There was a moment of pause as the large orc fell to Laitheryns' skill. And a silence that dominated for what seemed for hours, but was only seconds. The orc fell, with the dagger still deep within its skull, and it seemed almost like a thunderous crash when the corpse hit the ground.
Laitheryn took the second to breathe, getting crucial oxygen into his lungs and calming his racing heart before turning back to the battle. In the seconds that it took for the corpse to fall he had heard whispers begin to float through the crowded orc army proclaiming him a woodelf, with tree magic. His last defence had succeeded and he was out of harms way, for that moment.
The orc with twin swords in his hands stared at the corpse then turned dark eyes back onto him. Laitheryn tried not to shiver at the malice that shone from the tainted eyes, the sheer hate that had now become directed solely at him. The monster bellowed, its angered cry echoing high above through the tree tops and it charged with both swords held defensively across its burly chest. It came within range in just a few steps, and Laitheryn raised his last dagger to attack the enraged beast.
As he turned to face this new enemy he kept an eye on the faces of the orcs surrounding the battle. Why they were holding back, despite the death of one of the three orcs within the circle, Laitheryn did not know. He assumed that this was some form of entertainment, placing an elf in unfair conditions in battle, conditions that would favour themselves. He could fall to the two left over or triumph over them, but that would still leave the horde of orcs surrounding him.
Laitheryn assumed that if he triumphed in this small battle that the orcs would just become more enraged at the deaths of their companions. It was a question of living and of possibly dying later or dying immediately. If he lived through this battle, the orcs would torture him and he may wish death, but not be granted that release. But in this day, Laitheryn decided, would not be the day his courage would fail.
The orc resumed the attack, pulling the sword in its left hand up first, followed by the second weapon, a moment later. The swords slashed down at him, trailing dangerously close to his body as Laitheryn fought to maintain distance. One would slash to his right, and he would dodge the darkened metal, only to be forced to dodge the next. He moved with all the grace and skill he had, like a leaf dancing in the wind, with no set course for its descent.
The sword to his left went for his head, just above his shoulders. He ducked this one, but the tips of his golden hair caught the blade and were sliced through. The next rapier descended not a moment later, towards the ground where he had landed from the duck. Laitheryn rolled to the left, closer to the orc and kicked out, catching the surprised orc in the back of the knee, before pulling the slim dagger he held across the length of the orc's opposite leg. It howled in pain and tried to slice downwards to avenge the hurt, only to have its target roll away once more and he sprang to his feet.
Laitheryn had slowed the orc with that move, and the third came charging in to assist its kin. The wounded orc growled and hissed, as black blood began to seep from the cut he had inflicted on the dread creature.
Sensing the motion of the third orc, crouching and making a silent move towards his turned back he caught the descending sword, which would have followed the course of the first to lance his skin. The large and bulky sword descended, before being held in place by the slim white dagger he held in one hand. The orc's sword was no match for his and the ringing of the two blades meeting echoed in Laitheryns' ears like a dull bell.
Laitheryn watched as the shock dimmed and the creature began to put more weight into the sword, trying to push the smaller dagger down. Slowly the dagger descended and Laitheryn did not fight its fall, letting the creature begin to master it with his own blade. A tense second drifted by as the orc began to smirk its win; before Laitheryn let go his hold on the weapon and spun to the side of his enemy.
Stumbling slightly forward, due to the unexpected drop in resistance the orc could not respond to his next attack. As the monster stumbled, Laitheryn embedded his slender dagger in its side, knowing that the slice had enough force behind it to puncture what organs laid in its path upwards.
The creature stumbled, this time from the fatal injury he had justinflicted, and landed next to its brethren; clutching its bleeding side. Dark blood seeped onto its gloved fingers and soaked the ground. It went to scream once, but that yell was swallowed as blood sprouted from the creatures lips instead, a sign that his attack had succeeded in destroying the creatures' lungs.
