Everlong

72

There was a rush of air coming up to meet her as Liruliniel leapt upwards; she almost forgot the rush, the adrenaline of the unknown with battles. The nervous tension which had been travelling quickly through her body, had seemingly disappeared now, all that remained was this solid determination to not fall. Or at least, avoid that outcome where and if she could. The prospect of death hung over everyone, she felt bad for selfishly worrying about herself, when there was so much more at stake. If she did fall, her death wouldn't be in vain, would it? No matter what, everything comes to pass.

With a grimace, she gritted her teeth when she was met with a ricocheting block, the jarring sensation travelled up her arm and had her momentarily rattled. Shaking herself free from this feeling, she narrowed her eyes at the dirty creature before her. The goblin was barely dressed, let alone equipped for war yet here it was, still trying. Snarling and spitting something out, Liruliniel tilted her head and lashed her sword forwards; she didn't know what this thing said to her, she didn't care to know either, at this time it was her current opponent and she was putting it down.

She was very aware to the others who came leaping and bounding over the dwarf wall fighting alongside her. Already she could see bodies of the dead littering the ground, and though her heart was heavy that some had perished so soon, she couldn't dwell on them, on their names, their families, it was too much. War never bought happiness, not really, because what remained afterwards was always a struggle. It was a struggle the last time, the elven army never gathered its numbers back from those that fell alongside Oropher.

The mere thought of her former king had Liruliniel's resolve turning even more stony and serious. He had fallen in a battle much similar, a battle for the sake of peace to settle over the land. Everyone here was fighting for the same thing now, the dwarves in the Mountain were not on anyone's minds, not when so much chaos was surrounding them. And it was chaos, the goblins and some orcs here were fighting, scrambling, ignoring those underneath their feet to get at anyone. It didn't matter if it was an elf, or a dwarf, they were trying their hardest to cut down anyone. Their attacks were methodical if not a little clumsy at times, the orcs were more precise, a lot more weight and muscle was behind their attacks and at times Liruliniel caught herself in a struggle.

An orc before her practically growled in her face before its face went slack, a sword was pierced through its open mouth. Liruliniel flinched at the blood which splattered against her skin yet tugged her sword free from the block it had against her, its dead body slipped off the sword and she turned to see Imrathon standing there with a frown on his face. She looked thankful at him before her eyes widened, reaching out and pushing him aside she slashed and stabbed at the orc which was trying to attack from behind. It saw he was distracted and was going to take the opportunity to cut him down.

Liruliniel was not having any of that, though being blocked and suddenly kicked back had her staggering. She sunk to the muddy floor and became lost to Imrathon then, there were just so many people, so many bodies that it was becoming hard to truly tell who was who, if someone was an enemy or not. The small space between the pair was quickly swallowed up in barrelling dwarves and frantically calling goblins.

Liruliniel was fine. Her armour took the brunt of the kick and she pulled herself out of the mud, the mire sticking to her once shining armour, regardless she gritted her teeth and vaulted forwards. Both swords reflected the sunlight brilliantly, the greying clouds above didn't take away from the shining of her weaponry as she managed to switch. Silmacil was heavy in one hand, though useable and deadly, but if grasped onto its hilt with both hands, Cúferne levelled up quite nicely, the two blades were wielded together, the weight slightly doubled but she was still quick and deadly with her strikes and slashes.

Pausing and tilting her head, she wiped a hand quickly over her forehead, something was trickling from her hairline, looking at the black blood on her knuckles she frowned. She was currently watching as Dáin came riding past, his boar quick and bucking its head every now and again. Whatever was on the other end of its tusks got knocked down, it may not have died but the blow from Dáin's heavy hammer did the job. She couldn't help but wince, what a dreadful way to go. Crushed ribs, broken arms and legs, even a smash to the head, everything about his attacks caused immense pain to occur.