Legolas had received no reply from the other elves and now stood perfectly still. His gaze traveled north, his eyes narrowed and his body rigid with tension. Elrond walked up to him and noticed the prince's tense posture and focused expression.
"What's happening? Do you sense something?"
The prince looked at Elrond. "I am not sure, but... I will go and check." He walked away, his bow and arrow ready in his hand.
*****
The sound of the arrow hitting a tree was the beginning of the last stand of the brothers. When Esgaron and Maldor attacked the orcs, Tinnueth immediately separated from them. She was an easy target for the orcs that approached her hungrily, flicking their tongues while they eyed her greedily. She was not sure what to do as her hands were bound with the shackles. But she was still holding the orc's blade, determined to defend herself. She would not be able to escape them by running away. She was far too exhausted for that.
An orc jumped at her and gripped the hem of her dress, ripping a large piece off as she jolted backwards, alarmed by the vicious attack. Tinnueth managed to run only a few steps before she stumbled over a protruding root. As she fell to the ground, she rolled over just in time to avoid the orc's sword that missed her by a few inches. Before she could struggle to her feet, the orc swung his massive sword against her again, and this time, the vile creature's blade found its target. The tip of the cold steel met her hand's flesh which held the sword's hilt tightly, cutting off one of her fingers. Tinnueth cried out as the sharp pain sent a shocking jolt straight into her heart's core.
She knew that her only chance was to fight them and flee in case she succeeded in killing them. With her last remnant of strength, she cut down three already injured orcs, their feet already stumbling as they had approached her, and decided to run hoping that their archer was still fighting Esgaron and Maldor. She turned around and fled as fast as she could, trying to take advantage of the descending forest landscape by quickening her pace at slopes. She could not hear the brothers anymore, but she had no time to worry about that. Her dress was stuck onto her wet skin, sweat and blood mingling together as they dripped down her face and back. She took a turn on a large tree and jumped over a small creek before she headed straight up a small hill.
The first light of the new day appeared in the sky and she believed that the end of the forest was near. Perhaps someone would be there to help her, she hoped. Tinnueth reached the hilltop and ran down its slope, only to realize that her hopes had been in vain. The forest seemed to stretch on forever. All of a sudden, a hot sharp pain pierced her calf bone. She cried out in pain and stumbled for a moment before she fell to the ground. The fall had caused the arrow's long shaft to break off so that now only its pointed tip was stuck in her leg. Tinnueth groaned out in pain and got up once again, her knees shaking, her body painfully exhausted. She turned around and faced the orc. She swiftly moved to the side to avoid an arrow that scraped her cheek. Her eyes welled up in tears by the sharp pain, and for a moment her vision turned blurry. Tinnueth blinked a few times and saw the archer descending the hill. She took her stance and blocked two more arrows the orc shot at her. The abominable creature threw away its bow in rage and drew his blade. He attacked her fiercely, making it difficult for her to fend off his heavy blows.
From the corner of her eye she spotted a few more orcs running down the hill towards them. Her heart raced with a combination of dread and fury and she felt her senses whirl frantically out of control. She could afford no trace of cowardice. Struck with frenzy, almost blinded by a raging delirium, she hacked into the archer's flesh again and again until his wretched body fell lifeless onto the ground. It was then when she realized that the other orcs had reached her. The sight of their weary faces, their stumbling feet and the obviously unskillful cradling of the swords in their hands, spread a momentary wave of relief through her. Her bound hands, armed with an intensity and might that she had never before thought she possessed, fought her attackers relentlessly, until all their filthy bodies lay motionless on the soiled ground.
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What goes around, comes around (editing in progress)
العاطفيةThranduil chooses a bride for his son. A love story, featuring Legolas and Thranduil. The king of the elves will face a large surprise, when nothing turns out the way he has planned it.
