Chapter 32 – Death

Legolas watched with something approaching horror as he saw Rhinure slam the dripping blade home. Her eyes were blank, completely bland as if she felt nothing, saw nothing. How could she behave so calmly when she had just killed an Elf? Did she delight in this as she had delighted in the death of those orcs?

Rhinure marched to her horse, carefully putting one foot in front and then another. She swung onto her horse, not looking at anyone. Morion’s Blade dug into her back but she kept it straight.

“Move out.”

Ehtewen and the rest of the Avari, walked, and if need be limped towards their mounts. None looked at the fallen body of the Second Guard.

No Silvan Elf moved, looking at their Princess disbelievingly – did she feel nothing? Faelon turned away, needing to throw up. Legolas could only watch his wife, back straight and still proud.

He looked around; horses were injured, some dead. The body of a Silvan scout lay next to an Avari – finally joined in death. He could just make out another black cloak, almost concealed by the body of Orcs. Herenion walked over to check but silently shook his head.

One Silvan Elf dead and two Avari – and Morion.

Four elves dead, four good elves. Such a price to pay.

Legolas stopped his thoughts from falling down that pit. He would think about this later, much later. After he had made sure that the rest of his people were safe.

“Home Guard, mount up.” The Wood-elves turned at the sound of their Prince’s voice.

“The injured will double up if they cannot ride, otherwise get to your horses,” Legolas’ voice was sharp and prompted a flurry of activity. The Avari had already mounted, ready for their Sacrifice’s orders.

Legolas turned to his remaining scout, “How many more orcs?”

“We could not be sure, my lord. They did not give us much time to count.” The Elf quailed under his Prince’s angry gaze.

“But it is still a significant number, my Lord.”

Legolas swore under his breath. How had they breached the borders in such substantial numbers, why had the Border Patrol not caught them? More questions that he needed answered, more questions he did not have time for.

Legolas looked up to find Rhinure staring at him with her dead eyes. She did not say a word, obviously expecting Legolas to say something. 

“My lord, we should leave, get to safety.” Herenion cut through Legolas’ thoughts.

Legolas shook his head, “We cannot.” He held up his hand to cut off any protest from his bodyguard or his lieutenant. “We cannot let these orcs attack any of the settlements. They will butcher our people.”

The Silvan Elves paled at the thought of the destruction the orcs would bring. The Avari remained silent, listening carefully to what Legolas was saying. “We will need to herd them away from the settlements.”

“My lord, that will be dangerous,” Herenion objected, concerned about his Prince’s safety. Legolas silenced him with a look. The Prince had commanded it, it would be done. Now was not the time to argue.

“Faelon, you and Scout Râdien ride around the orcs and try to locate the Border Patrol. Bring them here so they can do their job.”

Rhinure rode forward, “My Lord, if you wish, you can send Agorion with the Lieutenant as well. There will be some safety in numbers.”

Legolas ignored the lifelessness of her tone and thought about her offer; did she want an Avari along so that she could ensure the success of the mission? Or did she genuinely offer help? Either way, there was safety in numbers. Legolas nodded curtly, accepting her offer.

Rhinure brought her fist to her heart, giving Legolas the Avari salute. Ehtewen narrowed her eyes at this but did not comment. Legolas was her lord, and in this situation, her commander as well.

Agorion saluted his Mistress and the elves were off.

Herenion twisted his head, feeling something foul coming up behind them. Legolas nodded, feeling it too – the orcs were coming and fast.

“Home Guard, to me. Ride fast but do not lose them. Take down as many as you can,” Legolas retrieved his last arrow and swung up onto his horse. His eyes locked onto Rhinure and held them – both equally cold and equally determined. No more would fall today.

“Move out and … leave the dead.”

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The flight was a desperate one, if it could be called flight. The Elves rode for their lives, weaving through the trees, but never leaving the orcs too far behind. Always keeping just out of harms way, but not far enough. It was a dangerous game to play, but the elves played it well.

The orcs howled in frustration at the sight of the prey riding free in front of them. They could smell the blood that flowed from the Elves’ wounds; they could feel it on the ground beneath them. They wanted the blood, wanted to suck it from the elves’ bodies until only empty husks remained.

And they would get their desire even if they had to drive the Elves to the ground in exhaustion.

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“They are still behind us,” Herenion commented casually.

“Really, I would have never guessed. I thought all that howling was your singing,” Legolas said sardonically, trying to concentrate on navigating the terrain and keep track of where they were heading. It would not do to let the orcs get too close to the inhabited areas of Mirkwood.

“My lord,” Rhinure’s voice caused him to look at her over his shoulder. “We might be able to double back if we take the path coming up on the right.”

Legolas nodded, it would also take them away from the nearest farming community, swerving his horse. Rhinure signalled the rest of the company to follow.

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“When are they going to get tired?” Herenion mused. The elves had been riding for hours now and the orcs, upon their foul steeds, gave no indication of collapsing. On the other hand, neither did they learn from their mistakes. They kept following the elves, not seeming to realise that they were doing exactly as Legolas wanted.

“They are a bit obtuse are they not, my Lady? Herenion cheerfully commented, determined to break through the frost in Rhinure’s eyes, even if Legolas disapproved.

Naturally, the orcs took this time to change their tactics slightly. Rhinure ducked as an orc arrow sliced through the air. “It seems as if you spoke too soon, First Guard.” If anything, her eyes became colder.

“We will need to slow down and fire back. This head long rush is only going to get us all killed.”

Legolas set his jaw and did not reply. Stringing his bow, he fired at an orc taking aim, catching it in the throat. “We do not need to slow down, my lady.” He turned a feral gaze back at Rhinure.

