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4. Their stealth surprised her, they didn't make…

Their stealth surprised her, they didn't make a sound. There were with six of them and the first one slashed at Ellandan with mad force. The Elfs calm stood in stark contrast to the orcs impulsive madness. In slow motion she saw him bending down, initiating a movement that she recognized. Standing up and pivoting, he sliced the orcs chest with one graceful move. The impact did not slow him down and like an expert dancer he used the momentum to initiate a next series of moves. On his right side, Elrohir was moving almost too fast for her to see, only the spray of blood betraying the movement of his sword.

They were magnificent fighters to watch. Moving like water, fluent, effortlessly and completely tuned into each other. They even shared their opponents in battle, one brother weakening an orc to aid his twin. She felt like watching a staged choreography. They seemed like wargods to her, cold, proud and painfully beautiful, death following them wherever their attention was drawn. The blood of their enemies on their skin, did not taint their brilliance, but enhanced it.

But she did not have the time to contemplate on their fighting style, she did not even have time to scream or yell. From the right, past the two brothers came a creature straight at her. It was wearing some kind of leather outfit and some leather straps tight around its chest. A worn down helmet, dented on its head, showing nasty red beady eyes just underneath its rim. Grey skin was covered in scar tissue resulting from probably third degree burns, making its appearance sickening. It's face was contorted in a battle crazed rage when he dashed right at her, a rusty blade slicing the air before him.

She moved automatically, a lifetime of training kickstarting her body. With the katana in a reverse grip, she ducked underneath his aimless steered weapon and slashed its face with one swift upward movement. The orc screamed in a sickening way but came back at her with full force.

She noticed with distant apprehension that his reach was wide and together with his size and weight this was at first sight a serious advantage. But where he was slow, her own flexibility and size made her quick, an unlikely but strangely compatible opponent. So she did what she was good at, she flipped the katana to a regular grip, and danced gracefully around this huge but slow creature, slashing at it, crippling it, toying with it.

She was unaware of her surroundings, looking at her work from a distant. Her emotions detached from reality, she was just carving a piece of meat, like a cook or butcher. She kept working on him but did not give a killing blow. There was silence around her, or numbness she couldn't tell.

Years of training, but she only fought Hideo with her real sword, drawing blood occasionally. Normally she used a training katana. In her day and age it was a sport after all, not a means to survive.

But that changed when her parents and little sister were murdered before her eyes on that horrible day. Deep within her a door had opened, a door that stood ajar, but was open nevertheless. She had felt it: a thirst for blood. She longed to give in to it and kill her enemies, bathe in their blood, take revenge, do everything that the rules of her sport forbid her. Everything that her upbringing forbid her. Everything the laws of her country forbid her.

She really did try. She tried when her family's murderers were trialed and put to prison for 15 years. She tried in the years after that. But fighting this part of herself killed most of the life inside of her. The only thing left was the next best thing: relentless sword fighting, day in day out, wearing her body down until there was no more room for those haunting thoughts.

The only thing that kept this empty life going was the hope that one day she would be able to face them. And to find the resolve to kill them despite her rules and ethics.

Fighting the orc, she could feel that door within her open more and more and she noticed from a distance that she relished hurting this creature, she relished every slice, every cry of pain, the feel of its blood on her skin. But she kept herself from surrendering to this forbidden feeling. Careful control still in place.

And, when the orc was on its knees before her, no more than a pile of bloodied flesh, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Elrohir's face was calm, a trail of blood on his cheek. His sword dripping. He squeezed her shoulder and with that movement, sound returned to the world in full force. His words entered her consciousness in fragments, but she understood his meaning: "...ot training .. ust kill it!"

She gritted her teeth, fear spiked in her stomach for a moment. She felt as if she was balancing on the edge of a sword, the fear to lose her sanity when she would give into her destructive desire was palpable. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind for calmth, reaching past her fear for those forbidden feelings. And they surfaced with full force.

Where there was hesitation, suddenly conviction kicked in and she sliced its head clean off in one swift movement. She imagined her whole life what this would feel like but the real experience was shockingly banal. Like a knife through butter.

Her mind and body came to a halt in a deep crouch, head bent, her arms, both holding the katana, sweeped to the extreme right, until her shoulder could not twist any further. She panted heavily. Then: suffocating silence and the smell of earth, guts, urine, horses and blood.

How long she sat there, arms lifted, echoing her final blow staring at the ground she did not know. But after a while she started to sense the presence of the brothers behind her. Shakely she stood up and looked around the small battlefield.

While she had been playing around with one orc, they killed another eight of them. They underestimated their numbers it seemed. Noticing blood dripping from her katana, she felt bile creep up her throat, making her sick instantly. Rushing to the side, she vomited with vigour. Shaking on her legs she knelt down, vomiting even more.

Hands brushed her long black hair out of her face. He did not speak, but she knew it had to be Elladan. She felt grateful for this small gesture of understanding. But she felt more grateful for their silence.

When she was done she wiped her mouth with her sleeve, glancing at the grotesque corpses. Elrohir kicked one of the bodies on its back to examine it. He looked seriously at his brother: "I do not recognize them. A new spawned breed from under the mountains no doubt."

