Of Fire and Blood

Battle Under the Trees

[**Use of osanwe in italics**]

An orc that had charged at him lay on the ground, its head half separated. An arrow whizzed past her ears. Laerdil nocked one, and the next moment her attacker fell down with a clank of armour. Erenien whimpered, panting, her sword clutched tight.

"Ery, focus." Laerdil shouted from her left, skillfully cutting down another orc. With a moment's notice, his blade gave way for his preferred bow as he shot down another one.

"Are you alright?" He shouted over the fray.

"I am, I am!" she replied, bobbing her head up and down. She was definitely not. Her throat was as dry as a desert, and her eyes were stinging. The clamour was overwhelming to her ears.

"We must get your armour," he said, gripping her arm, after the last orc in the immediate vicinity was cut down.

"We must get yours as well," she shouted back.

About a hundred yards ahead, the tents at the edge of their camp were burning steadily, sending off plumes of smoke.

"There! I can see a gap. Come on," he ran towards the area where the fight was thinnest, pulling her along. Without much difficulty, they got through. His bow sang on and on, and her sword rang clear as it met with brute steel. With much difficulty, they found his tent and slipped in unnoticed.

The inside of the tent was in a state of disarray. His chainmail and plate armour were lying in a heap on the floor. He unstrapped his quiver and long knives and hastily pulled them off. Setting them down on his bed, he put on the chainmail.

"Can you summon yours, like you did years ago?" he asked, strapping the breastplate in place.

"I don't know how to." She replied without taking her eyes off the tent flaps. That was one aspect of her power that she hadn't tested yet. "Don't worry, I have my chainmail under my coat. It should be enough to get us to my tent."

"Let's go then." Laerdil came to stand beside her.

He had his hair pulled into a rough braid, and his blades were once again secured on his back. Making use of the meagre moments of safety, he quickly embraced her. "I love you," he whispered into her hair. "Always."

"I love you too." She said, looking up at him, and stepped back. She held him at arm's length and looked at him from head to toe, searching for any gaps in his armour. He will be safe, she thought.

"Come," she said, adjusting the grip on her sword. It had been glowing softly in the presence of the enemy.

"Wait," said a delaying arm on her shoulder. Laerdil took off his helmet and handed it over. "Wear this."

Gingerly, she put it on. He carefully tucked her hair into it before securing it with its strap. The pair glanced at each other one last time and stepped out into the battle.

"Where are you?" Thranduil's voice echoed in her mind.

"I am safe. Laero is with me. We are going to get my armour." Erenien shifted to her left, parrying a blow.

"NO!" She could almost feel his panic. After a few moments, his next thought emerged. "Don't put your armour on!"

"What are you saying?"

The orc in front of her was, fortunately, clumsy. If not, she would have a mace smashed on her face.

"Don't, in any case, put on that armour of yours." She could sense the strain in his mind, trying to fight a battle and maintain the mental connection. "Get inside the halls."

"What are you saying?" She yelled back through the bond. A blade would have sliced her throat if Laerdil had not intervened.

"Focus!" He yelled at her.

"Sorry!" she shouted back. "Ada wants me to get inside the palace."

"Erenien!" someone called out. She whirled to her left to see Norves and Feren cutting down a path towards them.

"We must get you inside the palace." Feren said, his eyes ever roaming the ongoing fight.

"Come," Norves said, taking her arm.

"We are not going anywhere unless you tell me what is going on." Erenien replied, planting her foot down firmly.

"It is an order of the king. I shall tell you everything once this war is over."

"But…"

"They are searching for a 'Golden Witch'," Feren spoke to Laerdil in mind. He stared back in disbelief. I shouldn't have taken her out, he thought regretfully. But it was not time for regrets or what-ifs, and his shoulders squared in resolve.

"We must get you inside. Come." He took her arm in a firm grip. This stopped any arguments that had been ensuing between the women.

"Have you reached the halls?" Thranduil's voice rang in her mind once more.

"No. We are in the middle of the camp." She replied.

"GET INSIDE NOW! It is an order." She flinched. Laerdil was nearly dragging her towards the palace, Norves and Feren in tow. At least a thousand leagues lie between them and the gates of the Elvenking's halls. Something is terribly wrong, her mind warned.

As they cut their way forward, Erenien risked looking back once her front was clear. Norves and Feren were right behind them, and beyond them, the battle was raging. Most of the trees surrounding them blazed, weeping burnt branches down. There! Her mind quipped. At the farthest spot of her vision, there was a flash of deathly white. Her heart skipped a beat.

"Ery!" Feren yelled. She turned back just in time to sidestep and block a sword aimed at her midsection. After disposing of her enemy, she looked back once more. Her eyes quickly found the being in the midst of a sea of orcs. He was tall and built like a wall of stone, as if he had stepped out of her worst nightmare. His weapon swept an arc, creating a wide berth around him. Deadly spikes protruded from the end of his mace.

