Tales From Mirkwood #2

hey Elflings...

guess wut :D

IT IS

TALES FROM MIRKWOOD #2

~~~

Tales From Mirkwood #2

    I pounded on the bars of the steel door, furious and raging. 

    "Scum!" I shouted. "Vermin! Let me out!"

    No one came however, so I kicked the door and sat against the wall.

    I was in an orc dungeon. I wasn't exactly sure how I had gotten there, but I was pretty sure that it had something to do with being kicked off a cliff.

    But anyways, here I was. My weapons had all been taken from me, and all I had left was the dagger hidden in the sole of my boot. I was considering taking it out when I saw an orc walking toward the door. It leered at me through the bars, increasing my anger.

    I leaped up and delivered a furious side-kick to its ugly face, knocking it down. The keys to the cell fell from its belt, unnoticed. The orc screeched and growled, and I retreated to the far side of the cell as it got up.

    

    "There's more where that came from," I hissed threateningly. "I wouldn't come in here if I were you."

    The orc snarled once more and left--without the keys. I grinned as I reached through the bars and retrieved the heavy bronze keys. Some guard.

    But I could still make no move of escape. There were orcs all around, and I had no idea where I was. I only had the small dagger with which to defend myself, so I hid the keys in my inner pocket and waited.

    ~

    Little did I know that help was on the way. I had been expected to meet with my fellow guards for King Thranduil's monthly review. They had missed me, and were instantly worried. I never missed anything. But for some reason I had decided to run to the waterfall on the south side of the palace to get a drink, and had been ambushed by a band of orcs. I slaughtered many of them before I was backed up to the cliff. Just as I raised my sword for another stroke, one of the orcs kicked the back of my knee, and I fell, backwards, over the edge of the cliff. I hacked off its leg before loosing my footing. It was the last thing I did before the world exploded into a thousand dazzling colors and then went black.

    

    ~

    I was pacing my cell. My cell. I should've brought pictures to hang on the walls, for it certainly looked as if I was going to be there for a while.

    Three strides wide, nine strides long. Three wide, nine long. Three, nine, three nine--

    

    I stopped abruptly. Pacing wouldn't help me any, as it would take a long time to wear a hole in the stone floor. Help would surely come long before that.

    ...would it?

~

    "Here! ...and again, here."

    Legolas and five picked scouts were tracking me. They had come to the waterfall, and were reading the telltale signs in the trampled grass. The prince was on one knee, tracing footprints with a finger.

    "And here," he said. "Her foot is smaller and lighter than those of the vermin." He stood and walked a few more steps, to the edge of the waterfall. His face went grim, and he clenched his fists.

~

    I was cold and weary. I wanted out of this cell. Having the keys made no difference. There were always five or more orcs around, and they were heavily armed with their ugly, blocky weapons.

    Weapons. My hands felt oddly empty without my bow and sword. True, when I had them they weren't always in my hands, but just knowing that I didn't have them at all was bothering me.

    I sat in the corner, hugging my knees to my chest for warmth. When would help come? Would it come at all? Ever?

    

    "Legolas will come for me," I whispered fiercely, gripping my knees even harder. "He won't let me die here. He is my friend. He will come!"

    

    But it was hard, with a damp, cold breeze blowing into the cell, to make myself believe that.

~

     Meanwhile, Legolas and his scouts had found and slaughtered all but one of a group of thirteen orcs. The last was being interrogated, with the blade of an Elvish dagger just centimeters from its throat.

     "What have you done with her?" Legolas asked harshly.

     "Done with her? What her?" the orc snarled, with an ugly sneer.
   
     "Playing dumb will avail you nothing," the Elf prince replied cooly. "You know to whom I am referring. The Elf maiden with long brown hair."

     "Oh--that one. We ate her for supper a few days back."

     The Elf standing behind the orc, holding the dagger, raised startled eyes to the prince. He, however, made no sign, only raised an eyebrow and waited. Under his cold stare, the orc shifted uncomfortably, and finally added,

     "She isn't dead. But she will be soon!"

     Again Legolas made no sign, but his mind reeled. She's not dead, she's still alive! He gestured with his hand, and the orc's vision suddenly went black as its life was ended with a quick twist of its captor's wrist.
 
     "Vile worm," Legolas muttered, and they moved on.

~

     I stared up at the stone ceiling. I was so tired, but it was dangerous to let myself rest. My life was in danger as it was; I couldn't risk letting my heart run away over fields and under trees. It was too risky.

     Eriathwen! called a voice in my head.

     Legolas?

     I sat up slowly. Something was messing with my head. Surely--

     Eriathwen?

     Legolas!!

     He was here! He had come for me!

     I stood, fighting a black dizziness. I began to hear the sounds of a confrontation. Shouts and yells echoed through the cavern, and the clash and shing of metal on metal made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I ran to the barred door, gripping it hard, and listening eagerly. Ahhhh, yes. My people were here, I knew it. No other race had weapons that sang with such fierce joy when evil was vanquished.

     Then I heard a familiar voice yelling my name above the other sounds of conflict.

     "Eriathwen!"

     "Legolas!" I shouted back. "Legolas!"

     The sounds of the battle drew nearer. From my position I could see nothing, but adrenaline was rushing through me nonetheless. I jerked the keys out of my pocket and stuck my left hand through the bars, desperately trying to free myself.

     "Legolas!" I cried out again. "I want to fight too!"

     Suddenly something swung into my line of vision and came crashing down on my hand. The key snapped off in the lock, and fire seared through my palm, racing down my fingers and up my arm. I recoiled, instinctively cradling my hand to my chest. I felt blood dripping through my fingers, and looked down to find a long, jagged gash in my palm. The back of my hand was turning blue, and the thought registered (although barely) that I had broken bones. I looked up to find a particularly large orc leering at me, holding a huge club in one hand, and in the other... the keys.

