Feud

Feud, by erobey, robey61@yahoo.com

Disclaimers: see chapter one
Thanks: Unending praise and appreciation to Sarah for her hard work as my beta. Any remaining errors just blame me. Limitless gratitude to all the readers and fabulous reviewers!

Chapter 43: Tadui Dagor: Maeth dan Yrch [Second Battle: Fight against the Orcs]
Part Two

Precariously perched on the gelding's rump, Gandalf clutched tightly to the wild elf's waist, leaning close to the warrior's shoulder as both bent low over Hûnchim's neck. The Maia heard a whistling whine sweep past his head and flinched from the unmistakable wind of an arrow's flight. Legolas cursed and shifted more upright, reaching for his bow and elbowing the Istar's chest as he snatched out an arrow and sent it flying. He fired thereafter in a continuously fluid motion, aiming into the trees lining the elven side of the roadway. Behind them, Gandalf could hear Aragorn releasing darts as well, and all around the sounds of barbaric grunts, shouts of enraged anguish, and groans of rapid death filled the ebbing night.

Abruptly, the sortie was over and the wild elf spoke once more to Hûnchim, sending the brave steed barreling into the brush and boles of Thranduil's borderlands. Maranwë made a great deal more disturbance, crashing his greater bulk through the undergrowth for there was no pathway here. Legolas let the golden gelding slow to a trot again, but did not allow a halt even though the horses were weary and alarmed. A song cng caress of the palomino's neck calmed the frightened beast somewhat, and this in turn eased the charger's senses.

"Are you whole?" Legolas worriedly asked and glanced back through the filtered dawn's light first at Mithrandir and then beyond him to Aragorn.

"Aye, no injuries," said the Man grimly as the wizard concurred. "Are you well? What is happening, Legolas? Is this the troop from the Misty Mountains?" He saw the Tawarwaith's head dart to the side and caught a flash of those brilliant blue eyes, alight with irritated exasperation, before the elf turned back to the terrain ahead of them.

"I am well enough!" {Healers!} "Yes, these are the very beasts dogging us that I have feared would overtake our progress. All night I worked to reduce their number, yet more continue to join their ranks! I am not sure if they are all from beyond the Anduin or a mix of local and foreign vermin."

"He is injured, Aragorn, and even now bleeds. I am not certain whthe the wound is, but Hûnchim is quite disturbed by the smell!" Gandalf interjected and lowered his brows in defensive menace when Legolas turned betrayed eyes upon his.

"I am well enough!" Legolas repeated angrily. "You promised not to cast doubts on my ability, then trust that I know when I need to stop!"

"Nay, you will halt when we are safe, not when you require care!" countered Mithrandir.

"And how will you fight weakened by blood loss?" demanded Aragorn, trying to find a way to get Maranwë alongside the gelding, though the closeness of the trees did not allow it.

"There is no choice in this! One fights or dies, I choose to fight. I am not so weakened that it will hamper our retreat, I assure you! Last night I bound up the injury; it will be fine until later. I will stop when we reach the river!"

"That is another thing, Legolas," the Man continued. "Why are we running for the river at all? Then we will be forced to halt and face whatever numbers converge upon us! Are you looking for the King's troops to be stationed there?" The mortal simply could not abide being ignorant of the plans for their struggle and had difficulty relinquishing control of such a dire situation, unable to get beyond the sense of the numbers approaching them. Knowing Legolas was injured certainly did nothing to inspire confidence in successfully beating such odds.

Legolas sighed quietly. {How does he think I have endured this long with as little skill as he credits to me?} He thought of explaining to Aragorn that they yet had a small advantage granted by the forest itself, for the Orcs could not advance in a coherent force but had to run amid the boles and find their quarry piecemeal, a few at a time.

He felt he should not have to explain that his senses alerted him to the enemy's presence early enough to forestall any surprise attacks. Raised by elves, trained by elves, and having fought with elves, Aragorn should know these things even better than Mithrandir. If the three kept moving, they could hope to avoid being overwhelmed and boxed in, or separated from each other and individually surrounded. Instead of speaking any of these reproaches, Legolas merely answered the Man's question, for he heard the advance of seven of the beasts just to the right and ahead of them.

