Blue sparks in woodland realm
Chapter 4: The slice of a wielded sword
A/N: I own nothing except my mistakes. Also, thank you so much for the follows and favourits! Please leave a review to tell me your thoughts, so I can keep on improving!
"I could not help but see the intimacy between you and Haldir," Legolas said out of the blue, once they had laid their boats on shore, all unpacking for a quick break. Erynèth had wandered off to the rivershore a little further ahead, welcoming the gentle breezing passing through her long silver locks of hair.
Caught by surprise, she wheeled her head towards Legolas, who had gotten out of his silver clad given by her kin, and had once more slipped into his green armour, washed clean by the Elves in Lothlorièn.
Looking him over, she caught onto his soft eyes, though an enviousness flickered behind them. Had he been jealous over their encounter?
"Intimacy?" Erynèth scoffed, letting out a humourless laugh.
"Was it not?" He countered, raising a challenging eyebrow at her as he looked her over. He had made a point of not standing too close to her, but unlike other times, he did keep a firm gaze at her, almost as if wanting to spot a lie immediately.
"You've met him before, you've seen him with me," Erynèth replied, still dodging the question. She was wondering why he was acting like this. He had not seen her in four hundred years. Surely they had much more important things to discuss than some fruitless jealousy.
Legolas shook his head, "Times were different back then. We were different."
Erynèth moved so she was now standing in front of him. Gazing at him, she felt her hand move up on its own accord as she brushed a set of hair back over his shoulder. "Legolas," she breathed, but he caught her hand mid-way to stop her movements.
"I wish you would not say my name," he spoke, though not so much with bitterness, but with pain, "for it reminds me of what has been," he went on, bringing her hand back down, the softness of his skin brushing against hers as he let it go, "and what is no longer."
At this Erynèth looked down wistfully, unsure of what to say. "Haldir has been my rock, since I came back," she admitted, though did not dare to meet his eyes. The shame of leaving still too embarrassing to face it.
"My rock, but nothing more. He's been a friend, no more, no less," Erynèth spoke truthfully, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes, to show him she was earnest.
Legolas glanced over her face, his dark eyes trailing from hers, slowly down to her lips, and resting on the ornament against her chest.
He was about to ask further, but a loud screech from a crow overhead caught their attention and Erynèth took a step back, releasing the breath she had been biting back, as everyone turned to look at one another.
"The woods have grown restless upon our arrival," Legolas said, addressing the group. "We must not rest here longer," he warned them, his ears searching for a sound not known to Man. But Erynèth could hear it too, the drumming on the ground of the enemy ahead.
Aragorn shook his head, "We must wait for the cover of darkness."
Erynèth stepped forwards. "To wait would be foolish," she argued. "I, too, feel the dread of the enemy. We are not safe here for long."
"And who are you, a lady, to decide what's best?" Gimli countered, using his axe for support whilst he pushed himself off the ground.
Huffing, Erynèth straightened her shoulders. "I do not speak as a lady, dwarf, but as a warrior who has fought with evil for far longer than you have been alive."
Gimli grumbled as he waved his axe. "Aye, you've got some nerve talking to me like this," he said as he approached her, but Aragorn stretched out an arm to stop him in his tracks.
"We must not fight, not when tidings are so low," Aragorn warned, holding Gimli tight behind him, "and I do suppose we must settle our differences."
Gimli softened a little bit at Aragorn's words. Not because he agreed, but because he respected them. "Lady Erynèth is an incredible warrior, Master Gimli, much like yourself, much like anyone here, if not better. To underestimate her, or neglect her, would be like signing a death sentence. You'd best be left keeping her close, if you wish to see the end."
Snorting, the dwarf shook his head, looking her over. "I will not trust my life to an Elf," he spat. "Especially not one that is female."
"Where's Frodo?" Merry asked, piping in as he looked about, having just laid logs aside his feet. He had no mind for such arguments, but did have mind for his very own companion.
At this they all looked about. "Where is Boromir?" Erynèth asked, her voice estranged from the English language, for she spoke it less than Elvish.
The feeling she had felt with Boromir before did not ease her worries, for he must have gone after Frodo during the fight between Gimli and herself, and neither did it ease Aragorn's, for he drew his sword as he left for the woods. "Stay here, for I will return upon finding them."
At this Aragorn slipped off into the woods, leaving them and the others behind. "I cannot stay here, and do nothing." Erynèth mumbled, reaching for her own sword as she walked over to the woods that Aragorn had left for.
A hand, gripping her wrist tight, stopped her from doing so. "Do not try to stop me," Erynèth warned, her voice low and dangerous. Frodo and the Ring might be in danger, and she was not to sit by and watch it happen.
Looking over her shoulder, she knew it had been Legolas stopping her. It had always been him. "I will go with you," he said to her surprise, and then nodded onto the landscape ahead. Nodding, she agreed, letting him release her wrist as they slipped into the forest, trying to retrace tracks of either Frodo or Boromir, but it turned into a mixture of sets from Aragorn as well.
