Ok, my way of apologizing for taking so long... two chapters...

Faith Part 4

Three minutes ago, Eldabeth had felt hope seep into her being. Three minutes ago, she actually believed they would survive, and that, even with her adar dead, there was a hope for life. Just a few moments ago, she dearly wanted to see her mother, and her grandfather, and Mener and be with them, to feel their love and sorrow. To offer her strength and to be relieved of her burden.

She snorted, and clubbed another orc with the torch. She eyed it for a moment, knowing that if she kept hitting the foul creatures with it, she'd eventually snuff the flame. Of course, now that the orcs were charging into the cavern, they brought with them more light.

She was a warrior by no means. As a granddaughter of the king, she was schooled in the ways of the courts, and diplomacy, along with a smattering of the healing arts. She was fascinated with healing, and had learned all she could about the way the body worked, and how it reacted to trauma. She put the knowledge to use now, as best she could, and tried to hit her adversaries in places that would immediately render them unable to fight.

Unfortunately, she was also slight, of lesser strength, and did not possess what one would call a good aim.

The torch bounced off the forearm of one of the orcs, and it stopped, looking first to its slightly bruised arm and then back to her. When it cocked its head, laughing at her attempt to stop it, she punched it in the nose. Blood spurted and knuckles were bruised, but it gave Eldabeth all the distraction she needed to ruthlessly beat the creature over the head with the torch.

She was stopped mid-swing as she was pulled backward by her hair. She shrieked, fear and rage echoing through the cavern, and tried to whirl around to meet her enemy face to face. She only succeeded in pulling her own hair. Pain shot through her scalp and tears blurred her vision. Panic overtook her and she flailed wildly, shrieking all the while.

Legolas turned. He'd been trying to keep on an eye on Eldabeth and trying to find a way out of this mess all the while fighting creatures intent on killing him mercilessly. That, on top of the emotional mess he'd already been in before this all started, was making for some severe misjudgements.

Why he and Eldabeth hadn't just slipped out and backtracked after the orcs passed... well, he just hadn't been thinking clearly.

Sending them into a room with no way out that wasn't blocked by orcs... again, hadn't been thinking clearly.

He lunged forward, stabbing an orc that came too close. He was no longer going to them, but letting them come to him. No sense in wasting energy when they'd all get their chance soon enough.

And, now, he'd let his niece out of his sight for one moment and she was in trouble. Of course, he couldn't really fault her for it; they were in a cavern infested by orcs. One had no choice but to be in trouble.

He dispatched an orc in his way, and, more on his heels, ran to Eldabeth's aid. He ducked under one of her flailing, panicked swings and buried his longknife in the creature's side. It let go of her, and she, too panicked to note Legolas coming to rescue her, immediately turned, already swinging the torch in both hands.

She knocked Legolas directly between the shoulderblades before she could check herself. He stumbled forward, fell to one knee beside the orc he'd just stabbed while Eldabeth dropped the torch, horrified and stammering apologies.

Legolas shook his head and stood up, thrusting his knife in her hands as he picked up the sword of the dying orc. "As long as," here he paused to behead an orc coming up to them, "you don't stab me, use that."

Eldabeth blanched as the headless body fell between them. "Can we get out of here now?"

"Turn and stab," Legolas said. She did, for once quickly dispatching the creature. She stood stock still as it gurgled its last breath at her. She moaned, and looked over her shoulder at Legolas.

"Please can we go now?"

"I'm working it," he snapped. He swung the sword in a wide arc, cleaving through two orcs. "That hole you found the orcs in? Head that way."

Bronwe surged forward, pounding up the grade, deftly avoiding obstacles with a grace befitting her status as a warrior. Mener hunched over her neck, mindful of her right shoulder and knee. He kept his hand on the right side of her withers. As one, they wove through the forest and Mener almost mourned the fact they would have to stop soon and start seriously tracking Eldabeth and Legolas.

He hoped they were at least together. To think that Eldabeth might be alone in her grief scored Mener's already torn heart. He fervently hoped they only delayed coming back because either Eldabeth or Legolas had been unable to come home yet, their grief was so great. Mener blinked back tears and did his best to set guilt aside. To fervently hope someone was debilitated by grief was anathema to him. It was wrong beyond his ability to explain.

Mener was so deep in his thoughts that Bronwe nearly unseated him when she stopped short.

He scrambled for balance, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "Bronwe?"

Then, Mener felt it. A wrongness, a darkness, permeated even the early morning sun.

The trees trembled, leaves shaking in the slight breeze.

Bronwe circled, and Mener peered into the trees. He raised his sword.

Mener's eyes went wide and he pulled at Bronwe's dark mane. "Back up, Bronwe."

Bronwe snorted, shaking her head and pawing the ground in obvious displeasure. She was a warrior; she did not run.

"Bronwe," Mener snapped. His hand tightened in her mane. "We are both injured," he whispered fiercely. "Not at our top form. We must leave."

Bronwe took a step back. She threw her head high, ready to wheel.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of a bowstring being strained. Mener gasped. "Go," he snapped.

The bowstring was released.

Bronwe wheeled.

A black-fletched arrow flew within inches of the mare's neck. She snorted, and with a powerful surge, she carried Mener into the trees, back the way they'd came.

Reaching the wall underneath the ledge Eldabeth's discovery was on was not the problem. Finding time to actually scale the wall became the issue.

"Why aren't we," Eldabeth grunted as she struggled to pull the knife free of an orc abdomen, "going out the way we came?"

"Too many coming that way," Legolas said, looking up. If he reached above his head, his fingertips would be able to brush the ledge. "We need to do this quickly. I'm going to drop my sword and give you a leg up."

"What? No." She shook her head. "You'll get yourself killed."

Legolas eyed her. "We're going to die anyway."

She sighed, and drew up her skirts, ready to move. Legolas stabbed an orc, pulled the sword back and let it clatter to the ground near his feet. He cupped his hands and Eldabeth moved, setting her foot in his hands and reaching upward. She pulled herself onto the ledge and Legolas ducked under a fierce swing.

Eldabeth spun around, stretching out to help her uncle and stopped suddenly, staring at her empty hand. The knife! She'd dropped the knife. Quickly she picked up a rock, and, using both hands, started pelting their tormentors with small, sharp rocks.

Legolas quickly joined her. Wordlessly, he handed her the knife. She winced.

"Now we run?"

He nodded.Then, snarling, he thrust the sword backward, catching an orc in the throat that dared try to follow them. As he pulled the sword free, he flashed a reassuring look to Eldabeth, but it failed in its purpose when small rocks clattered down from the roof and the cavern shook. He closed his eyes. Both Elves stayed absolutely still for a moment before Legolas pushed Eldabeth forward. "Move."

It was all he had time to say before their world crashed down upon them.

TBC