Title: The Last Journey
Author: Del Rion (delrion.mail (at) gmail.com)
Fandom: The Lord of the Rings
Era: Fourth Age of the Sun
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure
Rating: M / FRM
Main characters: Aragorn, Celeborn, Elladan, Elrohir, Elrond, Éomer, Erestor, Faramir, Gandalf, Gimli, Glorfindel, Haldir, Legolas, Meriadoc, Nazgûl, Pippin, Thranduil (, OCs).
Pairings: Legolas/OMC (brief Aragorn/Arwen, Éowyn/Faramir)
Summary: After many peaceful years that have followed the war against Sauron, everything changes. Evil returns, striking without warning, and it is stronger than ever before. It is time for the final fight, but who shall achieve victory?
Work in Process.
Warnings: Characters’ death (major, OC), violence, torture, slash, mild sexual content (het and slash), plenty of evil, etc.
“)…(” = Sindarin
Pain. All consuming, searing pain. That was all he felt as he was dragged and pushed forward. He could no longer feel his feet, but somehow they managed to propel him forward. He stumbled again, and was pulled roughly up. And then he limped forward again. This had become some kind of twisted routine by now. At last they stopped, and he sank to the ground with relieved sigh, lying there for a long moment.
Opening his eyes, Thalión looked around himself. He lay somewhere, in a brown grass, near a high cliff that offered some shelter to his captors from the rays of the sun. Beside him lay another Elf, silent and unmoving, back turned to Thalión’s direction.
Agonisingly slow, memories started to return to Thalión. He had led the Balrog away from Legolas and Gimli, trying to offer the Dwarf a chance to save the Prince. As he had ran away from the couple, he had known that he wouldn’t survive alive.
But he had.
After a while of running, he had hidden under a small ledge of broken stone where the Balrog couldn’t reach. Apparently, the demon had tried to reach its prey none the less. Soon the entire ledge had collapsed on the top of Thalión, trapping him under heavy layer of stone. Hours after, Orcs had dug him out, Gods know why.
And now he was here. A prisoner. No idea of where he was, and with whom. He knew that there were other captives as well, but in his hazy world of pain he hadn’t yet found out who those others were. He couldn’t even tell how many days had passed after his rescue from the rocky prison.
Shifting, Thalión tried to make some blood to flow to his tied hands, grimacing in pain. For a while he wondered if the smell of burned skin came from him: the flames of Balrog had burned him quite bad in their heated chase. Trying to push the pain back and clear his mind, Thalión inched a little closer the other Elf. The Orcs seemed to be fully intent to an attempt to hide the sun, and so Thalión dared to move even closer to the other. “)Are you…(” the sentence stopped in the middle, as Thalión suddenly recognised the other Elf. Even if he still saw only the other’s backside, he knew him. “Legolas,” he gasped. He nudged the other with his head. “)Are you awake?(” No answer.
Thalión groaned in frustration and pain, and looked around, trying to find out if Gimli had been captured too. But if the Dwarf was also a prisoner, he couldn’t see him. He now gazed at the other prisoners with more interest, recognising many of them. Well, at least those whom I know best have avoided to be captured. Or at least they are not with this group. Now my only mission will be getting Legolas away from here as soon as possible, but I truly wonder how I shall do that, taking in consideration my own state. The others do not look much better, either.
Thalión looked at Legolas again, searching for wounds or something akin to them. In an instant, his eyes fell to the other’s back, and he wondered how he had been able to miss those damages before: the long, narrow welts running down Legolas’ back from his shoulders to the small of his back looked hideous. Thalión quickly decided that he probably didn’t wish to know how his friend had received those wounds. Swallowing deep, Thalión rested his head gently to the other’s shoulder, listening Legolas’ shallow, irregular breathing. Fury rose inside Thalión steadily, and he took strength from it. “Legolas,” he whispered again, desperate to know the other was well enough to answer him.
