Green Cloaks || Legolas

Forty Nine

"Luin!" Pippin's voice echoed off the stone, bouncing to where Luin was still perched on the edge of a sheer drop. The courtyard of the white tree had no walls at the very tip and that was where he was sat. He was counting his talismans in preparation for the battle, watching as the orc army was amassing below. The catapults being prepared with stone and the severed heads of humans were bouncing over the walls.

"Luin! What shall we do?"

Pippin's voice was interrupted by Gandalf's shouted order. "Prepare for battle!"

The screams rung out as the catapults sent stone flying. Rocks crumbled and towers toppled. The Hobbit reached Luin's side. "Luin. What are you doing? The battle has begun".

Luin sighed and stuffed the talismans into his sleeves. There weren't many left. He would have to make do. One had gripped his staff and he used it to help pull himself up onto his feet. "Any second now", he muttered, eyes turned up to the skies. The air was only stirred by a light breeze and the wide flat lands were perfect. He couldn't ask for better conditions. The fire and air of his spiritual roots stirred in his gut as he began to channel his Qi. "Pippin. Go and help with the wounded. Gandalf has the ground".

"What are you planning?" Pippin asked, face creased in worry and concern. Luin turned and began walking away from the edge. Legs moving briskly until he was more than twenty feet away, Pippin on his heels, before stopping and turning back. He pulled one the of the talismans from his sleeve and held it out.

"Take this. If you need me then rip the paper in half". Pippin took the thin yellow paper and squinted at the red symbols. Overhead a fell beast screeched. Pippin paled and shuddered as the black creatures soared towards them. Luin unclasped his cloak, the material dropping from his shoulders and stabbed his staff into the ground. There was a flash of blue and the wood stuck still, standing upright like a pole. He was left in nothing but his tunic and trousers, only his belt hanging around his waist. Pippin gasped as Luin unsheathed both swords, one in each hand. The hobbit had never seen him use both swords at once before. Always using one to fly through the air in offensive attacks, the other to hold and defend.

"Wait! If you're holding them then how are you going to fly?"

Luin grinned and Pippin finally understood what Aragorn had meant when he had called Luin reckless. He was slightly caught off guard by the glint in the man's eyes. The normally calm and gentle wizard seemed slightly excited, which was concerning. "Don't worry Pippin", He grinned widely, white teeth, crescent black eyes and windblown hair. He was bouncing slightly on his toes. The energy bubbling in his skin as the wind picked up around him, a stronger breeze curling around them. "I have a plan". Another screech as the fell beasts swooped passed. "The witch king", Luin pointed at the first Nazgul. "Be careful Pippin!" He shouted and then he was running. Pippin had no chance to do anything but gasp and reach out as Luin threw himself off the edge and disappear.

The hobbit scurried to the edge to peer over and down at the city below. A fell beast was flying away, a familiar figure was stood on it's back. Both swords clashing with the black blade of the Nazgul rider. Both figures caught in a fight on the back of a flying beast. Pippin blinked then hurried away as more screams echoed. Aragorn and Legolas were right, in the open air Luin was scary.

The fell beast twisted and dived. The Nazgul only keeping hold by the straps holding it to the saddle, Luin using the air around him to steady his feet. The blade blade of the Nazgul slipped at him and he ducked, both blades coming up with him. The nagul tried to defend itself but one sword blocked it's blow and the second sword thrust through the hole where it's head would be. Luin smiled in triumph and whispered. There was a burst of bright blue light and the Nazgul screamed as it dissipated, never to return. The saddle straps fell limp as the form vanished. Luin straightened, standing tall on the beasts back to survey the battle, then he drove both his swords into the gap between the beast's shoulder blades. It let out a death shriek and fell.

Luin leapt from the dead creature's back and into the open air, the breeze catching him and the swords in his hands pulling him up. The dead creature crashing into the orc army below as he spun like a leaf on the wind. He couldn't help but grin slightly at the weightless feeling. It had been so long since he had let the element of air embrace him like this. Their journey had been very grounded, surrounded by forests and trees. No flat lands like this.

He spun, twisting his body to avoid the claws of a second fell beast, the creatures having turned their attention from the soldiers of Minas Tirith to the man in the sky. They were soaring and circling like bats after an insect. Luin let his swords flip him head over heels and onto it's back. This Nazgul had been waiting for him. It swung it's sword and Luin was almost knocked right back off into the sky. Around them, he could feel the darkness of a thunderstorm closing in and with it the ability to see dropped.

He dodged another blow, the rapidly dropping gloom making the qi on his swords glow like stars. A swipe of the cleaver of a blade and he deflected it with his swords. The power making his arms tremble under the blow. The Nazgul snarled and the fell beast screeched an ear splitting noise as it dropped into a plunge. Luin gasped as his feet slipped and he landed harshly on his back on the scales. The black figure raised it's sword up high, ready to plunge it down. Luin moved first, as the sword fell, he let himself slip closer to the shadow and drove his sword up under it's arm and into it's chest. The sword stabbing into the back of the fell beast instead of Luin. Both Nazgul and creature howled as they died. A flash of blue and the shadow vanished and the creature dropped.

Luin was panting, trying to catch his breath as the air caught him again. For a second he spun, catching glimpses of fire in the city and the glow of afternoon sun in the distance. A horn blew and he pulled himself out of the spin to see the line of horses approaching. Rohan had arrived. He grinned and flicked his gaze to the next beast, then he felt it. A tug of energy, a burst. Pippin had ripped the talisman.

He let go of one of his swords and it caught his feet. The air cradling him dropped away and he fell in a controlled dive back down to the city below, following the talisman. It led through the doors of the citadel and into the tomb of Gondor's kings. Pippin was waiting for him at the entrance. The Hobbit reaching out to grip his tunic as soon as he was close enough. "Luin! Denethor has gone mad! He plans to bur Faramir alive".

Luin stepped off his sword and the blade hovered in that air at his side as if waiting for instruction. He pressed a hand to the closed doors. The thick wood heavy and cold. A concentrated blast of Spiritual energy made them burst open with a loud crash. Denethor looked up. The man was standing on a pyre of wood, Faramir's body beneath him and a empty jug of oil in his arms.

"You have gone mad!" Luin shouted as he stormed in, Pippin on his heels. Denethor sneered and snatched up a torch from one of the guards. Pippi gasped as he dropped it on to the oil slick wood, the pyre catching alight in a second. Luin sped up into a run, anger and frustration feeling his movements as he launched himself onto the pyre. A round kick to the chest threw Denethor back and onto the floor. The man hitting with a heavy crack as Luin reached down and hefted Faramir's limp body up. He swung the man's arm over his shoulder and reached out his spare hand. Fire seemed to be sucked into his skin. The flames turning slightly blue as he wrapped them in his qi.

"Luin!" Pippin reached out and helped him lift Faramir down and lay him gently to the floor. The hobbit patting out any small fires that had caught on the man's clothes.

"No! You shall not take my son from me!" Denethor threw himself at them with a fury of robes. His hand grabbed at Pippin and the hobbit cried out in alarm. Luin caught the man by the neck of his cloak and threw him back onto the still burning pyre. Denethor landed heavily and looked up, his gaze catching on the slightly opened eyes of his son. "Faramir?" He gasped. Then the oil on his robes caught. He screamed and launched himself at them again. Luin raised a hand blue flames erupted. Denethor shrieked and fled through the doors. His steadily burning figure disappearing.

"And so passes Denethor", Luin sighed, dark eyes cold. "May his line be better".

unedited

Luin being badass here. 'this is Gondor' *kicks Denethor from the pyre.
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