The Return

Hopeless Retreat

     {}«Legolas' POV»{}

Forgive me adar... The thought rings in my head as I await the crippling pain that is sure to come. A moment passes... nothing... I dare to open my eyes. The sight turns my blood cold. 

An ellon is in front of me, swaying where he stands. The Orc stands in front of him, raising the sword once again, his attention no longer on me, but the ellon that used his body to deflected the blow.

"Nooo!" The heart wrenching scream comes from behind the Orc just before he can execute the final blow. Seconds later an elvish blade penetrates through the Orc's chest from behind. The sword falls from the Orc's hands as he is thrown to the ground by his killer.

The young ellon, face marred with dirt mixed with blood, rushes forward, catching the wounded soldier before he hits the ground. "No, no, no, stay awake, Amathon." The near frantic ellon pleads of his friend. "Stay wake, stay with me."  

Panting, heart racing, I shake myself and yank my sword from where it is lodged in the Orc armor. It finally comes free and I kneel next to the ellon while the soldiers around us cover for the three of us.

Blood covers the wounded ellon's torso, oozing from the long gash from his collarbone to his waist. The ellon next to him has his hands pressed to stop the bleeding, but there is too much blood. He needs proper care, and quickly.

"Get him out of here," I tell the ellon. "I will cover you."

He nods and gathers his wounded friend in his arms, earning a cry of pain from him. "I'm sorry, Amathon. Just stay with me. It will be alright."

I begin to fight my way away from the battle, the ellon following close behind. Orcs try to break through my defense, but only one of them succeeds and I wince at the stinging pain in my arm. I ignore it as years of training take over my body and it isn't long before we reach the outskirts of the battle.

"Take him to camp, make sure he is cared for, then return," I tell him. "Your friend's actions will not go unnoticed, I assure you. He saved my life."

The ellon nods, turning to make for camp. "He is not only my friend," he whispers as if to himself, and without another word, he hurries off towards the camp, knowing his friend's life depends on his haste.

I watch him for a moment, they both seem so young, inexperienced in the ways of battle. But I suppose we all were at some point in time, before the consent battle for our homeland took the innocence --and lives-- of so many. Even now, there are few here who did not serve during that dark time. And now, though in different form, it has returned.

I turn back to the fighting. The Orcs outnumber us, and without help, I fear we will not make it until morning.

The truth hits me hard, but I push the despair away. With an effort, I throw myself back into the thick of the battle, regardless of the hopelessness gnawing at my heart.

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Hours pass and our numbers weaken. Hopelessness has turned to utter despair for not even retreat would save us, for the enemy would simply shoot us from behind.

Weariness pulls at my limbs, the sword becoming heaver with every stroke. Despair weighs on my heart even as I slay the Orc in front of me. The reeking bodies on the ground begin to make moving around difficult, but I keep fighting, adding more to the pile.

Soon a familiar presents makes himself known beside me.

"Legolas, we must retreat!" Thaladir says, projecting his voice over the noise. "We-"

His words are cut off by the two Orcs charging towards us. We instinctively stand back to back, fighting together to kill the Orcs. I run my blade through one as Thaladir beheads the other. 

Not moving from our defensive position, Thaladir continues, "We will all die if we stay!"

I give a mental sigh and nod. "You're right," I tell him before turning my attention to the rest of the troops. "Retreat!" I shout out over the chaos. "Retreat!"

The Orcs undoubtedly know the location of our camp for that is how they knew where to attack to begin with. Our only hope is to attempt to lead them away from it, retreating south-east.

The smoke and stench of battle follow us, as do the Orcs, in our retreat. Elves and Orcs continue to fall and the Orcs refuse to give up the pursuit. 

An elf falls beside me and without a second thought, I pull him to his feet, pulling his arm over my shoulder to hold him upright. Blood covers his torso and leg, but whether it is his own or not, I do not know nor do we have the time to find out. 

Orcs swarm around us and Thaladir is forced to defend the two of us and himself with little help, for most of the other warriors still on their feet are also carrying the injured.

The black of night hinders our vision, providing an advantage to the black loving creatures. And just as I begin to fear we will not able to make it out of here alive,

a horn blows.

But it is no Orc horn. That is an instrument constructed by the hands of men. I look up, and there, as a silhouette against the light of the moon, is an army of men, lead by their king himself.

No cliffy this time! XD You're welcome.