A.N:- Thanks to those to reviewed the last chapter and especially Necole,
Mousie and The Dark Wanderer.
Thanks a million for the kind words Necole but we all have our strengths and weaknesses, I could never do angst the way you do, and that's what I totally love about your fictions and your writing style is simply superb.
Mousie my dear comrade and the person whose work I hold in awe for your progression has continued to stun me with every chapter you do. I'll be really sad that I won't see some updates for you in a while but I wish you all the luck in the world in your final year and I hope you continue to review my work.
The Dark Wanderer, I really flattered that you enjoyed the story and more importantly, Matejè ( and I don't think you're going soft, cause once characters are well written I love them and like you and so many other fiction writers out there I do think that A&È are perfectly suited to each other. If Viggo himself says that, well that's something to think about.
So unto chapter 22, a little warning this chappie is somewhat the most violent I've written so far but nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review.
She could hear them; smell them in the murky night. The sound of their armour and heavy steps traversing through the peaceful night sent a chill through her back. Whether Aragorn and Legolas were close to hear the oncoming party did not cross her mind but the survival of this onslaught. She was not afraid of dying, nor of her prowess but Èowyn knew their chances against this hoard of Uruk Hai were slim.
"We must be quick!" she whispered hoarsely as the grunts came closer. "You must even the numbers Matejè!" she commanded as her companion nodded wordlessly, her bow drawn, taught and steady.
"A few more paces Èowyn." She replied as the warrior pressed her back against her expecting the attack to come from all sides.
The twang of the bowstring, echoed sweetly in the air and both heaved sighs of relief as the sickly thud of flesh and wood met, followed by a piercing howl of pain. Matejè's speedy hands and skilled rivalled those of Legolas, Èowyn thought with admiration as she observed how swiftly the Uruk Hai had been reduced to a small band, yet they still came hollering for the women's blood and flesh. No doubt, they were starving and wished for the tasty flesh they once enjoyed without fear before the removal of Sauron. Their blood lust and desire for food, pushing them to the warriors, leaving the scent of death in their trail.
"They come. Aim for their necks." Èowyn said simply as the Uruk Hai circled them, sniffing the air, emitting snarls of pleasure and pain, for those who became acquainted with Matejè's arrows.
"Man Flesh!" one uttered, seeming to be the leader. He bore down upon Èowyn, in his hand his sword intent upon a battle with the blonde warrior before him.
His size was imposing and for a brief moment; the flicker of fear ran through her veins, but briefly extinguished as the enormous creature was upon her. Though stronger, she still had the advantage of being swifter and it was only to apparent his thirst for blood had made him desperate. Helm was unsheathed and parrying the leap, the Uruk had made for her skull. She kicked back wincing slightly as her foot connected with the muscled flesh of his thigh, yet it gave her the brief respite she needed as he kneeled ever so slightly releasing a slight cough. Lunging forward she slashed at his sword arm, emitting a yell as steel and flesh united in a bloody outcome. The dark tissue, attached with weapon fell with a dull thud on the ground, along with an ear-wrenching shriek but was quickly silenced, as the head of the Uruk in mid scream, followed its limb to the earth landing with a small roll before the hand.
The others seeing their leader descend in such ignominy and at the hands of a female, were stricken into silence for a brief time, but roused into battle as the taste of blood grew in their minds three surrounding Èowyn as she stood before the remains of their leader.
Matejè held her own as valiantly as the Wraith Slayer, her arrows almost spent but each Uruk who dared face her were left writhing, on the ground, their blood forming pools around them. Her last arrow notched in her bowstring, found its target of the screaming Uruk piercing the miniscule slot in his helm. The gush of dark liquid shot through the air in spurts as the long, sleek wooden body of the arrow, embedded into the eye as another howl escaped their lips and she wondered the location of Aragorn and Legolas. Could they not hear the death screams of these fetid creatures, wherever they were? She did not have the time to dwell on the thought as more Uruk's came towards her, sweeping out the long elvish daggers she waited, as they came upon her. Her skill though formidable with the blades, was not as effective as her beloved bow and soon she found herself enclosed by two Uruk's snarling at her in a most undesirable fashion.
She could see the elf trapped, but Èowyn herself was at a drawback, dispatching the first of her attackers with ease, his corpse joining the growing numbers on the floor. She turned swiftly, pulling Helm from the stomach of the Uruk. The other two most decidedly more intelligent, concocted a swift plan and were advancing upon her from both sides. She moved backwards as they came together, advancing on her, their foul stench almost making her retch. There would be a chance if they attacked separately but it was a faint notion. They did not.
