The Unexpected | LotR Fanfiction

Chapter 50

Guys, I almost forgot to update today. Thank goodness I remembered. *wipes brow* phew!
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White, brilliant light exploded from my being, heating my skin to match that of a kiln. Out it wildly went, dancing out with ferocity. It blinded me, but I forced it out, forward, not behind towards innocents. The brilliance raged, screaming as it engulfed the air.

I screamed with it, as the energy burst from my skin like tiny needles, knives. Is it taking off my skin?

Don't think, just do.

But this pain, this energy.

I can do this. I must do this.

Orcs and uruk alike screamed as they burned from the outside in, skin melting from bones, eyes bursting in sockets, blood evaporating. I could feel them dropping to the heated stone, husks now, barely bodies.

Still, I pushed out that star-light, determined to take as many orcs with me as I could. This power does not control me. I control it. Right?

That bursting energy made me come alive, yes in pain, but in power.

I was made for this.

But how was there this much? Brilliance came and came. How had I even contained it all? How am I not dead?

I'm blind, surely, I'm blind. That soft star-light didn't seem so soft. Its hardness filled my vision, overtook my vision. I felt lost in it. Never had I before felt this out of control with its power.

But I kept its expansive form from taking human soldiers, barely. I imagined the plain that must somehow still be before me, through all this white, white, white and let that brilliance shine down the causeway, spilling out onto the field overrun with orcs. I could feel them dropping.

I could also feel the life draining from me.

Fatigue rushed forward in overwhelming strength and I staggered through the unfaltering white. And my feet stopped hitting stone as my legs gave out, instead being met with air.

I couldn't even scream as I plummeted off the causeway, throwing light out down below me.

And my fatigue welcomed that soft darkness as my body impacted the ground with a deafening crunch.

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"Lads! Over here!"

...

Gimli?

I groaned, shifting in what must be a sea of rocks. Valar, everything hurt.

"How... not dead...?" The amount of energy it took to say those words should've killed me. I couldn't lift my thousand-pound eyelids.

"By Durin's Beard, Lass! How'm I supposed to answer somethin' like that?! I was just asking myself the same thing!"

Light feet bounded across gravel, crunching and grinding against each other. I could barely make out the other set that followed. "Is she...?" Aragorn asked. Clammy fingers rested on my neck, digging in uncomfortably.

"Yes, somehow, by some miracle that lass still draws breath."

"Her pulse is weak, but still there. Concussion, most likely. Splintered leg... Judging by that hand, I'd assume every bone in it is broken. Most likely has broken ribs..."

"S... stop..." I sluggishly lashed out with my hand but hissed at the movement. Then hissed again at the pain in my ribs.

"We should call for—"