Chances Are (Avengers & LOTR crossover)

Rescued

[Aurthor's Note: So I decided that from now on I'm going to put link to music that helps me into mood as I write every chapter. Feel free to listen to them as you read on. Let me know what you think! Happy Reading]

***

It would have been better if they killed her as soon as they got her.

Instead, they dragged her across the ruins of the Court of the Fellowship right there for everyone to see.

Everyone.

That included Glorfindel, Erestor, her husband, and whoever else were left, save the twins.

Oh how she wished the twins have some hidden tricks up their sleeves.

The princess of Rivendell had her muscles protesting in agony at her, heart pounding erratically at whatever fate handed to her this time. She knew that it was impossible for her to be this happy with her second life. Mike did promise her a good life, and good life did she have, but she damn well know that it was too good to be true.

Fighting the sting of betrayal at that thought, Leane kept her chin up even as the Uruk harshly kicked behind her leg to force her into a kneeling position. With hate she looked up into the piercing amber eyes of her enemy.

Her fugly enemy. She would love to blast her power at him, hatefully squeeze the life out of him had her energy not been depleted trying to defend the elven city all night and all day long.

The Uruk before her gave a malicious grin that showed a bad set of blackened teeth. Truly nightmarish, especially if you’re a dentist.

“Long have I waited for this moment,” he began with a mock reference, his rumbling voice deep yet it sounded as if someone had scratched their nails upon a board, and one couldn’t help but cringe, “Your reputation precedes you.”

The princess of Mirkwoord, having put there in the center of the ruins for everyone to see, felt like she had to say something smart, but could come up with nothing. So she spit as hard as she could at the dark creature and gave him her best glare.

To Leane’s surprise, he laughed as if she just told him a funny joke, but soon the force of his hand hitting her face sent her form falling to her side. Her eyes watered with the sheer pain on the left side of her cheek. She fought against the urge of the darkness that tried to pull her under, tasting the tang of rust inside her mouth. She proceeded to spit blood on the once beautiful ivory ceramics decorating the elvish court like a champ.

No matter how much she wanted to break down and weep at the wave of desperate agony and wrath coming off of the bond she had with her husband, the female human refused to turn to look into his electric blue eyes no matter how much he was begging her to.

Stay down. Please. Do not say anything more, melleth nin (my love).

She ignored Legolas’ plea, and instead stubbornly kept her chin up, glaring at the sick son of a bitch in front of her with a challenge in her own eyes. A kick on her stomach let her know that she succeeded in annoying the Uruk with the braided matted straws he called hair.

She bit her lip so hard to keep herself from screaming out of pain–good life my ass, Mike–HELP US!–she prayed to the Valar.

Had she not been too preoccupied with pain, she would’ve enjoyed Legolas' brief confusion at hearing her thoughts. But as silly as it was to call for help from a Valar that looked like Morgan Freeman, he was the only one she could think of right now. Desperate situation calls for desperate measure, and Mike was the closest thing to a guardian angel that she could pray to.