She stood there, firm as a statue, her eyes blazing with intensity, watching as the Uruk came towards her, following every movement. Then with a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her hunting dagger spiralling towards the one edging in front. She could not help, but expose a smile of triumph as the blade met its intended target at the base of the Uruk's thick neck, watching as putrid liquid streamed into the air for a moment, followed by the death gurgles of the creature as it crumpled into a heap.
The other though startled somewhat regained his composure and shot a quick glance at the woman before him, ensuring there were no more daggers ere he would not meet the fate of his companion. With a grunt of approval he continued, his thick ugly blade, hanging menacingly from his hand. He had seen the skill of the warrior before him and though he was by far the quickest of his band, Skrahâk the Despot knew he had a battle on his hands.
"You are skilled, warrior woman of Rohan." He snarled as they circled each other, Èowyn watching with narrowed eyes.
"And you are foolish to compete with me Uruk Hai." She replied coldly noting at once, he was swifter in movements than the others she had fought.
"Perhaps I am, but nothing would please me than to taste your blood upon my lips as I dismember your pitiful remains. I owe it to my brothers whose blood stains your sword." He sneered as they came together, in a glorious union of steel.
In the dim distance, Matejè heard the clashing of steel and the soft cry of Èowyn as she battled valiantly against the larger opponent. They had reduced the three score of Uruk to a mere three yet these seemed most skilled of all. She was weary and the thought frightened her for it seemed they had been fighting all night yet it could not be. Shaking off these random thoughts she faced her adversaries, both blades, glowing with an eerie emerald light. She slashed at the first who came towards her, dismayed as he easily evaded her stroke and returned one of his own. Yet she was not to be outdone by these lumbering creatures, though greater in strength, she had the skills of an ancient elven warrior at her disposal and with it came the gain of swiftness.
As he turned to face her once more, she had moved behind him and in a swift stroke, buried her dagger into the base of his neck, feeling the muscle twitching as she used all of her strength to plunge deep within his thick skin. Hearing the satisfying crunch of bone where neck and jaw met, seeing the black blood spurting into her hands and in the air as with the others. With a cry that seemed to overshadow the moon the Uruk howled in sheer anguish as the elf continued to force the weapon into him. Shaking violently he threw her off, and she flew through the air, landing heavily upon the cold earth in an unlikely posture.
Shaking her head lightly, she groaned as she stood up slightly wavering, her vision blurred and her sword hand was limp and already swollen from the impact of the fall. Her blade lost somewhere in the ground and she could see the other protruding from the body, which lay motionless. She was defenceless and there was another lurking in the darkness.
"Where is your elven dagger now?" a voice sneered behind her. Turning she saw the very last of her attackers, watching intently, tossing her blade from one hand to the other, baring his fangs and laughing cruelly at her. His own weapon clenched in his huge hand, glimmering with deadly intent in the moonlight and advancing upon her. For the first time in her life, Matejè was terrified.
Èowyn looked at Skrahâk in revulsion as he removed her hunting knife from the carcass of his fellow Uruk and slowly ran his tongue against the blade, grunting in approval at the taste of the liquid.
"You look at me with loathe in your eyes Whiteskin" he snarled. "Do my actions displease you." He laughed.
"Your actions display the despise, my kin and others have for your kind." She replied evenly watching intently the movement of her dagger, he would use it against her, there was no doubt.
"We do this to survive!!" Skrahâk shouted and flung the dagger at her. She watched it nearly remove her ear and in the same movement, Skrahâk attacked.
He moved with an uncanny speed and for a moment, she stood stunned before regaining her composure. Helm glowing brightly despite the black blood on his blade parried the first stroke. Strength and speed for an Uruk Hai was a lethal combination she thought as she managed to block another of his strokes. She was losing this battle, she knew it, he was almost her speed and it unnerved her, for her battle tactics were naught as he parried and returned her lunges with more powerful ones. Then swiftly he bent slightly and knocked her legs out from her, as she lay sprawling on the wet floor, Helm flying out of her hand. Fear engulfed her as Skrahâk, grabbed her forcefully from the ground, slamming his thick skull against hers. His cruel laugh echoing at her as a fist connected with her cheek, her head snapping back forcefully as she felt the first trail of crimsom liquid seep from her mouth. His intent was clearly to torture and then kill her, Èowyn thought through a daze, as other blows smashed against her armour, her stomach though protected by the chain mail, felt numb and in a fit of rage Skrahâk, tossed her to the ground, sword raised to strike.
Èowyn blinked painfully and looked upwards at the large shadow looming before her, sword outstretched, aiming for her head and she closed her eyes awaiting the final strike.
"Mama I am coming to meet you." She thought as her world dissolved into blackness.