As a reply to the other’s call, Legolas groaned and shifted, his own bound hands rubbing against his wounded back, making his gasp and wake. He looked around dazed, not sure where he was. After a moment, Legolas noticed there was someone close to him, and he turned his head slightly, meeting Thalión’s powder blue eyes. Letting out a small sigh of relief, Legolas tried to free his hands, only then noticing that they were bound. He struggled for a moment to free himself, but with no avail. His hands remained bound, and the only thing he was successful in was enflaming his back once more. Letting out a whimper of pain, Legolas settled down, exhausted, breathing hard. He could feel Thalión’s smile against his neck.
“I think we are going to stay like this for a while,” Thalión said quietly, not wishing the Orcs to hear. Legolas nodded slightly, defeated.
“Where are we? How long has it been since…”
“I wish I knew, Greenleaf. I am quite dazed myself.”
“Maybe the others know,” Legolas wished, looking at the other Elves. He didn’t put too much hope into that wish, though, seeing the others’ condition. “We have to escape. We cannot keep going like this…”
Thalión nodded. “How long have you been aware of our.. surroundings. I must confess that I have been quite oblivious of our travel this far.”
“I think I woke for the first time few days ago. Further than that, I do not know,” Legolas answered, twisting to look at Thalión worriedly. “How are you? You didn’t look very good, as far as I could tell.”
Thalión grimaced. “To be honest, I do not feel very good. But I shall be all right. I already feel better…”
Legolas nodded, even if he didn’t look convinced.
Thalión smiled at Legolas gently, seeing clearly the pain in the other’s eyes. “Worry not, Little Bird. We shall get away from these foul creatures, and back home.” Legolas’ only response was to lay his head back to the ground. Thalión sighed. The only thing we can do now is to wait an opportunity to escape. And if that opportunity doesn’t present itself soon, I don’t know what will happen. But right now none of us seems to be in a condition to attack Orcs and ensure an escape to all of us. Beside him, Legolas shuddered, and Thalión shifted himself a little closer to the Prince, trying to avoid contact with the other’s hurt back. I wonder what happened to Gimli, and all the others. It doesn’t make sense that Gimli would have left Legolas alone in this condition. It can only mean that Gimli was restrained from following his friend or… He didn’t finish the thought, as he again remembered beside whom he laid. Maybe Legolas knows what happened to the Dwarf. But I will not ask him right away. He needs rest now, above all else, before we are forced to move on again. But on the other hand, I need answers. And after all, this is a time as good as any other to ask what happened to the Dwarf… “Legolas..?”
A slight movement of shoulder before Thalión was only answer he got, but it indicated that Legolas was listening.
“What happened to Gimli? When I last saw him, he was with you.”
Legolas went strangely still, the younger Elf’s breath caught in his throat, and Thalión decided that something evil had befallen to the Elf-friend. “He… he didn’t get up again. I tried to help him… but he never got up… I couldn’t reach him…” Legolas said at length with a small, broken voice, and Thalión didn’t have to see the other’s face to know that there were tears. With a compliant movement, Thalión shifted closer to the younger Elf, offering him silent support.
As the day wore on, all was silent save the rough voices of the Orcs and occasional groan or whimper from the wounded Elves. Thalión, wandering between the dreamless sleep and the waking world, let his thoughts slowly draw themselves together, trying to solve out what had happened in that chaos that was called a battle. I can only hope that Legolas’ brothers’ watchers were able to keep their proteges safe. And Asthaldo… hopefully he got out. But this is only a beginning of the problem. What of East Lórien? Was it also attacked? And Dale, Esgaroth, Erebor… what has happened there? Were they also attacked, or left alone? And who organised this assault? Someone able to find a Balrog, it seems. Well, for now, I am getting no answers, so I think I must be content with what I have, and start planning our escape. The night will fall in few hours, and there is no hope that the Orcs would stay here through the night… Deep in thought, Thalión laid on his place, eyes distant, pain forgotten. Whenever he despaired in attempt of forming a plan, he only had to look before him and see Legolas, and his thoughts turned adamant in an instant.