At last they came to a place of struggle, where it seemed Frodo had been not too long ago, but then the trail turned cold.
"Did you hear that?" Legolas asked, freezing in his steps as he looked further north. It was the sound of growling, but above all, the clinging of metal on metal. It was the sound of combat.
Without a second thought the two Elves got into a sprint, and upon their sight was Aragorn, facing dozens of Orcs, all murderous and ready for death. Aragorn, having jumped upon a set of Orcs, was in a disadvantaged position, and must have counted himself lucky when Legolas and herself arrived in time.
Armed with a bow, Legolas kept his distance as he joined the battle. Erynèth, the more hands-on type, kept a firm grip on her sword as she stuck it right in between the eyes of a rather gross looking Orc, and retracted it with a huff as she swinged for her second on-comer.
Not long had they arrived and Gimli joined their side as well, fighting away as Legolas tried to clear the way. "Aragorn, go!" Legolas said, shooting two Orcs in a row to save Aragorn from being sliced in the back.
All Orcs were heading downwards, apparently focused on others instead of them.
As they had cleared the stone area, and were now left with no enemies, they all split up as they went downwards, fighting their way through.
Feeling a slash to her arm, she hissed in pain as she wheeled quickly around, noticing the grim smirk on the Orc's face, before she raised her sword with both hands and planted it right on top of his head, slicing it in half.
Not one to be distracted and cut during battle, she cursed herself for it. Legolas was nowhere in sight, and she could not bear such worries. It had her mind derailed, and open for unexpected advantages.
Off in the distance she saw Merry and Pippin run for their lives, as they were pursued by an exceptional amount of Orcs. Without a single doubt she ran after them as best as she could, deciding to sheath her sword as she reached for her bow and prepared it with an arrow. Though she favoured her sword, she knew when to best apply it in battle, and this time was not it.
Holding her breath, she aimed for one closely behind Merry, reaching with his sword near to his legs, she fired, satisfied to see it plant in the nook near his heart.
By now Boromir had joined the two young Hobbits, and was blowing his horn for attention.
It appeared that not only friendlies had heard the horn, but enemies did too, for now a mass of Orcs stormed down the hills behind her, distracting her from the two Hobbits and Boromir far below herself, and she turned around whilst keeping a firm grip on her bow.
Three in a row she managed to take down with a single arrow, but just as she was about to turn around and help out the others, she was sliced in the ankle by one that had fallen down, but not completely dead.
The surge of pain and injury were enough to make her fall down to the floor, though not whilst shooting a few that were charging at her head, making them land heavily on top of her, breaching her no chance of escape.
In horror did she have to watch how the second arrow flew into Boromir's chest, whilst still trying to guard the two young Hobbits, with no chance of escape.
Her arm, where had been sliced at, was beginning to lose its strength as it kept on bleeding, and with three orcs on top of her that weighted at least a ton with all their sets of armour, there was not even room for a wriggle of her good set of toes.
Closer the Uruk-hai, which had been the one to shoot the arrows, kept moving to Boromir, who fought so bravely, as if he was willing to right his wrongs.
Grunting, Erynèth squirmed underneath the mass, yet was not even able to yell out, for one of the heads was open-mouthed almost upon hers. Opening her mouth would be enough to succumb to the terrible smell of it.
The Man was strong, that was for sure, and brave, too. But it was not enough, not with two arrows in the chest, and dozens of Orcs to fight off. And though the Hobbits were brave to fight back, it was no use, for they were lifted off the ground with ease, and taken away, without her being able to do a single thing against it.
With that the mass of Orcs were marching off, and Erynèth visibly relaxed when she figured that perhaps now, when all others had left, she could break free, and help Boromir, before he would succumb to his wounds.
But she had not been able to even to point a single finger, nor take much more than shabby breaths at the crushing weight above her, let alone reach for Boromir. No, all she could do, with her head turned to the side, enough to see what happened, was watch in horror how the Uruk-hai remained behind, lifted his bow, and readied himself to fire the final blow.
By miracle Aragorn jumped in, doing what she could not: save Boromir, from such a gruesome death. What happened between Aragorn and the Uruk-hai she could not see, for they had tumbled afar, and left to battle far from her sight, but she could hear the clinging, the growling and the grunting, and she hoped to keep hearing the sharp exhalations of Aragorn's breath, until at last, the swinging blow to the Uruk-hai would put the battle at ease.
With a disgruntled and slashed squirm she heard the final blow. Yet, she could not hear for who it was meant.
With bated breath she waited, and listened, whilst still trying to break free from this mass. To her relief, she heard Aragorn speak to Boromir, and give him the farewell he deserved. He might have been a Man led and overtaken by power, but he fought brave in the end, selfless, and worthy of honour.
"If we're quick, we can still catch 'em," Gimli said, after Aragorn had gotten a moment to grieve the death of Boromir.
