Within Dreams [A Legolas love story]

Until the End

The rest of the battle was passing in a haze; I was gasping for breath constantly after the sixth or seventh Remnant that fell.

Fortunately, King Aragorn and General Mannerthorn had managed to execute the segregation of both groups with only a few stray soldiers escaping their barrier, which Faewyn and the other elves easily took care of. However, this did little to lessen the enormous physical effort it took to continue slaying these wraiths-- the more I felled, the more difficult it was to continue. It was easy to tell who had inherited the dark fragment when there were but five or six Remnants left. Every time I swung the sword, my arms like lead, my opposition leapt away or jabbed a mace or sword at me, causing me to spring back. They were fast, and agile, ever more powerful, and I would have surely been long dead before I could strike them were it not for the other elves assisting me.

There were a few times when one of the Remnants attempted some sorcery, like summoning invisible barriers around themselves or trying to throw weapons at me with magic. This only occurred a few times, once I only had a few Remnants left. The ground around me was littered with mostly shriveled corpses, and the air smelt of death.

From what I could tell, the Gondorian army was doing its best to ensure that as few men were killed as possible, but still the surrounding land rang with the shouts and clamor of the soldiers facing off.

I was very, very thankful for the half armour I wore; it saved me many a fatal blow as I was able to deflect some weapons with my bracers on and several times I was spared getting skewered as the thick leather of my curiass was difficult to penetrate.

I was so worn out by the last two Remnants that--shamefully--I considered simply laying down and letting them stab me. Obviously, considering this now, it seems ridiculous to even think of that, but on the battlefield, stained with blood and gasping for breath, with lungs on fire and clouded vision, it seemed only a relief.

Both grim and dark, it seemed I recognized one of them from before, although that wasn't a surprise, given that I had been kidnapped/tortured by them a number of times already.

"Gwithor!" shouted Faewyn in the background, swinging a two-handed sword, "The left!"

Though this made little sense to me at the time, I saw another dark haired elf twist backward instantly and throw a pure white knife into the side of one of the two Remnants. With delayed shock, I saw that the intended target was milimetres away from jabbing what seemed to be a very long dagger through my side, and instead moved away to pull the knife out of his side, saving my life.

Faewyn then shot a very well-placed arrow directly into the ligament above the knee, as the man stumbled at his leg's inability to support his weight anymore.

Again, one of them attempted to spring weapons on me, this time a length of chain that swung form one of their jerkins and snaked in blackened tendrils towards my legs. I yelped and stepped backwards, only to slide on loose stone and fall backwards onto the hard rock.

I took only a second to breathe, but at that precise second, both Remnants stabbed towards me, one with a machete, one with a wickedly gleaming sword, and though immediately someone--I thought it was Maldor--swiped a heavy blow across the blades to knock them aside, the tip of the sword caught on my un-armoured upper arm, cutting into the muscle there.

I grimaced, clutching at my arm with my other hand.

Blood dripped between my fingers and down my sleeve, looking almost like a dark scarlet rose, unfolding petal by petal. Fascinated, I looked at it, and the more I looked, the more I was aware of someone shaking me.

"Gianna, get up." Maldor said, urgently.

I looked at him, momentarily confused. I was just taking a break. Couldn't I take a break? I frowned as the world spun when I stood.