They had to escape.
Legolas regained consciousness as he felt a strong kick land to his ribs, the impact making his wince. He slowly opened his eyes, trying to get his senses in some kind of order. All the voices around him mixed into one, loud mess, but slowly he could separate some familiarities in them: Orcs’ harsh speaking, and Thalión somewhat desperate curses. Another kick – now directed to his back – send a new wave of agony through him, making his nearly ordered senses spin again. Yet somehow he managed not to cry out. Maybe it was because the pain was so overwhelming that he couldn’t have even thought of something like making a sound. Someone yanked him from the ground, sharp claws digging into his skin, and for a moment Legolas wondered if his tormentors were going to rip his head from its place. His vision swam, and he just and just could make out the face of an Orc before him, grinning at him evilly.
“You better get up soon, you smelly tree-rat, or you will be dragged behind us for the rest of the way – of that pretty hair of yours,” the dark creature snarled, digging his claws to Legolas’ chin, forcing the Elf’s head towards his.
“He won’t get up any sooner if you treat him like that. Give him time,” Thalión hissed from between his teeth, struggling against the Orcs that were holding him in place.
“Shut up, or I’ll cut your sharp tongue out of your mouth!” one of the Orcs shouted, fingering its knife eagerly.
Thalión cursed under his breath, his eyes glued on Legolas, as if trying to force him to stand up with his eyes. But it seemed that Legolas’ body has other thoughts. The giant Orc holding Legolas from the back of his neck shook his victim forcefully, cursing the Elf with Black Speech.
Legolas, on his side, was much out of everything that happened around him. The grip in his neck – not letting out the violent shaking – made his spine arch, tearing the welts in his back open again, blacking out everything else but pain. Feeling the pain starting to get better of him, Legolas tried to struggle free. When the Orc noticed this, he raised Legolas even more off from the ground, finally bringing a cry of pain to the Elf’s lips.
Seeing this, Thalión finally snapped. Rushing forward, he aimed one, precise kick towards the Orc holding Legolas, feeling bone break beneath the impact. The Orc howled, dropping Legolas back to the ground. But before Thalión even could think his next movement, a sharp, clawed hand struck him across the face, sending him to ground, dazed.
“No more things like that,” growled the Orc standing before Legolas menacingly. “Now get them to their feet, we have to move on.” He looked at Legolas, disgusted. “If that one can’t walk, kill it.” This raised a new wave of cheering among the Orcs, which most likely hoped that Legolas wouldn’t rise.
While Thalión was pulled back to his feet, he whispered frantically to Legolas: “)Get up, Legolas! They will kill you if you won’t.(” As this didn’t work, Thalión changed his tactic. “)If you don’t get up, I shall tell Gimli about this!(” Maybe in his dazed condition he won’t even remember that the Dwarf is gone, Thalión hoped. This, finally, coaxed a reaction in Legolas. He opened his eyes, and slowly struggled to his knees, swaying for a moment, and then rose to his feet, looking awfully pale to Thalión. Again Thalión wondered what had happened to Gimli.
Slightly disappointed that their sport has ended so soon, the Orcs herded their Elven prisoners forward without mercy. Hours went by. Night wore on. Mile after another passed.
Thalión, on the other hand, didn’t seem to make progress with his thoughts, or in a forming of a plan. Once in a while, he always turned to look at Legolas, and as the time passed, the Prince started to look a little better. Though even if improved, Legolas still didn’t look even nearly as good as usual. But in their current situation, this had to do.
At least he is staying on his own feet now. I don’t know what the Orcs would do to him if he wouldn’t. But this cannot continue! I have to find a way to get us all free. Despaired by his thoughts that didn’t lead anywhere, Thalión focused on walking again.
