The following chapter contains graphic violence: Read at your own risk.
As the two elves embraced upon the balcony, a set of glowing eyes watched from the shadows. Like two fireflies they flickered as the being they belonged to blinked, adjusting his eyes to the darkness. Though Galadriel's garden was beautiful, it was also full of concealed positions that the one who the eyes belonged to could take advantage of.
"Lurkai, there!" He hissed silently, his voice slightly muffled by a grievous scar that deformed his mouth. "It's the raven-haired elf that killed our men!"
Another set of eyes appeared beside the first, these ones fiery orange and filled with cold hate.
"Ah... And he's unarmed. Gormok, lend me your bow." The aforementioned orc, a short, deformed little creature, handed his weapon to Lurkai with a snort that sounded vaguely like a laugh.
Lurkai fit an arrow to the string and drew back slowly. He bared his sharp teeth slightly as he felt the string against the side of his cheek. The feeling was familiar to him, for he had trained extensively with bows and almost preferred them to swords.
He carefully lined up the shot, aiming directly at the dark-haired elf's back.
"Wait," Maugash said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Shift your aim to the she-elf."
Lurkai joined in the grin, his fiery eyes glowing with anticipation. He wanted to see the elf suffer, for in his eyes elves were a plague upon Middle Earth that must be eradicated. They had hunted his people for too long, driven them to the verge of extinction even once, long ago. He remembered it... Hiding in the mountains, fighting for scraps while the bright-eyed elves roamed about freely outside. It was a time that would not be repeated.
Their pristine, sickeningly perfect cities, their flowing hair and vibrant eyes, their smooth, weak skin... it all made Lurkai want to retch. They did not belong in Middle Earth.
His fingers tensed, the rough horsehair of the bowstring digging into his calloused skin. He breathed in slowly, methodically, his eye running down the length of the arrow to the silver hair of the she-elf.
He narrowed his eyes, his breath catching slightly as he prepared to release...
Suddenly a bright blade flew through the darkness, sending the head of the orc next to him sailing through the air until it bounced off of his shoulder with a sickening crunch. Lurkai wiped an arm across his eyes to clear the blood from his vision, just in time to see an elven warrior swinging his curved blade at him. Lurkai dodged the blade and grabbed the elf's arm, immediately breaking it and throwing the elf to the ground with enough force to crack his ribs. The elf just had time to let out a cry of pain before the massive orc stomped an iron-hobnailed boot down on his head, ending his life. Lurkai let out a primal growl as he looked up. Around him were dozens of elves that had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, fully armed and engaged in battle with Lurkai's orcs. He glanced back toward the balcony, but neither of the two elves that had been there before were anywhere in sight.
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"How???" Taliel asked as Caledorn quickly slammed the door behind them. Both elves were breathless, the sudden panic of the previous moments tiring them. Caledorn's eyes immediately began to rove across the room, searching for the armor that he so desperately needed.
"I do not know. If the orcs have entered the Golden Wood, circumstances are more dire than they first seemed. Some dark magic would have to be at work to allow them passage."
Just then his eyes landed on his armor. It was neatly folded and set upon the bed, likely having just been placed there by the maid. Caledorn rolled his eyes in exasperation as he lifted up the dark leather undershirt that he was accustomed to wearing.
"Why would anyone use lye to clean leather?" He asked with a disapproving snort. He threw off the burgundy shirt and dark trousers he had been wearing, replacing them with the characteristic black armor that he wore everywhere. He smiled slightly as he felt the familiar fabric brush against his skin, and flexed his fingers as he pulled his gloves over his hand. Taliel watched him intently, and for the first time since she had met him, it filled her with worry to see him putting his armor on.
"Be safe, Caledorn," She said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Caledorn turned to her and slowly walked over, placing his hands on her shoulders.
"I shall be," He replied solemnly, running a gloved hand gently over her cheek. His eyes then took on a mischevious glint, and he raised a dark eyebrow. "You should be more concerned for the wellbeing of those orcs. They know not what they've awoken."
She didn't know if he was speaking of himself or someone else, but either way his words assured her. After all, they were in the realm of Galadriel. She would watch over them.
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This wasn't how it was supposed to go. The Sorceress' orders had been clear: gain information but do not engage. Now their entire mission was compromised, and Lurkai had only himself to blame. His lust for blood had been his downfall, and he would surely pay the price for his incompetence.
"Raaaagh, retreat! To the Elkhorn Gate!" He roared, drawing his jagged sword and raising it aloft. He saw Maugash moving away to his left, his staff burning with barely-contained fire. The sorcerer spoke a string of words and the fire leapt from it, engulfing a charging elf in flames.
"There are too many! We won't all make it!" He squealed as he knocked another elf to the ground.
"Go!" Lurkai replied as he cut down an elf that stood in his way. "I'll meet you there!"
