"Lat mat, golog glob. Gore golog durub! Ulog kalus!"
The burly orc raises its sword as it shouts the last words, and the smaller ones rush in with a screech, frenzied by them. Thranduil lets out a curse.
He was their target.
Any orcs that Feren and the guard are occupying themselves with are a distraction at best, and he cannot count on their help arriving any time soon.
Tauriel is in danger as long as she is with him, and it is too late now to send her away. The orcs have seen her, and even if he is their main focus, that will not stop them from tracking her down. The vile creatures cannot resist disadvantaged prey, and he has no delusions as to what they will put her through should they catch her.
"Stay close to me," he tells her, bracing himself as the orcs leap at them.
Thranduil brings his blade in an upward arc, splitting the first orc from waist to throat, and it hits the ground beside him as he follows the move up with a sideways cleave from his other sword, spilling the gut of the next enemy. The third swing he uses to redirect a sword that is coming at his head, and follows with a thrust that puts his blade through the chest of the sword's bearer. He never stops moving - one strike after the other, never giving the orcs so much as a second to get through his defense - and in short manner they wind up at an impasse.
But then they get smart, and a few start circling around to approach from Tauriel's side. She cuts a few of them down, her arrows hitting the nearer targets without error, but then they begin to mass together and press in. Thranduil drives the orcs nearest to him back, ducking behind Tauriel to stand on her other side, and the orcs amassing there scatter. A few try to rush in, but he puts them out of their misery as soon as they are within striking range.
The large one chooses this time to attack, striking its sword against its chestplate three times before charging Thranduil with a roar, and he turns to face the new threat, hoping Tauriel will be all right.
The force behind the orc when Thranduil blocks its sword strike actually causes him to stumble back a pace, his fingers numb and the muscles in his arms burning. As quickly as he can manage, he throws his opponent's blade aside, lunging forward to strike only for the orc to deflect his attack.
It is a jarring hit, one that he did not expect, and for a moment he stumbles. When the orc tries to press the advantage, however, he strikes again. This time his sword clashes on crude armor, sending a burst of sparks into the air as it slides along the plates. The orc staggers back a step under the force of the blow, but it barely slows the hulking creature down.
It swings at him with a roar, and Thranduil blocks blow for blow, waiting for a chance to get past the orc's defense.
Tauriel cries a frightened warning to him that she is nearly out of arrows, and Thranduil maneuvers to get himself closer to her. The big orc lunges in, bringing its sword in an arcing sweep, and Thranduil has to leap out of the way, leaving Tauriel's back open. The beast doesn't waste a second in charging her, and Thranduil lunges close to pull her aside before she is harmed. His action sends her shot wide, however, and the approaching orc she was targeting is merely nicked on the arm. It leaps at them with a howl, and Thranduil pauses to finish it off before having to whirl back to the larger enemy and catch another overhead blow.
His sword rings with the sound of the hit, trembling in his grip. Tauriel is standing a pace behind him, an arrow nocked but unsure where to shoot, and he calls "I am here" to help her position herself. She doesn't waste a second in leveling her arrow at the orc he faces, and the creature retreats sharply as she nearly puts the shaft through its forehead. Thranduil follows it step for step, and Tauriel turns to protect his back.
The large orc howls out a command, and the smaller ones swarm in once more. Thranduil is left to fall back, so he can protect Tauriel. He growls in frustration as he is once again separated from his target, and his annoyance makes itself known in the ruthless way he cuts down the smaller orcs that dare attack her.
Tauriel is conserving her arrows, down to only four in her quiver, and she lets him pick off the smaller orcs for her. She is trying to figure out where the large orc is, her lips parted in concentration as her drawn arrow hovers in vaguely the right direction. The large orc is watching her warily, keeping its movements slow and quiet so that she will not hear its steps as it circles the clearing.
It steps on a branch, however, splitting it with a sharp crack, and Tauriel whips around to face it.
She releases her shot and the large orc dodges, the arrow pinging off of its armor. She draws a second immediately, but Thranduil commands "don't waste your arrows," and she lowers her bow with a frown.
A couple of the smaller orcs creep in, and she turns her attention to them instead, drawing her bow to scare them back but not shooting - not yet.
