Starting Anew

Brought Back Into the Light

OoOoO

"Legolas, what are you doing?!"

Andris shouted at the elf, who stood unmoving at the edge of the gaping pit beside which they had just run. With orcs on their heels they could not afford to linger even a moment; the rangers needed to either find the other half of their party or a more advantageous space in which to fight. All of them had crossed the walkway beside the chasm to the opening of the passage on the other side, except for Legolas. He paused in the darkness, his piercing blue eyes staring deep into the shadows as though fixed on something only he could see.

"Legolas!"

The first of the new wave of orcs came roiling out of the tunnel behind them, brandishing their crude knives and axes with an air of desperation. The creatures knew they were on their last legs in this place, but would fight to the death now that they had been attacked in their own lair.

As if waking from a dream, Legolas only just then seemed to remember himself and where he was. With almost surprising slowness from the elf with near unnatural dexterity, he reached for his knives with numbed fingers. The orcs were in no such way slowed though, and they bore down on the lone elf with weapons raised.

Beringil was faster though. With speed that disproved his older age, the captain met steel with steel. Barreling down the ledge and past the stricken elf, he had practically tackled the nearest orc. Even with blood streaming down his back from the arrow wound in his shoulder, Andris wasn't far behind, and Kaylen and the rest of the rangers joined in the fight less than a pace after.

The ringing of blades and the cries of both humans and orcs alike brought Legolas back to himself. Truly, he had not known if he actually expected to find his mother inside this mountain stronghold. It was as though the light illuminating the far passageway had called him to this spot as surely as it had called the elf queen. He was here and now though, and his friends needed him. Drawing his twin knives from their sheaths with a hissing ring, he threw himself into the melee with abandon.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel!"

A shout in elvish came ringing down the passageway from where the pale sunlight shone. The fair cry was mirrored a moment later, or perhaps did it echo along the stones? Burying his knife up to the hilt in the chest of an orc, Legolas turned to gaze in near disbelief. Shadows fell across the light in the tunnel...and a second later the twin sons of Elrond leapt out onto the causeway with their naked swords gleaming. At their backs came Asvard, Issiril and the rest of the rangers whom they had sent into Mount Gundabad.

Their numbers now doubled, the Dunedain rallied against the remnants of the orcs who until now had lurked in the shadows of the mountain. The creatures numbered perhaps more than fifty and less than seventy; firm odds for twenty five rangers...but perhaps less firm with three elves considered. Blood was shed by both forces, but in the end when the clamor of battle at last died away the causeway was littered with orc corpses.

The price of victory had to be paid by someone though. In the dim torchlight, they picked their way through the bodies and found four of their own lying among the slain. Beringil they found last, still alive but not for long.

Kneeling at the captain's side, Legolas bowed his head. "I...I have much to thank you for, Beringil." He said softly, gazing without flinching at the ugly bleeding wound on the man's head. It was a mortal blow for certain; the blood leaking out of Beringil's ears left no doubt of that.

He was still conscious though. With something that might have been an attempt at a smile, Beringil grimaced up at them.

"W...Why? Just did...what any good servant...of Isildur's line should..."