Alright, reflecting on the moment, I realise that what we were doing was extremely dumb. I confess! Not all my ideas are good, and when I was angry at the time of the decision, you can almost be 100% positive that I wasn't thinking clearly when the notion came to my head. In fact, I probably wasn't thinking at all. I'm not sure where the notion of sneaking off to join the battle elsewhere. Of course, elsewhere only came about because I knew the shit we'd be in if we were caught fighting where people knew us by sight.
I glanced at Rhiannon and her eyes reflected the same shock and sudden doubt that I felt, but she gritted her teeth and looked at me. Never one to be left behind, or betray my sister when she needed it most, I gave a sharp nod, hoping that I looked more confident than my jelly-knees portrayed.
We lifted our swords in the air and shouted…
"BOOBINATOR!!!"
Even now, I cringe at the thought of how much we humiliated ourselves when we said that. I don't know why we said, or even how we manage to know what it was that the other was going to say…but we did. That was our proud Battle Cry.
I feel like such an idiot whenever I remember that…even a Xena yodel would've been in better standing.
I don't quite remember throwing myself into the fray; I woke from a strange forgotten dream to find myself back-to-back with Rhiannon, slicing and dicing orcs without much technique other than to kill the bloody bastards (pun not intended). Those buggers are suicidal; they have even less skill than I do and yet they still hurl themselves at you, in the blind hope that they'll knock you over without impaling themselves on your sword. Which of course, just wasn't happening.
As the orcs around us fell to our feet, Rhiannon and I were given a moment to glance around. I couldn't see anyone I recognised, but then everybody was covered in orc blood and if the good guys hadn't worn such distinct armour, I might've had trouble telling. I know you're thinking that orcs are so much uglier than Elves and that you'd be able to spot the difference in a second…well, so can I. Don't get me wrong- but there were men now mingled with the Elves, and some of those men were butt ugly. The fact that they hadn't shaved in yonks made them hairy-butt-faced warriors. But they were fighting on our side, so it wasn't prudent to kill them.
The hairy-butt-faced warriors fighting for the other side however, were a completely different matter. Rhiannon and I didn't meet any of those, but we saw them fighting a distance off.
"Gil-galad," I murmured, spotting him amongst the largest and thickest crowd of Elves vs. Orcs. "Rhiannon!" I called, but she was already at my side, eyeing off Glorfindel.
"Do we go to help them?" she queried. "Or do we join the Elves behind us?"
"We're going to be in trouble if they find us here," I reminded. "What do you think we should do?" I turned to read the expression of my best friend and recently-become sister; I snorted with laughter.
Rhiannon's face was in a blissful goofy smile. My grin faded as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, she closed her eyes and fell over forward, not even putting her hands forth to cushion her fall, as her reaction should have been. I blinked dumbfounded, looking at my Elven sister now lying at my feet.
I looked up to find the cause of Rhiannon's sudden dead-to-the-world fall and leapt back in fright. Those orcs were hideous! They could easily have given anybody nightmares for the rest of eternity.
And they'd just knocked Rhiannon unconscious.
I stepped back, treading awkwardly over the bodies already littering the ground. I didn't step back far, not liking the idea of leaving my comatose Elf-sister lying on the ground for the orcs to take and ugh! I shuddered at the thought my overactive imagination had created for me.
The orc who'd done Rhiannon in grinned evilly and opened his mouth to roar at me. I must say, I was not so frightened of the noise he/it made, but more of the possibility that I might breathe in its foul stench and die of asphyxiation. I wrinkled my noise in distaste of the creature before me.
"She-Elf!" it sneered at me. It stumbled/crawled/walked- I can't describe it the awful gait of the orcs- over to me, raising its axe threateningly.
I gripped my sword tightly, praying for some help. Without Rhiannon at my back or my side, I was knee deep in dead bodies. Ok, that pun was intended, and it was bad, but at that point in my life, I couldn't find anything to laugh about and I admit I was very scared. Rhiannon's my confidence and my courage…without her, my spine takes off and leaves me a quivering mess.
When the orc attacked, I realised it must have been a leader or maybe just properly trained, because I struggled to defend myself. This orc was even better that Captain Dumbass.
I cried out in pain as I felt the orc-axe slice through my armour and my side. I dropped to my knees, letting go of my sword as the pain overwhelmed my conscious mind and senses. It burnt, and I grasped my side tightly, my face contorted in agony.
A whooshing sound followed by a now all too familiar thump. I looked up to see the orc poised over me to deliver the final blow that would have killed me…but it was the orc who was dead. I knew that from the moment I saw the perfectly fletched arrow protruding from its head. I screamed when it fell on me- not so much from terror as it was from pain. The orc was heavy and its weight fell on my wounded side.
I turned my head to one side, watching as the orc's companions were shot down as they ran to escape their predators. I closed my eyes, letting the tears fall down my cheeks.
I decided that it had been a really very stupid idea for Rhiannon- Minaimîr- and I to join the battle.
Glorfindel had been right; we could do well enough, but the moment something went wrong, we were in trouble.
"Anórmír," I heard a beautiful voice whisper, fear and concern in that single word.
