Author's note ~ This story is rated "G", so I can't really go into detail with the battle scenes. But I will do my best. Please bear with me! Anorel gets pretty beat up in this chapter, but it is key to the rest of the story.
Arwen
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!
"Sun Star ~ Child of Light"
Chapter IV ~ "Escape"
When the Orcs shook Anorel awake that day, they had no idea what horror they were unleashing. She blinked, gazing blearily up at the ugly creatures. The pain that had been constant throughout her dreams was pushed to the back of her mind as she prepared for her escape.
Grondel pushed the smaller Orcs aside and grinned evilly down at Anorel. "Well, my sweet," he hissed, shoving his face closer to hers. "I would enjoy keeping you here for now, but the Master wants you in his throne room. So get up!" He shoved the Elf onto the floor, not expecting in the least for her to retaliate.
Without any warning, her left leg whipped out and caught the large Orc behind his knee, yanking him onto the floor. Anorel easily jumped up and kicked the Orc in the stomach. "I will not be going to the throne room today, Grondel. My deepest apologies."
The other Orcs finally realized that their commander was being attacked and surrounded Anorel, growling and poking at her with their swords and spears. She raised an eyebrow at them, almost laughing at their stupidity.
"Fools," she said with a grim smile, sliding backwards and picking up Grondel's sword. It was balanced badly, but it was all she had to work with. Anorel swung the sword around and sliced three spearheads off their shafts. The melee was joined. She fought her way to the cell door and yanked it shut, trapping the Orcs inside.
"All right," she muttered to herself. "I must avoid contact with them as much as possible. The easier I can escape, the better."
Sadly, her wish was not to come true. Indeed, Anorel had made it part way through the winding corridors of Barad-Dur before she was found, but she was found. A massive Orc filled the doorway ahead of her, an equally large sword in its hand. Anorel groaned, thinking that she should not have left her purloined sword at the cell.
"What is this? An Elf trying to escape?" the Orc said happily, brandishing his weapon at her.
There was no escaping this conflict. Either the Orc would die, or she would die. And Anorel had no intentions of dying. Unfortunately, neither did the Orc.
She easily ducked his sword swing and rammed her shoulder into the Orc's stomach. It laughed, flinging her into a stone wall. Anorel groaned, shaking her head and glancing around. She had landed next to a lit torch with a sharp point. Ripping it out of its bracket, Anorel brandished it at the Orc, flame first.
"Pitiful," he growled, lunging at her. Anorel did not duck quickly enough this time, as her head still hurt from being smacked against the wall. The tip of his huge sword slammed through her right shoulder, breaking off deep inside her. Anorel sank to the floor, her scream ringing loud through the halls of Barad-Dur. The Orc loomed over her and bent.
Somehow, just before the Orc picked her up, Anorel flipped the torch around and shoved it into the vile creature's stomach. Dark, foul-smelling blood gushed out of the wound and onto her arm, bringing with it a repulsive shudder from her. Anorel pushed the Orc corpse away and ran, a hand clamped tightly over her heavily bleeding shoulder. The dress she was wearing had been tattered for some time, and the battles that she had been through already did not help its condition.
Anorel skidded to a halt, her eyes darting into a brightly lit room. Barad-Dur was a very dark place, to have a room that was well-lit was something of a miracle! She slowly walked and her breath caught in her throat. There was a very good reason for this room to be bright, what was in it bore a light of its own. There was a near-perfect set of Elven clothes, complete with cloak, hanging on one wall and a table just beneath it bore a duo of two Elvish knives and a single short sword. As she looked at them, Anorel felt a sense of familiarity toward the weapons, though she did not understand why.
Grabbing a pack that lay under the table, Anorel pushed the clothes into it, along with the knives. She used one of the pack's straps to slow the bleeding in her shoulder, then slung the whole thing over her back. The sword she slid through her belt.
"Well," she whispered, placing the cloak around her shoulders, "if I must meet more Orcs this day, I at least will be armed for the conflict."
Already she felt weak from loss of blood, and Anorel knew that she would probably not survive another confrontation.
Thankfully, she did not have another confrontation. The Orcs that she passed seemed to look right at her and not see her. Anorel quickly made her way to the great stone doors of Barad-Dur and slipped out into the dim sunlight. For the very first time in her life, Anorel felt the warm sunshine on her face, but it was mingled with the stench of sulfur and decay.
Anorel scoured the horizon, looking for a way to go. She knew that the stab wound on her shoulder would have to be cleaned as quickly as possible, but the water of Mordor was not suitable for the task. Slowly, a gap in the mountain range came into view, and along with it, Anorel felt a surge of triumph. That was her way out. Now if only she could make it.
"Well, Legolas," she whispered to the air, "you were right. I have escaped."