Thanks a million for the kind words Necole but we all have our strengths and weaknesses, I could never do angst the way you do, and that's what I totally love about your fictions and your writing style is simply superb.
Mousie my dear comrade and the person whose work I hold in awe for your progression has continued to stun me with every chapter you do. I'll be really sad that I won't see some updates for you in a while but I wish you all the luck in the world in your final year and I hope you continue to review my work.
The Dark Wanderer, I really flattered that you enjoyed the story and more importantly, Matejè ( and I don't think you're going soft, cause once characters are well written I love them and like you and so many other fiction writers out there I do think that A&È are perfectly suited to each other. If Viggo himself says that, well that's something to think about.
So unto chapter 22, a little warning this chappie is somewhat the most violent I've written so far but nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy and don't forget to review.
She could hear them; smell them in the murky night. The sound of their armour and heavy steps traversing through the peaceful night sent a chill through her back. Whether Aragorn and Legolas were close to hear the oncoming party did not cross her mind but the survival of this onslaught. She was not afraid of dying, nor of her prowess but Èowyn knew their chances against this hoard of Uruk Hai were slim.
"We must be quick!" she whispered hoarsely as the grunts came closer. "You must even the numbers Matejè!" she commanded as her companion nodded wordlessly, her bow drawn, taught and steady.
"A few more paces Èowyn." She replied as the warrior pressed her back against her expecting the attack to come from all sides.
The twang of the bowstring, echoed sweetly in the air and both heaved sighs of relief as the sickly thud of flesh and wood met, followed by a piercing howl of pain. Matejè's speedy hands and skilled rivalled those of Legolas, Èowyn thought with admiration as she observed how swiftly the Uruk Hai had been reduced to a small band, yet they still came hollering for the women's blood and flesh. No doubt, they were starving and wished for the tasty flesh they once enjoyed without fear before the removal of Sauron. Their blood lust and desire for food, pushing them to the warriors, leaving the scent of death in their trail.
"They come. Aim for their necks." Èowyn said simply as the Uruk Hai circled them, sniffing the air, emitting snarls of pleasure and pain, for those who became acquainted with Matejè's arrows.
"Man Flesh!" one uttered, seeming to be the leader. He bore down upon Èowyn, in his hand his sword intent upon a battle with the blonde warrior before him.
His size was imposing and for a brief moment; the flicker of fear ran through her veins, but briefly extinguished as the enormous creature was upon her. Though stronger, she still had the advantage of being swifter and it was only to apparent his thirst for blood had made him desperate. Helm was unsheathed and parrying the leap, the Uruk had made for her skull. She kicked back wincing slightly as her foot connected with the muscled flesh of his thigh, yet it gave her the brief respite she needed as he kneeled ever so slightly releasing a slight cough. Lunging forward she slashed at his sword arm, emitting a yell as steel and flesh united in a bloody outcome. The dark tissue, attached with weapon fell with a dull thud on the ground, along with an ear-wrenching shriek but was quickly silenced, as the head of the Uruk in mid scream, followed its limb to the earth landing with a small roll before the hand.
The others seeing their leader descend in such ignominy and at the hands of a female, were stricken into silence for a brief time, but roused into battle as the taste of blood grew in their minds three surrounding Èowyn as she stood before the remains of their leader.
Matejè held her own as valiantly as the Wraith Slayer, her arrows almost spent but each Uruk who dared face her were left writhing, on the ground, their blood forming pools around them. Her last arrow notched in her bowstring, found its target of the screaming Uruk piercing the miniscule slot in his helm. The gush of dark liquid shot through the air in spurts as the long, sleek wooden body of the arrow, embedded into the eye as another howl escaped their lips and she wondered the location of Aragorn and Legolas. Could they not hear the death screams of these fetid creatures, wherever they were? She did not have the time to dwell on the thought as more Uruk's came towards her, sweeping out the long elvish daggers she waited, as they came upon her. Her skill though formidable with the blades, was not as effective as her beloved bow and soon she found herself enclosed by two Uruk's snarling at her in a most undesirable fashion.
She could see the elf trapped, but Èowyn herself was at a drawback, dispatching the first of her attackers with ease, his corpse joining the growing numbers on the floor. She turned swiftly, pulling Helm from the stomach of the Uruk. The other two most decidedly more intelligent, concocted a swift plan and were advancing upon her from both sides. She moved backwards as they came together, advancing on her, their foul stench almost making her retch. There would be a chance if they attacked separately but it was a faint notion. They did not.
