AN: I don't know if this story is either boring or predictable in plot, but I don't seem to have a lot of people interested in what happens. So if you think of anything, drop me a line… even if its to tell me to rethink the plot.
Thanks to El and Zammy for their continued support. You are most appreciated!
PJ
Chapter Five: From One Darkness Into Another
The day crept by slowly; the brilliant sun beat down on the golden heads that perched in the trees, staring into the partially covered cave entrance. As midday burned brightly, Haldir woke the others from their slumbering and using only hand signals, indicated that now was the time for their attack.
Rúmil fussed about noisily, threatening an older brother for disturbing his sleep. Haldir clamped his hand roughly over Rúmil's mouth and glared at him, instantly shutting the young elf up. As Haldir turned away, Rúmil made a rude gesture and grumpily gained his feet and taking position on the ground to begin their assault.
Haldir lined the elves up along the side of the cave; their bows notched and held taunt, waiting for release. Silently, Haldir skirted around the edge of the cave, drawing his sword. Using his keen senses, he tried to pick out sounds, outlines, and smells from within the gloom. Slowly emerging one on side of the cave entrance, he glanced inside, and scanned the area.
No sound met his ears, nor outlines picked out in the dark. The cave lingered with the foul stench that always hovered over the orcs, mixing with the musty, stagnant air that fills caves from lack of circulation.
Haldir raised his hand and motioned for the others to follow suit as he was swallowed up by the darkness. The others followed stealthily inside the cave, their eyes adjusting instantly and watching their leader make slow progress towards the back of the cave, where four separate tunnels lead off.
Haldir stopped in front of the first tunnel and sniffed, though only the elves nearest to him could hear the sound. The air was stale and laced with moldy spores that made the elves want to cough, though they refrained. The second tunnel smelled of rotten meat, pungent and gagging to the elves, who laxed their hold on their weapons and placed their sleeves over their mouths to aid in breathing.
The third cave wafted a heated air, thick with the pungent smell of unwashed bodies. The cave's foul breath nearly knocked Orophin to the ground with its stench. He staggered momentarily, his nose crinkling up in disgust as the next exhale from the gaping abyss sent a wave of nausea through him. He looked to Haldir who wore the same expression.
Haldir went to the fourth cave and sniffed, though he couldn't get the scent of the third cave out of his nose. He muffled a cough, choking on the odor that still lingered in his nostrils. Taking several deep breaths from through his clothing he used as a shield, he ventured into the tunnel a few paces and took another breath. The air was inert as the first two, its presence heavy with musk and mildew.
Haldir came out of the tunnel, his eyes bright and glittering in the darkness. The natural light that gleamed off the elves guided him to the others, who were shining like pristine specters against a sea of blackness. When Haldir approached they looked questioningly to him, silently asking for the next command.
Haldir pointed to the third tunnel, the one that breathed with a life of its own and could almost hear the groan that the Elves expressed. He pulled the collar of his tunic up over his nose and poised his sword before him as he lead the way deep into the bowels of the cave.
The elves dimmed their natural light as far as they could, not wanting to give the orcs a warning before they attacked by seeing the luminescence of the fair beings. The light, though dulled as far as possible, still gave an eerie glow to the cave walls, making its cracked and rough edges more pronounced. As the elves passed, their light altered the patterns on the walls, making it look like a coiling body, undulating shadows in sync with the Elven bodies passing by.
Haldir led his command further into the tunnel, turning left and then right, trying hard not to cringe from the smell that permeated the air as gusts blew past. Haldir noticed the gusts became more frequent as they ventured lower, the temperature rising with their descent.
A faint light at the end of a branch from the main tunnel caught Haldir's attention. Motioning for them to stay, he ventured alone towards the light. As he neared, he felt sweat form on his brow and his breathing became more labored. The light became more pronounced as he neared, until it was nearly blinding to the elf.
Holding his arm up to shield his eyes, Haldir took a few more steps closer to the light, and felt as if he was punched in the chest. A strong current of heated air rushed to greet him, causing him to stagger and fall against the rocky wall. Cringing from the impact, Haldir pushed himself away from the slime-covered wall and proceeded back down the tunnel towards the others, his breathing returning to normal, and the sweat cooling against his skin.
When he returned, the others looked curiously to their commander, but he waved off any questions and continued down the long tunnel. After several minutes had passed, Haldir motioned the troops to a halt, his eyes scanning the area ahead.
