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Chapter 17

Chapter 17

And the tomb was more alive than it had been for some time.

The orcs, they were coming.

Frodo drew his sword, it's pale blue glow almost mesmerising to Nínimiel.

Arrows struck the door, too close to where Boromir had peered out. As he closed the doors, he looked back into the room.

"They have a cave troll."

The sheer incredulousness of his statement would've made Nínimiel laugh under different circumstances. But they were in danger, laughter would've been both unsettling and inappropriate. Besides, the elleth had other things on her mind. Fighting was something she tried to avoid, it wasn't something she enjoyed, there was nothing similar between training and actual combat. In reality it was nowhere near as tame as training exercises, it was viscous.

Alas, there was not the time to stop and wonder how she knew that. All weapons were drawn, and the Fellowship could only wait behind the barricaded door. Their dwarf companion leapt up onto the sarcophagus, ready to face whatever came through the door.

"Let them come! There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

The orcs were ramming the doors, and they began to splinter at the ranger and the ellon nocked arrows.

The ends of crude weapons began to poke through, and the moment a gap was big enough, Legolas loosed an arrow, striking true and smiting the orc.

As the holes grew, both archers let a few more arrows fly before the orcs were well and truly upon them. One of the doors came crashing down, and in they poured, the creatures of filth and darkness.

And the hobbits leapt into the fray, whilst Nínimiel lingered at the back, hesitant to follow.

But then instinct kicked in, or rather kicked her into gear.

There was no time for thinking, no excuses, only action. She moved with a precision so unfamiliar yet natural to her. Blocking and slicing in fluid motions with such majesty that many who saw her almost did a double take.

However the reality was that she felt clumsy, and heavy, and was entirely fuelled by adrenaline and the fierce need to survive above all else. There wasn't anything beautiful about her movements, not really. It was raw, and her arms ached and when was the last time she had to twist this much?! The elleth wasn't sure if she was bleeding, or if the dark, shiny and sticky messes were orc. Or maybe it was a mix. It was too dark to see and she could hardly spare a moment to look as there was a troll.

Ah yes. The cave troll.

It had come roaring through the door, all foul breath and tough hide, club in hand. Nínimiel let out a cry as it narrowly missed Sam with his bludgeoning weapon.

She scooped him up after he was almost stepped on, and Aragorn and Legolas tugged the beast back. No sooner had she set Sam back on his feet, she was on the floor again, Boromir having been thrown into her.

The man groaned, and fumbled for his sword as an Orc swung at him.

But Aragorn came to the rescue, hurling his sword at the foe. The pair nodded to each other, a silent thank you, before Boromir finally moved his arse off of the elleth, which she was grateful for.

That troll was a menace, but Legolas managed to keep it just about under control. His arrows annoyed it enough to make it go after him, enabling the others to fend off the orcs around them.