Immortalitui // Faramir 🥀

Chapter Twenty-Three - The Balrog

Word Count: 3,170 words. 

Warnings: You shall not pass!

The entire company could hear them coming. Their marching footsteps hurrying towards the tomb they stood in. Arathiel knew that they needed to act quickly or they would all be slaughtered. The small Hobbits would be slaughtered.

"We need to bar the doors!" she commanded, rushing forward, Boromir in tow.

"That will not hold!" Legolas argued.

"It will hold long enough for us to come up with a better plan," she returned.

Boromir turned his gaze outside the already rotting doors, looking left and right as he attempted to discover which way they were coming from. Arathiel pulled on his shirt as an arrow flew towards them, keeping him inches away from being hit in the face.

He gave her a thankful nod before they both pulled the doors shut, holding them closed as Legolas and Aragorn moved around the room. The Hobbits had quickly scurried behind Gandalf, the Grey wizard holding a protective hand out to them.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir commented, turning to Arathiel.

"You didn't expect for them to let us off easy, did you?" she countered, earning a smile from the Steward's son.

Aragorn approached with a long axe and Arathiel quickly helped him to wedge it between the wall as to keep the door from opening. Legolas tossed another, and another, until the three of them stood back and watched.

The goblins rammed against the rotting wood and within seconds were already breaking through. Their mangled weapons of mismatched metal cut through the wood with ease.

Aragorn and Legolas rose their bow's, readying to strike at those that made it through first. It wouldn't hold, Arathiel was sure that it wouldn't, but it gave them the opportunity to think of something better.

She was tempted to embrace the power of the ring she wore, casting a glance back at Gandalf. He only shook his head, a clear disagreement. Once, Arathiel had used the power of Vilya more times than she could count in her time on Middle-Earth. It was not just her only way of survival but also one of the most powerful rings ever created. It should be used to protect others, not herself, and she knew that, but nonetheless, agreed with Gandalf's dismissal. She would not use it.

Legolas let off the first arrow, its tip lodging into the head of a goblin that threatened to come through. Aragorn followed. Sword drawn and primed to attack, Arathiel circled behind the two warriors with bows, taking up position in front of Gandalf. The Hobbits must be protected.

Gimli let out a grunt of frustration as he climbed a top Balin's grave. "Let them come!" he screamed. "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

Arathiel couldn't help but look at the dwarf, only seeing the face of Gimli's father. It was odd how similar family could be, and yet it was one of the most comforting things of her Elven life.

Aragorn followed in Legolas' attack, attempting to kill off as many as they could before the doors broke. Arathiel's grip tightened as she took a deep breath.

"A soldier that panics in war, is a soldier that is bound to fail." Her father's words returned to her.

As the rotten wood failed, she did not. Legolas and Aragorn continued to attack with arrows as Boromir and Arathiel attacked from the sides. She slit the throat of the first goblin, bending her knees as another rushed her. It tripped and she tossed it over, stabbing her blade into its chest.