Tentatively the group waited, listening, straining their ears for any sounds. With a surge of panic, the elves heard the distinct sound of something large moving around further down the cave. Haldir waved his hand, gesturing for them to backtrack, his eyes alert, scanning the darkness of the cave as he drew his cloak up tighter around him to further dampen his natural glow. The others followed his example, the cave darkening ominously as they covered themselves more fully.
Haldir pointed to Múrendil, signaling that the elf should lead their way back. With a crisp nod, Múrendil spun and lead the way back from whence they came, his long knife shimmering in the faint light cast by what little of his exposed body cast. The others quickly and quietly followed suit, Haldir taking up the rear, his back to the Company, his sword drawn laterally across his chest, ready for an attack.
The sounds of movement faded away as the elves made their way back to the surface. Haldir remained tense as he followed behind, his eyes darting back to the darkness, watching for any signs of a possible foe. He breathed a sigh of relief as he recognized the cave entrance, and inhaled deeply as he gained the fresh air of the woodland. The sun was beginning to set, its journey to the horizon casting shadows across the area. Haldir guessed they were below for at least four hours, judging by the length of the shadows on the ground and the orange color of the sun.
Haldir lead the way over to the trees they had used as shelter and resting places earlier, and jumped lightly upon a branch. The others followed suit, their weapons now put away and their faces grim.
"What was that thing?" Cíarean asked in a hushed tone, his brow furrowed.
"I know not," Haldir said, shaking his head. "Nor do I wish to find out."
The others nodded their heads in agreement. Rúmil scooted closer to Orophin to allow Bhiroadin a place to sit, but the elf stepped between them and continued on up the tree without a backwards glance. Rúmil frowned after the elf, watching his ascent into the boughs of the tree. When he returned his attention back to Haldir, Haldir was shaking his head, his eyes wide. Rúmil shrugged, his expression asking a silent question.
Haldir dropped his voice low, so the elves around him strained to hear, "Many years ago, Bhiroadin was taken captive by goblins and held prisoner in a cave for almost a decade. He despises them more than we."
Rúmil's mouth was agape and Orophin sighed, then closed his brother's mouth. Rúmil stared up into the boughs were Bhiroadin had disappeared to, "Why did he go into the cave then?"
Haldir took a deep breath and unnecessarily cleared his throat, gaining his brothers' attention once again, "He is bound by duty to do whatever is ordered of him to do."
"But if you knew of his past, why put him through it?" Orophin hissed like a serpent.
Haldir cast his eyes down and said, "To face one's worst fear is to defeat it. If he is to remain under my command, and perhaps one day lead a contingent of his own, I need to make sure he has no fears by which to live. Only when he is free of them will he be allowed to advance into the position that is waiting for him."
"He gets to be a leader and I have yet to wait?" Orophin growled low, glaring at his brother malevolently.
Haldir regarded his younger sibling with interest for a moment then spoke, "The Lady has foretold of what is to become of Bhiroadin. I follow her orders and do not make judgments because of kinship."
"You are a pain," Orophin snapped, turning away from his brother.
"So you remind me often," Haldir said softly.
Rúmil looked between the two, clearly torn over which he was to side with. He knew that Haldir had his reasons for his choices and made fair judgments, but he also knew that Orophin had asked many times for his own battalion to lead. Each time he requested it; Haldir had refused, telling him that there were reasons for which he was to remain in his current standing. Many times Galadriel had been seen talking with Orophin, to which he would keep his eyes down as if she reprimanded him. Rúmil felt a twinge of guilt, having a command while Orophin repeatedly asked for one and was denied. As far as he was concerned, Orophin would make a great leader, and sometimes he felt it wrong of Haldir and Lady Galadriel to keep Orophin withheld from the position he sought.
Orawain, Cíaraen, Láiraen, Ríanen, Carphir, and Múrendil remained quiet during the exchange. They supported their leader and highly respected him. They knew that this argument had lasted more than a century, and was unlikely it was to be resolved anytime soon. Láirean shifted nervously, having only witnessed such an exchange once before and remembered it lead to a rather nasty fight between the two brothers.
Haldir waited several minutes before he spoke again, "I do not deny you a command as an act of punishment or attempt to hurt you, dear Orophin."
Orophin spun around, eyes narrowed, "Always an excuse with you."