"At the river there are boats. The King's guard I have already seen, though I do not think they are aware of us yet; they are chasing the Orcs that are chasing us. They will force the Orcs to slow down, and that should be enough to aid us." As he spoke he stood upon the horse and pulled up into the trees, and the next instant he disappeared from sight. Minutes later the sound of his bow and the successful conclusion of the arrows' flights was confirmed by the surprised cries of the Orcs, which died never having set eyes upon their prey. Legolas returned to his friends and reseated himself on Hûnchim's shoulders.

Aragorn caught another fleeting glance from the feral fighter's eyes and grinned back, for there had been something in that look that conveyed a stronger reprimand than any words might express. {He seems to be functioning well; perhaps it is not serious.}

The Man was reminded of Elrohir, who often sent such reproving glares to Elladan for continuously cautioning and advising the younger twin during battle, as though Elrohir had not noted exactly the same signs at precisely the same moment. The Man wasted no more thought on such reflections, however, for Legolas suddenly switched directions and picked up the pace of the palomino. In a few heartbeats they were set upon by a large number of Orcs, and Aragorn was certain Legolas had deliberately turned them into this throng.

Again the archer leaped to the trees and proceeded to inflict a rain of death into the foul army. He was not indiscriminate in his selection of targets, however, and sent every Orc bearing a bow to its death first. And that is when the creatures attempted to be clever and earned for themselves a most gruesome death.

The Orcs decided to concentrate on the little gelding, for the animal was clearly not trained for combat and knew no techniques for warding off danger and protecting its rider. Hûnchim wheeled and reared, darted and whirled this way and that, yet each movement ed ted to bring him into closer proximity to the beasts.

Mithrandir brandished his broadsword and his staff and was able to keep them back for a time, but more of the demons turned to engage him and he could not guard every point at once. Aragorn was occupied with four combatants himself and could not break away in time to assist. Legolas was firing furiously from the trees but his supply of arrows was nearly spent and still the beasts converged upon the wizard.

The elf shot his last arrow and even as the Orc fell another beast instantly replaced it, and this one managed to reach the terrified gelding. Hûnchim's high-pitched whinny of pain and fear sliced through the half-lit morning as easily as the Orc's blade slipped between his ribs and into his lungs. The poor horse instinctively leaped away and was met by the blade of another Orc. The sword bit deeply into his shoulder and the horse staggered and collapsed with a heaving groan, pinning the Istar's leg beneath his bulk.

The enraged shout that preceded the Tawarwaith's descent from the trees was deafening and held all the promise of annihilation he intended for his adversaries, and for the briefest of instants they paused. It was hopeless, really, and they knew it. Every one of them would die, and not with a clean and simple arrow shot through the head.

The wild elf landed next to his fallen friends and wasted no time fulfilling this promise, and set upon the first Orc with dagger in hand. Ducking beneath its sweeping scimitar, he stabbed through its neck and snatched the long bade from its clutch as he shoved the bloody monster away. A quick leap to the side and a sharp upsweep of his arm brought the blade of the Orc's weapon cleanly through its gaping throat. Legolas turned from its body with its head in the other hand and this he swung by its greasy matted hair, using it to parry the sword of his next victim as his dagger darted into the breach created and sliced a gaping gash through the demon's abdomen.

Legolas took the sword from its twitching hand and used it to gut an Orc attempting to attack him from behind and snaked his dagger through the wrist of another advancing on the left. The elf took a small cut across his hip as that blade's edge thus dropped still clutched in the severed claws, but he barely felt it as he glared into the yellow eyes of the loathsome beast and then let the dagger put those out as well. He kicked the mutilated Orc into the path of another attempting to reach him, and both went down. Legolas quickly approached them and knelt.

The unharmed monster raged and snarled trying to get from under his blinded comrade whose lifeblood was rapidly draining through the dismembered wrist. Legolas planted one hand firmly on the sword arm of the pinned one, rolled the disabled Orc away, and plunged his dagger viciously into his captive's chest, snapping ribs and sinews as he hacked his way to the creature's blackened, shriveled heart. This he yanked free and rose with it from the steaming carcass. Just as he lobbed it into the face of another opponent and followed that with one of the plundered Orcish daggers, he heard the arrival of reinforcements nearing their position.

