Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's work. The OC's are mine
Culdôr didn't know what happened. One minute, he was sitting astride his horse. The next, he was flat on his back with a adan on top of him. He faintly heard Mablung and Beleg shout his name as he wrestled with his opponent. Suddenly, the adan had managed to stun him with one deft movement, and pin him to the ground.
"Time to die, elven-scum." the adan hissed almost cheerfully with a slightly insane smile plastered on his face as he drew a rusty knife from its sheath. Culdôr tensed, preparing himself for the feeling of the knife burying itself into his flesh, when there was a sharp twang, a hiss, and the adan slumped over him. Dead.
Culdôr looked down at the dead man, stunned.
"I killed him." Beleg said. Culdôr and Mablung noticed that their friend's voice was strained. "Sweet Estë, I just killed him in cold blood..." Beleg whispered again as he looked down at his bow with a mixture of grief, surprise, horror, and guilt showing in his face and eyes. Mablung quietly reached over and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I understand how you feel Beleg, but that adan would've killed Culdôr for sure, had you not shot him. And if he had lived… who knows how many more innocent lives he would take? You did the right thing. Even though you did what you did out of anger, you did the right thing."
"Beleg, as much as I hate killing and death, I have to agree with Mablung." Culdôr said softly as he stood up. "He could've, no, would've killed others had you not intervened." Beleg was about to reply when another adan suddenly charged them, only to meet his demise at the end of Mablung's spear.
"Well," Mablung muttered as he gazed briefly at the fallen adan "let's stop talking and get fighting, shall we?"
One of the Generals reached down and pulled Callon up, so he sat behind him in the saddle. Suddenly, Callon felt someone grab the back of his shirt with an iron grip. Seconds later, he found himself on the ground, with a throbbing head. He watched in terror as the adan who pulled him off the horse violently attacked the General.
"RUN!" the General shouted at him seconds before the adan stabbed him. Callon yelped as the General fell off the horse, the light fading from his eyes. Callon quickly sprinted away, as fast as his legs could carry him.
The Nargothrondian darted through the trees as fast as he could go.
"Of all the blasted times to trip, and fall out of a tree!" he cursed aloud. Although no one had seen him fall, or heard his comment, he still blushed to the tips of his ears out of embarrassment. Suddenly, he heard what sounded like edain yelling and running. He put on an extra burst of speed. He wasn't sure why the edain were here, or why they were suddenly yelling, but he knew that he could safely bet his sword that they were up to no good.
Suddenly, a cry of dismay that did not sound anything like a human reached his ears. It sounded like… a child? He ran faster, his heart beating wildly as he looked around for the youngster.
"Dear Eru, what in Arda is a child doing in this mess!?" he groaned. Soon, he was out of breath from running. But he didn't stop. He had to help the child, he just had to. Not for glory, nor redemption. Just to keep the child safe. He kept looking.
Then, he caught sight of the child, and his breath froze in his lungs at the scene. It was an elfling. Not even seven summers old. The elfling was backed up against a tree, surrounded by five edain. The Nargothrondian could feel his anger rising. What had the child done to deserve the fate which the edain had planned for him? Without even thinking first, the Nargothrondian ran forward, and jumped…
Callon was terrified. He was cornered, and judging by how things looked now… there would be no escape for him. The adan in front of him drew a short sword. Callon was trembling in fear now. The man gave him a smile of mock sympathy.
"Tell me, elf-brat," the man's voice sounded like metal against stone to Callon's ears. "What does cold steel feel like?" Callon cowered backward as far as he could, as the man raised his sword. Callon closed his eyes, wishing himself far away, back home in Doriath. He briefly wondered if he'd ever see home again. His eyes snapped open as he desperately tried to get one last glimpse of the world, when something dark blurred his vision.
The Nargothrondian landed on his feet, directly in front of the elfling. The elfling watched with wide eyes as the ellon caught the descending sword on his own, and then slit the adan's throat in one movement, as fast as lightning.
"Climb the tree." the Nargothrondian said calmly, but his tone made it obvious that it was not a request. Callon obeyed quickly, and quietly. He knew not what the Nargothrondian would do, but he knew that it would be best if he were not involved.
"So," the Nargothrondian said as the edain looked down at their fallen comrade. "Who's next?" The edain looked at each other. "Oh, come on!" the Nargothrondian said in a mocking tone. "If you can take on an elfling, then surely, you can take on a fully grown and armed elf." The edain looked stunned for a moment, and then their fury began to show in their eyes and faces.
All the edain charged, except one. He hung back, and hid in the surrounding foliage. He watched in horrified fascination as the elf suddenly seemed to turn into a whirlwind with a blade, as agile and nimble as a dancer, but with a dangerous edge, striking down the adan's comrades left and right. The adan quickly shook himself out of his trance. If he didn't act now, his comrades would be as good as dead. He selected an arrow and loaded it into his crossbow...
