The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 5: Blood and Burning

   Gerithor and Eldahir fired their bows in unison, immediately dropping two orcs to the ground. Gerithor desperately scanned the area for his father, and finally saw him. He was fighting two large orcs, one of them with his back to Gerithor. Gerithor drew his bow back and quickly fired, killing the Orc instantly. He began to fit another arrow to his bow. He suddenly felt a force push him from behind and he fell to the ground, breathless. He turned onto his back to see small Orc standing over him, wielding a crooked scimitar. Gerithor drew his sword and swung with lightning quick reflexes, cutting the orc's legs out from under him. He rolled forward, swinging again and cutting the orc's head off. He stood up and began running toward his father. Eldahir followed, cutting down an Orc that stood in front of them. They soon reached Gerimond, but by then he had already finished off the orcs. 

"An army of orcs is marching to Esteldin, this is just a diversion!!" Gerithor said breathlessly to his father. Gerimond's eyes widened. He thought for a moment. 

"We have to get there as soon as possible, but we cannot break away until these orcs are routed." He turned away and began fighting. Gerithor and Eldahir ran forward and began working together to kill orcs. Gerithor engaged one and kicked it toward Eldahir, who stabbed it and threw it to one side. The Rangers fought well, and eventually the orcs and wargs retreated. The Rangers let out a triumphant cry. "Defend the North!!!!" The survivors gathered around Gerimond. Five Rangers had been killed in the skirmish, and two others bore wounds.
"Esteldin may be under attack as we speak," Gerimond said. "We go south as fast as possible. You who are wounded, make for Annuminas, you will be safe there." His voice was noble and full of authority. Gerithor looked at him with admiration. 

"The rest of you, gather behind me. We go to Esteldin!" 

They all began running south. They traveled for a while, and were running up a hill when Gerithor saw it; smoke was coming from the direction of Esteldin. A knot formed in his chest but he forced himself to keep running. The journey home seemed to Gerithor to take forever, and with each step closer he took, his fear grew. By the time they reached the camp the whole place was ablaze. The Rangers ran recklessly forward, going to their own houses to look for survivors. The flames rose high into the night sky, and the thick smoke made it hard to breathe. Gerithor and his father ran headlong towards their house, hoping beyond hope that their family was still alive. They both gasped at what they saw. 

Gerithor's mother was standing in front of the burning building, engaged in combat with the dark cloaked man Gerithor had seen in the forest after the hunt. The man towered over her, but despite that Elena fought back bravely, and if she felt any fear she wasn't showing it.
Gerimond ran toward them with a cry, only for another dark cloaked man to step in front of him. Gerimond yelled and swung at him. Gerithor started to move to help, but at that moment was knocked from his feet. He looked up in fear. 

The other man from the forest, the barbaric man wearing a bearskin, was towering over him. He raised a jagged-edged axe menacingly, preparing to bring it down on the young ranger. Gerithor rolled to the side as the axe embedded itself into the ground where he had just been seconds before. He rolled into a crouching position and positioned his sword protectively in front of him. The much larger man pulled out a large mace, and swung with full force. Gerithor was barely able to deflect it, and the force of the blow sent the sword flying from his hand. A sharp pain shot through his arm, and he winced as he dropped his arm to his side. With his uninjured hand he pulled out his dagger and quickly lunged forward, stabbing the man in the thigh. The huge man roared in pain, reeling backwards. Gerithor reached for his sword and picked it up. His enemy had already recovered, however, and was quickly advancing on him. He desperately slashed with his sword to stave off the burly warrior. The man easily blocked and began furiously swinging downward again and again with his mace. Gerithor quickly moved back as he attempted to stay clear of the weapon, barely evading several of the fierce strikes. He dropped to his knees and quickly rolled past the huge man, momentarily distracting him. He reached for his dagger as he passed, which was still embedded in the man's thigh. The man moved surprisingly quickly, however, and grabbed it first, pulling it from his own leg and stabbing Gerithor in the forearm with a quick, but weak, thrust. Gerithor stumbled forward, holding his bleeding arm. The wound was not deep but it had cut through a vein. Before he had a chance to recover, the man immediately brought the mace down on Gerithor's head. He collapsed in pain, and his eyesight started going dim.

 Losing focus, he desperately looked over at his mother. He saw the dark cloaked man holding her by the throat, his black-gauntleted hand gripping her tightly as she struggled in his grasp. His eyes glowed like ice illuminated by a full moon, a cruel grin contorting his face in the dancing flames. Suddenly and without warning, the man thrust his sword into her chest, and she cried out in pain. The dark cloaked man laughed and dropped her to the ground almost disinterestedly, like a child discarding an unwanted plaything. Gerithor's heart stopped, and he tried to scream but no noise came out. His vision slowly blackened, and everything began to blur together until he saw no more...