This cleared his fury enough to see to Mithrandir, pushing and lifting the expired palomino off the wizard even as arrows began to pierce the animal's body and embed in the bark and ground around them.

Aragorn shouted to them, encouraging his frs ass as he maneuvered Maranwë closer. The war-horse proved his value and courage, flailing with hooves and teeth, leaping and kicking with unerring aim to catch ringing blows upon Orcish skulls that cracked under the impact of such force. The brave steed incurred a number of small wounds but let not the flow of his blood deter him from the fight. All the while the Man's sword bit into the necks and arms of the dastardly foes, and often the charger had to jump to clear his footing in the accumulating debris of bodies upon the earth.

Once his comrade was up and hacking his way through the oncoming Orcs to reach Aragorn, Legolas raced amid the hail of arrows straight into the soldiers, sword in one hand and dagger in the other. He reached his goal, an Orcish archer still fumbling to fit an arrow to shoot him down, and slit its throat as he buried the sword into the next nearest's stomach, leaving it there and taking up his bow as the Orc went down. He bent to take the creature's quiver and when he straightened was astonished to feel himself thrown back upon the ground. A sharp searing flare of pain erupted in his side and the feral fighter shouted in anger, for he knew he had taken an arrow.

Aragorn, with the wizard now perched behind him on the stallion, saw this and turned to give his comrade aid. Even as he battled to reach the elf, he watched as Legolas got to his knees and put the bow to use, clearing away the other archers first and then targeting the warriors converging upon the irresistible sight of one of the fair folk, wounded and bleeding and earth bound. The human did not need to instruct Maranwë to create a barrier between the downed warrior and the enemy and soon the horse was pivoting and kicking with powerful grace, lashing out at any Orc that tried to reach Legolas.

"Legolas!" shouted Mithrandir. "Get into the trees!" He was exasperated to see the Tawarwaith thrusting his dagger blade into the ground as though to clean it before continuing the fight.

"A moment, if you do not mind!" shouted back the elf, and as the wizard watched Legolas took a breath and held it, then carefully placed the point of his knife against the arrow's shaft and slid it down into the wound slowly. A minute later he gave a quick twist of his wrist and a rapid yank and drew back both the dagger and the arrow from his flesh. With a stifled gasp he swallowed back a cry of pain and hastily snapped off the point of the missile, tossing it into his quiver as he pressed hard over the gush of blood that poured from the aggravated injury. There was no time to waste, however, and with a quick swipe of his red-wetted hand against his leggings he rose and bolted for the nearest tree, making its cover in a flash of swaying golden tresses and a grunt of discomfort as his battered body protested the exertion.

Once Legolas was in the branches, the Orcs were doomed. With efficient accuracy he used their comrade's arrows to deliver them death, calling for his friends to turn west and work back towards the rising of the land. A rapid swish of a black flowing mane and dappled-grey haunches caught the feral Tawarwaith's eye and he rejoiced; the King's troops had caught up and were harrying the Orcs from the rear, preventing more of the demons reaching them from the south and east. Soon their arrows were singing through the morning, seeking silence in the hearts of the enemy.

And it was well for the three travelers that this assistance was at hand, for they were beset from the north with equal force as they strove to reach the shores of the Forest River. Already Legolas could hear the gurgling voice of the water surging through its channel. But they were yet too far for the Man's hearing to detect this sound when the noise of Black Speech and trampling feet, ringing steel and whistling arrows was so close at hand and demanded all his attention. In no time they were surrounded again, battling courageously as they fell back, Legolas shooting from the trees while Gandalf and the human struggled to stave off the onslaught from the charger's back.

Carrying two full-grown males was a great burden to Maranwë, and his speed and agility suffered under the stress. In addition, the proximity of one to the other hampered the movements of the fighters as they attempted to defend themselves against the enemy. Legolas saw this and became alarmed when the Man's sword arm took a glancing blow that drew out a bitter curse and a crimson stream from the Man. At almost the same instant Mithrandir hollered in agony as a sword found a way to his knee and left a gaping rend in his flesh that bared the bone, white amid the ruby flux. They were tiring, horse, mortal, and Maia, and that would seal their doom.

