The Dying of the Light: Part V
Author: Elvensong

Chapter 5: Fear and Sacrafices

The noise from the drums carried on the night wind.  Their ominous tone drew fear from whoever heard it as it came closer, but the enemy lay yet unseen through the tall grass.

            “Orks!” Aragorn cried as he drew his sword quickly moving towards Legolas who was getting an arrow at the ready.

            “Legolas, are you sure you’re in shape to fight? You cannot be sure that the spell had not had any affect on your skill.”

            “Aragorn, my friend, I may have lost my magic, but my physicality is perfectly intact.  Besides, I have been an archer for much longer than you can fathom. I will not sit idly by while my companions face the enemy. I can handle myself.” The Elf turned to the man, “Thank you for you compassion, Aragorn.”

            However, Legolas’ assurance was not enough for Aragorn.  Another danger was bothering him, a horrid fact very well known throughout all of Middle Earth. Orks hate Elves with an undying passion.  For as beautiful as Elves are, Orks are hideous.  The instant an Ork gazes upon an Elf, it is reminded of what it had become when it was cast down into the dark pit in which they dwelt to this day.  For they were once Elves themselves, twisted and tortured until all that was left was an ugly shell and a hate which consumed them. 

            He knew the moment they laid eyes upon Legolas, they would focus all their attack upon him, and in his condition he still wasn’t sure if he could properly defend himself.

            “Throw this cloak over you, Legolas. When they catch wind of what you are you will have much more dire of a fight than any of us.”

            Normally Legolas would have found the suggestion insulting, but things were not normal.  Legolas calmly obliged the ranger and hid his long flowing hair and his pointed ears. 

            The drums were now honing in on the company and Frodo’s sword, Sting, shone a bright blue.  Then the screams of their enemy shattered the night air.  The first Ork leapt out of the tall grass and attacked Gimli, who made short work of the creature with his heavy ax.  The hobbits were pushed behind the other because they had not been trained in the arts of war as the others had. 

            The orks came at the Fellowship in waves.  Boromir charged in as ever the aggressor in a fight.  He screamed a primal scream as he pounded through Ork beings, one after another, not relenting for even one second.  He fought with such blinding passion he actually entered the grass upstaging the beasts attack position.

            Aragorn stayed back by the hobbits in order to better protect them from an attack from another angle.  He kept an eye on the other members, making sure no one was getting in over their heads.  The King thought for a minute he would have to go into the grass after Boromir if the man did collect himself and made his way back towards the others. Fortunately, Boromir reappeared unhurt and still fighting with an undying energy.

            Legolas shot Ork after Ork right between the eyes.  Any doubts Aragorn had imagined about his ability were quickly extinguished. 

            The waves of Orks seemed endless, and after a short while of fighting the group began to tire.  Even Gandalf felt drained from his onslaught sent upon them, instead of using his sword he began casting magical balls of flame against groups of Orks.  The Wizard thought the show of power and light would deter the rest of them, but it just made them come with more speed and greater numbers.

            “Aragorn!” Gimli cried “We can not hold out much longer under this attack!”


            Suddenly, Gimli’s ax was torn from his hand and the Orks began to descend upon him. Boromir tried to get them off of the Dwarf, but when he turned they began attacking the man from behind.  The Fellowship was being overwhelmed and it seemed the battle lost as even Galdalf was close to admitting defeat. Aragorn felt a lone tear begin down his face, they had failed, he was as weak as his ancestors. 


            Then it happened. A figure broke apart from the group and climbed atop one of the small hills. The lone being screamed out to the attacking Orks piled below, “Beings of darkness, do not bother yourselves with those mortals!” Then he revealed himself by lowering his hood. “There’s much better prey in these fields tonight!” Legolas’ hair caught swiftly in the wind and blew around his face, the points of his ears slightly visable.


            The orks screamed out in unison, “An Elf!”


            They abandoned the rest of the company en mass, pure rage fueling their fire. Nothing would prevent them from having this creature as their own. 

