Beastly || Legolas

Thirty

The orc body slumped to it's knees. The flesh making a wet sound as Namir pulled his blade from where it was pierced in the chink of armour, jutting through the thick next. The blade came free and the corpse fell over at his feet. Namir flicked the black blood in a splatter across the snow and raised the blade again. Black gore stained his face, dried round his chin and flecked across his cheeks. His hands were so smeared that it looked like he had dipped his hands in paint. The pale bare skin of his chest was similarly smeared and splattered, matching his matted hair and stained trousers. Even his bare feet were not spared. They were covered in dirt, dust and more orc blood. The battle was fierce and Namir was never one to fight fair. He fought feral and dirty, matching his appearance.

He was just stepping up a set of stone stairs covered in a light dusting of snow, bare feet on cold stone, that he heard the shout echo up from the layers of the stone ruins beneath him. "Kili!" He paused, head turning as the shut echoed. "Kili!" It came again. 

Namir turned and leapt back down the stairs. Feet catching on a ruined wall as he propelled himself over a drop and down. He fell the length of two floors before landing in a crouch on his feet. Then he was immediately back up and bounding through the corridors. "Tauriel", he called as he rounded the corner and caught sight of the red haired she elf. Tauriel was still in her green uniform as she was the last time he had seen her, but now small drops of black blood dotted the cloth and her blades were held in her palms. She whirled at his voice and visibly sighed in relief. 

"Namir. Where's kill?" She asked, stepping forwards. 

"Fili is injured. Kili took his brother back down the mountain. This is a trap".

"I know", Tauriel nodded. "I am going after him. He needs help". 

Namir nodded. "You should". Tauriel moved to turn away back down a corridor. Namir reached out to stop her but she turned back before he could touch her. "Where is Legolas?"

"I do not know. He was heading here the last time I saw him". Namir sniffed the air, trying to detect any scent of the elf prince on the breeze. Legolas was here. But his senses picked up nothing but the roar and stench of orcs. It was growing stronger.

That is when Bolg, Azog's second in command, came charging out of the corridor on the left. Namir moved fast. One hand pushing Tauriel away as Bolg's leg kicked up through the air where she had been. The orc's massive iron mace came down and skirted off the Namir's blade with a painful screeching noise. The weight of it making the skin-changer huff with the effort of keeping it off him. Bolg was easily twice his size and bearing down on him with a ferocious grin. 

Tauriel almost stumbled with the force Namir had used, but she turned it into a flip and came up with her knives to slice into Bolt's side. The massive orc snarled and Namir pushed him back. In the short time Tauriel's distraction had given him, he pulled the bag of white gems from his back. "Go after Kili!" He ordered. "I'll take care of him". Then he threw the bag to her. "Take this. Do not let anyone open it but Legolas". 

"Namir-"

"It's for Legolas. Now go!" He growled at her, turning just as Bolg swung his mace down. In the corner of his eye, he saw Tauriel swing the bag over her shoulders and take off in a run. Her green form disappearing round a corner. The mace collided with steel and slid off as Namir twisted back. His bare feet dancing on the stone as he skidded and jumped round a few more swings. His own blade spinning and leaving long slashes in the unprotected skin of the orc's abdomen. 

Bolg roared in pain and Namir roared back, his voice echoing over the stone. He lunged forwards with the blade but with a quickness surprising for his size, Bolg reached down and caught the sharp blade in one hand. Namir hissed and pulled but the orc was stronger than him. A sadistic grin filled Bolg's face as he watched the man struggle. Then blade was twisted and Namir was forced to let go or have his wrists broken. His fingers unclenched with a cry of pain and his blade was tossed away. The long sword sailing over the edge of mountain side and out into the mist. Bolg advanced on the weaponless skin-changer. Namir bared his teeth fearfully, taking a step back. 

He flipped back to avoid a blow to the head. Then into a crouch as the air from the force of the swing dusted his hair. Bolg snarled and charged only to meet empty air as Namir ducked behind a ruined wall and into another part of the ruins. It was an open space that must have once been a small courtyard with a stone wall on the edge of the mountain so that people could enjoy the view. It was ruins now. The winter wind howling from above and the cold mist hanging over the stone. It was cold and Namir was benign to feel the fatigue. He had climbed a mountain, fought Azog and a whole squad of other orcs. He was loosing stamina and his only weapon had been lost. Bolg was advancing too fast for him to shift. If he shifted now then he would be left vulnerable while his body changed shape. There was no time. 

As soon as Bolg was through the door, Namir threw himself at the orc. His fingernails out to scratch and his teeth bared in a feral screech that caught the creature by surprise. The orc roared as claws cut through his face and teeth tore into the skin of his throat. Huge hands grasped Namir round the chest as thick black blood filled his mouth. He felt his ribs break as he was crushed and ripped free, half of Bolg's windpipe tearing away with him. Namir was thrown into a wall so hard that his vision when white. He hit the snow and spat out the flesh from his teeth with a groan. When he looked up, Bolg was staggering towards him, blood pouring from his neck. The orc was dying, but he was not dead yet. 

Namir pushed himself up and lunged at Bolg, tackling him. The orc, weakened by oncoming death, staggered back and they tipped off the edge. The two of them falling off the edge of the cliff. Namir caught sight of white and stone and knew that this time, he would not be landing on his feet. Then he hit the rock and something heavy collided with his head before everything went black. 

Up on the ruined tower above, sharp blue eyes picked out the falling figures. Legolas turned and watched as Namir and the dying orc tumbled down the cliff. The orc falling away and into the mist. Namir's body catching the ruins of stone steps and rolling painfully to a halt on a snow covered ledge. The man lay still. Legolas couldn't even tell if the skin-changer was breathing. For a few seconds, his eyes didn't move from where the man lay, almost willing Namir to move. Nothing happened. Namir was still and pale and coated in black blood. Much to his horror, Legolas' sharp gaze had begun to notice red blood seeping over pale skin too. 

A shout pulled his gaze away. The elf had not been the only one to notice the figures falling. More orcs, about ten, were gathering up on the ledge. The foul creatures gazing down at where Namir lay. One began to climb down the ruined stairs and Legolas reached for an arrow. His quiver was empty. The elf pulled out the sword from his belt, the same sword he had taken from Thorin weeks ago, and looked down at the blade. The tower underneath him shook and he peered over the edge to the troll at the base. Then he flicked the blade over in his hands and jumped. 

unedited

Sorry for leaving you on a cliff hanger, deadlines have been killing me. Hope you enjoyed the update.