Suddenly there were voices behind them, and both Legolas and Thalión turned around to witness the event that was causing the disorder. About ten yards away from them, one of the Elven prisoners was keeling on the ground, blood from his old wounds staining his clothes. The Orcs weren’t happy at all of this delay, and they tried to get the Elf back to his feet, but without success. The prisoner couldn’t rise to his feet anymore. With horror, the other Elves were forced to watch as the leader of the Orcs howled, and the others surrounding the fallen Elf attacked their defenceless prisoner. Within seconds, the Elf was dead, but the Orcs didn’t care, bloodlust fogging their minds, and they literally ripped the Elf apart.
As the Orcs drew back, Thalión swallowed. This could have happened to Legolas… Valar to help us. He quickly glanced at the Prince, seeing the other’s ashy pale face easily in the dark. Legolas’ eyes shone in the light of the moon, terror and hatred mingling together with weariness and pain.
Satisfied, the leader of the Orcs commanded his men forward again. The shocked Elves stumbled on, their hearts heavy with sorrow. Miles passed, Orcs driving their captives forward with brutal pace, but no one dared to blame or beg for a small halt.
After some time – Thalión couldn’t tell when – they reached a river. The Orcs stopped, and for the first time during the night, the Elves were able to rest and draw their breath. The Orcs searched for something, sending scouts up- and downstream, but the Elves were too tired to care. After a short while, one of the scouts returned, and the group moved to the direction the scout pointed. There, after a half of a mile lay rafts hidden into bushes.
Soon the makeshift boats were pushed into water and the passengers loaded in. As the Orcs paddled across the river, Legolas thought that if he would make the raft sink, he would probably kill many of his enemies. But also many of his kinsmen. With this in mind, he laid still, listening the sound of the water. A gentle, cool wind blew, caressing his burning back. Closing his eyes, Legolas drifted deeper to his thoughts, when suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide. One of the Orcs pushed him down with a curse, and gingerly Legolas obeyed.
Thalión, who lay near his Prince looked at him questioningly. ‘Nimrodel’, Legolas mouthed to him, and it took a moment from Thalión to understand. The river they were crossing was Nimrodel. How Legolas knew this, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sing of the trees, carried by the wind… But right now the information about ‘how’ wasn’t important. Finally, they knew where they were. They must have crossed Anduin days ago, when most of the Elves were still unaware of their surroundings. Maybe some of the others knew where they were, but there hadn’t been much speech between the prisoners. Also why the Orcs had taken prisoners in the first place was a mystery to Thalión, but he didn’t bother to mull over it now. After all, the knowledge of why they were still alive probably wouldn’t help him much.
When the company reached the opposite shore they started their march again. Soon Thalión noticed a change in the behaviour of the Orcs: they acted more nervously, cursing under their breath and glancing around constantly. It took a moment for Thalión to understand why his enemies were acting like that. And then he realised that the dawn was near. The Orcs most likely had noticed that as well.
Swiftly, a plan started to form in Thalión’s head. And when a fresh south-wind brought a smell of a forest to his nostrils, his plan was ready.
Legolas walked ahead, only his iron will keeping him on his feet. He tried to draw his thoughts away from his current state, but that turned out to be a rather difficult task. The pain running through his body kept him quite successfully aware of his current position. Tears burned behind his eyes, but he forced them to stay like they were. But he wasn’t sure of how long he could keep going like this. His body ached for rest, his wound getting more painful with each passing moment.
At moments like this – not that he was in condition like this often – Legolas cursed the Elven endurance. If he would have been a Man, the pain would have already made him numb, but being an Elf meant that he was forced to be constantly aware of his discomfort.
Again, he stumbled. Again, he rose up, swearing beneath his breath as the impact with the ground sent a new wave of pain flaring up his wounded leg.
