The Wanderer

Chapter Seventeen

Gandalf quickly picked his way through fallen bodies. I followed, but I did not match his pace, my mind was on other things. So many dead: women, children, men, elves. More would follow them, and more after that. Death was strange like that, it would never end, as most things did, and life always ended for Men, Dwarves, and even Hobbits, but not for the elves. We will continue on until the sun dies, until all plants have withered, or until another takes our life.

I envy the world of men, whose people can live a full life and die peacefully afterwards. I could not, I will have to live with all my regrets until I die by the hand of an enemy. I would always remember the destruction of my home, the death of my people, the fire of the northern serpents, the pain of losing a friend, and the anguish I brought to the people of Esgaroth. The dwarves escaped, and I helped them; the dragon was awoken, and it was my fault; people lie dead on the ground of Dale, and I was the cause.

A pit of dread developed in my stomach and it swallowed the seldom happiness I currently had. I was dreadful at being an elf.

Before I could berate myself any further, a horn blared through the air. It was elven, and I knew it belonged to Feren; Thranduil was calling back his elves.

The sound broke me out of my daze and I looked up to see that Gandalf had left me, but not Rieka. She was patiently sitting next to me, looking up at me with loyalty.

"You won't leave me, will you girl?" I laughed weakly and bent down on one knee in front of her. "Even when I make mistakes and foolish decisions." She wagged her tail and licked my face, which I will note was kind of gross because she had orc blood all over the inside of her mouth, but I still found it comforting.

I sighed. "I've messed up, Rieka. Not only this time but so many times before. How do I make it right?" I asked her desperately, but I knew she couldn't answer. I wanted to bury my head in her fur and cry and hide away from this messed up world.

I've often said that Rieka and I could read each other like a book, almost as though we could read the other's thoughts. I never so much believed in that statement than when Rieka jumped up and placed her paws on my shoulders, just like a hug. Tears brimmed my eyes as I wondered how on Middle-Earth Rieka was so comprehensive of my emotions, but I realized I didn't care, I was just glad that she could.

"What did I do to deserve you?" I mumbled into my friend's soft, white fur. Suddenly, Rieka began to growl at some unknown threat. She jumped off me and I sat up straight, placing a hand on my blade.

"What is it?" I asked her softly, but an ugly laugh answered for her. I spun around and came face to face with a rather large, green-skinned orc armed with a crudely made sword. I somehow doubted he was an orc though, he was nearly the size of a troll and much bigger than the orc Legolas and I had fought together in Esgaroth.

He wore arm guards and a loincloth, nothing else. Not the best thing to wear to battle, in my own opinion. I would've been surprised that he made it so far into the city if he hadn't been so big.

He pointed the sharp sword at me as he spoke in a low, gravelly voice, "You, She-Elf, shall die by my blade by order of my master."

I unsheathed my own sword in preparation, but the action made me wince. My shoulder wound was fully opened again and I could feel the blood trickling down my arm. That, along with my twisted ankle, would make this a difficult fight.

"And who," I asked, "Would that be?"

The green orc grinned maliciously, showing off his sharp, yellowing teeth. "Sauron."

"Sauron," I breathed in sharply, before quickly regaining my composure. "I am surprised to be singled out among others."

The orc started to walk forward, swinging his sword at his side. I resisted the urge to walk away, for that would show fear and prove that he had already won. But he had not, and I will not let him.