There was a moan of rage that echoed through the surrounding party, yet they did nothing to avenge two of their fallen comrades. Laitheryn had just evened the odds between him and the last orc, but he may have signed his death warrant too. The standing army would not intervene unless the third died and would not care if he fell instead. The moan died and the orcs bellowed their encouragement to the last one standing, as it recovered from his last attack.
Laitheryn rose from the kneeling position he had found himself in, and turned to meet his last challenger. He held the curved blade low, and close to his body. His daggers had been white, before this battle had begun, but now the dark blood of his enemies lay upon them. It was not a moment later when the attack began again.
The first sword hacked the air around him, spinning in a sharp circle, finding nothing but air for its efforts. The orc hissed in anger and spun the second sword towards him. Laitheryn dodged again, being forced to move backwards as the furious weapons continued to dice the air near him.
The creature swung again, and he sidestepped the dangerous blade, watching warily as the orc pushed him backwards. The second sword echoed the firsts' path and he went to move once more. His step was untrue and he stumbled over one of the bodies he had felled and landed on his back. Laitheryn felt the biting coldness of the orcs' blood mingling with what blood he had lost already.
The orcs surrounding the two fighters cheered as they watched him fall, Laitheryn could hear their victorious snorts and bellows. He fought to regain his footing, as the sword fell once more. Losing his footing on the blood drenched earth; he fell once more in front of the orc.
This time his opponent's bellow of satisfaction and victory echoed with the others and Laitheryn flinched at the noise they invoked. The left sword came swinging down towards his prone form, and he instinctively pushed his entire weight backwards. The intended death blow became instead a painful cut over his stomach, not deep enough to harm organs or their blood supply, but deep enough to hurt.
Laitheryn clenched his jaw at the new pain that sprouted up from his body as his blood began to seep from the injury. The creature smirked, not angered that he had evaded the first blow, and Laitheryn knew it was unlikely that he could miss another violent attack.
The sword the monster held in his right hand broke through the air, towards him once more. Laitheryn moving on instinct caught the blade with his own dagger. The speed of the swords' descent waned as it encountered resistance, and would not fall further than what Laitheryn would allow. All that lay in his path to death was the slim elvish blade he now held.
Laitheryn shifted his legs up, ignoring the new flash of pain that echoed as he did, and using the strength in his knee, he slammed it into the vulnerable spot on the creatures arm, breaking the bones in the orcs wrist as a result. The sword dropped lifelessly onto the ground, and the orcs hollers echoed above the rest.
Laitheryn rolled out from the prone position he had found himself in, and back to his feet. The orc, still bellowing in rage, and seemingly ignoring the agony of the broken bone attacked him once more, this time with only one sword. It lashed out harshly whistling above his head before arching downwards towards his body, intending on rifting him in half once more. The attack failed, just as the orcs strength seemed to be failing too.
With a weakening bellow it swung the sword vertically once more and Laitheryn easily evaded its descent and brought the flat side of his dagger to the top of the orcish blade. Once more the two blades meeting produced a dull clang of metal upon metal as they met. Laitheryn used his right arm to press down on the sword while his hand flickered to the quiver he still wore on his back, praying that despite his tumbles an arrow bolt would still be there.
It was seconds until he found what he sought and Laitheryn pulled the arrow out and twirled it over his left hand, spinning it so that the sharp end was facing the orc instead of the ground beneath his feet. Gripping the wooden arrow as tightly as he dared, his hand flashed out, over the two blades and over the last defence of the creature, seeking a target. With almost no noise the metal of the arrow embedded in the orc's left eye, and far enough back that it lodged deep within the monsters brain.
With a hollow shout the orc fell quickly, lying there as death caught up with it, more blood seeped onto the ground. Laitheryn took a breath, almost knowing what would occur next. He watched warily as the shock dyed on the surrounding orcish army's faces, beginning to be replaced with anger that their entertainment had failed and that their own companions lay dead instead.
He only had seconds before the attack occurred and Laitheryn took that moment to reach out to touch the subconscious of the nearby trees. If he was right in his guess, than he would soon be too distracted to call.
