𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Chapter Twenty-Six: Man Of Gondor

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As I broke through the wall of trees, my gaze caught Frodo immediately, his figure stumbling blindly through the woods as he threw worried glances over his shoulder at the advancing orcs. They ran with the noise of a stampede, a thousand thunderclaps that reverberated through the still wood.

He met my eyes for a moment, and I gave him a nod so as to say I knew his plan. And I would help him.

"Run, Frodo," I said grimly, before turning to face them.

I could scarcely tell whether he'd obeyed, for I was soon engulfed in a flurry of orcs snarling, blades swinging, the stiff thuds of the fallen.

Without a soul by my side, the overwhelming hopelessness of the situation sunk in. I ducked under the swooping axe of an orc, as I narrowly parried the blade of another, whilst twisting myself out of the way of a spear. I could hardly keep it up. Not long enough, at least, for the others to arrive.

But I couldn't stop. I'd made a promise I intended to uphold, whether it cost me my life or not. I would protect them.

Instilled with renewed determination, I cleaved the head of an orc and it tumbled to the ground, followed by the rest of his body. I disarmed another with a precise flick of my own blade. He growled dangerously, plowing into me with his shield and throwing me into a nearby tree. I coughed, splattering blood on the back of my hand. The orcs sneered, chuckling mirthlessly.

The same orc bashed my head with his shield, and my vision became hazy. But I still saw him, his platinum hair darting between the hulking figures of the orcs.

"Legolas," I spluttered, springing to my feet and wavering for only a moment.

The orc, momentarily distracted by the arrival of the rest of the Fellowship, only just realized I'd stood. Regardless, he was far too slow to stop the fatal edge of my blade as it careened through the air, and planted itself between his ribs. I extricated it with a slick ring, causing more blood to spatter against the trees' trunks.

"Hey! Hey, you! Over here!" a painstakingly familiar voice tore my attention away from the battle.

Merry.

"This way!" Pippin called, faithful as ever at Merry's side.

The appearance of the halflings drew the attention of the orcs as well, and they quickly abandoned us, turning their focus on Merry and Pippin instead. From behind a tree, I spotted Frodo, his darting figure retreating to the shoreline as Merry and Pippin drew off the orcs. I felt a pang in my heart as I watched him go.

But it was not I alone who noticed. Another orc, who was quick to alert some others, had seen him, and was now in avid pursuit. Stealing a remorseful glance back at Merry and Pippin, an army of orcs on their tail, I made the split-second decision to instead follow Frodo. I prayed the rest of them would follow the other two hobbits.

As fast as my feet could tread, I raced over the forest floor, growing steadily closer to the hobbit's retreating figure and the orcs trailing him closely. By now he'd seen them, and was doing all he could to stay ahead of them.

But it wasn't enough. And it never could have been-a hobbit against a score of orcs.

The first to reach him was the one who'd spotted him, a great big snarling oaf, whose charred-grey skin bore the white hand of Saruman. The orc caught Frodo round the middle, slinging him without effort under his arm.

"Frodo!" I shouted, racing towards them.

The orcs had hardly registered my presence before I'd downed three of them, forcing my way to the one in the centre. The one who had Frodo tucked helplessly beneath his arm. But my path was blocked by the other orcs, who forced their way to the front of the group to face me.