"We should leave now, and find their trail," Gimli went on, but it seemed as if he was not heard.
"Where is Erynèth?" Legolas wondered aloud, and yet, she had not even heard of his drawing presence.
At this she heard the crunching of leaves, though she knew it did not belong to her Elf. "I have not seen her since the battle first commenced," Gimli admitted, his voice moving about, as if he was turning his head to look into the distance of the woods.
"Aragorn?" Legolas asked, his voice picking up in worry, almost pleading.
"The last I saw of her, was when she was fighting off a dozen of them," Aragorn said regretfully, his voice mournful. Not just with the loss of Boromir, or potentially Merry and Pippin, but her, as well.
Hearing a low guttural grunt from Legolas, she wanted to scream aloud, but found her energy draining. She had wondered how badly wounded she had been, but she figured that the lack of oxygen reaching her lungs were enough to worsen the injury.
"Erynèth!" Legolas yelled out, but was silenced by Aragorn. "We do not know if she is still here, we would not want to attract the enemy further."
Yet, she knew Legolas, she knew him better than anyone else. He would not give up, would he?
"We cannot leave her, Aragorn, not if she might be alive," the Elf said.
Erynèth felt disheartened from her lack of communication that she could set out. There was not a muscle she could twitch to help her from underneath this mass, and not a sound she could make, for the smell of the dead body of the Orc grew fouler and fouler. She worried she would faint upon the smell of it, and then nobody would find her.
Feeling the slightest of movement in her right hand – the arm that remained uninjured – she gasped as she could feel the small blade in its pouch against her hip. If she were to be able to grab it, and tap against the metal of the Orc's armour, she might be able to get their attention.
Off in the distance she could hear the grunting of Aragorn, as if he was lifting something heavy. "We shall take his body back to the boats, upon to see the sea," he said.
At this Erynèth managed to wriggle the pouch loose, but felt her wrist being constructed from further movement, barely unable to grab for her blade. If only she could move just a little further, would she be able to grab it.
"I will not leave without her," Legolas said solemnly, his voice growing fainter, appearing to walk further away from where she was at. If only he would walk the opposite way.
At this Aragorn's breath grew heavy, as if constructed by a heavier object. Erynèth assumed he must have picked up Boromir's body. "I fear she is no longer with us," Aragorn spoke in Elvish, the words gliding sorrowfully of his tongue.
But Legolas would not agree. "I do not believe that," Legolas said, though he began to sound uncertain.
"Did you not think we would have heard from her by now?" Aragorn asked truthfully, yet tried to do so with compassion.
With a painful jab in her wrist she managed to grab for her blade, and held it sturdy in her hands, fearing she might drop it and lose her chance forever. Right as she began to tap the metal armour, Aragorn spoke again "We shall bring his body back, and look for hers," he promised the Elf.
"I cannot leave," Legolas said again, but his voice carried away further, as if he was moved along by the others. "Aye, we'll help look for her later," Gimli said, in agreement.
What Erynèth wanted, however, was for them to keep quiet, so they would finally hear the tapping sound she was making with all her might.
Cling, cling, cling.
It was soft, barely inaudible, not to the human ear, that was.
Yet, Legolas was no human, and if only the Men would silence, would he be able to hear it.
Cling, cling, cling.
Tapping with all her might, she felt the blade slip from out of her fingers, and a tear rolled down her cheek. It had been her only hope, and feared if she were to not be found now, she would not only succumb to her wounds before their return, but from lack of breathing as well.
"Did you hear that?" She heard Legolas ask the others, but they denied hearing a thing. Of course they couldn't.
"It must have been the crow in the sky, mourning with us," Aragorn said, but Legolas was stubborn, almost as much as her.
This time his footsteps were not so lightly, as he hurried his pace, more onwards to where she was. "Erynèth?" He called again, this time sounding nearer and nearer.
Blade was what she had no longer, but her fingertips she did have. And thus, she tapped the metal armour once more, not as audible, but enough for Legolas to reach her.
With a loud grunt a sudden weight lifted off her chest, and she felt like she could breathe again, the more he removed from her. "Odulen en endraith angin," ("I'm here to save you,") Legolas said, this time moving faster as he must have spotted her bloodied clothes.
"Can you stand?" He asked her, trying to pull her up at her good arm, but she shook her head. "It must have sliced a muscle," Erynèth replied sorely, nodding to her ankle below.
Legolas, spotting the wound, wrinkled his nose as he bend down lower, reaching for underneath her shoulders and legs, as he lifted her off the ground with ease. "How come you always leave battle spotless?" Erynèth mumbled, resting her head against his hardened chest, losing her thoughts in the muskiness of his scent, something so known to her, yet had become so unfamiliar.
"I know when to wield my bow," Legolas countered, with a worried smugness to his voice as he looked down at her, pressing her even closer. "Ni lassui," ("Thank you,") Erynèth said, and was about to say 'for saving me', but she felt her eyes grow heavy, and soon it all became dark.
