Aeonian [Legolas]

35

The wind was cold against his cheek, air nipping at flesh and fighting to creep under his clothes. It blew his hair from his shoulders and hugged at his tunic but Viridis pushed forward, legs pumping beneath him as he rushed forward through the battlefield.

The Mori Twins flashed at his sides, blades arcing as he fought with the Elves still on the main field, delivering quick deaths to the Orcs that remained and darting by in a flash of red and brown. The numbers had dwindled, and it seemed that with every step he took, twenty more bodies took their place.

He didn't stop to think if the crunches beneath his feet were the dying Earth or those of forgotten bodies. He kept his eyes forward and mouth was drawn as he navigated the landscape, engaging with Orcs who dared approach them all the while trying to keep his gaze on Thorin and the company.

They had split off sometime during their journey. Thorin was with Kili and Fili. Bilbo was there too. The rest of the Dwarves continued fighting, calling their war proclamations as they rose their blades high and let them fall down in dignified arcs, finding flesh and letting bodies drop behind them.

It seemed, however, no matter how many Orcs fell, more kept on coming. With the Dwarf and Elvish armies fighting one common enemy, they were continually challenged and Viridis knew there would be no rest for any of them. Not yet. He had to reach the mountain. He had to reach Thorin and warn him of the dangers that waited for him. The task itself paired with the looming war was one of the greatest challenge and Viridis knew he would have to say more than just the common words to get Thorin to see reason. Thirst for blood was often blinding but it also meant dire consequences if something unseemly were to sneak up on a man shrouded with unforgotten time.

The air turned colder the more he pressed on and the sky had turned white, the ground beneath him resembling the beginnings of a warm counter sprinkled with forgotten sugar. If only things were so sweet.

"Viridis!" Someone called out to him, summoned by his name. Whatever it was, it was cried in grief and rushed time. Viridis looked, gaze flitting rapidly to the side, just north of where he had been journeying toward.

Viridis ducked, dropping to one knee and feeling air rush past his side as he forced one of the Mori Twins up and over his shoulder, bracing his core as something met the tip of it and threatened to drag him forward as it caught, a cry following it.

Viridis stood and swiftly pulled the blade from the stomach of the Orc that had thought it wise to sneak up on him the moment his name had been called. The blade lodged and Viridis snapped its neck, barely thinking before he was digging his other blade into the heart of the beasts and used it as leverage to pull the other free. They came blood-soaked, red coating the dying hue of the tell-tale blue but he paid them no mind as he sheathed them and reached for his bow next, barely taking the time to blink before his hand was reaching to a forgotten arrow on the ground, was notching it, and was firing it in the direction he had heard the call come from.

Thorin Oakenshield watched the Orc that had nearly killed he and Kili fall to the ground in a heap of lifeless flesh, nothing to tell of its passing except for the shaft of an arrow embedded in its back. He nodded his thanks as Viridis met his gaze across the battlefield and brought his own blade down to finalize the kill when the Orc stirred even despite its wound.

Breath, though never ample to begin with seemed even now bated as Viridis picked up his pace as he moved forward to meet Thorin, words of warning on his tongue dying as he tried to analyze Thorin's expressions. When he had left the man, it had not been in good faith, the words exchanged between them far from the establishment of anything close to trust let alone the knowledge that the next time they met would be as the other died at their hand.