A Promise- a LOTR Fanfiction (Legolas) ❤︎ ✓

Chapter 27: Battle of Pelennor Fields

The army of ghosts approach the orcs with great speed, surging forwards like a tidal wave. They kill, but nobody can kill them. They leave masses of bodies behind their trail, which I make sure I don't fall over while I fight. The green glow is all that I can see, apart from my companions- they kill everything in sight, leave or take a few orcs, which we quickly finish off.

My heartbeat picks up quickly as I follow the ghost army ahead of me, my energy charged by pure adrenaline. Moments later, the army separates slightly, allowing me to see the battle with a better view. The white city of Minas Tirith is beside the battlefield, which is scattered with multiple armies.

An orc approaches me, growling, and raises his sword. I slice across his chest under his raised arm, and he clutches at his wound pathetically. Rolling my eyes, I stab it in the face and walk away, hearing the thud of its body hitting the floor. Flipping my blades in my hands, I stab two orcs from behind me before flipping them back an decapitating another.

I realize how powerful the ghosts are, silently thanking them for killing so many orcs and giving us more hope.

"Legolas!" Aragorn cries from nearby, and I turn briskly to see him pointing at a humongous creature stomping through the battlefield. Remembering the image from one of my history books back in Rivendell, I recall it being a Mûmakil. I stop fighting for a moment to stare at its pointed tusks with sharp talons attached to them, and the wooden platform attached to its back. On the Mûmakil's back stood dozens of archers, bows notched and aimed. My hope drops even more when I realize that there are multiple beasts roaming the area, not only the one nearby.

I hear an orc approaching me from behind and I turn to stab it in the chest. I try to ignore the splutters of blood and the choking noises as I turn to the next orc.

Suddenly, I hear the echoing sounds of bow strings twanging, and arrows rain down around me. One sails towards me and I only have enough time to turn away slightly. It grazes past my cheek, cutting the skin and drawing blood. Sighing in relief that it hadn't hit me in the face, I continue to fight.

Looking up momentarily, I see Legolas climbing up the leg on the Mûmakil, using the arrows embedded in the tough, leathery skin. He's going to bring that beast down.

I turn away to behead an orc and stab another between the eyes, grimacing at the thick coating of dark blood on my swords. I look up again to check on Legolas and see him on the neck of the Mûmakil, the wooden platform (along with all of the archers) gone. I watch as he quickly loads his bow with three arrows and fires it into the back of its neck.

The creature lets out a low, loud cry of pain and collapses to the ground. Legolas slides to the ground and I lose sight of him when a group of mounted men ride in between where we stand, but I saw Gimli there, so I don't worry about him. They will watch each other's backs.

Another orc falls to the floor, dead, in front of me and I straighten up to challenge another one to fight me, but to my surprise, I see none left. Glancing around wearily, I see Mûmakil lying around, dead, and masses of bodies- not only orcs. Wiping the stained metal of my swords on my well-worn tunic, I scan the battefields that are littered with dead horses, men, orcs, and Mûmakil.

I notice the ghost army finishing the last few orcs in Minas Tirith. There is no more fighting. We won. But my mind isn't feeling the relief or joy of a victory- I feel dread. How many lives have been lost to conquer the armies? Too many, I feel.

"I told you so." I turn around to see Legolas teasing me. He swings his bow over his arm and smiles. "You're alive, are you not?"

"Yes," I laugh, running up to him and hugging him tightly. "I'm not dead."