“Legolas,” a soft whisper came from near Legolas, who was struggling to stay upright. “)Legolas, it is time.(”
Slowly, Legolas turned his head a little towards Thalión, trying to hide their silent discussion as well as possible. But hiding wasn’t necessary: the Orcs weren’t listening anyway. Soothed by this, Legolas turned to face Thalión. “)Time?(”
Thalión nodded, his eyes shining. “)I have spoken with others, or sent them a message. Many are in too bad condition to seriously think about escaping, but we all have agreed in one thing: you must escape.(”
Legolas blinked, then started to shake his head, but Thalión’s expression told him that he had very little to say in the matter. “)What of those who could escape?(“
“)They shall try to follow you.(”
“)Which means they will make sure I am not followed, which will most likely be the last thing they shall ever do,(“ Legolas stated somewhat sharply, anger in his voice.
Thalión nodded. “)They would die for you, yes.(”
“)What about you?(”
“)I shall be right behind you.(” As long as I can, Thalión added in his mind. “)Fangorn is near. Try to make it there.(”
Legolas nodded. Thalión gave him one last encouraging smile and then departed a little further. In the silver haired Elf’s posture Legolas could see that the other prepared for fight. Legolas also readied himself, now wishing that he had asked what Thalión had in mind. Now he was forced to wait and see.
Not much later, Thalión made his move. Swifter than the Orcs could react, Thalión threw himself towards the nearest enemy, sending them both rolling to the ground. Before anyone else could do anything, Thalión had rolled back to his feet, his bound hands free and his enemy’s blade in his hand. Within seconds, the Elves had taken advantage of their enemies’ confusion and broke free. Harsh cries filled the air as the Orcs collected themselves, trying to fight back their prisoners.
Before Legolas had time to do much, Thalión was on his side again, cutting his hands free. “Run,” he gasped, pushing Legolas to the direction of the forest, which could be seen in the horizon. Stumbling, Legolas dashed forward, knowing that protesting now wouldn’t lead anywhere. Behind him he heard Thalión’s steps as the older Elf followed.
This time Legolas was glad that he possessed Elven endurance, for without it he wouldn’t have been able to sprint ahead. He pushed back the pain. Hearing the sounds of battle behind, with his mind screaming to stay and fight with the others, Legolas ran forward.
It felt like hours. They ran ahead, Thalión never falling far behind Legolas, keeping a careful eye on the Prince. Yet now and again he slowed down, gazing at the battle behind them. The Elves were dying, possibly all already dead. Soon the Orcs would begin to hunt their prisoners down. Picking up his pace again, Thalión urged Legolas softly. He had no intentions to be captured again.
And then there were sounds from their right. Quickly, Thalión looked in the direction of this new possible threat, and cursed under his breath. More Orcs. Just my luck. They are still quite far away, but they have Wargs… “)Legolas, hurry!(”
As a reply, Legolas stumbled slightly, but swiftly regained his balance again, glancing nervously into direction of the new group of enemies.
“)Don’t think about them. Keep running!(” Thalión shouted somewhat desperately, his own pace slackening. May the Valar look after you now that I cannot. With that thought, Thalión slowed down even more, watching the approaching enemy intently: they had sent the Warg-riders forth, and were making their way swiftly across the plains. Standing on the path of the approaching enemy, Thalión waited, his weapon in hand. In his mind, he prayed for Mandos to take him, and the Valar to protect his Prince and his cousins. How strange it is, that creatures born not to die accept death so easily. But it is easy to accept something you do not fear, and the Elves do not fear death.
Thalión, standing unmoving, could already hear the enemy approach. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath, forcing his body to forget its discomfort, pushing back the pain. Right now he needed all his speed and skill, not hindrance. Opening his eyes, and with one last glance towards Legolas, he turned his attention back to his enemies, which crashed into him only seconds later.
