The Silvan (Lord of the Rings-Legolas)[Wattys2016]

Chapter 26: The Listener

The Company stood at the rear of the caravan, half their attention on what was happening further up the line, and the other half on any noise that would confirm Legolas' claims that another, larger group would attack here, where Silor had sent them, like dead meat for the carrion birds. Not that Idhrenohtar had any doubts, but the others would, and he could not blame them for that.

Legolas had been sent with Lieutenant Galadan, master archer that he was, and Idhreno could only hope he would be safer there than he would be here, even without The Company by his side. The aspiring Sindarin lieutenant had given no credence to Legolas' warning, and there had been no further time for him to press his point. Too late, too late for Galadan or Commander Celegon to make contingency plans; Silor had seen to that with his petty arguments and unveiled racism. Perhaps, mused Idhrenohtar, he would live to see the wretch pay for his tragic lack of skill as a leader, his ignorance, his arrogance... surely there was no place for an elf such as Silor in Thranduil's militia?

The blue-eyed Silvan with the face of an angel, or Galdithion as Idhrenohtar now knew him to be called, stood with his bow at the ready, eyes darting here and there, and Idhreno rather thought him a strange character; such an angelic face seemed antagonistic with the ways of warfare - he should be a poet, or a musician, a teacher, perhaps; yet there he stood in full battle mode, his brow furrowed and his weapons drawn - he reminded Idhrenohtar of Legolas, he realised.

A cry echoed down the line, and all too soon, the sounds of battle were unleashed; the twang of short bows and the whoosh of the larger, field bows ripped through the air, the scrape of metal and the cries and shouts from the warriors as they plunged into the fray mingled with the shrieks and below of the orcs they fought.

Any moment now, thought Idhreno. There were only eight of them; if the second group were indeed forty strong, that meant five for each of them. He knew their best bet would be to hide themselves and attack the surprise group from above, take them unawares. Damn their bad luck that Legolas was not here to pick them off as only he could do.

Thus it was decided, and the eight Silvans hid themselves as only woodelves could, their blood rushing through their veins, their hearts pumping furiously as they listened to the battle a little further away, their hands tightening on their bows and their skin prickling almost painfully when an elven cry reached their ears.

It was Galdithion who first signalled the approach of the group, and as they readied their weapons, Idhrenohtar caught his eye only briefly, yet it was time enough to see what surely lay in his own. Fear, dread, determination - courage, and yet - he too, knew the truth of it; too many, there were too many...

TSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTS

Legolas shot in rapid succession, the rhythmic release of his bow string whooshing loudly, even above the cacophony of battle below him, each arrow lodging itself with a satisfying thud in the neck of an enemy.

When at last there were no more arrows, he jumped to the ground and summersaulted forwards until he was in front of an orc that battled with Commander Celegon, stabbing it cleanly through the liver before spinning to the side and slicing another across the jugular. It screamed as it ran, hand desperately trying to contain the fountain of dark blood.

A cry off to his left had him running forwards, finding Silor struggling to parry the heavy blows of an orc that pressed its advantage, for Silor's shoulder was hanging out of its socket. Jumping, he sent the tips of both blades into the junction between neck and shoulder, killing the beast before it crumbled to the ground.