Terror gripped her soul. She turned back frantically and disembowelled an orc. Despite her shivering arm, she moved her sword wildly around her, slashing and thrusting, cleaving and parrying. Her legs worked on their accord to put as much distance between her and the pale orc. Laerdil didn't have to pull her along with him for the rest of the distance.

(***)

Thranduil cursed the moment his eyes turned on their own accord, to where she had been a few moments ago.

The orc chief in front of him cackled in glee. "Now I know where to look for her," his voice rasped. "Boys, give this forest sprite some company," he called out to his fellows.

The orc chief, or Mauler, as his lackeys called him, turned his back on him. Thranduil tried in one fleeting moment to stab him or to cut his head off. But the chance passed as soon as it came, and he was once again surrounded by orcs. To his horror, Mauler was now moving towards her, his weapon giving him free movement through the battle.

"Are you inside the halls?" he asked her once more. There was no reply. That meant either she was safe within his halls or she…

"Ada, the doors are sealed. How am I to enter?" Her voice sounded in his mind. She was frightened; he was sure of it.

"Tauriel! I need cover," he called out, and the next moment his captain was at his side. Taking advantage of the moment, he reached out with his mind, calling forth his power that had been

echoing through his fortress—the very power that had kept his home safe since the day he wore his crown. Thranduil commanded it to release the doors to his palace.

"It opened," Erenien said in his mind.

"Get inside, quick." He responded impatiently. He waited a few moments before sending another thought to her mind. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he didn't hear from her after that. Thranduil released the grip on his power, sealing the doors to his home once more.

(***)

"What is happening? Why are they looking for her?" Laerdil asked his companions as the doors closed on them, containing her.

"Their leader, Mauler, wants to avenge his predecessor."

His eyes blazed with fire. "Then we get to him first. Revenge for what they did to her."

"Let's go then." Feren readily agreed.

"Stay together." The older elleth warned as the trio once more entered the fight.

The Mauler wasn't that hard to spot, for he left a clear trail in his path. Fresh blood dripped from his weapon. Laerdil drew a long breath before aiming an arrow at his chest. "For Glorphen," he whispered to himself and released the shaft.

Hope gleamed in his mind. The arrow flew true. Yet it happened to pierce the chest of an elf, dragged in front of him as a shield by Mauler. As the elleth fell with a thud, the orc's eyes were on Laerdil. A crooked grin split his lips.

They were surrounded by several of the orcs, with Norves and Feren handling them. Laerdil shot down some so that they wouldn't overwhelm her. A small path opened between them and Mauler. "Cover me, Laero." Feren yelled before charging at him, not heeding her earlier warning. Laerdil shot arrow after arrow, clearing a path for them.

Soon they were facing each other. Feren dove down quickly, and the spiked weapon passed over his head. Laerdil took his chance to slash at the orc's side. His knife skidded on the thick chest plate, sending white sparks flying off. In the blink of an eye, the weapon was coming at him, and Laerdil sprang away.

"Laerdil!" Norves shouted, and his arrows soon found their mark at the throats of three orcs.

"Laero!" A choked cry came out of Feren as he was hoisted up by the neck. His knife lay embedded in the orc's dominant arm. Even so, Mauler didn't lose grasp of his weapon. It came sweeping at Feren in a harsh blow. Laerdil drew his knife once more and, with all his might, slashed at the orc's hand.

The Morningstar was dropped down with a thud. Dark blood splattered on his face and over his armour. He spat out the blood, nearly gagging at the taste. The orc clutched at the stump of his left hand, dropping Feren down in a heap. Chest heaving, Laerdil looked at him. His lips quirked in the ghost of a smile at the near victory.

Feren returned the smile, only for it to twist in alarm in the very next moment. Laerdil turned abruptly. A club rammed into his chest, sending him to the dirt. Feren shot back to his feet, his sword ready to be shoved into the creature's neck. Soon the blade got drenched halfway down in orc blood.

In that moment of miscalculation, when the sword wielder's back was turned to him, Mauler retrieved his weapon.

"Fer..." Laerdil tried to shout out a warning.

But his throat closed up in a vicious cough. His face scrunched as fragments of his chest bone grated together. The Mauler smiled dangerously before his weapon smote Feren unawares, the spikes denting his breastplate.

"NO!" A shrill cry echoed in the wind.

Laerdil turned his head right, to the anguished eyes of Norves. She was slashing and thrusting around her. Yet if one was careful, they could see the slightest tremble in her war-worn form. He looked back at the sky; it was the colour of a bright blue, like his eyes.

"Laero…" Feren was weeping a few feet away, unable to move.

"Ery, I am sorry…" He sent out the thought, knowing full well that it wouldn't breach the walls of power that separated them.

Above him, at the edge of his vision, the Morningstar gleamed scarlet in the sun, ever-growing in size.

Mom, I am scared... The pools of his eyes quietly overflowed.

It's over…, his mind whispered sadly. And Laerdil closed his eyes.