Queen of the Swords & Lord of the Rings (a LOTR fanfic)

Part 2 - To Feel - Chapter 1 - A long run

Queen of Swords & Lord of the Rings

To Feel - Chapter 1  

Third Person’s POV

Four very different beings ran across the plains. All were tired, hungry and dehydrated, but a furious fire flamed in their souls, giving them their determination and strength. Ahead of them ran an Elf, his long legs making it easy to travel quickly and swiftly. He hardly broke a sweat, and although his self wanted to sprint up ahead, his honor and loyalty made him stay with those he called his friends.

Not far behind him, actually quite close, ran an Elleth, yet she wasn’t a full Elf. She was an Earth Warrior, the last of her kin. She was breed from both witches and elves. She had no trouble in keeping up with the Elf’s fast strides, and she ran with her head down. An inner battle was in her head, and fought to remember what was sane. She had lost so many friends and family, it was surreal. It seemed to her that everyone she had the pleasure of meeting, died. Another reason why she had hid all those years. Death was everywhere she went and she couldn’t seem to fight it. Her memories were overridden with death and everywhere she looked, she saw someone die. No one would understand her pain, it was a miracle she has been fighting it this long. In her head, she wondered when the rest of her comrades will fall, and if she will break after seeing them die for real in front of her eyes. She hoped it would never come to that, to see them all dead. Her nightmares were just dreams, but don’t people say that dreams always come true. She truly wished that wasn’t the case.

A few metres behind her ran a man. He ran quickly, but not quite as fast as the two beings in front of him. A frown was on his lips and a glare sparked in his eyes. He tried his best not to think of his friend’s last moments in his arms, but the scene of the light in his eyes leaving replayed over and over in his head, and he hoped his other two friends hadn’t reached the same fate.

Staggering behind his companions jogged a dwarf. Sweat was all over his body from the hard run, and the blistering sun that shone on them didn’t help either. The dwarf blew out deep, rugged breaths and pants as he struggled to keep up. His long, red, braided hair hung down his back and a beard hang in front, under his chin.

None spoke, all of them were still shaken up by yesterdays events. One member of their fellowship had died; struck by three arrows in the chest and back. Two other members continued on their designated quest alone, who knows what the two have to face in the future, and the thought left the remaining members of the Fellowship worried.  Two other members were captured by Urak-Hai, who had attacked them yesterday on the shore. So the remaining four members carried on after the two unfortunate souls, hunting down the Urak-Hai that was at least a day ahead of them.

The man, known as Aragorn, crouched down to lie down on the Earth. His eyes were closed and his ear was pressed up to the ground. All was quiet as he listened for the sound of Uruk-Hai footsteps. He listened intently has he heard a low pounding.

"Their pace has quickened." He looked up to the Elf. "They must have caught our scent. Hurry!" He sprang up from the ground as he finished his sentence and started running again. The others ran after him, determined to reach their friends soon.

"Come on, Gimli!'' Legolas, the Elf, shouted at his dwarf friend encouragingly.