Thranduil looks up sharply as he hears a roar.
The big orc is back, and he once again catches a brutal overhead blow before it can harm either him or Tauriel. This time however, when their blades meet, the orc's sword shatters.
Thranduil winces as a shard of shrapnel cuts his cheek, staggering back from the sudden shift of force. The orc nearly falls on its face, but scrambles to stand once again, the jagged-ended blade still clutched in a hand. It stumbles back to the tree line, watching for another opening.
There are only a few stragglers now, four orcs lurking around the edge of the clearing and two circling closer, tempting Tauriel's arrows as the big one readies itself for another charge at him.
She has three shots left.
Thranduil looks around desperately. He has only his swords, and he doesn't dare waste one on throwing to kill a smaller orc when their leader is shifting its weight in anticipation, eyeing him hungrily.
One of the small orcs is the first to move, and Tauriel puts an arrow through its chest before it can take more than five steps. Another two charge in immediately, and he hears her shoot just before the large one charges in and he is forced to look away.
Their blades clash in a ringing blow, and the orc hops back a pace before lunging in for another swing. With a cry of fury, Thranduil ducks in close and brings one of his swords down in an overhead blow. The orc is not expecting this, and misses the block completely. With a howl of agony the creature staggers back, blood pouring from a cleave in its forehead but not dead. Not yet.
Thranduil strikes blow after blow, the orc's clumsy blocks catching less than half of them as it staggers away, black blood gushing to cover its face. Thranduil manages a kick to the chest that sends the orc to the ground, closing in quickly for the kill.
He sees movement in his peripherals, however, and looks in time to see the three remaining orcs slip close, behind his back.
"Tauriel!" he cries, whirling around, but it is too late. The orcs have gotten between them.
She spins to face him when she hears his voice, and for a second he fears that she will mistake one of the approaching orcs for him, but the dumb creatures hiss out a challenge as they close in, and Tauriel takes a pace back as she draws her daggers. She is out of arrows.
The large orc howls again, and Thranduil turns around with a snarl. The beast's swing is clumsy, blinded by blood and limping, and Thranduil easily knocks the shattered sword tip aside with his left blade as he drives the right one deep, up into the creature's ribs. Black blood pours from the wound, running up the length of his blade as the creature wheezes out its final breaths and meets his gaze.
"Stay out of my forest, you miserable filth," Thranduil spits. With that, he throws the corpse aside and turns to find Tauriel.
The orcs have backed her up, taking turns darting close and dodging her wild swings as she slowly retreats, and Thranduil has barely started running for them when an arrow whistles past, clipping his ear before thudding into the trunk of a tree nearby. He turns to find another cluster of the cursed beasts, scrambling free of the bushes as they charge in.
Thankfully, these ones seem to have no interest in Tauriel, leaving her to the three orcs currently antagonizing her in favor of encircling him, and Thranduil tenses as he finds himself surrounded.
There are nearly a dozen, a few of them worryingly large, all heavily armed and armored. He glares a challenge, deciding which one to attack first as they shift about. The larger ones would be ideal targets to eliminate first, however he decides to focus the orcs separating him from Tauriel and whirls into a lunge that drives his sword deep into one of their throats. The creature goes down with a gurgle, the two nearest orcs leaping back with cries of fright and anger, and the ones behind him charge in as soon as his back is turned. He spins on his heel, sweeping his sword out in an arc to drive them back as he re-centers himself.
Thranduil hears the creak of a bow being drawn and looks up sharply, eyes searching for Tauriel.
The orc with the bow is training an arrow on her.
"On the ground!" he orders, and Tauriel drops into a crouch so fast that the nearest orc trips right over her. The arrow sails harmlessly over her head, impaling the foul creature that stands beside her instead. It takes him barely a heartbeat to snatch a knife from the hand of a nearby orc and fling it into the archer's throat, and in that time Tauriel has rather clumsily dispatched the orc that tripped over her, her blades leaving deep, hacking slashes across its chest where she searched for its heart.
