Chapter 25 - The End Is Near
"Not What They Seem"
Thranduil knew the feel of battle. He'd fought many times before with these foul creatures. Though not in these particular circumstances. The sun was setting already, and he was weary from exertion and lack of proper food. He was getting sloppy. That was how he got the cut on his forearm. The orc's blade slashed him relatively deep, just below the elbow. It made him angry enough that the adrenaline pumped in him, and he killed the orc. But he knew he needed to rest. He just prayed his soldiers were not as weak as he.
So, he pushed past the fighting pairs between him and the palace, and he leaned up against the wall of the sanctuary. He shuffled his way to his room and began to pull off his armor. He went into the washroom and pushed the bloody tunic sleeve up to examine the wound. It was deep. He had just started to wipe the blood from around it when he heard a sound from his room. Warily curious, he stepped out of the washroom, expecting maybe a servant or a healer who'd seen him come up.
Instead, he saw Amarthel. He was breathing hard, with a leaf or two stuck in his dirty, disarrayed blonde hair. His clothing was tattered, and his tunic was ripped in the middle, with a large blood stain. The anger in his white eyes was clear, and he sneered.
"I have you, Thranduil. You are mine now. This is what I have dreamed of since the day you expelled me from your precious army." Amarthel said, holding up his sword and walking closer to the King. Thranduil looked around for his sword, but it was too far away. This was not good, he could tell already. He backed up, hearing the sounds of the battle from outside, and felt the breeze from his balcony behind him.
"There is nowhere for you to go, my King. You will have to face the past."
"I have faced the past, Amarthel. Every day I recall how you loved me, and I you. How you dined with my wife and I and joined us at dances in the palace. Do you remember those days, Amarthel? Do you remember how loyal a friend I was to you?"
"My memory of our love is clouded by your betrayal! It is time to accept your punishment, milord."
"Punishment? For what? For you not liking the way your life turned out? It is not my fault you have a terrible temper." Thranduil sneered back. Not his best idea yet, he'd soon come to realize, though he would not be sorry he said it. Amarthel charged, and Thranduil stepped aside and watched Amarthel stumble onto the balcony. He spun quickly, and Thranduil had to dodge his blade. Thranduil glanced down at the battle beneath them before having to spin away from Amarthel's attack once again.
"First you will watch as I kill your son. Then as I kill your wife. But I don't think I will kill you. I will hold you in the palace dungeon and whip you when I feel the need for satisfaction." Amarthel mused aloud. He held his sword in front of him with both hands, and Thranduil stood in a wrestling stance, ready to dodge any attack and maybe disarm his opponent if he had the chance.
"You will not win, Amarthel. Even if you kill me, my soldiers will not give up. They fight for loyalty and the love of their city. Not for some false spell or fear of their captain."
"You talk too confidently for a cornered Elf with no weapon. And none of your soldiers can kill me. I am too powerful. Your new daughter already tried." Amarthel pulled his tunic up to reveal a discolored, horizontal scar.
"Jocelyn, she faced you?" Thranduil breathed, exceptionally proud of his daughter's bravery.
"Jocelyn? No, she was the sister. Leyna." Amarthel corrected, still unaware of his mistake between the two. Thranduil smiled.
"You fool. Leyna is the Princess Jocelyn's sister. They are twins." Thranduil smirked, which only angered Amarthel even more. He hated to be wrong. His nostrils flared as a bull in a fight and he charged, but Thranduil dodged it and ended up inside the room again. He saw an opportunity as Amarthel was regaining his bearings, and ran for his sword. It was barely in his hand again and he turned only to be faced with Amarthel's sword coming to crash down upon him.
Fortunately, he got his sword up to block his foe's, and Amarthel backed up. He held his sword above his head, and his white eyes widened. The blade he held began to glow on its edges, and as he swung it at Thranduil, it left a white trail in the air. Thranduil's steel touched the glowing metal, and sparks flew. The King, momentarily blinded, swung madly. But Amarthel had cunning strategy. He cut the King's wrist, causing him to drop his sword, and Amarthel pointed his glowing tip to the cornered Elf's neck. Thranduil was backed against a wall, and he knew this was the end.
It would have been, too. Had it not been for the door opening at that very moment. Thranduil blinked a few times to regain his vision and see his son standing there, observing the situation. He had seen his father and Amarthel on the balcony, and ran to his aid. Legolas had his sword ready, and he glared venomously at the evil Elf threatening his father.
"How perfectly beautiful. Your son came up to save me the trouble of finding him to kill him." Amarthel said, and immediately attacked Legolas. But Legolas was very quick and the anger and adrenaline in his veins helped him react swiftly and strike forcefully. To defeat him, Amarthel resorted to using his powers. His sword, which had dimmed, glowed a brighter white than ever, and Legolas narrowed his eyes.
Amarthel took the opportunity to slice Legolas's cheek, his arms, and across his chest. Legolas jumped back each time, and he tripped over his father's armor on the floor. Thranduil had picked up his sword and charged at Amarthel as his back was turned. But Amarthel had a sight and feel for things, and he spun to deflect Thranduil before turning back to kick Legolas's sword from his hand. He stood over the Prince and pointed his sword down, looking to Thranduil.
The blood from the cut on Legolas's face ran down his cheek onto his hair, staining the beautiful blondeness. Thranduil's mouth fell open. This was his dream. When he saw Amarthel drive his sword through the unfortunate Elf. It was his son.
