wall of destruction. The wall raced towards their position, eating up the trees as it went, moving from branch to branch with the speed of the wind.
The survivors now found that their victory was short-lived. They had to flee from the advancing flame, or else burn alive. The dried out trees quickly caught and burst into a new flame. Their cries echoed everywhere. There was nothing the elves could do, though they desperately wished so. The forest was burning down, and they could not save their homes. They could not even reach the Corsair ships to let free their captured friends and other folk.
Legolas found himself running with Gimli to the stables. There Arod was stamping about impatiently. The horse sensed that danger was coming. The elf leapt nimbly up onto his back, and pulled Gimli up beside him. The dwarf clutched at his waist.
With a kick of the elf's heels, Arod bolted out of the stable, along with other Elven riders who had come to save their horses. They rode out away from the advancing flame. Others ran on foot beside them, moving as fast as they could.
Gimli didn't say anything. He didn't know what to do. He could feel Legolas's shoulder shaking from time to time, and knew that the elf was sobbing, for his home and the lost trees.
An empty pit had opened up inside of the prince. He refused to accept it. The world seemed unreal to him as he galloped through the woods, a ways to go before the open plains were reached. The flames licking their heels all along the way.
Elves came reeling out of the woods, coughing and gasping from the smoke. Horses were ridden up to hill edges and then pulled around, halting. Under the night sky the forest was glowing red from the flames. Along the boarder a wail rose to the heavens.
Much of the forest was gone.
the end...until the next chapter that is...scared you for a second didn't I? (hee hee)