Faith

Part 8 of 10

Disclaimers, summary, and rating on on the first part.

Eldabeth sat, arms curled around her knees, and trembled with the effort of holding in her sobs. The darkness around them had seemed to grow since she and Legolas fought and it was heavy in the small passageway. Legolas stood now, working near the top of the rockfall, but the sounds of his work was drowned by the sounds of the orcs still coming after them. Eldabeth had no idea how close they were to breaking through, but from the sounds of dark glee, it would be soon.

Her trembled redoubled as fear flowed through her being. Grief and fear fought for control, and she had no resources to deal with the onset of fresh emotion. She choked on a harsh sob and her hands clenched around her knees as she fought for breath.

Legolas stopped his work, hands still upraised as he turned his gaze toward his niece. Empathy flitted across his stern features and he dropped to a crouch in front of her. He started to speak, but stopped, unsure of what to even say. His gaze flitted to the rocks which now trembled with the onslaught of orc force applied to it. Eldabeth started at the noise and movement and blindly reached for Legolas' hand. He took her hand and her fingers curled around his with a crushing force. "I'm sorry; I don't want to go," she whispered, her voice harsh and uneven.

"Then do not," Legolas responded evenly even as his heart clenched.

More rocks rolled. Big ones. Legolas glanced at them nervously. The points of orcish blades could be seen now and again, prying at the rock.

Eldabeth never turned her gaze upward. Great hitching breaths shook her slight frame and Legolas tried to still her by laying a hand on her back.

The points of blades were replaced by dark clawed hands. Gleeful black speech reached their ears, but they paid no attention to it. For the first time since they'd encountered the foul creatures, they paid them no mind. The elves' world was here and now, consumed in each other's heartache. "Garo bronwe," Legolas said.

"I don't know how," Eldabeth answered.

"Just claim it."

Laughter reached their ears and more rocks fell, some coming to rest against their legs. Legolas picked up knife and sword, leaned forward and kissed Eldabeth's forehead. "Go, dig," he whispered. "We will soon be free."

Eldabeth nodded. She stood up and went to work where Legolas had been digging.

Hands stinging, head reeling, he steadied himself and waited.

The first orc broke through.

Thranduil never once thought that, as King of Mirkwood, he would be picking his way carefully through roughened stone and strewn rock in the darkness with an anxious and irritable she-Elf beside him and an injured warrior behind him. Kirwen carried the torch -- she would not be left outside with the horses -- while Mener had a sword firmly grasped in his good hand. Thranduil himself had his longknife still sheathed, while behind them, the contigent of fifteen quietly searched the cave.

Kirwen suddenly let out a cry and rushed forward, Mener and Thranduil on her heels. She stopped short, her cloak swirling around her legs and her skirts brushing the stiffening body of a dead orc. Thranduil took the torch from her still hands and examined the body. "The throat is slit," he announced.

"He could have had a disagreement with his leader, my Lord," Mener commented.

Thranduil shook his head. "Too clean. Orcs rarely kill this cleanly."

"Look." Kirwen pointed to an opening in the rock wall, where black blood was smeared.

"No, listen," Thranduil corrected. "Do you hear it?"

Mener closed his eyes, swallowing around a lump that had risen in his throat. "Gleeful orcs are a bad sign."

Thranduil handed the torch back to Kirwen and drew his knife. "If you intend to follow, stay with them," he told Kirwen, pointing to the warriors. "Engage them," he commanded. "My son and granddaughter are here somewhere and any goblin alive is a threat to them."

They ducked into the passageway, eager to cut gleeful shouts short.

Eldabeth dug frantically. With Legolas using both weapons to give her room, her only mode of defense was to throw the rocks. Unfortunately, her aim needed work. More often she missed than not, but the small projectiles did distract the orcs that had widened and now poured through the hole. Eldabeth's eyes widened as she shoved rocks out of her way -- she smelled air. "Elbereth, please," she breathed, her frantic movements becoming faster. Rocks scraped her hands, but she paid it no heed and finally, when she moved a few rocks, a shaft of dim sunlight illuminated her face.

With a hoot of triumph, Eldabeth turned, letting the little sunlight into the cave, and threw the rock that had covered the small hole. It struck an orc between the eyes and Eldabeth let out another cry. The orc faltered, glaring at her. Legolas cut it down.

He kept moving, never stopping, but hardly able to make a kill in the small space suddenly filled with milling bodies, every one intent on killing him. He placed himself between Eldabeth and the orcs, and joined her in her yell when sunlight streamed down upon him.

He whirled, ducking, then coming up with both blades. Two more orcs fell at his feet.

Eldabeth turned to dig. She could barely fit both hands into the hole, but she shoved at the rocks anyway, steadily widening the entrance. It didn't have to be big; both Elves were slight. With a mighty shove, a boulder gave way, clattering down the wall on the other side, and suddenly Eldabeth was looking at a hole just big enough for her to get through. More, more. Legolas must get through, as well.

A cry halted her work. She turned in time to see her uncle fall, hand clutching his side. The sword fell to the ground. An orc grabbed his wrist and wrestled the knife free. Within moments, orcs surrounded him, weaponless and bleeding.

Eldabeth lept, rock in hand and pummeled the orc nearest her. It dropped its blade as it brought up its hands to ward her off and Eldabeth ducked a fierce punch. Her hand closed around the hilt of the roughly hewn blade and she swung wildly. The blade met soft resistance, and Eldabeth blanched as the sharp edge sliced through flesh. Swallowing bile, she stepped back to pull the blade free and found herself facing three orcs intent on bringing her down as well.

"Legolas!" She parried heroically if not expertly and managed to keep her head on her shoulders for a few more seconds. "Get up. Get up, get up, get up."

No noise came from his direction, and Eldabeth couldn't look that way. She was too busy frantically dodging orc blades. It wasn't until an orc fell before her that she noticed him up, clutching his bloody side and holding his longknife. She didn't dare ask how he'd gotten it back.

"Go through!" he shouted at her.

She shook her head.

"Go!" His look became desparate, pleading. "Please!"

"I cannot." She ducked under a fierce swing, barely getting under it. "My faith is in you, Uncle." Anger swept the fear and uncertainty from her features and she turned, already swinging the sword. Inexpert, perhaps, but effective, as the blade cleaved into the creature's abdomen. Granted a moment's reprieve, she spoke earnestly. "I found my faith and claimed it. Don't leave me alone."

She fell forward, shoved from behind, and landed on her hands and knees in front of Legolas. Quickly, he pulled her up. Orcs filed in, surrounding them. In the lull that came before the battle, Legolas spoke.

"I hate caves."

"I see why," Eldabeth responded.

This time, there was no laughter as the orcs closed in; they were beyond sport. Bloodlust ruled them now.

TBC