"Part one. Kill the son." Amarthel said with a smile before he grimaced in anticipation and raised his sword a bit higher to drive it down toward his prey. But Legolas was not one to give up so easy. As he saw the blade coming toward him, and heard his father's simultaneous cry, he pulled at Amarthel's ankle, causing him to fall backward. He released the hilt of the sword, and gravity did the rest. The blade continued its path perfectly straight downward, catching Legolas just off center of his stomach. Amarthel scrambled back to his feet and pulled his sword from the Prince's body.
Legolas's mouth gaped in pain, but he would not cry out. Amarthel looked down at him and licked his lips with a half angry half satisfied expression. He looked back to Thranduil, who was torn between anger and alarm for a moment. Anger swiftly overtook him, and he charged at Amarthel.
Even the powerful Elf was no match for a father whose child has been threatened. He struck blow after blow, and Amarthel could no longer defend all his bases. Thranduil sliced the evil Elf's arm deeply, and he dropped his sword. He wound up, pulling his sword back, and swung, as a batter swings his bat, catching Amarthel across his neck. The blood sprayed beside them on the wall, and Amarthel crumpled to the floor, dead. Thranduil breathed heavily for a moment, looking very much like a bull who's just defeated the matador.
Then, he turned his attention to his son. His sword clattered to the floor, and he dropped to his knees at his son's side. He took the Prince's head onto his lap, and stroked his hair. Legolas's eyes stared up into space, and he clutched his pierced abdomen. His breathing was choppy, and Thranduil did not know what to do. He cried for help, his speech soft and breathless from sobs and fear at first. Finally, he found his voice, and his distressed voice rang loudly as he called for a servant. A healer, anyone.
"Help! Someone help!" Though all the servants were either helping in the infirmary or locked in their own rooms for safety, he had to try. Thranduil looked down into his son's blue eyes, which began to roll back in his head. His worst fears were coming true. Thranduil knew his son would be doomed to death when he had married a mortal, but this was not the time nor place for it. Thoughts of things he wanted to say to his son, but would not get the chance blurred through his mind. The city would be heartbroken. Edeline and Jocelyn would not take it well at all, he knew.
"No, Legolas. Stay with me, son. Please. Legolas, please." Thranduil begged, uncharacteristic tears burning under his eyelids. From somewhere deep within him, a desperate plea was heard. "It's too soon." He whispered urgently, suppressing a sob. "I can't lose you yet. I'm not ready. I'm not ready!" He pressed his forehead down to his son's, and the tears fell down onto the Prince's skin. Legolas blinked rapidy.
"Ada…" Legolas coughed. "I assure y-you…I am not-t quite read…y…eith…er." He stuttered with choppy breaths, and Thranduil laughed uneasily through his tears. He smiled, a new wave of hope flooding him, his agonized tears turning to tears of joy.
"Don't speak. I will get someone to help." Thranduil reassured him, smiling down into his son's pained yet fully alive blue eyes. Sounds from outside made Thranduil looked toward his balcony. The Elves below were shouting battle cries louder and fiercer.
"The Raukos are dead! Do not break! Fight! Charge!" The soldiers cried.
Leyna and Jocelyn had paused their onslaught to turn their eyes to the sky. An uncharacteristically painful shriek came from four different places in the sky as the Raukos fell precariously down to the earth below. The area around them was immediately cleared as Elves and orcs alike scattered away from the demons. They writhed on the ground and shrieked ear splitting cries. Their white skin turned to fog and began curling away from their bodies. Their black stringy hair and tattered robes slowly turned to dust, and were picked up in the breeze, strewn in the wind, leaving black, smoking grass.
A pause fell over the field for a moment. Until the event sunk in. The Elves roared and attacked, stronger than ever. This small victory renewed their vigor. Leyna and Jocelyn realized Amarthel must finally be dead, and they charged at the bewildered orcs. The foul creatures did not feel strong and fearless anymore. Their master was dead. The Elves would not relent their onslaught, and the orcs were forced to keep fighting. Though they were not nearly as strong and powerful, they still outnumbered the Elves from their victories the day before.
There was one large orc calling out orders to the troops, which were now seemingly his. He had taken control and position of their Commander. His confidence kept the orcs strong, and it soon became evident that the Raukos's absence and Amarthel's death would not be enough to seal the Elves' victory. They fought bravely, clinging to a sliver of hope that kept their courage and morale high until the not so distant end arrived, in whosever favor fate may see fit.
Wow, I haven't updated in like, forever! Maybe it's because I got 4 REVIEWS! I was waiting for some more, but I'm not one to hold my chapters hostage for reviews, so here it is, in time for Christmas. It's my gift to you. I still love you all, even if you didn't review. So have a safe, Merry Christmas, and I hope Santa brings you everything you asked for!
In the words of Seth Cohen, Merry Chrismukkah! Jesus and Moses, they both had beards...
Araminta Ditch - Aw, I really liked that story of yours! But I'll be sure to check out your new one! Thanks for the review!
Mika Saito - I know, it's been 25 chapters, now. Crazy huh? It was weird, I stopped receiving review alerts for a while, but then they picked back up again. Chalk it up to bugs at ff.n. Glad you checked in!
Artria - I think your original words are wonderful. You're going to be a bartender? You should be a writer. : ) The snow came in buckets here. We had an outright blizzard. Hate it. I hate snow, hate the cold, I hate winter so much I can't stress it enough. That's what I get for living in this icebox of a town. The bears in my vehicle are A-OK. A little cold, maybe, but still in one piece. I haven't been involved in any accidents. A fishtail or two here and there, and I got stuck in my boyfriend's driveway, but it's all good. All's well that ends well.
Happy belated birthday! The big 1-7, huh? Awesome. Hope your friends got you good, in whatever they were planning! Ha! :D lmao cute play!
Orlando's Hot Chick, Ms. Unknown
-Austin B.