Part Two
The shrieks of the dying orcs floated through the night as the March Warden's sword continued to slice through the blackened flesh of the foul creations of Saruman. The foul beasts smelt far worse than anything that Haldir had ever had the unfortunate luck to be near. Even a dwarf was not so foul he thought as he continued to slice one orc after another. The black blood of the beasts already stained his sword and clothes. His long blond hair also was sprayed as he turned making the golden locks flow with him like ocean waves. His cloak flashed in the night like the scarlet hand of death. The ground was littered in the blood and dead carcasses of fallen orcs. The fight was beginning to ware down the warden and the creatures continued to surround him but no matter the oddshe was not one to give up. The creatures hissed and growled at him as they forced the blond warrior into a tight corner and for more than one time that night, he felt fear. He gripped the bloody handle of his sword and gulped as his midnight blue eyes narrowed and glanced at the orcs that had him surrounded. He was not afraid to die but from tales that he had heard, these creatures were not beyond raping an elf to get information or entertainment. That is not how Haldir desired to stand before Mandos for judgment in the end. He wanted to die fighting and that is just what he would do.
Raising his sword once again, Haldir growled in anger and swung at the nearest orc sending its head flying from its ugly shoulders in a spray of black blood that rose from its neck like a quizzer. He continued to fight but his muscles were aching with the need for rest. He had been fighting against the orcs for an hour now and with no relief in sight, he began to wonder why his elves had not come to his aid as of yet. He turned his head to look towards the direction of the camp and the moments distraction caused a lucky orc to move closer drawing its sharp crudely made blade across the Wardens arm causing him to cry out in pain. Haldir grabbed his arm and soon found himself thrown against a tree. He closed his eyes preparing for the worse but it did not come. The pain did not grow ever stronger nor did he find himself in the halls of waiting. He opened his eyes as he heard the angry roars and cries of orcs as they were befallen by Elven arrows that were soon sticking from the carcasses of the now dead pack of orcs.
Haldir soon felt the strong arms grab him and he soon began to panic only to be comforted by the face of another elf. The elf was one of his younger guardians that went by the name of Ryonum. The young elf was beautiful but not as exquisite as the Mirkwood prince but he was a welcome sight as the other elf smiled down at him before he was picked up gently and taken back to the encampment. As they made their way towards the camp, Haldir ordered there to be more guards on watch as well as the campfire to be doused out immediately for fear of more orcs catching the scents of burning logs. The walk was agonizing for all that were involved as a few had been injured including their March Warden but they were all determined to get the wounded mended before they made a hurried march from their last camp. They would also need to burn the bodies of the dead orcs as to not attract the attention of other foul creatures. Dead bodies could often be smelt from many yards by predators and creatures of evil.
Haldir knew that the worst was yet to come but as they reached their encampment, he heard the sounds of horses riding in the distance. He looked up in the direction of a nearby hill to see the banners of Rivendell blowing majestically in the wind. There riding atop a large black stead sat the lord of Rivendell himself. They were saved.