Swinging the Orcish blade in quick strokes while avoiding the jaws of the Wargs, Thalión took down two Warg-riders. The third beast crushed to his chest, forcing him to fall to the ground. Thalión slashed out, trying to dislocate his opponent, and hit something, most likely the Warg’s side, because there came a deep howl from above him. The Orc sitting in the back of the Warg also tried to stab his enemy, but the movements of the Warg made it difficult, and with one hard thrust, Thalión ran his weapon through the Orc, then turning to face the Warg properly. But it was too late. The Warg sank its teeth to the Elf’s shoulder, practically throwing the Elf out of its way. But instead of attacking its now helpless pray, the Warg raised its giant head, barked, and rushed after its mates that had already passed by.
Lying on the ground, abandoned, Thalión closed his eyes, letting the world slip away. He had done his task. The rest was up to Legolas…
He could already hear them, even over his own, raspy and swallow breathing. Legolas didn’t dare to look back. Actually, he didn’t have to. When you have spent most of your life as a warrior, you know well without looking when you are hunted by Wargs. Thalión was no longer with him, either. Legolas wasn’t sure when the other one had left him, but it didn’t matter. Right now, he was alone. Unarmed and hurt.
Don’t think it! Just run. Ignore all else. The forest is just before you. One more mile. They cannot reach you before it, and in the forest you shall be safe, Legolas thought frantically. He sped up again, trying hard not to trip over. If he would stumble, he would lose precious time, and then he would not reach the shelter of the forest before his enemies.
With iron concentration, Legolas managed to reach the edge of the forest. He did not slow down as he rushed into the shadows of the forest. The branches scratched his skin cruelly, but Legolas knew he wasn’t safe yet. He ran ahead, all the time trying to find a place to hide. With alarm, he soon realised that his pursuers had also reached the forest, the sniffing sounds of the Wargs trying to find him coming not too far behind.
In desperation, Legolas leaned against an old tree, gasping for breath. The Wargs could easily smell him, bloodied as he was. He could hide, and wait to be found. Or he could try to climb to a tree. Legolas gazed up into the high trees with longing. In his current condition, the climbing would stop short. He was too weary, the first limbs too high, and the pain in his back had returned, making his vision swim with black dots. Silently as possible Legolas slipped away from the tree, his keen eyes trying to find shelter. He didn’t find shelter, but instead found himself staring into the eyes of a Warg – still some fifty yards away. Howling in delight– if a sound made by a Warg could be called like that – the creature leaped forward, soon followed by two of its mates. Legolas, on his side, dashed away, attempting to escape.
As the Wargs drew near to their target, Legolas knew his game was over. More howls came from afar, accompanied with Orcs’ curses. Legolas, sure that his body would collapse at any minute, ducked down, crawling into a small cavernous space under the roots of an old tree. Not a moment sooner, the first Wargs were there, sniffing the opening of a small shelter, then starting to dig the ground in earnest, trying to reach their prey with their claws.
Legolas, on the back of his small shelter, kicked the paws away whenever they reached too near to him. A plan. I need a plan. But what can I do, unarmed against three Wargs? At that moment, there came more sounds from the outside.
“Get back you smelling creatures! Where is that bloody tree-rat? Dug itself a gully, huh?” Harsh laughing followed this, and Legolas swallowed, bracing himself. The Orcs must have weapons. If I just would get my hands on them… A nasty clawed hand thrust to the hollow made by the old roots, searching for the hiding Elf. With a disappointed frown Legolas noticed there was no weapon in that hand. Annoyed, the Prince kicked the searching hand with all his might, making the Orc shriek in pain and pull back the hurt arm. But Legolas’ triumph didn’t last long. With a curse, another Orc pushed the hurt one out of the way, kneeling to the ground so he could see to the hole. Legolas met the gleaming eyes of the Orc with narrowed eyes, readying himself. But without warning, the Orc shot forward, grabbing the Elf and pulled him bodily out of the shelter. Legolas, surprised by the other’s strength, started soon to struggle with all his might, but it was too late. He was dragged back into the open unceremoniously, Wargs immediately pushing forward.