'Rally to me. Send word to those that can hear your voices of what occurred here. Send word that orcs have captured elves from the woodland realm. Lead them here.'
He did not hear the trees reply as the circle began to close. The orcs surrounding him seemed to charge at once. It was like a cresting wave of water, breaking over turf; much of it spilled to the way side. The orcs that were closest were pressed inwards as the masses charged, or were trampled if they did not move. It was then that Laitheryn found himself surrounded by orcs on all sides and he abandoned himself to a hopeless fight.
He could not have said what had occurred, his memory was confused with flips and leaps and of ducks and rolls. He did what he could to avoid the orc weapons that fell towards him and was sometimes rewarded with a kill of his own. And yet the small number of lives he ended, it seemed that their numbers increased five fold for every life he finished.
He could not say what had occurred, or how he avoided being killed by the falling flashes of metal. Laitheryn did not know what instinct had saved him from that death and worse injuries. The swarm increased until the light of day vanished, by the darkness of the orcish bodies surrounding him. He was knocked to the ground, and registered the shock of the fall. Right after a flash of pain echoed a blow to his head. Too spent to recover, and resume the attack, he lay there stunned.
He blinked in agony as the rushing pain in his head made his vision waver and flicker from blackness to what was occurring around him and then back. He knew in that moment that the blow had been strong enough to nearly render him unconscious, and only by sheer will power did he stay awake.
He could feel their hands on him, taking any weapon he had still on him, searching him thoroughly. He shuddered internally at the cold leather touching him, but could not find the strength to struggle back. His bow and quiver were removed, from his back as well as the last dagger he had. Laitheryn tried to fight back and regain what they had just taken, but his attempt failed as one of the orcs' kicked him solidly in the ribs.
Laitheryn coughed at the blow and tasted blood upon his lips, aware enough to know that the attack had probably broken bone. Another kick followed this one, and another lance of pain erupted from his back this time as another cruel orc left a mark upon his skin. There were several others blows, leaving him breathless as a result of both the answering pain and the strike that had preceded it.
He was in such shock from his injuries that he did not feel the touch of the dagger to his skin. He only became aware that their tactics had changed when the dagger sliced lightly into his arm; causing more pain than permanent harm. Another flickering slice cut above the first and he bit his lip to avoid the whimper of agony that so wanted to come out.
The orcs behind that one laughed as more of his skin bled under the grievous attacks of the dagger, slowly working up his arms in their torture. Each time the blade touched his skin and drew more blood from his body, he refused to cry out in pain, or let anything show through his control, he refused to give the orcs their satisfaction. But inside where none could hear him save himself, he cried in pain and agony.
Despite the pricks of the dagger, and the occasional punch or kick to his body Laitheryn drew from his connection with the trees, finding comfort in their soft songs to him. They drew him away from the pain he was experiencing.
Rally to my side…' He whispered to them and saw the trees wave in acknowledgement.
The message had been sent, traveling through the trees of this corner of Greenwood to where the elves dwelled. The trees would carry the message to wherever the hidden city of the Elvenking lay and help may come now that they had an incline of where to look. Despite the lances of pain that were boiling through his body, he smiled internally.
There were more blows, of both feet and knife and he refused to submit to their torments. They could continue as they were and rift him of his life and he would not to utter a sound. His refusal to submit to the torture seemed to anger the orcs and one brought forth the beautifully carved Lorien bow and quiver to where Laitheryn could observe what was occurring. He closed his eyes at the image of freedom they emitted, knowing that the orcs would destroy them near him. They would wish him to see his weapons destroyed, as they would think that his hope would die with them. They did not know of the message he had sent.
"Pretty Elf likes pretty weapons…" One taunted and Laitheryn did not say a word.
It snarled and took both ends of his treasured bow, twisting it until it snapped under the relentless pressure. A second sound of wood breaking rifted him of his quiver. It now lay there, hacked into quarters by the quick hands of the orcs around him. Two more kicked him, sending more pain up from the bruises he already sustained. And more kicks found his skin.