He continued his retreat, rounding a corner and eventually losing sight of Maugash completely. Another elven warrior attempted to stop him, but he knocked him to the ground with a powerful kick and bit into his unprotected neck, drawing a gurgling scream from the elf as he thrashed about. Blood spurted from the wound as Lurkai bit deeper, patiently waiting for the elf to cease his struggling. After a moment of vain floundering the elf stopped moving, and Lurkai slowly released his bite. Elves were so sensitive... So weak. He grinned, his primeval bloodlust temporarily sated.
His moment of gloating made him unaware of the enemy that had snuck behind him, however. The ranger swung his blade, severing Lurkai's arm at the elbow. Lurkai howled in pain and slashed wildly in the direction of the attack, his crooked blade making contact with the ranger's thigh. Though the injury had been minor, the ranger took a step backward to recover. Lurkai smirked, for the adrenaline of the moment had temporarily rendered him unfeeling of his own injury.
"A noble effort, ranger," He said, taking a step forward. The ranger's large brown eyes widened in fear, and he unconsciously stepped back. "What is your name, Man? For I will know who it is whose life I am about to end."
"I am Belon, son of Belgost! And as long as I draw breath, you will not leave this sanctuary alive." The man trembled, but he held his sword in front of him as he stood fast against the orc.
"Ah, brave too! But no matter. You will not draw breath for long." With that Lurkai rushed forward, inflicting a flurry of attacks on the ranger. Belon blocked them all, but the wound in his thigh began to bleed profusely. He briefly looked down at it, and when Lurkai followed his gaze he grinned evilly. As he attacked once more, he dropped to one knee and headbutted the wounded area. Belon cried out as he stumbled backward, and Lurkai thrust his sword forward. The blade pierced through the ranger's leather cuirass and into his chest, causing him to fall to the ground in pain. Lurkai leapt on top of him, digging the blade deeper into the ranger's chest. He leaned close to his opponent's face, his orange eyes narrowed. Belon's eyes began to fill with tears as the blade cut deeper, and the color slowly fled from his face. Lurkai licked his lips as he watched the life drain from the man, his heart still racing from the adrenaline.
"Middle Earth... Will never fall," Belon said through his tears. He gritted his teeth and looked the orc in the eyes, the expression on his face one of determination. Suddenly the ranger's hand flew up, and it was then that Lurkai saw the dagger. Belon thrust it into the orc's side with the last of his strength, and Lurkai recoiled in excruciating pain.
"Agggh! Curse you ranger!" He roared in agony as he pulled the dagger from his body and threw it aside. The excitement of the moment was over now, and the pain fully engulfed him. He fought to stay conscious, and he watched as Belon took a final wheezing breath. Lurkai slowly stood up, staggering slightly as he watched the blood drip from his severed arm. He made his way forward, intent only on escaping the forest now. The joy of killing had left him, and he felt only fear as he stumbled ahead blindly.
After several moments he came upon a white painted door. Without thinking he flung it open and hobbled inside. He appeared to be in a corridor of some sort, and it glowed with an eery white light. He shielded his eyes, looking as far ahead as he dared.
Just when he thought he was safe, a tall figure rounded a curve in the corridor. The light made it difficult for Lurkai to make out any features, but he could tell that it was no elf. The way he carried himself, the broad shoulders and the noble air... They practically screamed of a Man.
"Who are you?" Lurkai growled into the long hallway. For a moment there was no response, only the quiet dripping of his inky blood hitting the ivory floor beneath him. Suddenly the figure spoke.
"I am the one who was once the hunted... But now it appears that I am the hunter." The voice was calm and collected, though with it it carried the menace of a wild creature about to strike its prey. The figure who it belonged to took several steps forward, and Lurkai immediately recognized him as the ranger that he had been tracking for so long... Gerithor Lastborn.
The orc's cracked lips twisted upward in a smile. Perhaps his mission wouldn't be a failure after all. If he killed the ranger, his honor could be restored. The Lady of the Dead Tree could certainly look past any grievances if he slew the ranger who had been such a thorn in her side...
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Gerithor stared down the corridor at the orc, his jaw clenched in determination. The creature facing him glanced around furtively, appearing very much like a cornered animal. He was no longer the intimidating, massive orc that had nearly killed Gerithor in Bree. One arm was gone and a deep gash ran along his side. Both wounds bled profusely, staining the pure floors with dark ichor. His voice no longer held the confidence, the dripping malice that it once had. But now it revealed something entirely different: Desperation.
"You will die this night, ranger!" Lurkai hissed and ran forward, his heavy boots clanging against the marble floors and echoing through the corridor. His eyes glowed with hatred and his mouth twisted open, revealing a set of sharp, bloody teeth that had clearly been used to deadly effect only moments before.
Gerithor charged as well, though he was completely silent as he advanced on his foe. His runed sword glowed in the surrounding light as he raised it aloft, and the very sight of it seemed to blind Lurkai. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Gerithor slid and with a powerful kick knocked the orc's legs out from beneath him, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud. Gerithor quickly stood and attacked relentlessly, inflicting numerous minor injuries on Lurkai as he attempted to recover.
