Rise (Lord of the Rings)

25 - Victory and Defeat

The trail of dead Orc bodies and the smell were the only things keeping me on course. I couldn't be far behind now; the bodies that I passed looked to be freshly killed.

The trail stopped at one point, and I halted. I turned in a full circle, wondering where to go now. While my eyes searched, I tried to tune into any noises that would guide me to Boromir. My heart was threatening to burst from my chest, having worked so much in so little time. While I was standing, I tried to slow and regulate my breathing so I didn't pass out.

Loud battle cries up ahead made me run, as if a little child was screaming for me. It didn't sound like any Orc. Boromir.

From a distance, I saw the dark, bulky body of an armored Orc up ahead. I took cover behind a tree to survey the area. Like the trail I had been following, dead Orcs littered the ground.

The Orc I stared at looked to be the leader, if I had to guess. Just the very sight of him gave off a malicious air. In his hand was a massive, loaded crossbow. I couldn't see what it was aiming at, though I had a pretty rough hunch.

Dreading that my suspicion was right, I peeked from behind the tree more only to pull myself back, biting my lip so I wouldn't sob or cry in outrage. One little peek revealed to me Boromir, on his knees, looking absolutely exhausted, but there was still a fire in his blue eyes.

But that wasn't what got me upset—it was the three arrows lodged in him that did.

How he hadn't keeled over was astonishing. One arrow was so close to his heart, the other two a little lower on his body.

Acting quickly, without thinking, I barreled onto the scene, leaping over bodies, colliding with the head Orc.

I hadn't known that my weight could throw an Orc off balance, I just assumed my weight would seem like nothing to the monster. I heard the arrow be released, but I heard no cry of pain, so I assumed the Orc missed. I felt a strong hand grab me and throw me away.

I rolled along the ground, my head spun dangerously. The head Orc was already on his feet, his face covered with a hand print in white paint, and his teeth were exposed in an evil sneer. I panted, trying to get to my feet.

The Orc got to me first. He grabbed the back of my neck, lifting me off the ground. I yelled, trying to reach for my sword. My feet no longer touched ground, leaving me to thrash wildly in the air. The Orc tossed me again. This time I landed in a pile of dead monsters.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. I was just a toy to this beast.

I locked eyes with Boromir, who pitifully watched as I was thrown around like a doll. Ignoring the throbbing in my body, I jumped out of the way as the Orc tried to grab me again. I staggered to get my sword, though I looked like I was drunk when doing so.

I fell down from the world spinning, so I crawled, my hand reaching desperately for my sword. I was flipped on my back, and a heavy foot came down on my chest. Wind was knocked from my lungs, leaving me wheezing. The Orc towered over me, digging his foot into my chest.

I tried to look behind me, to have my hand fumble for my sword, but I couldn't stretch out, not when a massive weight was literally crushing me to death. I tried kicking the back of the Orc's leg, but I couldn't reach the weak point on him, and he snickered when my efforts were futile. The Orc bent over me to retrieve my sword. He held the point just under my chin.

And it comes down to this. What was I thinking? This was going to be my fate from the moment I committed to the journey.

Though I was pinned and at the Orc's mercy, there was one last thing I could do: scream. With what breath I had, I let out a high-pitched yell.