"Excuse? No," Haldir shook his head, "I am acting on the orders from the Lady herself. She has foreseen something of great importance. I trust her judgment, as well should you."
Orophin opened his mouth to speak, but Bhiroadin landed in front of Haldir, "Commander, the orcs are moving!"
"What?" Haldir jumped to his feet and followed Bhiroadin who was scaling the tree again.
The others rose, their senses on alert, waiting to hear a telltale sign of the orcs coming for an ambush. Haldir climbed quickly up the tree, settling on the highest branch, his feet barely causing the branch to sway with his weight. Bhiroadin pointed to the distance and Haldir squinted with the dying light of the sun casting shadows and contorting the landscape. Within a second, Haldir could see at least fifty orcs running at top speed, the glint of a golden head occasionally flashing in the midst.
"Dassenil," Haldir said softly.
Bhiroadin nodded slowly, his own eyes straining in the distance, "He lives, Commander. I can see him struggle."
"Then let us retrieve that which has been stolen," Haldir said, leaping down to the others and addressing them. "Orcs are traveling northwest. Dassenil is with them."
"Dassenil? He is not dead?" Orophin asked, his earlier outburst clearly forgotten.
"Nay," said Bhiroadin landing next to Haldir. "He is struggling with them, but he is alive. I know not for how much longer."
"We shall not wait to find out," Haldir said, landing on the ground and starting off at a run in the direction the orcs were heading.
The others smiled knowingly and took up behind their leader; determination fueled their flight as they covered the terrain quickly, their swift legs easily eating the distance between them and the foul orcs holding their kin captive.
Night had fallen- the moon rose high in the sky casting a silver web over the travelers. The Elven heads glowed radiantly with their natural essence, looking as though stars had fallen from the heavens and now raced across the countryside.
Within an hour of the full descent of night, the elves could hear the grunts of the orcs as they slowed from their exertions and grumbling about food. Haldir used the voices to guide him to the foul beasts, whose stench had reached the elves before their eyes could detect them. Many of the orcs were bustling along behind, the main party far ahead, barely visible some distance away.
"Why can we not eat the elf? He was tasty looking," one orc snarled to the one next to it.
"We are not to eat the elves. The master would punish us for eating them. They are to be broken and used as slaves. You know of the plan, why ask when you know the answer?" his comrade fussed back through breaths.
"We already have so many," another growled. "What difference would it make to eat just one?"
The orcs grunted as they picked up their speed, trying to catch up with those in the lead. The puffed and panted, their thick legs trudging as fast as they could. After several minutes of heavy breathing, one of the orcs growled, "If they do not stop, we shall be left behind! Why do they travel so fast?"
"Maybe they hope we fall behind to allow them to eat the elf?" the one near the rear of the group huffed. "There will be only bones left by the time we reach them."
Haldir cast a quick glance around to his command, each one giving a sign of great disgust and fearful concern. Haldir nodded, pulling his bow from his back and notching an arrow against the taunt string. The silent elves running alongside their commander did the same, training their eyes on the body of an orc running exhaustedly behind.
Haldir unleashed an arrow that made a small whistling sound as it flew through the air. The arrow landed squarely in the center of an orc's neck, making the beast drop to the ground with a dull 'thud'. The other elves took the incentive and began their own silent assault, downing the lagging orcs from the rear as their comrades still ran towards the main body up ahead. One by one, the orcs fell to the deadly accuracy to the Elven warriors. Their mangled bodies littered the ground in a path as the elves passed by, withdrawing the usable arrows protruding up from the neck or mid-back of the fallen beasts and notching them for the next target.
After a minute or so had passed, the lumbering orcs in the lead grumbled about their lagging comrades, and finally slowed the pace to allow them to catch up.
"I want a bite of that elf. I will not be left to chew on bones," the biggest orc announced to the five that ran alongside him.
"There will be no elf to bite," came Haldir's voice from behind. His bow was notched, as were the others, all poised at the six orcs that spun around at the voice. Haldir sneered, "Sorry, but you die with an empty stomach."
The whoosh of arrows and the sickening sound of the projectiles burying themselves deep into a fleshy body filled the air as the orcs dropped. The orc that had wanted a bite of Dassenil glared up at Haldir as his blood spilled onto the grassy ground.
"Foul elf," he groaned as he labored for breath, "If you were not a coward I would have killed all your friends, and made you watch as I feasted."
