A Shattered Life (LOTR/Legolas Fanfic)

Chapter 23- Burned Alive

Amara jerked awake, an Orc standing right over her. The Orc recoiled at her sudden movement then turned his head.

"Ay! We got a live one ove-" Gus sentence was cut short as Amara thrust a dagger into his throat. The Orc sputtered, his blackish blood spilling out over Amara before he collapsed next to her.

Amara gagged slightly as she wiped her face off, sitting up. She looked up to see Orcs running at her, obviously just seeing her kill one of their own.

Men were strewn across the battlefield, all dead, covered in blood. Her horse lay next to her, his glassy eyes staring at her, arrows covering his body. Amara reached out and ran her hand through his silky mane.

"Amin naa so'ay Mellonamin." {I am sorry my friend.} She whispered. Then she sprung up and began running. The distant white city was her target and she just hoped she made it before the Orcs behind her caught her. Movement caught her eyes just in front of her. A horse!

The horse was moving, nuzzling the riders shoulder, as if trying to wake him up. As she drew closer, she recognized the face of Faramir. Amara closed the gap between them and grabbed hold of Faramir dragging him over the horses back before mounting the horse.

"Tul a no' lith. Hi'l lye n'e en' sinome." {Come on, girl. Get us out of here.} She whispered. The horse stood up shakily before galloping towards Minas Tirith, leaving the Orcs behind in a cloud of dust.

"Open the gates! Quick!" A knight shouted as she got closer. She rode inside and the gates closed behind her.

People immediately surrounded her, pulling Faramir onto a stretcher and helping her off the horse.

"It was a blood bath. We stood no chance." She said to the knight that let her in. He nodded and hurried away to alert Lord Denethor. Amara looked around at her surroundings.

"Where is Gandalf?" She asked.

"He's preparing for battle. In the armory." One of them said. She nodded and made her way in that direction. She spotted the old wizards white cloak.

"Gandalf!" She called. The wizard turned towards her.

"Amara! My dear, you're alright!" He exclaimed. She ran up to him and he engulfed her in a gentle hug. When he pulled away, he tilted his head slightly.

"What's wrong?"

"Faramir is gravely injured. Every man that fought by his side has fallen. We cannot win this, Gandalf."

"There is always room to hope, Amara. Come, we must prepare for battle." He placed a hand on her shoulder and she winced. Gandalf caught sight of her injured shoulder.

"Go rest Amara." He revised. The stubborn elf dwarf shook her head.

"Not as long as Middle Earth's fate hangs in the balance."

"Amara, you have done enough. More than enough even. Please let yourself rest." Amara clenched her jaw and nodded, turning and walking to her chambers. As she closed the door, the battle seemed to louder than ever. The shouts of orcs rang in her ears. She ripped off her cape and armor and weapons, collapsing onto the bed in exhaustion. After a moment she stood up, walking to wards the mirror.

She removed her tunic and inspected the broken arrow shaft closer. Pinching it with two fingers, she pulled the arrow out, letting out a groan. Her wound started bleeding again. She grabbed a piece of cloth and pressed it to the wound. She walked over to her pack and pulled out bandages, wrapping them over her shoulder and tying them tightly. And despite her body screaming for her to stop, she walked back to her armor. 

She pulled her tunic back over her head and began putting her armour back on. She picked up her sheath of arrows, slinging it across her back. Amara then grabbed her sword and bow and ventured outside. The halls were empty and silent, the muffled sounds of battle just outside.

Amara sprinted down the hall just as Pippin appeared around the corner. He had a panicked look on his face.

"Lady Amara!" He shouted. Amara locked her eyes on the fear stricken Hobbit.

"What's wrong?" She said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Lord Denethor! He's going to burn Faramir alive!" Amara's eyes widened.

"Find Gandalf!" She said, taking off in the direction that Pippin had come from. She burst through the doors to see Denethor pouring oil on the limp body of Faramir.

"Denethor stop!" She demanded, drawing her sword.

"Seize her!" He ordered. The knights standing by hesitated for a moment. "I said seize her!" The knights hurried towards her, but Amara was ready for them. She countered the first knight, swinging her sword and knocking his from his hands.

She grabbed the other knight by the collar and pushed him out of the way, her gaze trained on Denethor.

"Listen to me, Denethor. Faramir is alive. Would you really kill your only son?" She tried to reason.

"He' wasn't my only son." Denethor said bitterly. "And that's on you."

"I'm sorry you lost Boromir but I will no longer carry his death as my burden. He died to save Middle Earth. Don't take that honor away from him. Nor take the honor of living on in his brother's place from Faramir."

Denethor ignored Amara's pleas and emptied a jug of oil over his face.

"Set a fire in our flesh!" He stands above Faramir with his arms extended sideways. The soldiers advance on the pyre with torches in their hands. Suddenly the door bursts open Gandalf is there. Denethor turns to look at him.

"Stay this madness!" The soldiers halt, all looking at Gandalf. Denethor grabs a torch and stands with it in his hand.

"You may triumph in the field of battle for a day, but against the power that has risen in the east, there is no victory!" He drops the torch on the timbers, which catch alight instantly. Gandalf grabs a spear off a guard at the door and gallops up to the pyre.

He knocks Denethor off the pyre to the floor. Pippin jumps from the back of Shadowfax onto the top of the pyre, he struggles but manages to roll Faramir off the top of the pyre onto the floor. He uses his hands to douse any flames that have caught on Faramir. Denethor jumps up
 
"No! you will not take my son from me!" He struggles with Pippin, ripping the hobbits hands away from his son.

"No!" Pippin screamed. Amara ran up, slicing her sword across Denethor's open palms. He shouted and stepped back, nursing his wound. Amara stood between him and Pippin.

"You don't touch them. Understand?" She said slowly. Denethor rushed at her but she was ready, bringing her leg up and thrusting it into his chest. He flung backward, landing in the burning pyre.

"Faramir!" Denethor cried. At this, Faramir opens his eyes and looks at his father. Denethor lets out a loud scream his body catching on fire. He jumps off the pyre and runs up the corridor, he runs all the way along the forecourt and falls from the end of the parapet a ball of flames. 

"So passes Denethor, son of Ecthelion." Gandalf said quietly as Pippin and Amara knelt beside Faramir.