Disclaimer: I own neither Percy Jackson and the Olympians, The Lord of the Rings, or any of the characters from either of the aforementioned series.
Chapter 2
Gimli and Legolas were having a mock battle when they were ambushed. The elf and dwarf were both traveling from their own kingdoms - the Glittering Caves in Helm's Deep and Ithilien, an elven colony settled in Gondor - to Minas Tirith, as King Elessar's birthday was rapidly approaching. With their most trusted guards escorting them, the two friends decided to join together on the long journey.
"Move your feet more, Gimli," Legolas encouraged as he danced around the shorter being. "Do not plant them so firmly in the ground that you cannot evade my attacks."
Gimli glowered at the elf as Legolas again dodged the swing of his axe. "I wouldn't need to move my feet so much if you weren't prancing around like a newborn pony!"
Legolas brought one of his twin blades down on Gimli's axe. "Why, Gimli, are you saying that you need me to slow down so you can catch up?" he asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes.
Gimli sputtered, glaring at the laughing prince. "Pointy-eared elfling!"
"Stout little goblin," Legolas returned, grinning, not letting up on his banter with Gimli even as he attacked again.
Gimli had hardly opened his mouth to respond when a cry from one of the elven lookouts reached their ears. They looked at each other solemnly, the smiles falling off their faces, as they turned back to their guard.
"Haradrim!" the scout reported as soon as the two of them reached the others. "Nearly fifty, by the looks of it."
Legolas cursed quietly in Elvish. He was never fond of huge patrols, so he kept his soldiers to a bare minimum. There were only six elves, him included, and nine dwarves; then again, they had faced worse odds before.
"Are they on horseback?" Gimli asked the guard, Lindir.
Lindir paused before answering, looking to Legolas for guidance. Legolas repressed a sigh; even the newly-made treaties between elves and dwarves could not undo thousands of years of hostility between the two races. Legolas nodded to Lindir, and the other elf answered Gimli's question. "Yes, Lord Gimli, all of them are on horseback, and..." here he paused and looked to Legolas, bemused. "My lord, they all appear to be wearing battle armor."
Legolas' mind started churning furiously. It was unnatural for a regular patrol to ride out with as many as fifty soldiers, unless, of course, they were escorting a noble somewhere. That was unlikely, though, as the Haradrim had mostly kept to themselves and rarely sent out foreign ambassadors or emissaries. And it would be unwise to ride out in heavy battlefield armor; normally Haradrim patrols wore lightweight, camouflage colors to blend in with the trees.
He didn't have time to ponder on it any longer, though, as the Haradrim were approaching. Legolas briefly considered retreating before forcing the idea from his mind. If there were only elves, they could wait in the trees for the guard to pass, but that would never be possible with the dwarves. Running would do no good, either, as it was more than likely the Haradrim had seen them already. "My people will stay on the ground, while you go cower in those trees of yours?" Gimli gruffly asked, nodding towards a group of nearby lebethron trees.
Legolas gave a small smile, amused by his friend's good-natured teasing even as they were seconds away from being attacked by enemies. "Indeed, my brethren will be 'hiding' in those trees while providing the cover to save the lives of your people." Legolas didn't give him a chance to respond as he jumped into the nearest snow-covered tree, gesturing towards his soldiers to do the same.
Gimli had barely any time to complain before he started ordering his guards into formation, weapons at the ready. They immediately fell into well-rehearsed stances, waiting. The entire world paused, tense, the calm before the storm. Suddenly, the silence broke as an arrow flew through the air and embedded itself into the chest of the dwarf on Gimli's left.
"Hado i philinn! (Release arrows)" Legolas yelled to his soldiers, notching his bow and sending an arrow straight into the heart of a Southron*.
The next minutes were a flurry of action, Legolas releasing his arrows instinctively, keeping one eye out for Harad archers and the other eye closely watching Gimli. The dwarf was more than capable of holding his own as he plowed through enemy soldiers, cursing them under his breath all the while.
The Haradim were upon them all too soon, and Legolas was forced to release his bow, not being able to use his long-range weapon at such short distance. He drew his twin daggers, dropping out of the tree and landing gracefully next to Gimli. The dwarf gave a start, swiveling to face him. Gimli glared in response to Legolas' amused look.
"Be more careful, elf! I could have taken your head off!" He swung wildly, embedding his axe in the neck of an attacking soldier. "That's seven for me, elfling!"
Legolas' smile dropped off his face. He eyed the soldiers with renewed vigor. He thrust his knife into the soldier coming up on his left, while simultaneously stepping forward to plunge his other dagger into the Harad approaching Gimli. He stepped back, smirking at his friend despite his fatigue. "And that brings my count to eight, Master Gimli."
Gimli glared at his friend. "That one was mine!"
"Evidently not," Legolas smirked as he raised his daggers in preparation again, but didn't get the chance to use them.
The first bolt came out of nowhere. Lightning arched across the clear blue sky, thunder sounding a heartbeat later. A few seconds passed before another came, the thunder coming closer now. Slowly, the fighting stopped as men, dwarves, and elves alike paused to watch the anomaly. When the next flash came, the clouds were pushed across the sky, darkening the blue into a dark grey. The bolts came more rapidly, one after another, and the thunder was a harsh beating of drums, drowning out all other sound. Like magic, the lightning leapt from one soldier to another, killing the Haradrim but leaving elves and dwarves untouched, until there was not a man left standing.
Then the final one came, larger and louder than the others, pounding into the earth just a few yards from them and throwing up a mountain of dirt. As the dust settled, the skies cleared, the thunder stopped, and a girl was left standing where the bolt had struck.
She was just a child, really, no more than fifteen years of age. She wore a silver jacket, black combat boots, and blue trousers that were made of an unfamiliar material. A silver crown adorned her spiked black hair, and she had a silver bow and quiver on her back.
Immediately getting into a crouch, she drew two long hunting knives and glared suspiciously at them with electric blue eyes. The world was silent, with not even birds daring to sing. Only a stout, brave dwarf was willing to break the eerie quiet.
"Well," said Gimli. "That still only counts as one.**"
* Note: Southron is another name for a Harad soldier
**Direct quote from The Return of the King
