Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

Escape

I'm so so so so very sorry for not updating in a long time! You all know how life can be so I will say no more. I've been working really hard on this the last few days for you all. On a side note; as you may know updates will be slower for the next three or four weeks and then I hope to be able to get more chapters up sooner.

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Horses and men screamed as the ground disappeared from underneath their feet and they plunged into deep rift. They collided at the bottom with an almighty crash of metal against flesh and metal. Screams were abruptly cut off as the men were crushed underneath their mounts and bones snapped with and audible crack.

Illeandir and Thrilo were thrown from the old grey horse, who landed heavily on his side and did not move. The dwarf landed on Illeandir's right arm, wrenching the limb from its socket. Illeandir groaned and pushed an inebriated Thrilo off his arm and roll away as another horse came crashing down. The two narrowly avoided being flattened by one thousand pounds of horse flesh. The beast struggled to its feet, regardless of the dead man on its back and the two people on either side. A hoof caught Thrilo in the thigh. The horse reared and thundered away in blind panic.

Illeandir struggled to his feet fighting waves of nausea after taking a blow to head when he was thrown. Chaos surrounded him as men tried to reign in any horses still sound and whole. He found Thrilo sitting with his hands pressed against his thigh spitting a wild string of abuse. Illeandir grabbed his arm and hauled Thrilo to his feet.

"Come, Master Dwarf, we make for Ithilien while they are yet disorganized." He tasted blood and realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek. He winced as his tongue probed the wound. Thrilo took a moment to make sure he was still in possession of his ax. While he did that Illeandir inspection his shoulder. He could feel the hollow his joint left after coming out. He grimaced at the prospect of having to push it back later. There was no time now, already the men were beginning to rally.

With his good arm he dragged Thrilo, limping and cursing like a sailor, behind him. They traveled away from the chaos along the bottom of the rift. The din slowly faded but remained an ever present threat if they did not get away soon. Suddenly they were met with a steep wall of grassy earth that towered far above Illeandir's head. Thrilo, having recovered from his daze, slowly lifted his head and whistled softly.

"That be mighty steep." he said rubbing his bearded chin. "I be too short to make it."

"Climb up as far as you can and I'll push you up the rest of the way." Illeandir said, impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet. He could hear the soldiers coming. Thrilo eyed the rise warily.

"We dwarves be built fer carving tunnels through hills, not climbing them."

"Then for The Valar's sake dig one with your hands! Move! Least we be caught here." Illeandir snapped.

"I don't have me tools fer diggin'."

"Then climb!" Thrilo must have sensed the urgency in Illeandir's voice because he immediately began scrabbling up the steep slope, clinging desperately to the long, slick grass growing there. Illeandir used his uninjured arm to push him up until the dwarf grasped the edge with both hands and heaved himself over the edge and lay panting in his back. Illeandir took a step back and leapt as high as he could. His chest slammed into the earth, driving the air from his lungs. His fingertips barely brushed the top of the ridge before he slid back down. He tried three more times before Thrilo grabbed his forearm and heaved with all his strength. Feet churning the earth Illeandir pushed upward and at last inched over the edge.

"You are no light elf." Thrilo gasped, sweat streamed down his face despite the cool night. Illeandir gingerly maneuvered his injured arm, gritting his teeth as bone grated against bone, and stood.