He almost gasped in agony as the last strike found his ribs once more, his vision swimming in blinding whiteness at the ferocity of the blow. Laitheryn felt himself trembling in pain in the aftermath as his vision returned to normal seconds later. He took a quivering breath, but would not allow any more sounds to pass his lips.
"That's enough." One orc began.
It caught the arm of the orc to its left, stopping it from delivering yet another blow to mar his skin further. Seconds later the orc to stop the torture kicked another to consolidate its point. "If you kill it now, that's one less we get paid for!"
"It's already half dead!" The one with the dagger protested. "Why not kill it and bring its body as proof?"
"Because the master wants 'em alive." The first answered adding another sharp jab of his fist to emphasize his control. "The more the better, his words were. You can anger him if you wish death."
To this the second orc seemed to reconsider its intent and placed the dark dagger back in its sheath. Several others howled in anger at its decision, but at a look from the first one to speak, they became silent. They did not wish to invoke the wrath of this particular orc, or of their mysterious master.
Laitheryn knew the orcs protection was fragile and would end as soon as it saw he was recovered enough to endure more pain. But for now he had a reprieve from the torment. His vision darkened once more and he fought to remain conscious; closing his eyes as if that act could block out the agony of the wounds he had endured.
"As you wish." The one growled out before rising.
Laitheryn watched dully as the creature took his elven dagger from the hands of another orc and walked to a nearby tree. Laitheryn did not trust their intent, despite not knowing where this action was leading.
"'ese ones like the trees." It hissed out, idly stroking the bark of the tree with a flat hand.
Laitheryn would have had to be hard of hearing to have missed the trees protest at the foul touch.
"Hurt a tree…you hurts 'em." It continued maliciously.
Laitheryn drew a breath of protest at the act he was sure was to occur, wanting to drive the orcs attention back onto himself. He found his voice too late to save the tree, as the creature changed from running a cold hand over the bark. Without a change in expression his dagger was embedded into the heart of the tree, and left there in foul testimony of what had occurred.
They could not hear the tree screams in agony, could not feel its grief and pain, and did not sense the tree dying. They did not hear the cries becoming moans and then whimpers as the tree slowly died and it strength faded as the wound bled out. It would have no consolation for the hurt it had endured at the cruel hand of the enemy.
The orcs could not hear its pained cries, and its sobs as it slowly drifted away in death. And then the silence, the horrible silence that came from the tree after it passed. The silence ate away at him, where once that tree had a voice it was now silenced forever by the cunning darkness, never again to be heard. Laitheryn closed his eyes against the tears that wanted to fall as the tree died.
They could torture him all they wished, nothing would ever compare to the pain he had just endured listening and sensing the tree die. A tree had died because he had run to them for protection. Because of their involvement in the battle and because of his connection to them one of the trees of Greenwood had fallen into the darkness of death. An innocent had fallen, and Laitheryn could not help but blame himself. He had sworn that another would not be hurt due to their involvement and he had failed them.
'Namarie.' He thought. 'I am sorry.'
'We do not blame you, Forest Child. We sorrow, but we do not blame... Your message as been sent."
'Hannon le…'
His thought broke and he tried not to cry out. Not at the pain the orcs had inflicted on him, but in memory of the tree. Never in all his days would he forget it, Laitheryn knew that memory would remain with him forever and nothing would ever ease its passing.
His mind was dulled by the death, shocked into a stupor in which the pain inflicted on him he could not feel; if there were any blows that had come after. It was as if his mind had left his body, traveling past what was occurring to him to a realm where he did not care. In his heart he sang for the passing of the tree, grieved for it, and did not feel his own pain. His mind was too overwhelmed with the aching cries of nature to feel his own agony.
There was nothing worse the orcs could do to him that would ever over reach that. Distantly he heard their dark voices whispering about him. And soon did not hear any more as his consciousness faded to darkness and he could not hear the weeping of the forest any longer.
Well, that's the end of another chapter. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought of this chapter...I'd like to thank all of those that have reviewed this story already.