Callon watched the Nargothrondian spinning, slashing, ducking, and kicking, with a furious energy that he had seen before when his father had allowed him to watch sparring matches between the soldiers. He watched silently, trying to identify the elf. He knew most of the elves in the army by name, as he had met some of them personally. But for some reason… This elf was a complete and total stranger to him. For an elfling, Callon was rather observant. He noticed that the Nargothrondian had a slightly different fighting style than the marchwardens of Doriath. Secondly, he noticed that this ellon was also left-hand dominant. Although a left-handed elf was not unheard of, it was rare.
Callon's sensitive hearing suddenly picked up a familiar sound. One that he had only heard at the archery grounds…
The Nargothrondian fell back with a sharp cry as an arrow embedded itself in his right shoulder. He staggered back up and continued fighting. The arrow had taken out his shield arm. He quickly made up his mind that whoever shot him was as dumb as dirt. He wasn't even using a shield, so taking out his shield arm would do them no good!
The noise of battle filled Beleg's ears, almost making it impossible to concentrate on aiming. Yet, he knew that some noises that blended in with the horrendous din were important. Some of the younger marchwardens watched silently in admiration as he fired arrow after arrow, each one finding its mark. It was no secret that Beleg was one of the best archers Doriath had ever had.
To the edain however, the archer appeared to be a blur of silvery-blonde, forest-green, and a brown earthen color, as he spun around in a full warrior's trance, firing arrows at a rapid pace. The edain commander, Algar, pulled his second-in-command, Dúnmod,aside.
"We need to take that one out." he hissed into the younger man's ear "Ere he kills the lot of us!" the second-in-command nodded slowly as he watched the elf take out three more edain in a single go. His superior was right. The elf was dangerous, and if they didn't kill him now, he would only become more dangerous in the years to come.
"Aye." Dúnmod said. "You're right." with one swift movement, he stabbed the commander with Algar's own blade. Dúnmod smirked as he watched Algar gasping for breath as he slowly bled to death. He bent down as Algar shot him a hate-laden glare. "I once heard you say the same thing about me." he whispered into his ex-superior's ear. "Looks like you were right. I indeed have become dangerous." and with that he left.
A cry of dismay that Beleg knew all too well suddenly rent the air.
"Mablung!" Beleg shouted, as fear for his friend suddenly began to build up in his chest.
"My spear broke!" Mablung shouted back as he punched an adan that got too close for comfort. Although Beleg kept his composure on the outside, he was internally panicking. Mablung was the only spear-fighter in the troop, thus meaning, no one would have an extra spear. Without a weapon, his friend was a sitting duck! Beleg fired arrows like there was no tomorrow in order to protect his friend, as he racked his mind for a solution. Suddenly, something clicked. Mablung used to do archery before he had discovered the wonders of the spear. But then Beleg found himself at yet another dead end. He didn't have a spare bow to give Mablung. He spun around and shot another edain sneaking up on Mablung, when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye…
A yew tree. A black yew tree. The branches curved upward, pointing straight to the sky. It looked dead, as no leaves adorned the branches. And one particular branch was shaped almost exactly like a bow. But… in order to retrieve it… he'd need to leave Mablung.
"I'll be right back!" Beleg shouted over his shoulder as he took the risk.
"What!? Beleg you'll get yourself killed!" Mablung practically screamed at his friend, as Beleg raced off, praying that his friend would be alright. All marchwardens were required to learn unarmed combat as part of their training. Hopefully, Mablung would put it to good use.
Beleg sprinted as fast as he could towards the tree, ducking and dodging swords and flying projectiles. Although he moved quickly, he was not quick enough to avoid a cut to his arm…
Alquawen gasped sharply, and quickly placed a protective hand over her upper arm. After a few seconds, she pulled her hand away. There was no blood, not even a mark. What had happened? The answer suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt.
"Elbereth..." she whispered quietly to herself, as realization washed over her. Beleg. Something had happened to Beleg. They had always been able to feel each other's pain. Most would consider it a curse, but Alquawen considered it a blessing. She always knew when her brother needed help.
"Alquawen?" a small voice asked. Alquawen wheeled around. A young, strawberry blonde elleth stood in front of her. Maewen shyly shuffled her feet. She was only one-hundred and fifty-five, the youngest apprentice they'd ever had. But she was wise for her age.
"Just like her brother." Alquawen thought to herself. "Yes Maewen?" she replied.
"Do you feel it too?" she asked. Alquawen sighed worriedly.
"Aye. I feel it." she answered grimly. "Is your brother alright?" Maewen shrugged.
"I don't know. I think Culdôr's alright, but I don't know. I'll try messaging him again" Maewen sat down on the floor, putting all her concentration into getting to her gwanûr. Alquawen nervously tried to do the same.
"Beleg! Beleg, what's going on? Please respond to me! Saes!"
No response. Alquawen began to panic. Beleg always responded. Something was wrong. Something was so, so wrong.