The other orcs, however, have pressed their advantage. Thranduil is left on the defensive, blocking sword strikes and dodging blows at a speed that doesn't let him center his balance or get a blow in. Thranduil tries to focus his attention on the orcs that separate him from Tauriel, but the creatures are all too happy to attack his unprotected back, and he finds himself whirling around in a circle, trying to keep them all away.
And then one of the large ones breaks away from the group.
Before he can call a warning to Tauriel, he feels something coil about his ankles and yank, tossing him to the ground. One of the orcs has a whip.
Thranduil whirls his sword about before they can swarm him, and in the heartbeat of time he gains himself he arcs the sword down to sever the lash. He is on his feet again in a second, gutting an orc that tries to jump him, and whirling to find Tauriel.
The large orc has staggered up to her, approaching from her back as she faces off against the final of the small orcs that had surrounded her. The large orc grabs her from behind, wrapping her in a crushing parody of a hug, and Thranduil is terrified for a second as the orc lifts her clear off the ground.
His worry is unfounded, however, because now Tauriel can feel her opponent, and the orc doesn't stand a chance.
So fast that the orc cannot react, Tauriel twists sharply in its hold, hooking a foot around the back of its knee and winding an arm up to circle its neck. Driving her other knee into the creature's groin, she throws her weight and they both go tumbling to the ground. She rolls away as soon as it loosens its grip and buries her dagger in its skull, down to the hilt.
Thranduil loses sight of her for a second as he whirls to decapitate a burly orc, his swords licking through the dank forest air like silvered lightning, dealing death in their stride. An orcish shriek from behind him means that Tauriel is still all right, still fighting at his side, and he forces himself to stay calm as he hacks the arm off an approaching enemy before driving one of his blades deep into its throat.
He breaks through the group for a second, darting a few steps closer to Tauriel, only to have an orc latch onto his ankle and try to hamstring him. He whirls to kick the creature in the head, stumbling back as another tries to club him. The foul creatures charge him as one, shrieking.
He can feel hands grabbing for him, hear the ping of blades striking his chestplate. He is surrounded on all sides and they are all far too close. In a desperate bid for space, he spins with both swords extended as far as his arms can reach, then runs blindly for her side.
For a moment it works.
The orcs all leap back and he is able to shove his way past, killing the two nearest orcs on the way. Tauriel is still facing her smaller opponent, and Thranduil closes the distance between them sharply before turning to fight off the orcs that follow him.
He has nearly reached her side again, but now the orcs targeting him have a new opponent.
One of the orcs rushes in and slashes at Tauriel's side, her leather armor only barely stopping the blow from reaching her skin, but the force of it makes her stumble, and another orc grabs her by the throat.
Thranduil forces his way past some smaller orcs, rage and panic giving him the drive to throw off his opponents and stab his sword deep through the orc that has her as it tries to crush her windpipe.
Tauriel falls from the orc's hold and stumbles, coughing, but she is still on her feet and he is at her side again. They will make it through this.
He pulls her back-to-back with himself, murmuring "it's all right, I am here," to her, although he is not sure if it is to reassure her or himself.
Now it is the two of them - bloody, beaten, and exhausted - against about ten orcs who are creeping in from all sides, and Tauriel no longer has her bow.
Thranduil tries to keep them away from her as best he can, killing the first couple that try to charge them. There are too many, however, she cannot keep track of them all, and Thranduil hears her cry out in pain a heartbeat before her weight hits him from behind. It throws him off balance, and he turns to see what happened as he feels her slide to the ground.
A large orc is standing behind him, two hands raising a club over its head and its eyes focused on Tauriel, slumped at his feet with blood running down her face, stunned. Thranduil splits the orc's stomach with a backhanded slash, ignoring its bellow of agony as he doubles the strike back to decapitate it.
In the second that he is distracted, however, an orc slips past his guard, and Thranduil reels back as he feels the tip of a dagger slip past his chestplate to carve a slash down his side. He recovers quickly, decapitating the orc with a smooth swing of his arm, but the damage is done.
"Tauriel!" he snaps, praying that she will respond.
A small noise is all she manages, but it is something. She still lives.
He glances around quickly, tallying the remaining orcs. The numbers are thinning, but he just lost his only backup and now they are closing in, their ferocity doubled with their perceived victory. Thranduil shifts his weight, moving so he is standing overtop of Tauriel to protect her.
