The armies inch closer, winding around our circle of warriors, so many of the enemy in numbers that they can completely surround us with a thick wall of men, and still have miles and miles behind the gates still marching for us.
We all edge closer together and hold our breath as they make formation.
We had decided before the armies surrounded us, to let the horses go. We did not want them to die with us in battle.
So I stand behind the king, Arwen on my left, Legolas on my right.
The dwarf, who stands by my elf on the other side, huffs. "Never thought I'd die standing side by side with an elf," he grumbles.
"What about side by side with a friend?" Legolas responds and looks down at him.
He looks surprised but nods. "Aye. I could do that."
I breathe, wrapping my fingers around my elf's hand that does not clutch the sword.
He squeezes slightly in return.
I look up at him as he looks at me. "Together," he says with a star in his eye.
I swallow. But lift my head to him, so tall as he stands. I nod and look back at Aragorn who walks slowly ahead...
The king turns around, with a redness of fresh tears in his eyes, but perhaps not the tears of sadness. "For Frodo," he says quietly, but surely, a triumph in his eyes that I can finally see; a King of Gondor as he should be.
He turns then, charging towards the sea of demons with sword in hand, the mighty cloak of Minas Tirith flowing behind him in flashes of red as the sun peaks over the Mountain of Fire, creating a silhouette before us.
I hear cries from both Merry and Pippin as they run after him with a fury in their wee legs racing behind the king, the courage of hobbits never ceasing to amaze us all.
Without more hesitation I dart forward, my elf right at my side as all of us begin to let out battle cries. The ground shakes with the stampede of our army right at my tail.
The wind pushes any stray locks of hair back as my legs fly across the grey dirt. I grip my sword with all ten fingers as we near the crowd of orcs with spears held out towards us.
I feel our army break apart theirs and I fling my blade left, pushing aside a spearhead and bringing my sword back to fling down upon the head of one in front of me without a helmet, tearing his skull apart with a burst of black blood.
I pull the metal from him and leap over his head, doing a front flip and landing down on one's back, using my blade to slice open the thing's throat, hopping again to the ground. I lunge my sword to the left with a cry, cutting across an orc's spine, a Gondorian soldier stabbing him to finish him off.
I cut across steel and black leather, blood erupting onto the ash.
I fight by Lord Elrond who is slinging his sword around in spins and twirls, splitting through the air and through flesh with incredible swiftness.
Behind him Merry stands fighting. But I keep an eye on him and thrust my sword over his head, hitting an orc's chest hard with it. The halfling stabs his blade into the belly of the beast with rage as I look over my shoulder, at the goblin that meets his end by the flying ax of a dwarf. A scout in leather armor leaps over him and slings both his long knives opposite each other to cut apart two orcs at once. An elven arrow pierces one behind the man.
Though we all fight so close there is no room to breathe as the armies of the Black Gate press on towards us.
If I am to die here, and I will, then I want to make them bleed while I can.
YOU ARE READING
Between Two Worlds
Fanfiction"Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west, behind the hills, into shadow. How did it come to this?" _____________...
