Chapter Twenty-Eight: Chaos and Aftermath

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That battlefield was pure chaos.

Elle ducked under a slash, driving forward and stabbing the offender in the gut.

Black blood ran down her sword, dripping onto the ground. Sweat poured from her forehead, dripping off her nose.

Yanking her blade out, Elle stumbled back, shaking her head and gazing blearily around the battlefield.

They were badly outnumbered; orcs poured through the gates and over the walls. The screams of men and elves alike were loud on the air.

Oh Valar, Elle gritted her jaw.

This wasn't even close to over.

Swinging her blade, she leaped at the closest orc, a metallic clang sounding as their two blades met.

His gaze burned with hatred, his beady eyes glowing. He warbled something in black speech, his breath hot on Elle's face.

Yanking away, she whirled to his back, slicing forward with all her strength.

His head fell from his shoulders as her slash cut clean.

"Hells," Elle yanked away, snapping her eyes again. Not for the first time she scanned the chaos, in a vain search for her companions.

They had been separated during the explosion, lost in the surge of Rohan men and Lorien elves.

And Elle had no idea where Aragorn or Legolas were, or even where they had been when the attack had first begun.

Elle made for the stairs, dodging around and cutting through the orcs in her path. She raced up the blood-splattered steps as quickly as she could, shoving over the top.

Ladders were leaned against the walls, orcs skimming up them like rats up a rope. Cursing under her breath, Elle cut through the closest orc, making it to the first ladder and shoving it off.

She started toward the second one, but then when the view below made her abruptly freeze.

Outside the gates, beyond the black of the orcish army, rode Saruman in all his glory, atop a pure black horse, his white hair gleaming in the fading light.

He clutched his staff in one hand, his chin lifted up high. He adorned no armor, only his robes, but seemed so powerful in his air that it seemed no weapon could bring him down.

He didn't ride with his armies-- his horse stood beyond their ranks.

Instead, the wizard watched with a cold smile on his face, his eyes watching the orcs break through the stronghold.

Rage made Elle's vision turn blurry.

She grabbed the second ladder but rather than shove it back, she swung herself to the first rung, starting down.

An orc made it's way up and she thrust out with her foot-- a crunch sounded and the orc fell back.

Leaping to the ground, Elle stuck to the shadows, making her way toward the wizard. The orcs raced for the gate, unaware of the intruder in their midst.

She would kill him-- Elle's vow rang through her ears. The cause of so much death, so much suffering.

She would kill him with her own blade.

Her boots crunched on the rocky ground and Elle shifted her loose chainmail around on her shoulders. As she approached from behind the wizard he tensed, sitting straighter.

Then a cold laugh rang through the air.

"Why do you linger in the shadows, girl?"

Elle gritted her teeth, standing taller. Saruman slowly dismounted, then turned to face her. A haunting smile lingered across his face.

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