     I saw red, and struck out with my right hand. The orc jumped back--right into the path of the arrow that came zipping down the hall at that very moment. The orc fell in a heap on the floor.

     "Legolas!" I shouted, pain lacing my voice. "Here I am! Let me out!"

     He came running, and I saw with delight that he had my bow, quiver, and sword. He handed these to me through the bars and began to fight with the lock.

     "Eriathwen Saerwen, are you alright?! Everyone has been worried sick!" he exclaimed.

     "I'm alright," I gasped, though my voice shook and my entire arm was on fire.

     He busted the lock, and I was free. I rushed out after him, buckling on my sword-belt and throwing my quiver over my shoulder. We rounded a corner and beheld quite a sight.

     Five Elves in the unmistakable uniform of the Scouts were fighting back-to-back, defending themselves against a swarming horde of orcs. They were greatly outnumbered.

     Legolas spoke as if he knew what I was thinking.

     "How unfair"--he smirked--"for the orcs." Then he grinned at me, and that grin sent the battle fire raging through me. It was ON.

     We plunged into the fray, fighting for all we were worth and then some. Orcs went down with every stroke, and their numbers were fast decreasing.

     But it was when I retreated a bit and began to use my bow that I knew something was wrong with my hand. Since I was right-handed, I had to hold my bow with my left hand and draw with my right. I was completely unprepared for the fresh wave of pain that sliced through my palm like a white-hot knife. The smooth wood of the bow might have been poisoned thorns for all the pain it caused, touching the open gash. And I could barely curl my fingers around the bow for the agony that sent my nerves into shock as they ground against the broken bones of my hand. I almost bit a hole in my lip to stop the scream forming in my throat.

     I whipped out three arrows and let them fly. A small whimper got past my clenched teeth, but I tried to ignore the pain and kept on. However, when I released the sixth arrow I could hold it in no longer. A scream ripped like a lightning bolt out of my throat, and I felt tears running down my face. But I couldn't stop, my people needed me. I must've been quite a laughable sight, simultaneously sniping orcs and crying uncontrollably. At the time though, I wasn't thinking of that.

     Then suddenly it was over. And not a moment too soon. I shot my last arrow, dropped my bow, staggered back, and almost fell against the wall behind me as I gripped my wrist, trying to cut off the pain. Suddenly someone was in front of me, and I gasped in agony as they took my arm.

     "Eriathwen, what have you done?" Legolas breathed, seeing my hand. I was literally hanging from his grip on my wrist, as my legs were failing me and my whole body was going into shock. Never before had I experienced such intense agony.

     "Come out of here so I can take care of that," he told me, putting my arm around his shoulder so he could help me stand. When we got into the open air he tended to my hand, washing it with clear spring water and making me a splint with some bandages and a smooth stick. The other five stayed well away from us--whether to keep from distracting Legolas or to protect their own ears from me, I don't know.

     "I don't know if it'll hold," he murmured anxiously, as he cradled my arm carefully. "But it'll have to do until we get back to the palace and I can get you to the Healers."

~

     When we finally got back to the palace, Legolas and I went straight to the Healers.

     "I hope I did ok on it," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Then he turned to me and gave a little grin. "I'm better at fighting than fixing."

     About half an hour later the two of us emerged from the Healers, me with my arm neatly wrapped and bandaged all the way up to the elbow, and Legolas with a very satisfied look on his face. The Healers had, of course, redone his medical job, but they had found the break perfectly set, and they'd only had to re-wrap it with fresh bandages. My palm also had been treated, with a soothing ointment put on the gash.

     "Are you better now?" Legolas asked me, as we walked back down the halls to the guardrooms.

     I nodded, silent and red eyed. All my... exertions... had quite worn me out.

     "Eriathwen," he said gently, stopping and turning me to face him. "I am extremely proud of you. I knew even before I got to you that you'd been hurt. I could tell from the way you were screaming my name. And to have a broken hand and still fight, not caring about your own pain, but instead about the success of your fellow Elves... that is the mark of a true soldier." He put a hand on my shoulder and raised my face to look at him. "I can't say just how proud I am."

     I went scarlet and looked at my feet. Praise wasn't something that was thrown to everyone as bread is thrown to pigeons. I managed to choke out my thanks. But I still had a concern.

     "How am I supposed to fight like this?" I said tiredly, holding up my arm. "If I can't fight, then I can't get that promotion."

     I was completely unprepared for what happened next. The hand that rested oh my shoulder slid around to the back of my neck and he pulled me into a consoling hug. For a moment I was too surprised to react, then I put my head on his shoulder and shut my eyes. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I was too exhausted.

     I don't remember what happened after that. My legs gave out on me, and I had the odd sensation of floating. Next thing I knew, I was buried in a soft blanket, and someone kissed my head. Just before I fell fully asleep, I thought, I've been wrong. Promotions are not the most important thing in the world. There is something--someone--of a far, far greater value...

     And I slipped beneath the waves of the merciful blackness of sleep.




AND THERE IT IS. UGH. GAH. I CAN'T. I LOVE HER. ERIATHWEN IS SO NAIVE. WE HAVE TO WORK ON HER. WE SHALL WORK ON HER. Whaddaya say, Eflings?

Yeah, we gonna work on her! :D

What do you think Elfings? Is this good, bad, or just plain horrid? :P