Rhinure turned away from him, bringing up her own bow, getting ready to bring death to the enemy behind. The Avari and Silvan elves heeded the example of their leaders, firing at the orcs but not slowing down.

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Rhinure suppressed a cry as an orc arrow sliced through the top of her shoulder, narrowly missing her neck. Ehtewen kicked her horse forward to see if her mistress was okay. Rhinure waved the bodyguard back, nodding that she was fine. Ignoring the blood that flowed down her shoulder, Rhinure gripped the reins tighter, keeping her concentration on the path ahead.

Thankfully, Legolas had not noticed her injury, his entire attention was focused on bringing down orc after orc. He wasted no movement on unnecessary action, turning and firing in one fluid motion. Every arrow he released found its target.

When he finally glanced to his side, he noticed that Rhinure had moved nearer to the back, which brought the orcs in throwing knife range. Her hood was up, concealing her from his view.

She was obviously out of arrows.

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Faelon could hear the orcs from the distance, could smell their foul stench even now. He signalled to the patrol to ready their weapons. The elves waited until the orcs had passed under them, never noticing that the trees held danger.

Faelon brought his arm down, causing a barrage of arrows to be released. It was rain that brought death. The orcs were literally riddled with arrows. The screams of the dying creatures rang out in the forest, and then – all was silent. It was over.

As Faelon jumped down from the trees, Legolas smiled, “What took you so long?”

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The Border Patrol saluted their prince and then helped the wounded off their horses, so that they could be tended to. Faelon grinned at his adored Prince, who despite the hard ride seemed alert. “Agorion here got us lost.”

Legolas looked at the Avari, who stood calmly in front of the Prince, hood down. When he did not say anything Legolas was forced to ask, “Is that true?”

Agorion glanced at Faelon, eyebrows raised. Faelon only shrugged, still grinning. “No, my Lord, I did not get the Company lost.”

“In truth, my Lord, he was a great help. He saved me from getting skewered by an orc twice.” Faelon slapped Agorion on the shoulder, causing the Avari to hiss. “Oh, forgive me. I forgot.”

“Will that be all, my Lord?” Agorion asked Legolas a little tightly.

Legolas nodded, looking at the Avari. He turned to Faelon who shook his head, “He took an arrow in his shoulder. Stupid Elf. We ran out arrows so he decided the best thing to do was to throw himself on the pursuing orcs. Damn near got himself killed.”

“And saved our lives in the process as well,” Scout Râdien pointed out .

Felon nodded, “But that does not make him any less crazy. I tell you, my Lord, it was frightening – the enthusiasm he showed in killing those orcs.”

Legolas nodded, remembering the look in Rhinure’s eyes all to clearly. “Get yourself looked at. We ride to the Palace as soon as possible.”

“As my Prince commands.” Both Elves saluted and walked off.

Legolas closed his eyes, remembering the blood lust that had danced in Rhinure’s face.

“You should show yourself to the healers as well.”

“I am not injured, Herenion.”

“What do you call that?” Herenion pointed to the gash in Legolas’ arm, which still seeped blood.

“A scratch.”

Herenion growled and dragged his errant Prince to the Healers.

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Legolas happy mood at having survived cooled considerably when he saw Rhinure. Seeing her brought the walls he had built around the memories crashing down, seeing her blank face and lifeless eyes.

“Arwen en amin,”  <My Lady – formal>

“Heru en amin.”  <My Lord – formal>

They stared at each other in the silence, neither knowing what to say. Rhinure clutched her dark cloak tightly around her.

Legolas dropped his gaze to the sword lying next to her, Morion’s sword.

“Would you like a cloth to wipe it clean?”

Rhinure looked up at Legolas, she was waiting for Ehtewen to bring some cloth to bind her wound. The blood loss had made her slightly dizzy, forcing her to sit down when she would have preferred to stand – it put her at less of a disadvantage with this tall elf.

She clutched her cloak ever more tightly, preventing Legolas to see the blood that was dripping down her arm, “No.”

“The blood will ruin the scabbard.”

“It does not matter.” Rhinure fell silent, needing to conserve her energy. She did not think the arrow was poisonous, but it had just missed the artery. Even with Ehtewen’s help, the wound still bleed profusely.

Legolas turned away from Rhinure, not wanting to talk to her. She sat there calmly, not feeling any remorse for what had happened. The thought that anyone could be so unfeeling sickened him.

“Captain, ready the patrol, we will return to see if the bodies were spared.”

“They will not have been.” Rhinure assurance caused Legolas to look back down at her.

“The orcs will have removed the bodies as soon as was possible. They would have never passed such an opportunity for food.”

“We can at last give them a decent burial, my Lady.” Legolas struggled to remain calm.

“I have what is important. I do not need anything else to remind me,” Rhinure put her hand on the blade next to her, lightly caressing it.

Legolas watched, hoped for some emotion to pass her face. To tell him that she cared for more than a worthless piece of metal. He was sorely disappointed. “My lady, I grieve for your loss.”

“It does not matter, my Lord. It is done.” Rhinure looked at him with cold eyes, rebuffing his pity.

Legolas clenched his fists, revolted that anyone could be so casual about the death of any living thing, let alone a friend like Morion. It seemed as if Legolas grieved for the bodyguard more than his Sacrifice did. “You were well named, my Lady. You truly are a cold flame, burning but giving no warmth.” Legolas put the entire scorn he felt for her in that cold sentence.

As he walked off, he missed the look on Rhinure’s face. It was as if someone had struck her – hard.

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