Haldir grabbed a firm hold on the arrow protruding from the orcs chest and quirked a brow as if amused, "Then die knowing that you were downed by a coward and that you will never inflict such evil onto the world again." With a knowing, smug grin, Haldir thrust the arrow deeper into the orc. With a guttural cry the orc fell limp, his body devoid of the tortured soul it once held.
Haldir turned a disgusted look to the others and motioned them forward, "Let us make haste."
The others followed obediently, screwing up their faces at the dead orcs lying prone on the ground. Within minutes they put a considerable distance between them, Haldir leading the way through the darkness towards the large body of orcs still traveling at a good pace and jostling Dassenil in their midst.
Well past midnight, Haldir called a halt to their progress and studied the ground closely. The orcs had fled into a thick forest, their tracks overlapping and intertwining through the trees. Haldir picked out a set and followed it, until others joined it and drowned out any specific outline. Haldir let out a growl of frustration, raising to his feet and pointing into the dense trees. "They have split up."
"Shall we not do the same?" Ríanen asked.
Haldir thought for a moment and then shook his head, "Nay. The track to the left is the one we shall take."
"Why so?" Rúmil asked, kneeling down to the ground to see if he could decipher the foliage as Haldir had.
"Because they are the smaller party, and," Haldir pointed to a small trough deep in the soil that ended with a smooth footprint of Elven origin, "This is the party that holds Dassenil captive."
"You are sure?" Orophin asked carefully, frowning at the marks on the ground.
"The deep gouge is where they had dragged him with them. His print is still there, though it becomes confused and joins with the others as they hurry forward."
Orophin and Rúmil nodded their heads in understanding, looking at the pattern of drag marks and footprints that were clearly made from an Elven boot.
Haldir took off through the trees, the others hot on his heels. The Elven feet made no sounds as they swiftly covered the ground with their powerful strides. The trees swayed with a gentle breeze and the usual chatter of nocturnal animals lowered as the elves neared, then resumed their nightly gossip when they had passed.
In the distance, the grunts and broken language of the orcs could be detected by the heightened Elven hearing. Picking up their speed, the elves continued their pursuit.
As dawn approached, the backs of the orcs came into view. Haldir drew his sword from its scabbard, hoping to save as many arrows as possible in case of danger later, and heard the familiar song behind him of Elven blades being drawn. Motioning for the others to fan out and prepare to attack, Haldir lead the way into the sea of grumbling orc bodies.
Múrendil and Cíaraen pulled back their bowstrings, clearly wanting to down a few at a distance before they became to close and would have to resort to hand to hand combat. The air soon came alive with the sound of arrows whistling between the trees, mingling with the sounds of birds waking for the new day. Many chirped and peeped, answering the call of the assailing arrows, singing in tune with the projectiles.
Several orcs fell to the ground with shouts of pain, alerting the others that they were no longer alone and now coming under attack. Curses filled the air as the orcs turned onto their aggressors, snarling and drawing their weapons.
The elves charged forward, ducking, sweeping, and slashing at the smelly orc bodies. Many orcs dropped before they drew any weapons, white shafts peppered their bodies as they crumpled. The sounds of metal on metal filled the air, drowning out any sounds of nature waking to the new day.
Carphir evaded a blade aimed at his midsection and leapt out of the orcs way as it growled and thrust its blade carelessly. Carphir caught it with his own sword and pivoted, spinning the orc around and causing his blade to impale one of his comrades.
Haldir swept his blade in an arc, decapitating two orcs and severing the outstretched arm of another. It howled in pain until the sounds died in its throat as Haldir lunged at it, piercing its chest with a dagger.
Pulling the dagger free of the dead beast, Haldir turned and advanced on the three surrounding Cíaraen. He flicked his wrist, the dagger sailing straight into the neck of one of the orcs. Cíaraen quickly dispatched the remaining two, nodding his thanks and ran over to assist the others.
Rúmil and Orophin were back to back, their swords a blur as orc bodies and limbs covered the ground around them. Rúmil had black blood splattered on his face and neck. Orophin was wincing as he sliced through the last orc in front of him and turned to assist Rúmil with the remaining one before him.
Múrendil was situated in a tree, arrows raining down and embedding themselves into the back or neck of an orc. When he emptied his quiver, he leapt from the tree and stood beside Caraen, pulling arrows out from the elf's quiver and shooting the advancing orcs. Cíaraen grinned, feeling his quiver twitch and slowly become lighter as its contents were emptied.