Elladan nodded grimly: "Aye. Let us move quickly. We need to find the cover of the greenwood, there might be more numbers on the way."

He turned to look at Rin who was distractedly trying to clean her sword on the grass. The girl was obviously shaken. He felt an unfamiliar emotion swelling in his chest. This girl! Her first fight! And what a fighter she was! Gracious and deadly. Like a dancer she moved around her prey, playing with it. Her movements were alien, a beautiful style that he never saw before, with a beautiful blade matching it.

He slowly touched her shoulder again. She looked at him with haunted eyes. He took the sword from her hands and wiped it clean on one of the orcs. After taking the excess blood off, he used his own cape to clean and polish it. Admiring the blade for a moment, he gave her the weapon back with a serious face.

"You have earned your sword. And you have my trust."

She blinked at him, confused. Elrohir stepped next to him, putting his hand on her shoulder: "You fought beautiful."

Rin looked into their almost identical faces, unable to speak, and suddenly emotion overwhelmed her. She said with a soft voice: "I killed it…. All this time I managed to not give in…. Not to give in..."

"You defended yourself Rin. There is no need for guilt." Elladan's words were gentle.

But Elrohir added harshly: "Do not waste tears or emotions on these foul creatures. They are evil! They are nothing!" he spat on the corpses that lay at their feet.

She turned towards him saying frustrated: "I do not weep for them! I weep because it felt good to torture it. It felt good to feel its blood on my skin. It felt good finally give in to this hunger for blood.", she screamed the last words.

Startled, the brothers saw her falling apart in front of their eyes. They had no experience with crying girls, except their sister in a past long gone. Instinctively Elrohir wrapped his arms around her for comfort. Elladan behind her, mimicked him. They kept her safely enclosed in between their bodies, in their arms, one at the front and one at her back.

Brokenly she stammered: "I gave into it…."

The brothers kept whispering in her ears, melodic elvish words that she could not understand but soothed her senses. The intense smell of their bodies, that was the other day almost too overwhelming, entered her nostrils as something familiar now. A potent smell that was masculine, earthly and on the verge of arousing. It smelled safe and just like them. Combined with their warmth surrounding her like a warm blanket, she felt safer than she had in years. And after a while her tears subsided and her thoughts stopped going haywire. A calmth entered her mind. There was only the feel of their bodies, their smell and their voices. Nothing could harm her.

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And then her body betrayed her once again. She started to feel too warm. A slow blush tainted her cheeks when she realised how closely she was wedged in between the two beautiful brothers. Her heart rate increased rapidly.

Elladan seemed to sense the change in her and slowly disentangled himself: "It is time to go. Let's ride to a more advantageous position, before more trouble finds us in this one."

Elrohir, uncharacteristically, seemed more reluctant to let her go and lingered a little bit longer. Then he straightened himself and held out his hand to her: "Ride with me?"

She took it, looking into his eyes, those intelligent and old eyes, that seemed to strip her bare. But somehow she trusted him, she trusted them. She took his hand and nodded. He strapped her katana on his saddle, so that she would no be parted from her weapon this time. It earned him a small smile. He lifted her easily on his saddle and lightly jumped behind her, grasping her waist, he bore his heels in the flanks of his horse, making it sprint away in haste.

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While riding his mind wandered to the small willowy build girl in his arms. How interesting she was! He knew his brother shared his sentiments. She had been amazing with that sword. He was just awe-struck by her style and how well the weapon fit that style. She moved like water. He had never seen a mortal woman wield a sword like that. She did not realise herself that she was toying with the orc, but she was. She was in complete control of the fight, but unwilling to give the final blow because she had vowed not to kill. But she did it nevertheless.

He felt a pang of guilt. In a way he was the cause for breaking that vow. Without hesitation she had listened to him and now there was no turning back for her, innocence taken, vows broken. It was his doing. Or the enemy? He was wise enough to admit that they were to blame. If they would not have given her that sword but just protected her, she would be true to her vows still.

How she fared mentally and emotionally afterwards was only to be expected, although again she was not afraid of the things that they expected, but rather the opposite. Again it was not the fear of dying or killing that made her cry, it seemed she was afraid of her love for killing. It puzzled him. She must have suffered some kind of trauma that made her this way, he was certain of it.

His guilt was short lived. A dark part of him had enjoyed watching her hurt the orc and kill it. But it was more than that; he felt satisfied that she also gave in to a dark part of herself just as he and his brother had done, all those centuries ago. It satisfied him because it was a liberating experience and now they shared an experience that was connected to the very fundamentals of their being. For centuries now they had lived like this, their darker nature hidden for their kin. And now here she was, an intimate witness of a very private part of them and it somehow, beyond any expectation, it felt good.

But he felt grateful that he could comfort her together with his brother like that. He frowned. A familiar stirring in his stomach occured; she had felt good in between them. He shared everything in life with his brother, and sharing that moment of comforting this strange girl felt only natural. He looked beside him and met Elladans' eyes.

They nodded to each other. He understood what was going through his mind, since it was what he himself had been thinking about. Their thoughts followed often the same pathways. They smiled at each other. Here they were, travelling with a strange girl, their private seclusion breached and it felt good. It surprised them to no end, but she seemed to just fit in their routine and habits naturally.