Sword and Arrow

Chapter 67

The army came forward to meet Aragorn like the hand of death. For a second he was alone there, a single spot against the army of orcs. Then Merry and Pippin charged forward with cries of "For the Shire!"

Legolas and Beruthiel followed behind, a deadly pair. Beruthiel worked best with Aragorn, covering him from farther away while he fought with his sword. But through the course of this journey, Beruthiel and Legolas had found that they made a lethal duo in battle, whether they were both archers or fought with knives.

Soon enough, the battlefield was a mess of black helmets and silver armor. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen, far ahead battling on his own. Legolas and Beruthiel spun together without words, deadly flashes of silver.

Beruthiel saw dark shapes overhead and cursed to herself. The fellbeasts of the Nazgul had come, and they tore through the army of the West, lifting many men at once in their long talons.

A moth fluttered through the fray of battle, a single calm point in a world of chaos. Dimly, Legolas heard the flapping of wings overhead, the rushing of wind through the tips of feathers. When he looked up for a split second, the shapes of Eagles whirled in the air, taking on the flying beasts.

"The Eagles are coming," voices rose from the battlefield as faces turned upwards to the sky. "The Eagles are coming!"

Beruthiel stumbled as a tremor swept through the earth. It seemed that cracks were spreading through the ground, spreading out from the tower of Barad-dur in the distance. The Nazgul above screeched and wheeled in the air, turning tail and flying back to the dark tower.

It's happening, Beruthiel thought. It's finally happening. But she could not think long, because there was a huge troll in front of her, swinging its huge fists like maces. She made eye contact with Legolas, and they both ran around it in opposite directions. Beruthiel caught hold of the troll's knee and flung herself up onto its shoulders, her red-and-grey cloak trailing behind. Once she was settled on its massive shoulders, she locked her legs around its throat and squeezed, trying to cut off its air to kill it easier.

Beruthiel plunged her saxe knife into the base of its skull - nothing happened. Trolls being trolls, it had the thick, dense skin of its species and the knife had done nothing but irritate it.

Beruthiel clung on for her life as the troll swatted around its ears, trying to dislodge her from her hold. Her hand slipped off the handle of her knife that she was using for handhold and she flailed in the air, upside down, holding on only by her legs around its throat.

On the ground, Legolas had sheathed his knives and was shooting at the troll. Three arrows at the heart had done nothing for it, and he did not want to shoot it through the mouth - a surefire way of killing trolls - for fear of hurting Beruthiel.

"Legolas!" Beruthiel yelled. "Knife!"

As quick as he could, Legolas shouldered his bow and threw a long dragon-bone knife at her, underhand, spinning point over hilt. He held his breath.

Beruthiel did not let herself freeze at the sight of a knife spinning towards her. She ducked, in case she could not catch it, and flung out a hand - carefully, at just the right moment - to catch it by the hilt.

She barely made it, holding it in two fingers, but quickly regained grip on it. I suppose I'm lucky that he doesn't have throwing knives.

Beruthiel tightened her grip on the troll's throat and pulled herself up, leaning over its head. Holding the top of its bald head in one hand, she plunged the knife in one of its eyes.

The troll roared in outrage and pain, staggering from side the side. Beruthiel dug the knife in farther up to the hilt - deep enough to kill even a troll.