Reflexively, Legolas tried to free himself from the hands that now grabbed him from every direction. Pain momentarily forgotten, the archer fought like he was trained to fight. Kicking one Orc off of him, he gave another a bounce to the face, then tried to roll upright again, knowing that his strength would soon leave him. He got himself to his knees, and then suddenly something pushed him down with such strength and weight that the air was forced out of his lungs. Gasping for air, Legolas struggled weakly, feeling how strong claws dug into his back that was already aflame with pain. A Warg. Panic shot through Legolas like an arrow. He stilled for a moment, trying to breath and regain some of his fading strength. The Warg, on the other hand, had different ideas than let its catch to escape. With a growl, the Warg was just about to finish its victim, when one of the other Wargs attacked it. In few seconds the beasts were fighting each other, both wanting the Elf for themselves.
Legolas, not waiting any longer, shot up to his feet and was about to dash away when a loud shout behind him warned of an approaching Orc. With a lightning speed Legolas turned around, trusting his instincts to guide him. Before the Orc even realised what had happened, Legolas’ strong hands snapped around the foul creature’s neck, breaking it with desperate force. Panting, Legolas quickly kneeled down, taking the Orc’s blade with a grimace of disgust, and turned away from the fighting foes. He had taken about ten steps before one of the other Wargs noticed that their catch was escaping. Those of the giant wolf-like creatures that were not fighting charged after the Elf, catching up with him quickly.
Legolas, with one more hopeless attempt to escape, jumped towards a tree, trying to climb up to safety. Before he had gotten far, sharp teeth sank into his right leg, pulling him down roughly. Twisting around, Legolas sank the blade that he had taken from the fallen Orc into the Warg’s neck, making the beast let go of him. But when one fell, another took its place, finally having agreed that they could share their catch.
One of the Wargs tried to attack the Elf from the side, receiving the blade deep to its own side. But before Legolas was able to yank his blade free, the wounded Warg was already in action, bringing its strong jaws around the arm holding the blade. With a sickening crunch and a shout from Legolas, the Warg threw the Elf to the ground. Immediately there was another Warg, attacking the Elf’s unprotected side, and a third that tried to pry the vainly struggling Elf away from the others. This was again followed with a small skirmish between the Wargs, giving Legolas some time to collect his wits.
Moaning with pain, Legolas rolled to his stomach and shuddered. He didn’t even attempt to escape anymore. He knew he had no chances. Sobbing quietly, Legolas dug his fingers to the moss beneath him as one of the Wargs approached him again, dragging him away from the trees to a small opening. As growling filled the air and the rest of the Wargs reached him, Legolas prayed silently. The idea that the Wargs were going to rip him apart alive was quite terrifying, and it wasn’t that kind of a death that Legolas had thought for himself. But it seemed that his life would end rather painfully. And very soon. When several pairs of jaws and claws dug themselves into his skin, Legolas screamed, unable to hold back anymore. “)Ai, Elbereth, please help me!(”
For a moment Legolas’ world narrowed, and he clearly heard the wind in the leaves, the singing of the birds further away. Then suddenly the Wargs fell back, growling to something. It felt like the earth had been moving, shifting restlessly under Legolas, but he really didn’t care anymore. Death was now near to him, and he embraced it fully.
Suddenly the air was filled with a sound of rustling and now pained and terrified howling from Wargs, who now left him alone. Legolas opened his eyes, trying to clear his hazy vision. He was barely able to see two bodies of dead Wargs, and by the sounds, there was others dying nearby. As he watched, another body crashed to the ground, twitching there for a while and then lay unmoving. Confused, Legolas turned his head, pain flaring up anew, making him whimper. A shadow fell over him, and before Legolas was engulfed by unconsciousness, he was sure he saw mighty trees curving over him.
to be continued…