The Shadow Walker

10. And, That's why I'm Here.

We stayed on the road and ran east, toward Rivendell. I estimated the orc pack to be about a hundred strong. We should've been faster, since there were only two of us and we weren't carrying the heavy metal armor that the orcs were. Theoretically. In real life, Bilbo was old and not very fast anyway, and I was honor-bound to stay with him and protect him.

Actually... screw honor. I liked Gandalf's stupid pet, and Bilbo has been too kind for me to just abandon him.

When the first rays of dawn began to peek over the horizon, we were maintaining a hundred yards between us and the army, running as fast as we possibly could but bone-weary. Occasionally, they'd fire an arrow or two at us, but we were managing to stay out of range. Barely.

"Eda," Bilbo gasped, stumbling to a halt. "You go on. You can make it on your own, without me slowing you down."

"No," I said, just as winded. "Come on, keep running. We're almost to the bridge. That'll slow them down."

He shook his head. "We can't outrun them. Who are you trying to fool?"

"Myself! Now come on."

We ran for another hour, steadily losing ground to the orcs, before the Hoarwell River finally came into view, then the Last Bridge. It didn't escape me, the irony of the title.

"Listen to me," I puffed after we finally finally crossed the bridge. "Go to Rivendell. Send the Elves back. I'll hold these uglies off as long as I can." He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "It's our only chance."

Bilbo's brow furrowed. "No, no, you should go. You're faster than me, younger. I've lived a good life, a long life."

I shook my head emphatically. "No, you're precisely what they want, and you're precisely what they cannot get. Now, stop arguing and run!"

He hesitated, glancing back at the army. His eyes widened. "Look out!"

An arrow bounced off my arm, barely tearing the sleeve. It smarted, though. "Go!" I yelled. "I'll be fine."

Eyes filled with regret, Bilbo trotted off toward Rivendell. I felt terrible lying to him, but it had to be done. It was a means to an end.

I turned to face the army. The trick was in the bridge itself. With only seconds before the orcs started firing arrows that would really hurt, I ran under the bridge and started reconstruction. I got soaked up to my underarms, but if this worked... I might make it to Rivendell alive.

When I was finished, I sloshed out of the river, returning to the east side of the Hoarwell. The orcs were a mere thirty or forty yards away now, and when I reappeared, some of them stopped to shoot at me.

I turned and ran. Adrenalin coarsed through my veins a mile a minute. I might survive this. I had a chance.

Twang!

Pain exploded across my body. I crumpled to the road, my vision fading. Pain... exhaustion... I just wanted to close my eyes and give in...

No. I had to fight this. I forced my eyes open, and I pushed myself to my hands and knees. A black arrow was embedded deep in the back of my right thigh. Gritting my teeth, I grasped the shaft and quickly snapped it off.

The agony redoubled, and my stomach rolled. On hands and knees, I puked every undigested bite of last night's dinner onto the hard-packed road, until nothing came up but stomach acid and stringy digestive fluid.

The sounds of the bridge collapsing, splashing, and a bunch of angry yelling drew my attention from my lost dinner. I'd bought myself a few seconds. If I wanted to live, I'd have to move.

I forced myself to my feet, crying out as I placed weight on my right leg. Gritting my teeth, I broke into a hobbling run. Pain rolled through me like shockwaves, and tears streamed down my face. I would not give up so easily. I would not fall prey to a simple pack of orcs.

Twang!

An arrow grazed the inside of my boot, bouncing off harmlessly, but tripping me. I fell hard, landing on my palms, badly skinning them. Trembling uncontrollably, I stood and staggered on.

Up ahead, maybe a quarter of a mile, was the Trollshaws forest. If I could just make it there...! Behind me, the orcs were shouting, regrouping. Their thunderous footsteps, I used as a metronome, driving me onward. My breaths came out a rasping wheeze, loud in my own ears. My heartbeat echoed as a blinding pulse in my leg. A deafening throb in my skull.

I barely comprehended the implications when my fingertips grazed the first tree of the Trollshaws. I just grasped the lowest limb and began to climb.

Arrows sank into the trunk all around me, one grazing my cheek. I barely noticed. I kept climbing, ignoring the pain, until I was so high the tree limbs could barely hold me. Only then did I dare look down.

Blood dripped from the branches I'd used as hand and footholds. And at the base, orcs were swarming around like ants, gazing up at me with their sickly yellow eyes. Several raised their bows and began firing at me. I ducked behind the tree trunk, and somehow, they missed.

The largest of the orcs snarled something I couldn't make out, and most of the orcs backed away. Several didn't. Those held heavy swords with pickaxe-like protrusions from the ends. These ends, they began swinging at the base of the tree.

Tremors ran up the trunk with each impact, and the tree groaned. I stroked its bark, knowing this was the end. For both of us. "I'm so sorry," I whispered.

The tree swayed, then slowly began to fall. For a moment, it felt like I was flying. Then impact. My head struck a thick branch. Then I saw only shadow.