These Lovely Scars (Lord of the Rings Fanfic)

Shadow and Flame

My first fight.

I had nothing to do in Rivendell. Nothing except for training. I was tutored in the art of fighting by an elf that Elrond agreed to hire, and I became proficient with a bow and exceeded as a swordsman. Swordswoman, I mean. Sure, I can fight. Really well, in fact. But I've never actually been in a life-or-death combat situation before. I've never spilt blood, never sunk my blade into flesh before. That will all have to change now.

Boromir is at the door, trying to get a look at our opponents. Three arrows whiz by from afar, missing his face by an inch and lodging themselves into the frame of the door. He jumps back, bewildered.

Aragorn bends down to the hobbits. "Stay close to Gandalf," he says before hurrying over to the door with Legolas and Boromir. The three of them bar the doors with the abandoned weapons scattered across the floor.

A loud roar bellows from outside. I can only imagine what's behind those doors. "They have a cave troll," Boromir shouts to us all. Thanks.

Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn back away from the blockaded doors and join the rest of us. I can hear screams and roars from outside, and my heartbeat speeds up. To calm myself down, I look around at the others. I'm not scared, just...just...a tiny bit afraid. The four hobbits stand behind Gandalf, brandishing their short swords. Frodo's sword glows blue. Gandalf has discarded his hat (which I find terribly upsetting - it looks so good on him) and holds his staff up in a ready position. I stand between Aragorn and Legolas. All three of us have our bows positioned with an arrow notched and ready to be fired. Boromir clutches his sword, and Gimli stands atop the tomb of his fellow dwarf, brandishing his axe. There is a murderous look in his eyes, filled with rage. "Arghhh!" He growls. "Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

Creatures outside have begun to bash their weapons on the door, slowly but surely breaking it down. I grip my bow tighter. I can see the gleam of metal weapons through splintered holes in the doors. A fist sized hole emerges in the door. Legolas releases his arrow, and it cuts through the air and hits its target with the satisfying cry of an orc. I've never seen an orc before. What do they look like? I dread the moment coming when I will find out.

More holes in the doors. I let loose my first arrow. It flies perfectly through the centre of the tiny hole and hits the orc behind the door. I hear a cry of agony, and a thump. The first life I took.

Sooner than I wish, the door separating us from our enemies is at its last straw. The beasts finally break through, and I have my first look at an orc. Their skin is as black as death, and mutated faces seem to grin maniacally. Black spit flies from their mouths as they hiss at us. I begin to shoot my arrows, well, at their faces, I suppose. I don't want to waste one of my arrows by shooting away aimlessly at places they are covered in armour. I have to be smart about this.

The orcs are now too close for me to use my bow and arrows on. I trade my bow for my sword, and Legolas and Aragorn do the same. The orcs are upon us. Beside me, Aragorn beheads an orc with a clean swing of his blade. Black blood spurts from the headless stump, and I stagger back. I am not familiar with these gruesome dealings.

Vicious battle cries.The clank of metal on metal. The squish of a blade piercing flesh. The thump of lifeless bodies hitting the ground. The coppery stench of blood.

This is what it's really like.

I charge into the fray. My first orc approaches me. His teeth gleam black. Take a deep breath. This is just like your training, nothing is different. With a pinched face, I slash the edge of my blade across his stomach. I turn away quickly as the orc falls to the ground with a grunt, not wanting to see the blood. The blood that I've spilt.

A second one charges at me, this one more heavily armed. The creature carries a club in each hand. He swings at me, and I duck to avoid the blows. Popping up, I swing at his head, but he ducks. This one is smarter than the first one. When he is down, I take advantage of the situation and manage to pull off a weak front flip over him (it may not have looked pretty, but hey - it got me over) and stab the orc in the back. Again, I turn away once I know I've killed the orc.

Soon the third comes, and then the fourth. I begin to feel the numbing effect of battle. The screams all sound the same, and it's easier to drive my sword through each orc that approaches me. I fight the urge to cry. What am I turning into?

My thoughts are interupted by a thundering bellow that shakes the ground. A monster smashes its way through the broken door frame, sending pieces of debris and rubble flying across the chamber. So this is the cave troll Boromir spoke of. It roars again and smashes its fist into a stone pillar, sending it crumbling down. Sam dives out of the way just in time before he is crushed under the weight of the rocks. He pulls Frodo to his feet, and the two of them hide behind a pillar. At least they're safe.

The cave troll catches sight of me and begins to stomp forwards. I don't know what he's planning to do - eat me? I don't think I would taste that good. Reaching for my bow, I fire an arrow up. It hits the troll in the neck, and he roars once again, clutching at his wound. But the wound I caused is far from fatal. It just angered him. The troll charges towards me. I pull out my sword.

But then the troll staggers backwards and pulls violently at the chain around his neck. Boromir and Aragorn are at the other side, pulling the troll backwards by the chain. "Are you okay?" Aragorn shouts through the noise of the battle.

"Yeah," I shout, firing another arrow at the orc rushing at me. "Thanks!" From across the room, I manage to catch Legolas's eye. We share a look of understanding, and then nod. We have the exact same thought - kill it from the top. Running to the closest pillar, I begin to climb. The skin on the palm of my hand scrapes against the rough surface of the column and tears open little cuts in my palm, but I keep climbing. I have to get to the top.

Legolas has done the same thing on the opposite side of the room. When the cave troll is in an optimum position, we both jump. I launch myself into the air and hope that I will land on the troll.

Surprisingly enough, I don't end up in a splattered mess on the ground. I manage to catch hold of the side of the troll's face, and Legolas pulls me up so that we are both standing on his head. "Hold on!" He shouts as the troll begins to thrash around wildly, trying to fling us off. I watch in amazement as he somehow keeps his balance long enough to shoot an arrow into the troll's skull. I'm just trying not to fall off. The troll stops thrashing and sways, and I am able to find my balance. Just as I raise my sword to deliver the final blow, a glint of blue catches my eye. It's Frodo's sword, but Frodo is not holding it. It lays on the ground a few feet away from its master, where Frodo is cornered by an orc. "ARAGORN!" I scream. "Defend Frodo!"

He throws a dagger into the orc's back, thus saving Frodo. Turning back to me, his eyes fly wide. "BEHIND YOU!"

Legolas catches his cue and fires an arrow at something behind me. The scream of an orc pierces the air, but not before mine. He's too late. I already feel my material of my shirt soaking with something warm and wet. Everything happens in slow motion. I reach back, finding the cold, metal hilt of a dagger lodged into my lower back. My hand comes away stained crimson.

I fall.