An orc snarled, raging something incoherent, raising a blade high into the air. Múrendil gave a start and withdrew the last arrow from Cíaraen's quiver and took aim. Cíaraen turned to the source of the noise, accidentally bumping into Múrendil, who released his arrow with a slight waver in its position. The arrow soared through the air and landed in the center of the orcs buttock, causing him to drop his blade and scream out in pain, his hand reaching around to withdraw the projectile embedded in his back side.
Orawain stepped beside the orc and decapitated him with one easy swipe. He saw the arrow sticking out of the orcs rear end and cast a look over to Múrendil who blushed and laughed. The others laughed at the sight too, but it quickly died down when Orophin hurried to the form beside the fallen orc with an arrow flagging his butt and crouched low.
Orophin gently turned a bloodied head over, revealing Dassenil. The others situated themselves around the two, keeping a defensive posture as Orophin tended to the downed elf.
As the Elven eyes scanned the area and surmised that there was no longer a threat from the orcs, they settled around Orophin, their eyes and ears ever watchful. Haldir had knelt beside Dassenil and assisted Orophin with wiping away the blood from the elf's face and monitoring his breathing. Dassenil's breathing was shallow and slow; his eyes were closed in unconsciousness.
A grunt raised all elves on the defensive instantly. Their eyes swept the darkness and fell upon an orc, crawling slowly on the ground, half of its left arm severed and blood pouring from the wound. Haldir approached the creature and stood towering over him, a malevolent grin on his face.
Without a word, Haldir kicked the orc in the face, sending it sprawled out on its back, staring up blankly to a raging elf, eyes burning of fire and body poised to deliver a lethal blow.
Haldir crouched down, his blade resting on the orcs throat, "Who is your master?"
The orc sneered, "The one that will break elves and make them slaves?"
Haldir narrowed his eyes and growled out, "Yes, the delusional one. Where does he live so we may pay him a visit?"
The orc choked, sputtering as his life began to fade with the loss of blood, "I will not betray the master."
"Too bad," Haldir snarled, his hand striking the fallen orc across the face and busting his lip. "Tell me and I shall end this quickly. If not, I will drag this out until you pray for death to come on swift wings."
The orc looked like it was deep in thought over what Haldir had said, then, with the remaining hand, grabbed Haldir's wrist holding the dagger and thrust it deep into its chest, piercing its heart. With a laugh that died on his lips, the orc glared up with a leer until death claimed him.
Haldir spat curses on the orc and rejoined the others, who still remained watchful over their downed kin.
Orophin looked to Haldir as he approached, "Dassenil will be fine. He has taken a beating, but it appears nothing is broken."
Dassenil groaned, sluggishly opening up his eyes and staring at Orophin hovering over him, "Orcs?"
"They are dead," Orophin said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Dassenil nodded and swallowed hard. Orawain opened his waterskin and assisted Orophin in letting Dassenil drink. After several mouthfuls, Dassenil breathed deeply, and tried to pull himself up in a sitting position. Orophin cleaned the wounds the best he could and placed a small herbal wrap on the major injuries. Dassenil nodded his thanks and made to stand. Orophin shook his head and tried to keep the elf still but Dassenil swatted him away and sat up, wincing slightly.
"I am fine, Orophin. Do not fuss so," Dassenil quipped, pushing away another attempt by Orophin to keep him lying down.
"You were beaten badly, you need to rest," Orophin countered.
Dassenil grinned through the blood congealing on his face and sticking in his hair, "So that is why I am in so much pain?"
Orophin made to lower Dassenil back down to the ground but he impatiently swatted at the mothering elf, "I am only sore from the beating. It will heal and there is no permanent damage. Stop fussing over me, Orophin!"
Haldir placed a hand on Orophin's shoulder to prevent him from further pestering, "Peace Orophin. Dassenil knows what his limit is and will not over do himself."
"Guess you know best," Orophin snapped and withdrew slightly from Dassenil's side.
Haldir gave his brother a look that wiped anymore arguments from his mind, knowing that now was not the time and place to be bringing this issue up. Orophin took several deep breaths as Haldir regarded him for a moment, watching his reaction closely.
Orophin sighed, "I am sorry for my tongue. I do not mean to cause you such trouble, brother."