She stood there, firm as a statue, her eyes blazing with intensity, watching as the Uruk came towards her, following every movement. Then with a quick flick of her wrist, she sent her hunting dagger spiralling towards the one edging in front. She could not help, but expose a smile of triumph as the blade met its intended target at the base of the Uruk's thick neck, watching as putrid liquid streamed into the air for a moment, followed by the death gurgles of the creature as it crumpled into a heap.
The other though startled somewhat regained his composure and shot a quick glance at the woman before him, ensuring there were no more daggers ere he would not meet the fate of his companion. With a grunt of approval he continued, his thick ugly blade, hanging menacingly from his hand. He had seen the skill of the warrior before him and though he was by far the quickest of his band, Skrahâk the Despot knew he had a battle on his hands.
"You are skilled, warrior woman of Rohan." He snarled as they circled each other, Èowyn watching with narrowed eyes.
"And you are foolish to compete with me Uruk Hai." She replied coldly noting at once, he was swifter in movements than the others she had fought.
"Perhaps I am, but nothing would please me than to taste your blood upon my lips as I dismember your pitiful remains. I owe it to my brothers whose blood stains your sword." He sneered as they came together, in a glorious union of steel.
In the dim distance, Matejè heard the clashing of steel and the soft cry of Èowyn as she battled valiantly against the larger opponent. They had reduced the three score of Uruk to a mere three yet these seemed most skilled of all. She was weary and the thought frightened her for it seemed they had been fighting all night yet it could not be. Shaking off these random thoughts she faced her adversaries, both blades, glowing with an eerie emerald light. She slashed at the first who came towards her, dismayed as he easily evaded her stroke and returned one of his own. Yet she was not to be outdone by these lumbering creatures, though greater in strength, she had the skills of an ancient elven warrior at her disposal and with it came the gain of swiftness.
As he turned to face her once more, she had moved behind him and in a swift stroke, buried her dagger into the base of his neck, feeling the muscle twitching as she used all of her strength to plunge deep within his thick skin. Hearing the satisfying crunch of bone where neck and jaw met, seeing the black blood spurting into her hands and in the air as with the others. With a cry that seemed to overshadow the moon the Uruk howled in sheer anguish as the elf continued to force the weapon into him. Shaking violently he threw her off, and she flew through the air, landing heavily upon the cold earth in an unlikely posture.
Shaking her head lightly, she groaned as she stood up slightly wavering, her vision blurred and her sword hand was limp and already swollen from the impact of the fall. Her blade lost somewhere in the ground and she could see the other protruding from the body, which lay motionless. She was defenceless and there was another lurking in the darkness.
"Where is your elven dagger now?" a voice sneered behind her. Turning she saw the very last of her attackers, watching intently, tossing her blade from one hand to the other, baring his fangs and laughing cruelly at her. His own weapon clenched in his huge hand, glimmering with deadly intent in the moonlight and advancing upon her. For the first time in her life, Matejè was terrified.
Èowyn looked at Skrahâk in revulsion as he removed her hunting knife from the carcass of his fellow Uruk and slowly ran his tongue against the blade, grunting in approval at the taste of the liquid.
"You look at me with loathe in your eyes Whiteskin" he snarled. "Do my actions displease you." He laughed.
"Your actions display the despise, my kin and others have for your kind." She replied evenly watching intently the movement of her dagger, he would use it against her, there was no doubt.
"We do this to survive!!" Skrahâk shouted and flung the dagger at her. She watched it nearly remove her ear and in the same movement, Skrahâk attacked.
He moved with an uncanny speed and for a moment, she stood stunned before regaining her composure. Helm glowing brightly despite the black blood on his blade parried the first stroke. Strength and speed for an Uruk Hai was a lethal combination she thought as she managed to block another of his strokes. She was losing this battle, she knew it, he was almost her speed and it unnerved her, for her battle tactics were naught as he parried and returned her lunges with more powerful ones. Then swiftly he bent slightly and knocked her legs out from her, as she lay sprawling on the wet floor, Helm flying out of her hand. Fear engulfed her as Skrahâk, grabbed her forcefully from the ground, slamming his thick skull against hers. His cruel laugh echoing at her as a fist connected with her cheek, her head snapping back forcefully as she felt the first trail of crimsom liquid seep from her mouth. His intent was clearly to torture and then kill her, Èowyn thought through a daze, as other blows smashed against her armour, her stomach though protected by the chain mail, felt numb and in a fit of rage Skrahâk, tossed her to the ground, sword raised to strike.
Èowyn blinked painfully and looked upwards at the large shadow looming before her, sword outstretched, aiming for her head and she closed her eyes awaiting the final strike.
"Mama I am coming to meet you." She thought as her world dissolved into blackness.