Culdôr ducked, dodging a sword that would've taken off his head had he not ducked in time. He leapt back up, slitting the adan's throat in one fluid movement, when he heard a quiet voice in the back of his mind.
"Culdôr! Are you alright? Saes Culdôr, I'm worried about you!" Culdôr started to run to the safety of a nearby tree, where he would be able to communicate with Maewen without worrying about being killed. At least for a few short minutes. After his mother had died in childbirth with Maewen, Culdôr had felt responsible for taking care of her. And now, the least he could do was keep her from worrying about him.
"Don't worry about me, Maewen. I'm-" a stray slingstone suddenly collided with his chest, bringing him to his knees, and chasing his breath away.
Alquawen yelped in horror as Maewen doubled over in pain.
"Culdôr! What's going on!?"
Culdôr scrambled to his feet, and resumed fighting.
"I'm fine Maewen! Don't worry about me. I'll come home. I promise." Culdôr didn't want to admit that there was a chance that he would not return, but he had made a promise to Maewen.
He would not die.
Dúnmod walked over to Algar's troops. No, his troops now. A malicious grin slowly spread across his face as he went over his cunning plan one more time. He quickly put on a sad face, and wiped some of the blood from Algar's blade on his tunic, before taking a deep breath and climbing up onto a large rock overlooking the troop. Algar's men looked up at him in confusion.
"Algar was killed." Dúnmod said as bluntly as possible as he looked down on the men. "I'm leading you now." the men slowly nodded. "We're changing the method of attack, and setting our eyes on a new goal." all the men except one looked up with interest. His name was Éadgel. He had joined this mission in hopes of getting something out of it to support his family, which was falling apart. He was only seventeen, but he was willing to take on the task. For his mother's sake, and for his little brother.
His father had died in an ambush years ago, leaving him to take care of everyone, and he was not about to give up that mission. He suddenly realized that he had missed Dúnmod's entire speech. Not that he cared. He always had a feeling that Dúnmod was never up to any good. And now… he was sure of it, after seeing Dúnmod wipe blood on his tunic with a blade. Algar's blade. Unfortunately, he had a guess about what happened to Algar.
"You're all dismissed." Dúnmod said to the men after concluding his speech. As the crowd dispersed, he noticed a young man, leaning against a tree, frowning at the ground as he stood there, deep in thought. What was his name again? Éoheort? Eódig? Erkendor? Éadgel? Yes, Éadgel, that was it. He had seen the youngster in battle, he was a good fighter. Good enough that Dúnmod could not afford to lose him, if he wanted his plan to work. He walked over, once the two of them were alone in the clearing.. Éadgel didn't even look up.
"What's the matter?" Dúnmod asked, the words slipping smoothly on his tongue. He was well trained in manipulation.
"This isn't right." Éadgel muttered.
"What's that you just said?" Dúnmod asked, his voice dripping with venom.
"I said this isn't right!" Éadgel said boldly as he looked into Dúnmod's eyes. "It never was!"
"What isn't right?" Dúnmod questioned. He needed Éadgel on his side. And he would have Éadgel on his side. Even if it meant he had to use force.
"Oh, I don't know," Éadgel replied with equal coolness in his voice. "maybe the fact that I saw you wipe blood on yourself with Algar's blade?"
"I don't know what you're hinting at, Éadgel." Dúnmod was inwardly starting to panic. This was starting to become dangerous. If Éadgel exposed him, the troop would turn on him to avenge their fallen leader.
"That blood was too dark to be elf blood. And there are no orcs in this battle." Dúnmod suddenly had Éadgel by the throat, pressing him up against the rough bark of the tree to the point that it hurt. He pulled out Algar's knife and rested the point of the blade on Éadgel's exposed throat.
"It'll be your blood that stains this knife next, if you don't keep your mouth shut."
"As if that matters? I'm of no importance to you."
"You're right." Dúnmod said with a wicked grin. "You aren't, but I know who's of importance to you." Éadgel's eyes darkened as he realized what he was talking about. "I know why you're here Éadgel. So, it won't be your blood. It'll be your mother's, and your brother's, and isn't there a girl in your village that you care about? If you don't keep your mouth shut, I will make you watch as I kill those you care about, and then I will kill you. And I will make sure that your death is slow, so you have time to reflect on your mistake, that those you love had to pay for." Dúnmod nearly dropped his knife in surprise as Éadgel suddenly lurched forward, pressing himself further into the knife.
"If you so much as come within a hundred leagues of my village, I will kill you." Éadgel hissed as he struggled against Dúnmod's hold. Dúnmod gave the young ranger a smile. He had won.
"Well, if you don't want bloodshed, then keep your mouth shut."
Sorry that I haven't posted in so long, having dealt with some major writer's block. Hope you all enjoyed it!
(Elvish translations below :))
Adan = Man
Edain = Men
Ellon = Elf (male ; singular)
Elleth = Elf (female ; singular)
Gwanûr = Brother
Saes = Please