Legolas leaped down from the trees into the mass, for he was out of arrows again and still the beasts continued to advance. All of the caves of the highlands must have emptied to do battle with the Tawarwaith. He killed two Orcs quickly, one an archer, and snatched up its quiver as he threw one of the fiendish dirks he had scavenged from his earlier victory into the back of a huge beast charging towards Maranwë.

"Here, hideous and misshapen slaves of Melkor! Why do you waste your time with those two?" He fired off an arrow that embedded into an arm raised to strike the wizard. "I am the one you were ordered to kill! Look at you, worthless as shite, useless as vomit!" Two more arrows felled the first beast to turn toward him. "So close you are, your farts foul the airs and the stench from your lungs makes me want to heave, yet still you cannot catch one lone and wounded elf!" he shouted at them and by this time nearly every Orc in the vicinity responded to the challenge.

Legolas laughed, making the sound as light and lyrical as his fair voice could do, knowing his careless seeming demeanor would only enrage them even more. As the Orcs came for him, he rapidly shot them down, moving toward a likely oak as he did so. The creatures knew he was taking to the branches and tried desperately to prevent it, but his aim was fast and sure and none closed the gap in time to halt his ascent.

Once there, he stayed low and moved slowly, taunting them boldly to follow if they dared. Of course they could not resist, and if they hesitated he came out of the trees again and stood still a minute or two to present them with an easy target. In this way, Legolas was able to divert the majority of the Orcs from Mithrandir and Aragorn, and the numbers remaining to fight them were not more than the two could handle.

As he fought further and further from his friends, Legolas sent Mithrandir urgent orders to run for the river, and the wizard did not disregard these instructions. A few words to Aragorn made him understand the plan, and though they were now divided the three travelers made their way in accord toward the rocky banks that Legolas had given knowledge of to his friend. When at last the shore was reached, the Orcs became wild with fury and redoubled their efforts, seeing their prey on the brink of escape.

Had the King's troops not been dogging them so thoroughly, the beasts might at least have claimed the lives of the wizard or the Man, and perhaps the Wood Elf as well. As it was, Gandalf jumped down and hobbled for the spot where the canoe was beached upon the shingled shore. Aragorn leaped from his loyal steed's back and smacked the charger's rear, intending to send him to safety. But Maranwë would not desert them and made his body a bulwark. Legolas defended them from the trees as the boat slid into the stream.

The fighters splashed through the icy water and scrambled into the craft as Legolas dropped to the ground and retreated to the bank, firing as he proceeded, amid the cries of his friends and the outraged clamour of the disappointed Orcs still trying to get past his lethal skill.

With a final shot, the wild elf slipped his bow over his shoulders and ran through the shallows, aware that the valiant war-horse had again positioned himself between the retreating elf and the barrage of death. He dived into the liquid, slipping under the surface until he reached the canoe. Arrows and blades, from daggers to swords, hurtled towards the little kayak as the Orcs made their last attempts to kill, but only Maranwë did they take and none struck the weary travelers.

Legolas shot to the surface and Aragorn leaned over, hauling him in while Mithrandir held the boat steady, using his staff to anchor them. In dismay the three looked upon their four-legged comrade, stretched upon the bank as the grotesque horde plunged swords and fired arrows into the dying horse, spending their futile rage.

Finally they were away; the boat was caught by the current and whisked downstream, and the last the trio saw of the Orcs, the Greenwood's warriors had broken through the trees and were almost casually moving among the beasts, slaughtering them all.

The Forest River sequestered its true nature while rolling sedately past Othronnen Thranduil, as though in submission to the ruler that lodged there. Closer to the Central Mountains, it roared with its most powerful voice and writhed in vehement turbulence in futile defiance of its subjugation further down stream.

The river twisted through the narrow gorge cut solely of its own design, smoothed and shaped as slick as glass with the flailing tongue of its forceful liquid body. Foam and spray it cast up into the air around it from bank to bank, waves standing and flowing back up stream over the boulders and outcropping stones in its bed. With relish it delved potholes and loop ways using small stones and cobbles agt tht the massive rocks, so that if ever it were laid bare the stony bottom would have the appearance of a gargantuan ants' nest exposed.

