Note: I wrote this when I was in a really bad mood. Bad things happen to my lovelies when I'm in a bad mood. . . this one-shot, for instance, is a great example.
Last Few Moments
By boybeater3736
I struggle to reach my friend Aragorn as the Dark Lord Sauron appears. I shove hard at the Orcs I am fighting and ones that try to black my way. But there are too many for me to stand against. There are too many to get past. For the millionth time another Orcs pushes me backward, farther away from Aragorn. He is in dire need of aid… a silent plea may not be answered.
The Dark Lord, whose evil is so strong that every time I look at him my very breath seems to be stolen away, raises his mace. He intends to crush the Heir of Isildur. A fate that I cannot let befall him. My mind is so intent on helping my companion, I barely even notice when I am caught in the chest with a well-placed dagger. Pain slides through me and I hear the Orc who wounded me laugh… a rusty, grotesque sound that is not so pleasant to hear.
Yes, pain snakes across my chest, even worse when the tainted blade is removed. I am beaten to the ground and 'racked', as you call it, several times. More pain is felt. More blood is spilt. I see the red stain spreading over my tunic and feel it as it pumps through my fingers which I have placed subconsciously over my wound. It is warm and sickeningly comforting.
I curl up on the ground, forgotten by the entire world. As more priceless ruby liquid seeps into the ground, I die. My eyes flutter close, my chest ceases to rise, and my laboring heart finally stops.
And, in my last few moments of this life, I feel peace.