Repudiate || legolas

𝟏𝟒

𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

Awarthon laid on the floor. Bloodstained ears and soaked in rain clothes. He had taken 7 lives in a matter of seconds. And had been alone for 100 years. Finding his way from the mirkwoods to safty. He had no control over himself. A meek voice spoke up. "Hello. Oh dear," a voice spoke, but Awarthon couldn't see from the thorn bush he laid in. The wound from an arrow in his shoulder. Radagast.

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Arrows were shot in waves, yet they were quickly destroyed by some sort of spinning arrow. Thranduil watched as it came crashing down. Awarthon moved quickly out of its way with a roll before planting himself on soil ground. He was too busy focusing on himself to hear the words being spoken, but Thranduils face was that of suprize and anger. Another command of arrow fire. This time, Awarthon used a vine and grabbed the spinning arrows, pulling it to the floor before it hit anyone. A bit of his own blood dripped from his nose. They were charged, and the elves took out their shields, and Awarthon stood next to Thranduil, ignoring the black blood that dripped from his nose.

"Awarthon, your nose," Thranduil spoke.

"I'm aware, I need need to kill a few to offset it," he spoke coldly as he used his sleeve to brush away the blood as he defended himself, staying away from magic until the orcs arrived.

As of on que giant were-worms rumbled the earth and sprouted from the ground. And orcs began to flood out. In an instant, they had a common enemy. The elves laid back in position, letting the dwarves handle it. And Thranduil watched.

"We have to do something," Awarthon spoke to Thranduil firmly. "We can not just stand here. They will all die, and then mirkwood will be next,"

Thranduil looked conficxted before he nodded, commanding his army forward. Awarthon approved and held his weapon.

...

Awarthon moved around Thranduil, his vines follwoing him. Without the cap weighing his heart down, he was only quicker and faster. Vines piercing and impaling using any blood that landed on him to fuel what magic he had. When he felt weak, he switched his his blades that Legolas gave him. Thranduil called out for Awarthon, "Come!" He commanded. Awarthon nodded and quickly got on Thranduils moose. When Thranduil road passed him, he was holding out his arm, and Awarthon swung on top. He used his vines to anchor himself down and fend off orcs.

Across the bridge, they went. Awarthon switched to a bow, which he was less skilled at but was good enough to hit 80% of his shots while on the back of the moose. He jumped off as they reached the gate to defend the gates entry and follow on foot. But the moose had been shot just a few seconds later. Thranduil went flying, then rolled his blade at the ready. Awarthon knew he could handle it, so he stayed back and covered the bridge using a small amount of magic to create a sort of barrier but did cause his head to ring and blood to enter his mouth. As soon as other elves joined him, he stepped back to join Thranduil once more. Awarthon grappling and pulling. Piercing and slicing. His whip of vines as sharp as a dagger and stronger than before.

His eyes had lost all the blue left. His saturation was leaving him more and more.

...

Thranduil and Awarthon came across a clearing. Full of their dead. Hearts weighed heavily as they looked upon the bodies. Awarthon didn't look in the best condition. He looked paler, and his blood was on his nose and lips. Thranduil looked horrified of all that was done.

An elven commander approached the two. "Recall your company," Thranduil spoke softly.

"Thranduil," Awarthon looked wide-eyed at this new change. He understood, but it was still a cowardly one.