            Legolas turned and run as if his life depended on it, and it did. All thought that was in his mind was, run, run, run! He ran through the fields as swiftly as he ever had in his life. He tried not to disturb the tall grass, which on this side of the small hills was taller than he was.  He couldn’t see his enemies, but he could hear them as the tore their way through the grasses behind him. He could almost fell their hot stinking breath on the back of his neck. 


            “Legolas!” It took Aragorn a moment to realize what the Elf had done.

            “That’s it!” Gimli shouted, mush emotion in his voice, “I don’t care what any myth, legend or story tells of them. They are all stupid Elves!”

            “We must go after him. Lord only knows what accursed things they will do to him if they should catch them.” Gandalf recovered himself quickly and followed the path of broken grass.


            He couldn’t run forever.  He would have to stop sometime, and Legolas saw no place to hide out here in the plains.  As an Elf, he could run for long periods, but his terrible ordeal still left him weakened.  He would need to find someplace to hide, soon.

            Luckily for him, his stealth was still with him and the sound of the Orks still pursuing him slowly faded. His cover of grasses was beginning to shorten and thin, revealing more of the scenery around him.  His keen eyes made out a rock formation in the distance and he ran towards that, hoping for some cover since he was quickly loosing the one the Elf had in the grass. 

            It took the rest of his strength to reach the rocks, and he quickly found a small pocket in the side of the rocks in which to hide himself.  At first, all he could hear was his heart beating loudly in his chest and his breath coming in quick gasps.  Then the sound of the Orks grew louder as they began a search, the rocks also catching their attention.


            “Hurry!” Aragorn led the ensemble, urging them ever faster on the trail of the Elf and the orks.  Legolas had put himself in the worst danger imaginable to save them.  If the Orks caught him, no, he didn’t want to think about it.  The tales of what orks did to Elves unfortunate enough to find themselves in their grasp were enough to frighten even the bravest soul.

            The hobbits ran as fast as their small legs would allow.

“We are coming, Aragorn!” Merry tried to keep pace as best he could.  The larger men were holding back to keep the hobbits in sight.  Especially with Frodo in that group of four trailing behind.  Gandalf knew that Legolas would never forgive them if the one ring was lost because they were so obsessed on the idea of saving him. Sam held up the rear, wishing desperately that he had a longer stride. 

Gimli found endurance he never knew he had as he ran, keeping up well. That stupid Elf wasn’t going to hog all the glory as the savior of the Fellowship, he was going to save the Elf and get the most glory to take back to his people.  He wasn’t going to let the Elf gloat, damn it, and he wasn’t going to loose him now.


The Orks searched the rocks, scouring them with their crude hands and sharp noses.  Legolas held his breath and closed his eyes, mentally wishing for invisibility as he heard the creatures of darkness coming ever closer.  When he opened his eyes, he noticed the stars shining brightly down upon him.  They looked exactly as they did from Mirkwood, and for one moment, he felt comfort.

He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard one Ork breathing loudly on the other side of the rock wall he was leaning against.  His fight or flight instinct was screaming at him, but he couldn’t decide which would be better.  The sound of breathing was so loud it shook him to his core.  If he revealed himself the chase would begin again and he didn’t see anything nearby to hide him.  He wouldn’t be able to run as far as he did during the original chase, he hasn’t even caught his breath yet.  On the other hand, if he remained, he would be cornered, trapped.

When the Prince of Mirkwood smelt the breath of the Ork, his primal mind made the decision for him and he ran with all his might out from the rocks back towards the grass.  The Orks screamed and gave chase, right on his heels, catching up to the object of their ultimate hatred. 

All the Elf could see was the boarder to the grass ahead.  Legolas didn’t see the large, menacing creature in front of him hiding in the grass, waiting for the inevitable sprint from the prey.  He didn’t see him aim the large weapon at him, which resembled a crossbow.  He didn’t see the large spear with the metal point being fired at his chest until he was thrown back from its impact and quickly thrown into darkness.

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