Haldir nodded his head, sympathy surfacing on his face, then quickly disappearing behind a stony expression, "Think no more on it. Just be mindful of your manners."
Orophin nodded solemnly, knowing that Haldir was well within his rights to rebuke him, especially in front of the others for he had called into question Haldir's judgment before them. The others exchanged nervous glances, hoping the argument was now settled, at least until the end of the mission. It would do no good if both brothers were at each other's throats and questioning each other's commitments.
Dassenil rose unsteadily to his feet and wavered slightly. Múrendil caught him and helped steady him until he nodded his thanks and started limping away.
"Where are you going?" Haldir asked with a frown.
"The orcs said they were taking me to see their master. They let it slip that they had many, and that I was to be broken to use as a slave. They were headed in this direction," Dassenil said over his shoulder, keeping his wobbly pace through the trees.
"I had gathered as much from the two that have boasted," Haldir said, coming up beside Dassenil and walking slowly by him. The others wandered around, gathering what arrows were salvageable and hurrying behind Dassenil and Haldir, who were going at a very slow pace due to Dassenil's injuries.
Dassenil wiped blood from his eyes and kept on walking, thinking about what had been said and what information could have been hidden in their meaning. After a moment he turned to Haldir, "Do you believe they have captured other elves, Commander? That they are using them as slaves?"
Haldir thought for a moment and looked behind him when the others caught up from their retrieval of arrows, placing the collected shafts into their quivers. They fell silently behind their commanding officer and limping companion.
"I do not know if they spoke true, but if so many say it, then there must be some truth to their words," Haldir said, his vision lost in the horizon where the sun was just starting to tinge the world with an amber glow.
The Elves traveled in silence as the day began. The birds in the trees sang and fluttered from tree to tree. The sun burned brightly in the sky, lighting the way through the dense foliage and showing the path through the thickets. Several times they stopped, allowing Dassenil time to recover some strength before they returned to their trek. Several times Orophin tried to get Dassenil to hold still and allow him to rewrap his wounds, but the elf was stubborn and politely waved away any attempt to see to his injuries.
As midday approached, the Elven contingent came upon a small stream running through the forest. Abandoning all pretext, Dassenil stripped off and waded into the waist deep water. He lowered himself into the cool water, allowing it to soothe the lingering aches and pains that the orcs had inflicted. He didn't want the others to know how badly he had been beaten, but when he stripped down, he revealed the bruises and lash marks across his skin. Orophin saw these and hissed like a pit of angry snakes, automatically opening his bag and removing several medicinal herbs and bandages. Whether Dassenil agreed to it or not, Orophin was going to dress the wounds and care for them properly.
As Dassenil resurfaced and wrung out his golden hair, he caught sight of Orophin glaring on the bank, hands on hips and evil glare in his eyes. The other elves had removed their packs and pulled out bits of lembas, refilling waterskins further up stream, and double-checking their surroundings to ensure their safety.
Dassenil lowered his gaze and returned to shore, still limping from the lashing that he had revealed down his legs. Some of the wounds had reopened from the cleaning and blood ran freely from them. Orophin clicked his tongue and motioned for Dassenil to sit as he pulled more herbs from his bag and began to make a paste out of two. Applying the salve liberally to all of Dassenil's wounds, Orophin bandaged up the worst ones, the most severe being the head trauma that still occasionally bled. Dassenil explained that he put up a fight and the orcs said he needed a lesson, repeatedly striking him. The head wound occurred when he tried to escape and received a sword hilt to the side of the head.
Orophin barked out orders for proper care, reminding Dassenil over and over that he should be resting and not up and about. Dassenil waved off the fussing, insisting that he was in this mission until the end.
After a fast bite by the stream, to which each elf took their turn at a quick bath, or in Rúmil's case, languidly playing in the water, the Company set out again.
"Why are we going this way?" Orawain asked as he noticed they traveled further into the forest.
"The orcs were heading in this direction," Haldir answered from the front. "If they indeed have other elves, then we will keep on their path. Perhaps if there are others, they will be with our missing kin."
As evening approached, Dassenil became slower. His feet were dragging so badly he kept stumbling over the uneven terrain. Haldir ordered the Company to halt. Dassenil argued he was only tired and ate a few bites of lembas and then insisted they start on their journey again. Reluctantly Haldir agreed, leading his command on into dusk.