He doesn't like the odds, but he has faced worse and come out the victor. He is king for a reason.
The orcs close in once more, only a half dozen or so left, and Thranduil whirls his blades about himself to force them back. His footing is limited by Tauriel's body lying between his ankles, but she is starting to stir. Two of the orcs in front of him leap forward, and in the moment that he lunges forward to cut them down, he hears an orc jump close from behind him. He whirls one sword out behind him out of instinct, but meets only air.
He has to turn his attention forward as the two orcs try to overpower him, but there is a prickling warning at the nape of his neck, setting his nerves alight. The two orcs fall quickly to his swords, and he dares to take a second to look for the one that had tried to get behind him. A glance confirms that the orc ducked low when it ran close, and is crouching at the edge of his range with an arm reached out, but it has not attacked him yet.
He turns forward once more in time to catch a sword and deflect it, killing the orc that dared charge him before locking blades with a second.
Something moves between his ankles, and Thranduil glances down in time to see Tauriel's dazed expression a second before she is yanked back. He throws the orc that is holding him, putting his blade through its stomach before whirling to help her.
She cries out as she is dragged away from him, an orc grasping her ankle. Thranduil tries to follow, but the final orc jumps on him from behind when he turns, hands closed about his neck, and he has to focus his attention on dislodging his attacker.
A deep grunt and the crack of bone splitting behind him sends terror like lightning up his spine, until an orc starts howling in pain. Thranduil throws the orc that has grabbed him, stabbing his blade through its chest where it hits the ground before glancing back.
The orc that grabbed Tauriel is doubled over, howling in agony through a crooked and bloody jaw but still clutching her ankle, and he sees her deliver another sharp kick with the heel of her boot to dislodge it. Thranduil puts the orc out of its misery with a deft slash as Tauriel tries to scramble to her feet, and he draws her close out of instinct as he looks around for more attackers.
Now that the nearest orcs are dead there is relative silence in the forest, but he can hear the sound of howling orcs approaching from the underbrush, about a hundred yards out. Thranduil feels dread clawing its way up his spine as Tauriel goes rigid beside him, a white knuckled-grip on her knives.
There cannot possibly be more.
He tenses as they charge closer, shifting so that he stands between them and Tauriel, and a second later they burst into sight. These orcs look like they are fleeing, however, and he suddenly realizes what is going on.
The canopy crashes overhead, and Thranduil has half a second to whirl around and catch Tauriel's wrist to keep her from striking out. It is Feren and the guard.
The elves fall upon the orcs, silent and deadly, and Thranduil pulls Tauriel to stand between himself and Feren as they fight back against the last wave of the foul creatures.
"Are you two all right?" Feren asks, and Thranduil hears Tauriel breathe the other elf's name in relief as he nods.
"Are there any others?" he asks the dark-haired elf, gutting a nearby orc and dumping its body to the ground in disgust.
"This looks to be the last of them," Feren growls, putting his sword through an orc's eye. "We cleared up a few large groups around the border before we realized that you were in danger and doubled back. I'm not sure how this many of the wretched beasts got past our watch...not unless they had help."
The unspoken name hovers between them, conveyed in Feren's haunted glance, and Thranduil grits his teeth.
Sauron.
"Let's run this filth out of our forest," Thranduil says, putting the thought aside for now. Even though he has gotten backup he cannot afford to be distracted. Not when Tauriel is trembling behind him, looking around helplessly and unsure what noise to strike out at.
The orcs don't last long against a host of elves, and Thranduil bloodies his sword across one of their throats with a vicious snarl as their numbers thin.
The flat, bellowing call of an orcish horn echoes from nearby, and the orcs they are fighting turn as one and flee into the trees, screeching.
"That will be the call to retreat," Feren growls, twirling his blade in a hand as he shouts orders to his guards. Two of them split off, climbing into the canopy to spot for stragglers as the rest turn in the direction that the orcs ran.
Thranduil watches Feren lead the guard in pursuit, and allows himself a second to breathe.