I opened my eyes. Gil-galad looked down at me tenderly, stroking my hair. He pushed the orc corpse off my body and held me closer. I winced as my wound reminded me of its existence.
Gil-galad moved my hand and looked at the cut the orc had given me. His face revealed nothing, but he scooped me into his arms and rose from the ground, even as the horns and cheers sounded the victory of the Last Alliance that day.
I closed my eyes again, dizziness overcoming me as Gil-galad carried me from the battlefield.
"Ow!" I shrieked, slapping Elrond's hand sharply as he tried to undo the buckle holding my armour on.
"Lady Anórmír, I have to get the armour off to be able to heal you," Elrond said firmly, his patience worn thin. Once Gil-galad had left me in the tent – mine and Minaimîr's, I noted somewhat disappointedly, though Minaimîr hadn't been brought here; I guessed she'd been taken to Glorfindel's tent – I had slowly become more aware of what was happening, and now Elrond was here. I suspected that the cause of his irritation was possibly due to the fact that Minaimîr and I had deliberately disobeyed the instructions of our superior, i.e. in this instance, Glorfindel. I surmised that I could expect much the same manner from any number of others that I knew.
"Fine- but let me do it," I snapped. I cringed as I found that I could not bend my arms without stretching the already painful wound.
Elrond glared triumphantly at me and resumed what he'd been doing.
"Do you have to be so rough?" I whined. I was in a bad mood again. Things hadn't gone my way and I didn't like the fact that I knew I was in trouble- yet again in as many days.
Elrond peeled my armour off and lifted my shirt to view the profusely bleeding wound. "It is not as bad as it looks. It bleeds freely, but there is no poison and the cut is not so deep. You are lucky, Lady Anórmír."
I grimaced. "Well, it flaming well hurts!" I declared tetchily.
"That is your own fault," Elrond retorted indifferently. He began wiping the blood away, not taking the least bit of care. For a healer, it wasn't very gentle. Obviously his healing skills would come later. I couldn't imagine that this was the best the descendant of a Maia could do.
I gritted my teeth against the pain and glared at him, but he seemed not to notice; thus it was that he was unsuspecting, as I grasped his shoulder for a moment as though leaning on him for support then punched his face with my clenched fist. Satisfied, I watched as the momentum threw him back several paces, his face turning away from me.
"What did you do that for?" Elrond enquired flatly, wiping his mouth and looking at it to make sure that he wasn't bleeding.
I shrugged acting indifferent.
"Anórmír!"
I felt my cheeks go red with shame as I looked to where Gil-galad stood at the entrance to the tent.
Elrond got to his feet, finishing the cleaning and dressing of my wound. I dropped my dirty and ripped shirt down over it, getting to my feet. I made to move past Gil-galad, but he grasped my shoulders.
"Where do you think you are going?" the High King of the Elves asked in his authoritative voice.
"To check on my sister," I replied, trying to keep the heat of anger from my tone. "I assume she was taken to Glorfindel's tent?"
Gil-galad's gaze met my own. "Why did do it, Anórmír?"
It was inevitable that he was going to ask that, and yet I still had no reason that would satisfy him. "We were angry, foolish, reckless. Take your pick," I said, brushing past him and emerging from the tent. I looked around to get my bearings before heading off in the direction that I knew Glorfindel's tent to be in.
"Anórmír," Gil-galad called sternly. "Do not walk away from me!"
"I have nothing more to say, my Lord," I replied, not stopping and not looking back.
The Noldorin Elvenking caught up to me easily, blocking my path once again. "Anórmír," he repeated. "Tell me why you did it! And think not to evade my question this time!"
I was vaguely aware of many Elves who'd stopped what they were doing to watch us.
"I told you!" I stated frustrated. This argument was hurting me. I didn't want Gil-galad to be angry with me, and I didn't like that I couldn't even think of a rational reason why Minaimîr and I had been so foolish. "We were angry to begin with; then Glorfindel told us in no uncertain terms that we were to stay in a tent- to which he then escorted us. We do not take well to being told what to do when our minds are made up. We wanted to help!"
"If you would wait until your teachers tell you that you are ready, then you could help us- without getting yourselves injured in the process!" Gil-galad retorted hotly.
"It's our lives! What do you care?" I countered angrily.
"I could have lost you, Anórmír!" Gil-galad blurted out.
I opened my mouth to reply, but my fury dissipated as his words registered in my mind.
I could have lost you, Anórmír!
Gil-galad, sensing my sudden surprise and the blow that led to my defeat, stepped forward and took my hands in his own.
I stared at how tiny my hands were in his, then looked up at his now gentle face. I was left dumbfounded and speechless, my mind reeling.
The High King of the Elves took advantage of this, lowering his lips softly to my own…
Sweet bliss…
As I closed my eyes and let this Elf convey his love. For a moment I remembered nothing, thought of nothing but Gil-galad's tender kiss. Time seemed to stop, but when he withdrew, it was all too soon.
I took a deep breath; his kiss had drawn the very breath from my body. I gazed into his eyes, and looked into his soul…