Here was no need for the Enchantment that marked its lower courses, for it had anger and wrath aplenty to claim the breath and life of any that wandered within its domain. Here was a stream not eager to submit to the counsel of Ulmo, or perhaps that was exactly what it did. Perhaps Ulmo, in his wisdom, left this river to its own mind, flowing dangerously wild the the modest peaks in the Greenwood's heart as a first defense for the Wood Elves' kingdom, preventing easy access from the southern and eastern borders.

In the small canoe, the three travelers rode the untamed courses with growing trepidation, Gandalf in the prow and Aragorn behind him with the prone elf in between. Aragorn was hindered in the use of his paddle, for his arm was still bleeding, weakened from the attack. Gandalf looked ready to pass out as he knelt upon his led led knee and strained to help the Man with the other paddle. Legolas' wounds had opened again. The wild elf lay, soaked, gasping and shuddering, upon the floor of the boat, fighting to remain alert.

Now in the full, clear morning's light of the open sky over the river, the seriousness of the injuries could be se It It was apparent that the feral elf had used the binding from his ankle to bandage up a deep puncture in his thigh, and the blood oozing from this was quickly mixing with the puddle of water shed from him in the bottom of the canoe. Aragorn could not tell whether both injuries were from arrows or not, nor could he halt his paddling to try and stop the bleeding. He silently sent a prayer to Varda to preserve them all and focused his attention on the grueling task of steering the kayak.

The speed of their progress increased as the river turned towards the dropping chasm. A standing wave tugged at the sleek, smooth skin of their elven made boat and its pointed prow dipped precariously down into a hole, spilling a massive wave of water up over the craft and dowsing Legolas as his head plunged briefly below the river's churning surface. The boat popped back up; leaping into the air at a strange angle as the natural buoyancy of the wood, its elongate shape, and the weight of the passengers prevented it from capsizing.

Legolas coughed and sputtered as he tried to draw breath but his noise could scarcely be heard against the crashing and grinding of the churning stream. The archer attempted to sit up; rocking the little boat precariously as the rapids spun it round.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled over the deafening thunder of the river's wrath, and the wild elf looked up at his friend. "Be still, stay down!" The Tawarwaith gave a quick nod and hunkered low again.

Gandalf had not time to try to call out a warning as the rapids played with the kayak as though it was less significahan han the smallest pebble dragged within its raging power. Desperately the Maia attempted to paddle away from the obstructions barring the way, yet his efforts were virtually ineffectual.

The river cast the canoe up over a sharp toothed exposure of granite, scraping louagaiagainst the hull and slicing a long gouge in the thinned bark, but the wood held. The torrent was relentless, grasping the boat and spinning it through the surging flow like a leaf through a drifting brook, sending the freezing water up from the rear as this time the back end tipped under. Aragorn was nearly thrown into the freezing fluid and Legolas gasped as the foaming whitewater coursed across his injuries, his cry echoed by Mithrandir's shout of anguish. The deafening crescendo of the raging river swallowed their raw-throated groans.

Aragorn could do nothing beyond fighting to keep from being washed into the crashing turmoil, and a glance at the wizard confirmed he was little better. The Istar was struggling to stay upright, dangerously leaning against the hull as he worked to ose ose himself and master the tearing agony shooting through his knee. Another jolt against a stone caused the Man to yell out, and his weakened arm could no longer fight the pull of the water. The paddle was torn from his hands and in dismay he watched as it preceded them downstream in the hurrying tumult of the cataract.

With a shuddering thud the canoe again struck the rocks that were attempting to shatter the craft. Gandalf fell forward at the impact with a muffled shout and his paddle joined its twin in the stream. Legolas was now motionless in unconscious oblivion, face down in the red-tinged water. The situation was desperate; if they lost the boat it meant their deaths.

Aragorn grabbed up the Istar's staff and shoved it against the boulders with all his remaining strength. With a loud report the stone bit another chunk of wood from the hull and spat the boat over the barrier as the current tugged it greedily out into the stream. Within minutes the flow calmed and the travelers sighed away their fears in exhausted relief. Aragorn turned the elf over and was relieved to find him still breathing; he pulled Legolas' head upon his knee to keep him above the flooded bottom.

Drenched and shivering against the cold of the water, the exertions of battling both Orcs and the river, and the pain of their injuries, the two travelers slumped against each other and drifted between consciousness and oblivion as the sedate stream eased them along towards the stronghold.

Tbc