~~~~~~~~~
Countless leagues away, high in the palace of Mirkwood, Prince Legolas Greenleaf smiled.
Arwen
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!
"Sun Star ~ Child of Light"
Chapter IV ~ "Escape"
When the Orcs shook Anorel awake that day, they had no idea what horror they were unleashing. She blinked, gazing blearily up at the ugly creatures. The pain that had been constant throughout her dreams was pushed to the back of her mind as she prepared for her escape.
Grondel pushed the smaller Orcs aside and grinned evilly down at Anorel. "Well, my sweet," he hissed, shoving his face closer to hers. "I would enjoy keeping you here for now, but the Master wants you in his throne room. So get up!" He shoved the Elf onto the floor, not expecting in the least for her to retaliate.
Without any warning, her left leg whipped out and caught the large Orc behind his knee, yanking him onto the floor. Anorel easily jumped up and kicked the Orc in the stomach. "I will not be going to the throne room today, Grondel. My deepest apologies."
The other Orcs finally realized that their commander was being attacked and surrounded Anorel, growling and poking at her with their swords and spears. She raised an eyebrow at them, almost laughing at their stupidity.
"Fools," she said with a grim smile, sliding backwards and picking up Grondel's sword. It was balanced badly, but it was all she had to work with. Anorel swung the sword around and sliced three spearheads off their shafts. The melee was joined. She fought her way to the cell door and yanked it shut, trapping the Orcs inside.
"All right," she muttered to herself. "I must avoid contact with them as much as possible. The easier I can escape, the better."
Sadly, her wish was not to come true. Indeed, Anorel had made it part way through the winding corridors of Barad-Dur before she was found, but she was found. A massive Orc filled the doorway ahead of her, an equally large sword in its hand. Anorel groaned, thinking that she should not have left her purloined sword at the cell.
"What is this? An Elf trying to escape?" the Orc said happily, brandishing his weapon at her.
There was no escaping this conflict. Either the Orc would die, or she would die. And Anorel had no intentions of dying. Unfortunately, neither did the Orc.
She easily ducked his sword swing and rammed her shoulder into the Orc's stomach. It laughed, flinging her into a stone wall. Anorel groaned, shaking her head and glancing around. She had landed next to a lit torch with a sharp point. Ripping it out of its bracket, Anorel brandished it at the Orc, flame first.
"Pitiful," he growled, lunging at her. Anorel did not duck quickly enough this time, as her head still hurt from being smacked against the wall. The tip of his huge sword slammed through her right shoulder, breaking off deep inside her. Anorel sank to the floor, her scream ringing loud through the halls of Barad-Dur. The Orc loomed over her and bent.
Somehow, just before the Orc picked her up, Anorel flipped the torch around and shoved it into the vile creature's stomach. Dark, foul-smelling blood gushed out of the wound and onto her arm, bringing with it a repulsive shudder from her. Anorel pushed the Orc corpse away and ran, a hand clamped tightly over her heavily bleeding shoulder. The dress she was wearing had been tattered for some time, and the battles that she had been through already did not help its condition.
Anorel skidded to a halt, her eyes darting into a brightly lit room. Barad-Dur was a very dark place, to have a room that was well-lit was something of a miracle! She slowly walked and her breath caught in her throat. There was a very good reason for this room to be bright, what was in it bore a light of its own. There was a near-perfect set of Elven clothes, complete with cloak, hanging on one wall and a table just beneath it bore a duo of two Elvish knives and a single short sword. As she looked at them, Anorel felt a sense of familiarity toward the weapons, though she did not understand why.
Grabbing a pack that lay under the table, Anorel pushed the clothes into it, along with the knives. She used one of the pack's straps to slow the bleeding in her shoulder, then slung the whole thing over her back. The sword she slid through her belt.
"Well," she whispered, placing the cloak around her shoulders, "if I must meet more Orcs this day, I at least will be armed for the conflict."
Already she felt weak from loss of blood, and Anorel knew that she would probably not survive another confrontation.
Thankfully, she did not have another confrontation. The Orcs that she passed seemed to look right at her and not see her. Anorel quickly made her way to the great stone doors of Barad-Dur and slipped out into the dim sunlight. For the very first time in her life, Anorel felt the warm sunshine on her face, but it was mingled with the stench of sulfur and decay.
Anorel scoured the horizon, looking for a way to go. She knew that the stab wound on her shoulder would have to be cleaned as quickly as possible, but the water of Mordor was not suitable for the task. Slowly, a gap in the mountain range came into view, and along with it, Anorel felt a surge of triumph. That was her way out. Now if only she could make it.
"Well, Legolas," she whispered to the air, "you were right. I have escaped."
~~~~~~~~~
Countless leagues away, high in the palace of Mirkwood, Prince Legolas Greenleaf smiled.