He listens to the sound of the orcs fleeing, his warriors in pursuit, letting out a slow breath as the forest quiets to a dull hum once more. He is left alone in the clearing, Tauriel behind him, orc corpses scattering the ground, and two elves perched high in the trees to protect them. Black blood drips from his swords and armor, but the woods are hollowly peaceful once more.
It is over.
They are bruised and bloodied but it is over.
Although, a darker part of Thranduil's mind wonders, if Sauron is truly behind this attack, then is it actually over? Or have they just won a single battle in what is likely to be a long and bloody war?
If the dark forces could gather such an army in so little time since the fight for Erebor...
"M-My Lord?" Tauriel calls from off to his left, her voice wavering in fright, and he turns to see her with her arms splayed out to either side, searching for him.
"Tauriel," he calls, stepping around the piled corpses to get to her. She turns, eyes wide and tears streaking her cheeks as the reality of what just happened catches up with her. There is large cut splitting her forehead from where she was bludgeoned, dripping blood slowly over her pale face.
"My Lord?"
"Are you all right?" he asks gently, catching her face in his hands as he tries to smudge the gore from her cheeks. Tauriel reaches a trembling hand to trace her forehead, wincing a bit as she finds the wound. It is not deep, thankfully, but as with most head wounds it is bleeding profusely.
"I- I think I'm okay..."
Thranduil lets out a breath in relief, hugging her close and cradling her head to his shoulder. He hears her take a shuddering breath, her hands trembling where they are fisted against his chestplate, and he does not draw back until he is sure that she is no longer shaking.
"Are you all right, My Lord?" she asks softly. He catches her hands when she reaches for him, tracing his thumb soothingly across her bruised and bloodied knuckles.
"I am fine, little one," he assures her, ignoring the blood splattered across his armor and seeping slowly into his tunic."None of them could harm me. Let's get you bandaged."
He sits her down on a bowing tree root, untying his sash and fishing a handkerchief out of his pocket. A splash of lukewarm water from Tauriel's half-emptied waterskin is all he has to clean the majority of the blood from her face, dabbing gently at the torn skin as she sits and winces beneath him. Once most of the blood has been wiped away he begins to wind the sash about her head. It is a crude bandage at best, but it will do the trick until he can get her back and let the healers look at her.
He will have to get looked at as well - he can feel the burn of the cut on his side, the drip of blood from the slit in his ear - but they are not deep, and he is more worried about the red-haired girl before him.
She is playing with a scrape on her arm as he works, the skin burning bright pink where an orc's nails dug in to hold her, and Thranduil watches her movements in his peripherals.
"You did well," he tells her softly, and Tauriel blinks up at him with a raised brow.
"My Lord?"
"You fought well today, I am very proud of you."
"You don't have to praise me," Tauriel chuckles weakly, "I am no longer a child."
"You do not have to be a child to be told that I am proud of you. You were very brave," he says, tugging the sash a bit tighter to be sure the blood flow is stopped before adding, "And, dear girl, you will always be a child to me."
She flushes and dips her head, and he has to change his angle to continue wrapping her bleeding forehead. The cut is longer than he thought it was, hidden by the dripping blood that runs in tiny red rivulets over her fair cheeks, and he drops the next loop of cloth a bit lower to assure that it is all covered.
"I presume you won't mind my covering your eyes with this," he says as he ties the bandage off. She reaches up to adjust it more comfortably across her face, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Cover my eyes? However will I see to get back?" she asks, her tone worried, but she has a wicked grin playing across her lips, and he takes her arm to help her to her feet.
"Don't make me leave you out here."
"Ah, but who would trip over your throne and spill wine on you then?"
"I'm sure I will find someone."
"Perhaps Gallion," Tauriel suggests in a thoughtful hum, following his lead through the trees as he steps over roots and dodges around brambles, this time able to guide her safely through the undergrowth. The two guards follow in the canopy above their heads.
"That poor elf has been put through enough absurdities at my hand, I would not burden him with such a task as that."
"Then it looks like you will be stuck with me," she grins, and Thranduil slows his pace, turning to face her. He catches her head with a hand, pulling her close to press a kiss into her hair.
"Hopefully for a long, long time, dear one."