The orc was sturdy, however, and despite the amount of blood that he was losing he stood back up and immediately went on the offensive. Even with one arm, the orc's attacks were far stronger than anything Gerithor had withstood before. Sparks flew from his blade as he deflected the attacks, and his arms began to ache with the effort. While Gerithor grew tired, the orc seemed to gain energy from each strike. Chips of steel began to break off of both fighter's blades, and the walls rang with the sound of each powerful clash. Gerithor attempted to go on the offensive, but Lurkai was too relentless. A sudden strike on Gerithor's crossguard sent the blade flying from his hands, and Gerithor dropped to one knee as he dodged a slash that had been meant for his neck.
He scrambled toward his sword, barely avoiding each attack that the massive orc directed at him. One slice cut the corner of his cloak off, and it narrowly missed his leg as he dove forward. He reached toward his sword, his fingers stretching as they brushed against the hilt. Just a little further...
His hands were shaking, however, and as he reached his fingers slipped, pushing the sword further away. He spun around to face Lurkai, his eyes widening as he saw the orc standing over him with his blade risen high.
"You have eluded me for too long, Ranger... Go now, and see the face of Námo!"
The blade began to descend, but suddenly a long, thin blade pierced Lurkai's chest from behind. He howled as he grasped at it, vainly attempting to remove it. The blade protruded further, and the orc fell to his knees as his eyes began to cloud over. The sword that had pierced him withdrew, and a swing from its owner separated his head from his neck with a swift slash. His body fell to the ground with a loud crash, revealing Gilian standing behind him. She was breathing heavily, and it was clear that she had been running for some time before she arrived. She spared no time reveling in her victory, instead running to Gerithor's side and checking him over for wounds.
"Are you injured?" She asked, worry etched on her face. She pulled a sweaty strand of auburn hair away from her eyes as she watched him intently.
"No," Gerithor replied, sitting up slowly and smiling gratefully. "But if not for you I would have been."
Gilian sighed in relief, offering him a hand up. "I heard fighting and ran as quickly as I could. The rest of the orcs fled after a short skirmish with Haldir and his warriors."
Gerithor took her hand and hoisted himself up, brushing off his cloak. "What I want to know is how they slipped past the defenses in the first place."
"The Lady of the Wood will know, I'm sure," Gilian replied. She didn't release Gerithor's hand until she had assured herself that he was uninjured. He seemed slightly shocked, but aside from that he was as well as could be, considering he had nearly died.
"Thank you, Gilian," Gerithor said, his expression showing his gratitude. "You seem to keep showing up at the right times." He gave her a wry wink and grinned, to which she responded with a light laugh.
"Well, you can't do everything yourself Gerithor," She replied, growing serious after a moment. "We're all here to help you, don't hesitate to ask."
"I assure you m'lady, if I had been able to ask for help in this particular situation I would've," he replied with a smile. His eyes traveled down to the body of Lurkai, and he gave it a slight kick. "He was a monster of a fighter, I wouldn't have survived on my own."
"Neither would I," Gilian said, shuddering as she gazed upon the dead orc. "It's good that we were both here."
"Aye," Gerithor nodded. "Perhaps you should stay close, you seem to be quite masterful at delivering me from bad situations. I hereby name you a captain of the Dunedain."
Gilian took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise. "What? But... But I'm not even one of you. I'm just a halfblood."
Gerithor rested a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes. "No, you're not just a halfblood. You're just as much of a Dunedan as I am. Don't ever think differently."
Gilian blushed slightly and turned away. "Thank you, m'lord. I shall not disappoint you."
"I know you won't," He replied with a smile. He could see that she was embarrassed by the new attention, and unused to being shown favor of any sort, so his voice grew more commanding as he attempted to spare her of any awkwardness that the situation had created. "Now, as a captain you have new duties. Check on the men, make sure all of them are accounted for. Report back to me when that is done."
"Yes, m'lord," Gilian replied, turning back to him and saluting. "Thank you, m'lord."
"That's Gerithor to you, Captain Gilian," he replied with a wry smirk. "Dismissed."
As she disappeared around the corner, Gerithor's expression grew grim as he thought about the attack. How had the orcs entered the realm of Galadriel? It was protected by her magic, they shouldn't have been able to even cross the Nimrodel, let alone enter Caras Galadhon. Their enemy was strong... And the day was nearing when they would attack in full force. Gerithor could feel it.
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Hey everyone! We're starting to get into the gritty action now! Full speed ahead! Note that even though this chapter wasn't SUPER violent, I added a warning to the beginning. I decided that I'll be adding violence warnings at the beginning of any chapter that I feel like I wouldn't want young children to read, as I don't know the ages of all my readers.
I've also decided that every chapter from here onward will have a song attached, to sort of give an overall feel to the chapter. I will also likely go back and add songs to the previous chapters, though we'll see ;)
How are you all doing?