The trees thinned out, occasionally dotting the landscape. Many thickets covered this area, where briars as big as a thumb were lurking, awaiting to snare an unsuspecting traveler. Several times the elves were snagged by the large brambles and pulled free by laughing companions.
Evening fell like a heavy shroud, suffocating and sinister, pressing in on the elves walking over the countryside. Several times, one of the elves would stop, body poised in a defensive position, ears attuned to the noises of the woodland.
Midnight crept upon the elves, who were now moving at an extremely slow pace, due to Dassenil who could barely remain upright. He swore he was fine, but with his hunched shoulders, drooping eyes, and slurring speech, the others knew he was reaching his limit of energy. His body had taken quite a beating and he was pushing it too far with his stubbornness.
Orophin caught up with Haldir's long strides and said lowly so no one else would hear, "Dassenil is ready to collapse, as are we. We are in need of rest Haldir."
Haldir nodded and slowed down, then turned to face the others. The moon was only a pale halo in the sky, having been cast into a gray fog, but still the elves glowed with their own natural essence. Haldir noticed that Dassenil was dimmer than the others. Much too dim.
Carphir caught Dassenil as he collapsed, having spent all his energy and reserves and now fell deep into Elven reverie.
Haldir looked to the others and said, "We will make camp here for the night. We will start out with first light."
The others nodded, Carphir lowering Dassenil to the ground and tucking his cloak around the fallen elf. Láiraen, Ríanen, and Bhiroadin took off into the chilling darkness to find some firewood. Cíaraen and Múrendil pulled their packs off and searched for more lembas. Suddenly Múrendil froze, hand still buried in his pack, his eyes wide. Without another word, he rose, drew his sword and called to the others, "Orcs!"
Sure enough, as soon as the word was out of Múrendil's mouth, the thicket was crawling with orcs. Haldir called for all to converge on Dassenil, protecting him from further harm. Láiraen, Ríanen, and Bhiroadin emerged from behind some orcs, their swords flashing in the dim light cast by the blinking moon. They cut a path through the attacking bodies, slicing, parrying, and dodging as they went.
The orcs tried to flank the elves, their snarls and grunts of language echoing through the night. Haldir sidestepped a chop and spun, gutting one orc, then another. He tried to lure them away from where Dassenil was fallen, and was surrounded by Rúmil and Orophin, both of which were yelling obscenities at the vicious orcs that advanced. Láiraen fell back with Rúmil and Orophin, helping them to defend Dassenil, while Múrendil and Cíaraen took up position close to Haldir, protecting him on his weak side as orcs roared into the clearing.
The air rang out with the sound of metal clashing against metal and the frequent thud of bodies hitting the ground. The night stilled as the battle raged, as if holding its breath to see the outcome of such a campaign.
Rúmil thrust his blade into an orcs stomach and twisted, hearing the beast exhale its last breath and drop open-mouthed to the ground. Pulling his sword free, he punched an orc in the face with the hilt, then flicked his wrist and severed its throat. Beside him, he could hear a loud crunch of bones, and then Orophin shout a curse and drive his blade into the enemy.
Ríanen replaced his sword and leapt into a tree beside Carphir and began raining down arrows, whistling through the air in a deadly tune. When all arrows were spent, the pair landed in the middle of the fray, their weapons drawn and flashing violently. Ríanen withdrew several small objects, razor sharp and surrounded by menacing points. With a flick of his wrist, each one landed in the soft, vulnerable spot of an orc.
The whole earth shook with the tidal wave of orcs running, charging into the battle to try to kill the elves that had caused them so much grief.
Cíaraen yelped as an orc blade sliced into his arm. He staggered backwards, the orc advanced, hoping for an easy kill. Cíaraen switched hands, swinging his long knife around expertly, inflicting deep cuts to the orcs neck and arms, severing tendons and arteries. The orc dropped and wailed as its blood spilled freely on the ground.
Sounds in the distance met the heightened Elven hearing. Haldir kicked an orc in the face, then used its own blade to impale it and pushed it aside as another rounded on him. With a hard punch to the face, Haldir flicked his dagger into the orcs chest, then used his sword to finish it off. The sea of orcs rippled as more poured in around him.
The sounds in the distance grew more pronounced even over the turmoil of the battle. With a defeated sigh, Haldir plunged his sword into another orc and called, "We are about to have company!"
The growling party on the other side of the hillside coming closer and calling wildly out into the night, enraging the orcs and causing the Elven hearts to sink in despair.