CHAPTER SIX
On the run
"I am sorry about your bow Farren," Bilbo seemed to think that it was his fault that she was in so much peril. She stroked Abe's muzzle and smiled stiffly at him,
"Hey, I can just make another," she was trying hard to be positive but that bow had been forged by her mother, the last thing that they did together and it was as if something had pierced her soul.
Bilbo looked ahead, standing with the woman at the entrance to the troll's cave where, surprisingly they had found several tonnes of elfish weaponry.
Farren had watched Gandalf persuade Thorin to keep a handsome sword and had given Bilbo a small sword of his own, but they had found no bow to replace hers. She was nothing without her bow. She decided to go deeper into the cave, holding her gloved hand over her mouth to muffle the smell of rotting flesh and vomit. It was darker, damper and it had a more dangerous feeling about it. Her eyes slowly grew accustomed to the gloom and the further she went, the more sinister it became. Skeletons of all shapes and sizes loomed on all sides, holding swords and shields in a desperate attempt to defend themselves. She saw more weapons and more treasure, more of the hordes that the trolls had collected.
Then she spotted the sight she would never see again. There, sitting peacefully yet like a king upon a rotting skeleton's lap, the sword which Farren had heard only tales of.
Draconem Pilos
The Dragon's Blade
Forged by her forefather's and passed down from tamer to tamer through the generations, this was the sword of all swords. It was nearly as long as herself as she plucked it up, the sheath was a simply leather brown with a gold buckled belt. But the sword itself was what Farren lost her breath over. It whispered silently when she pulled it through the air and whirled it down upon a dusted shield that lay at her feet...the shield cracked in to two clean pieces. The blade was smooth and shiny, an iridescent blue that shone millions of colours when the light hit it at the perfect angle. The hilt was silver leather with gold wire embroidered around it into a language that only the wisest knew, and sitting upon the pommel was the famed Blue Egg. Farren had only seen pictures and heard stories of this sword and its gem that protected its user by hiding them from any known enemies. An fiery red opal the size of an egg glistened against Farren's olive skin and she exhaled harshly when she ran her fingers over its cool surface. It was like caressing her mother's cheek, so soft and so silky.
The sword fit perfectly in her hand, like it was made for her and she measured its weight against her hips, where it would be sat; there was no weight. It lay in its sheath, waiting to be used against evil, waiting for its new owner to defend herself. Farren lay her quiver and broken bow down at the feet of the skeleton man, securing the sword on her hips and turning back towards the exit to the cave with a triumphant smile on her lips. She felt like she was complete once again, like she was finally finishing her training to be a tamer. She felt as though everything could be perfect. For once.
Except for the terrified yells that echoed throughout the cave. And Farren launched off, zig-zagging through and around the piles of armoury and shields, swords and boxes of treasure. She gave out a battle-like cry, bursting out of the cave and pulled her blade, bringing it down onto the neck of the large bear shaped animal. It was a Warg. The 'pets' of the Orcs and they were bigger than bears, more ruthless than rabid dogs, worse than a nightmare. Its head rolled across the ground, stopping at Bilbo's feet who shrieked at the amount of blood pouring out of its eyes.
Another one howled loudly, preparing to take down Farren herself and she turned around quickly, embedding the sword into its chest then thwacking it around the head with hilt. There was a sickening crack and the Warg slumped to the ground, quite clearly dead.
"Warg scouts," she explained breathlessly, adrenaline pumping through her veins, "That means an Orc pack will not be far behind,"
"Orc pack?" Bilbo squeaked from behind Farren and she smiled at him, a smile of victory and excitement,
"Yes, and I'll draw them off," she told the group, lifting herself on to Abe and fumbling with the fastening on her cloak, drawing it around herself more securely. No one dared to stop her as she dug her heels into Abe's shoulders and he raced off, weaving through the trees, bounding over rocks until they emerged, at full pelt, straight into the pack of Orcs that were so keen on following the Company,
"Come and get me you slimy bastards!" she shouted out in glee, the wind catching on her hair and tearing at her cloak. This was where Farren belonged, being chased by creatures that want her dead. It was exhilarating, the blood pounding in her ears, her chest heaving with pure rush.
She could hear the mangy howls of the Warg's far behind her, unable to catch up with Abe and the evil cursing of the Orcs.
She looked up to her right, spotting one of the Orcs veering off from the pack, bounding on to a rock and stopping, sniffing the air and growling. She took a risk and raised her right fist,
"Es mei, ne pereant,"
"You're breath shall be lost," she shrieked in its direction and its hands immediately flew to its throat, as if it were being strangled by an invisible forced. It fell and the Warg squealed, as if it was being attacked, mauled and hit by something metal.
"THORIN YOU FOOL!" she shrieked, slicing into an Orcs shoulder as the pack stopped following her, instead chasing the fourteen dwarves and Hobbit that scurried away from the advancing creatures that snarled in triumph. They were surrounded in a matter of moments, all hunched together with their petty weapons pointing as several Orcs at once. Only Gandalf saw sense and burrowed towards a large rock, pulling Bilbo along with him,
"This way you fools!" the wizard shouted and the dwarves scattered, following to the rock and disappearing.
Only Kili and Thorin were left and Farren felt a surge of possessiveness, cutting down every Orc she passed until she was in front of the two dwarves,
"Go," she ordered powerfully, dropping from Abe and stabbing a Warg in the muzzle with her weapon. And then she was the only one left, defenceless against a widening pack of Orcs. Until a flash of bright silver flew across her vision and a handsome white horse appeared, shielding her from the bloodbath that continued between the Orcs…and now the Elves.