Ashes ⇝Legolas

†22†

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
POWER RETURN

"All riders to the head of the column!" A shout came from King Théoden, Nesryn had already grabbed many uncountable steps toward the valley. As loud as it was, nothing could compare to the snarling and gurgling becoming much worse as she approached the Wolves of Isengard.

Legolas was there still, his eyes trained to the impeccable green of the grass and two arrows nocked to his bow. Nesryn followed his example, rather uncertainly nocking an arrow and firing it, listening to its deafening sound as the only one she heard and focused on. The woman gazed after the arrow that had just flown by Legolas to which she immediately lowered the bow for she had absolutely no intention of hurting the Elf. Unfortunately, Nesryn did not know if her arrow had hit its target.

There was an extraordinary speed to these animals, the Wargs. Nesryn could see it clearly, see that they could easily outrun a horse which no less did not go to their advantage as she pushed further into the battle. She was the first of the riders to arrive, just like a messenger to the others as the moment they arrived as well Legolas ran toward his horse, grabbed the animal by its neck and flipped himself over quite easily. Nesryn watched in amusement, the smallest of smiles tingling on the corners of her lips.

However, Nesryn quickly decided holding onto that smile was no use, dropping it immediately and rushing down the hills to meet the bloodthirsty and vicious Wolves of Isengard. The moment two sides collided, peace was no more. Blades clashed, blood already in streaks littered the greenery just in similarity to the subconscious part of Nesryn's mind replaying the long forgotten dream of her mother dying. Mercilessness— that was what Nesryn only felt of those Orcs.

She fell completely to the world of her own, not seeing anything but the blade burning shapes in her skin and the Orcs hacking through their ranks. It felt sizzling hot, her daggers no longer of cool handles but worse of heat than she had ever felt. And it did nothing to her.

Nesryn rode forward, her hands free of the reins as she threw both blades, each in opposite direction. Both killed an Orc riding by as she then pulled her bow, quickly nocking an arrow and following her careless use of the precious daggers fired it into Warg's leg.

The animal fell, but so did Quelestia.

Nesryn tipped to the right with her loyal horse, not having perceived it would have ended this way as she threw herself the further she could so she would not end crashed, with Quelestia holding her down. Nesryn hit the ground with a deafening crash, through her skull went a feeling of thousand rocks shattering it, pulling it to the point of her head ringing. Her hands started shaking rather uncontrollably and red and blue swirled in her eyes with the whole world spinning out of control. Shapes and shapes, but nothing that held real form.

The woman crawled toward her horse, painfully on the ground with Nesryn's golden dagger embedded in her leg, braced with of course, the filth of Orcs. An Orc had wounded her friend. Nesryn gave up on all what she held dear, gave in to the cry of pain, utter misery and untamable anger as neither the tears for the friendship of her loyal friend nor the battle raging about could stop her madness. She picked herself up, her hands bloodied and brusied yet even without a weapon ready to fight.

An Orc neared her, carrying its usual mortifying, merciless, bloodthirsty smirk ready to crash blades with the defenceless woman. It lunged forward, its blade aimed for her skull which she easily parried. As the Orc stumbled forward, did not expect for Nesryn to be this agile she considered a voice crawling to her mind, telling, whispering yet something indescribable and inaudible as she rose her hands up, positioning them in her defense.