𝐑𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 |𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬|

𝟞 °Birds Song

This song is absolutely fire and I definitely recommend it for all of you LOTR and The Hobbit fans.

A/N: Ima just give ya'll a small gore warning for this one :)
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•Blood. In his mouth. In his lungs. Surrounding him. Suffocating him.

He tried to swim, to breathe, to escape. It was like honey, it made his moves sluggish and every pathetic attempt to improve his situation failed miserably.

He was sinking deeper into the depths of his unconsciousness.

Its claws wrapped tightly around his throat, squeezing his windpipe, and choking him.

The crimson colour beneath his eyelids faded into an inky blackness, and for a second, the world was peacefully quiet.

Until it wasn't.

Alnirŕ woke up with a gasp, his throat was dry and burning. His tongue felt like sandpaper.

His useless lungs spasmed in an incredibly concerning way as he tried to sit upright.

The first thing that came into focus was his sense of smell. As a Vampire, it was perhaps his strongest asset. Smells danced around him, twirling in a graceful waltz. Trying to make sense of the dance around him at the moment, however, was futile.

He tried to focus, truly, but the overpowering need to quench his thirst made it unachievable.

With stiff, sore muscles, he came to his knees.

The second his eyes adjusted, he unceremoniously ducked and rolled backwards.

The Goblin in front of him growled, the club in its hand had a varied collection of sharp objects strapped to its surface and Alnirŕ knew that one, solid hit, from the sturdy piece of wood could smash his skull into oblivion.

The Goblin stumbled slightly to the left with the force of its swing, missing the vampire's head by only centimetres.

Alnirŕ snarled, baring his fangs and crouching low. He easily outpowered the measly creature in front of him, its sickly pale skin, its doughy complexion, and its sharp yellow teeth did nothing to intimidate or deter him.

However, an entire hoard of Goblins was a different story.

One thing that he stood by, was taking your eyes off of an enemy is utterly idiotic and an overall dumb thing to do.

Still, he needed to get a clearer picture of his situation and where he was.

Alnirŕ looked up and carefully examined the myriad of ledges and platforms all connected with flimsy-looking rope bridges. Little figures moved from time to time making the dangerously insubstantial bridges creak and sway, casting shadows against the stone walls.

Fire-lit lanterns and torches were placed quite strategically in the darkest corners leaving everything above alight.

Alnirŕ was stuck in the ravine below, how he got there was unknownst to him. However, a simple deduction would prove fruitful. His side ached something terrible, and without much thought, he knew there was something wrong if the smell of iron and the wet feeling of blood on his ribs was anything to go by.

With slight panic, his hand flew to the side of his head to feel that things weren't as they should be. His skull had an indent at the side and the longer he let his hand wander the more he thought he could feel the sharp edges of his skull and the pieces that lay broken and jagged around it.

He had fallen, down from the platforms above into the ravine. Or more accurately, he had been thrown.

He could feel the phantom pain of hands tugging at his hair and throwing him into the depths below, remembered the feeling of free falling and landing with a crunch as he hit rock bottom, literally.