Everlong

73

To say Liruliniel continued to throw herself into battle was an understatement; her growing lack of mobility within her arm and shoulder, seemed to spurn her on to hasten and quicken the death of whomever she was facing against. Skirmishes, that's all that these fights were now, something else was going on, something which neither her nor the elves that were with her were aware of. The orcs would either stand and fight, or retreat and try and fight those which could not defend themselves.

Liruliniel wasn't quite sure when the women of Esgaroth had come out of hiding, but low and behold they were truly trying to aid in the battle. In vain, sadly, she was never one for shooting anyone down, but it would've perhaps been the best for them if they stayed inside. She understood the need to protect, the feeling of being able to be up to par with those around her, most of her life had been that: to prove a point that she was as good as the next elf. But it was different. Totally different; she had grown up to fight, these people had not. They were what? Fisherman's wives, grocers, weavers, their weaponry was not weaponry at all and it pained her honestly to see faces of much too young women laying in the street, alongside elders but members of her own race too.

There was naturally nothing felt for the enemy, other than this deep rooted spiteful feeling which was dwelling in the pit of her stomach. No, there was no pity for them. The innocents who tried to defend their home with bravery however? She felt pride for their attempts, and felt saddened by the unnamed and unknown who had fallen. It took courage, immense courage to do what they did. And they did it regardless of knowing they were likely to perish. She couldn't fault them on their tremendous bravery, that was something which could not be forgotten about this all.

It still did not take the bitter feeling away though, the street before her was barren, well, barren with life however. All that laid amongst the ruinous buildings and vine covered paths were bodies. None were alive here, none that she could see or hear of, that is. She let out a low breath, flinching as a shooting pain went through her shoulder, she glanced to the side. Thranduil was always quite good at keeping his emotions in check, but the sight of the number of his own fallen had something appearing upon the otherwise expressionless face. He looked shocked, saddened and distant, he had seen this all before, lived through this before, had to try and stagger back from the loses. It was a repeat of history which he did not wish to even be a part of, yet here he was.

Liruliniel wanted to say something, comment on the bravery of their kin, the fact they wouldn't have gone down easily, but no words came from her. She simply couldn't speak, her voice lost as she looked upon the remnants of the army. From history and memory recalls, they would be unlikely to be taken back home for burial. A mass one would be made, for all parties lost, somewhere where everyone could come and pay respects and mourn. It hurt even more to know that her kin would not see the woodland that was their home again, to be put to rest within the ground from which they owed everything to. Everything came from the earth, and to the earth everything would return.

There was something even more upsetting really, and that was to see Thranduil walk amongst the dead looking downwards at them as he passed her by. Liruliniel placed a hand to her shoulder and gritted her teeth, her wound hadn't stopped bleeding and the affects of blood loss was starting to kick in. She could feel it, she was tired, exhausted even, her head felt light and blackness was creeping into the corner of her eyes. She shut them briefly, only to shake her head to rid the spots from her vision. She looked back up at the sound of running footsteps.

"Recall your company," Thranduil didn't even look up to see the elf that had appeared through one of the many broken archways of Dale. Liruliniel did, she and him exchanged a look, her seemingly defeated and him resolute. The horn upon his belt was pulled loose and with ease, air which Liruliniel was jealous over due to her lungs struggling ever more, the elf blew into it, the horn sounded ominously in the air, hauntingly even. She didn't know if it was due to the death around her, or the sudden silence, but it just seemed all the more solemn.