The Silvan (Lord of the Rings-Legolas)[Wattys2016]

Chapter 12: Lassiel

"Move! Legolas, Faunion, up! Dorainen, Angion, Lainion, with me."

The two elves scampered up the tree whilst their companions drew their swords and waited. It was not a long wait, and soon enough, the first cave orcs Legolas had ever seen, came crashing forwards, their massive black scimitars drawn as they bore down upon the elves with a mighty howl.

Faunion had already fired an arrow, its twang alerting Legolas to the fact that he had sat there paralysed for too long. Drawing, he shot once, twice, three times, each one killing one of the mighty beasts with an arrow through the eye.

They were beneath the tree now and Legolas knew he could not make that shot, and so he began to target other, larger areas of the beasts that bore down on the elves with a strength he could never have imagined.

His arrows were now hitting shoulders and thighs, occasionally the neck, but all of them were incapacitating, enough to allow his companions the upper hand. However, the beasts kept coming, their number greater than they had originally estimated and the moment Legolas had awaited with trepidation finally came.

"Legolas! Faunion!"

This was it, and with a glance at his fellow archer, they both nodded, shouldered their bows and jumped to the forest floor, their swords already drawn.

Legolas first faced a one-eyed orc with a hideous slit down the centre of its head. It smiled, showing its yellow fangs and black tongue. Legolas screwed his face up in disgust for its breath smelt of all things putrid, and as its slithery tongue came out to lick its cracked lips, it was all Legolas could do to stop the rising bile at the back of his throat.

With a dodge to the right, he brought his sword around and found the liver, lunging into it as he had been taught. The orc squealed like a pig, before pitching forward, dead.

Swivelling on his heels he faced his next opponent, an orc that was so tall it looked down on him with a vicious smile, its gloved hand shooting out to grab at his throat. Not fast enough though, for Legolas had drawn a long dagger in his left hand and sliced at the black limb, severing it, following it with his eyes as it flew to one side, and then almost panicked when the orc made no noise, as if the loss of its hand meant nothing at all - and it did not. He needed to distance himself from it and the only way was to flip backwards. When he landed, he took advantage of the surprised beast and sliced through its forearm, the limb falling to the ground with a thud.

Legolas whipped his head back to the orc and still, it bore down on him and the novice's eyes bulged in disbelief.

Bringing his sword up to protect himself from the black scimitar, his arms shuddered painfully under the sheer power behind the blow - he had to gain more distance. Swivelling on his heels, he side-twisted, and then turned once more, his sword gaining impetus until he cut across the beast's neck, watching in morbid fascination as the sharp edge opened skin and muscle, and then grated over the bone at the back. Its hideous head tipped backwards and then toppled to the floor, closely followed by the frozen body, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dirt.

A cheer went up and Legolas startled, only to find his kill had been the last, and the seasoned warriors had been watching him.

He felt his face flush as he went to clean the muck from his sword, aware that his companions moved towards him and when he turned to face them, unsure of what they would say, Angion held up his right hand, the head of the dead orc firmly secured in his fist by its ropy hair.

Legolas stared at it for a moment in abject horror, the thick, dark blood dripping from it, its face forever frozen in twisted agony. It all came back to him, the squishing of flesh and blood, the grating sound of steel over bone. It was too much and he dropped to his hands and knees and emptied his stomach pitifully.