Shadow: 57. LVII

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57. LVII

Legolas came to with a jolt, and immediately closed his eyes again as the moonlight filtering through the trees hit his eyes. His head hurt, and he found himself wishing that he had had the intelligence to deny Elrohir's challenge to that last drinking game. Squinting through the dim light, he took a brief look and almost managed a grin at the carnage around him. The servants would have their work cut out for them, for empty goblets, half-eaten fruits, and gold plates lay scattered as far as the eye could see. Obviously he had been left to recover on his own in the clearing while everyone else slept off the effects of the feast during the day.

It was then that Legolas noted that he was somewhat tangled in a heap with someone else, and that a limb lay across his chest, pinning him down. A huge effort was made, and with much grunting and shuffling, he finally managed to work himself free to what now presented itself as one of Elrond's twin sons. A closer look revealed him to be Elrohir, and Legolas chuckled when he saw that the other would at least be in the same condition, if not worse-off than him when he finally awoke.

Getting up to his feet, his head protested massively at the effort. He blinked, willing them into focus, and took a short walk around the area, inspecting the damage done. No further bodies lay in sight, he was disappointed to note, and there was no sign of either Esendri nor Elladan. He picked up a somewhat whole-looking fruit from the ground, dusted it on his sleeve, and bit into it, before returning to his friend.

Seeing that Elrohir was still unconscious, Legolas grinned again, and crouched down beside his friend. In his hand was a long, thin feather which he used to gently tickle the exposed ear of his friend. It was then that he noted Elrohir's ear was more rounded than his own. It had never quite occurred to him before that Elrond's sons had the blood of Man running in them.

The unconscious peredhel on the ground twitched irritably. Legolas beamed with delight and redoubled his efforts, this time blowing gently into his ear. A hand shot up and brushed away the feather, and a loud growl escaped his friend. After a few seconds, Legolas saw that Elrohir's eyes had opened a crack, and a long groan made its way out of his lips, as he finally came around to discover his discomfit.

The younger son of Elrond turned around abruptly, wishing that he did not.

"Good evening, my good Elrohir!" Legolas said.

"Evening yourself!"

Elrohir was upon Legolas in no time, startling the Elven prince into falling over backwards and landing hard upon his behind. The raven-haired Elf took the opportunity to sit down hard on his stomach, straddling him and pinning him down to the ground, winding the fair Elf. He leaned forward and studied the Silvan Elf.

"You do not look too good yourself!" he gloated, ignoring the million needles piercing his head.

"Do not shout, Elrohir." Legolas winced, but did not bother to fight off his friend, wishing once again that he had not had so much to drink the night before. It was then that something caught his attention.

"Roh, get off me!" he hissed.

"Only if you beg!"

"Roh, this is no joking matter!" The tone in his voice was enough to make the other obey.

"What is it?"

"Hush!" Legolas said, his eyes sweeping the area. Even then he knew that his senses were greatly weakened by his current state, and could not stop cursing himself for letting this happen. He rose slowly from the ground, Elrohir now at his side, the half-Elf dazed but tense.

"Run to my father, tell him to prepare his defences!" Legolas shouted as the first arrow whizzed through the air, narrowly missing the pair, his long knife already unsheathed. It was a good thing he was armed at all times, although he found himself missing his bow dearly.

"I can fight!" Elrohir shouted as they got to their feet and ducked behind a tree simultaneously.

Facing the younger twin, Legolas took on a hardened look, staring hard into the eyes of his friend.

"With what, Elrohir, your dagger? Somebody has to warn my father, Eryn Galen will fall if were we to be attacked without warning! I can handle them!" he insisted, before pushing his friend away, and stepped out from behind the tree, where the firsts Orcs had started to appear.

Instantly, he took down the nearest Orc with his knife, adrenaline pumping through him, causing him to forget his hangover. His experience in battle started to pay off as he mechanically took down the beasts one by one, although something else, a new feeling of intense hatred and anger, a compulsion to see his enemies die a painful, suffering death, surged through him as he killed, mindlessly and numbly. While still not overwhelmed, he knew that his body was dehydrated and weakened, and that he could not stand up to the onslaught alone. All he was wishing for was to buy Elrohir a chance to get the message across, or was it? Somehow, he knew that he would not rest until every single one of the foul creatures lay dead at his feet.

A sudden, devastating pain shot through his right shoulder. It caused him to lose his concentration, and a rope shot through his defences, wrapping itself around his leg, pulling hard, and making him lose his balance. He hacked at it immediately with his knife as he fell to the ground, but to no avail.

The Orcs were upon him in an instant, hissing and snarling. He beat away, all the while attempting to free his leg from the rope. It was a losing battle, but he refused to go down without a fight. More ropes shot out, restraining his other limbs. He struggled valiantly, but it was in vain.

Rendered immobile by his bondages, the Elven prince looked up to see that all but one of the Orcs had stepped aside. He was hauled up by his collar, and pinned against a tree. He struggled, only to be rewarded with a hard blow against his cheek.

"Well, well, look what we've got 'ere!"

"Kill me, you coward!" he cried, while testing his bonds.

"There will be no escaping, Elf, for do you not realise what binds you?" the Orc said, pointing to the right.

The sight that greeted his eyes was so horrifying that Legolas's face twitched, for there stood a spider at least five feet high, larger than anything he had ever seen before, its yellow, multifaceted eyes glinting in the moonlight. He knew the creatures of the forest well, and never before had he come across the mention of such a beast.

"This will be the beginning of the end of your people," hissed the Orc, bringing a crudely-made blade to the face of the prince. "How I 'ate your kind!"

He strengthened the pressure on the knife and drew it down, causing a long, thin cut to appear down Legolas's smooth cheek.

"Perfect, is that what you think you are? Not any more!" The Orc laughed sardonically, and brought his blade to the other side of his face. "Surrender, and I shall spare your pretty face from complete mutilation! Otherwise, your father will find your body, ravished beyond recognition. That is, if 'ee survives tonight!"

Legolas spat on his face, the hatred in him growing stronger. This earned him another few slashes across his face. The Orc cast aside the blade, and grabbed his slender neck, putting a slight pressure on his throat, causing him to gag.

"Go on, call for your mother, for whatever 'elp she might be!"

A sudden ringing filled the ears of the Elven prince, and the hatred that had been brewing in him erupted. All he saw was red, and he wrenched his right arm free from the threads that bound him, and brought it up against the startled creature's throat.

Ignoring the tightening sensation against his own throat, he hissed, "You shall pay for what you have done!"

He tightened his hold, and the wave of power that came over him were strong and intense. The loathing in him was so great that he fed it and pressed further, ignoring the screams of fear around him.

You shall pay for her death. Each and every last one of you. I shall drink the last of you dry.

The thoughts that flew about his head were scattered, and his senses were dulled to the outside world. All he had left to focus one was his raw abhorrence, the anger within him that had been building up all these years. He did not see the fear and panic on the faces of the Orcs around him as they felt a sudden choking of their lives, did not feel it as the hand around his throat slowly released its pressure. All he wanted was to see them all suffer and die, and he took comfort in the terror shown in those red eyes before him.

Now cry.

A sudden flash of white light, and he found himself drinking in eagerly, greedily sucking at the force which enveloped him. More, that was what he craved now. A plethora of emotions, screaming in unison, and a sudden, intense burst of pain exploded around him, before the world turned black.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: fael bain

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - The Kings

Genre: Action

Rating: General

Last Updated: 08/10/05

Original Post: 09/21/03

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