In One Day, I Promise (Legolas FanFic)

44. Yes, I will!

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I stood, next to Maethorhest, as we stood in a long line, with Thranduil at the front. He sat on an Elk, and had his swords hanging in sheaths by his sides.

The cold March morning pricked through my armour, making me feel cold and slightly apprehensive. It felt eerie. I was in full Elven armour, which was incredibly light, even considering I was wearing Mithril as well.

Legolas said I should wear it, that it had been a friend of his', and that it should fit me. He said it belonged to a Dwarf. We all had the same armour on, and each of us had a beautiful Elven sword, a fine crafted bow and a quiver full of arrows, as well as daggers, hidden blades, and supplies.

I had on a mithril vest underneath my chest plate top half, with firm trousers for my legs. I had on metal shoulder pads, with chainmail frills falling about three inches below. Everything is made of some kind of strong metal, and is interwoven with green.

My helmet covered my face, a tradition Mirkwood Guards helmet, with having the top part completely covering my head and then starting under my eyes, a vale of more chainmail falling to below my chin, so only my eye showed.

The boots are made of the same metal as everything else, and underneath I have mithril greaves on. I also have leather gloves and chainmail gauntlets.

I stand, feeling not very much, apart from a nagging ache of fear, that this was a proper, organised battle, where I was no more important than anyone else. I didn't stand out, we all had the same weapons, armour and hopefully, the same fate.

Apart from one thing. Before I'd set off, Legolas gave me one of his grandfathers swords, which was a massive honour. It was beautiful, and looked more like a precious artefact than a killing instrument. It was silver in colour, and had a green and brown handle, with emeralds lining the part where the blade met the handle.

In the end, Thranduil had decided to march half of his army down to Lothlorién to aid them if anything happened, and to keep half his army and all of the Guards here, so, we could push the orcs back into Dol Guldur on two fronts.

We waited for what felt like hours, before finally, the Orcs arrived. They came in numbers similar to ours, but they had one thing we did not. A complete and utter disregard for any compassion, loyalty or honour. But mainly honour. Thranduil had predicted before that this could be the final push to rid the lands of Orcs.

I just hope he is right.

They drew up about 200 m away, and Thranduil turned to us, and without even a second glance at the Orcs shouted across us.

"We have all seen death, we have all known what these foul creatures have brought us, and what they have taken from us. They may have taken our brothers and our sisters, our fathers and our mothers, but today, they will not take us! They have no honour, they have no one they care about at home, they have no family! Let that, if nothing else, inspire you to leave today with Orc blood smearing your blade, their heads on out spikes! Let us send them back to where they came from!" He roared, and everyone else shouted loudly.

I felt myself shouting, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Without looking back again, Thranduil thrust his sword in the air, indicating for the battle to commence. As I couldn't shoot yet, a knelt down, as the rows and rows of archer behind me shot into the air, a chorus of whistling.

With a delayed reaction, the Orcs could be seen falling, their bodies pierced by arrows. Then, they all charged, as we charged as well. My feet pounded the earth below, my breath rattling in my chest.