Isilindil and I paced back and forth in the hallways between
Gontorion’s Armoury and the ‘barracks’. These were simply beautifully made
rooms where the army would fire out their arrows at whatever impending doom was
marching towards Lothlorien.
Of course, we had no idea what this ‘impending doom’ was.
Yet.
After the course of an hour, Gontorion summoned us to the
Armoury, and bade us choose our weapons quickly.
Of course, I was already armed with the dagger that I keep
in my boot, and was wearing the mithril shirt underneath my clothing. But I had
not told Isilindil of that yet, as it is in my hobbit opinion that the best
secrets are best kept secrets, even unto those that you trust the most.
But I have not yet mentioned my sword – I pulled it out of
the sheath that was hung from my back – I prefer to pull it over the shoulder
in fighting, and to have the hilt resting on my right shoulder by my neck is
the perfect placement for me. This sword was bequeathed to my Uncle Sam by a
dear dwarven friend (although I’m told the blade is elvish), after his great
journey to Mordor with Frodo the Ringbearer. However, my uncle had never used
it, and gave it to me when I was a child, wishing that I got used to it’s feel
in my hand and learn to swing a sword properly. However, I had never put it to
proper use until today.
“Do you wish to be armed, Hobbit?” Gontorion gazed down at
me, his words tickling the wisps of hair on the crown of my head.
“I’m already armed, sir.” I replied as courteously as
possible, which is difficult when someone refers to you simply by ‘Hobbit’.
“I’ve known Ruby to have excellent weapons, and I’m told by
her uncle that the blade is of elvish make itself.” That was Isilindil,
vouching for my weapons.
As Isilindil chose for herself more arrows with which to
fill her quiver I wandered around rooms of the Armory, gazing at the
racks of gleaming blades and stacks of arrows. Eventually, I found myself
completely lost within all the sheer threat
and viciousness of it all. It was a bit overwhelming.
That was when I came to a room full of bottles.
I kid you not; I was in a room of bottles. There were big
ones and small ones, tall ones and round ones. Translucent ones and opaque
ones, and ones that didn’t seem to be there at all, but which gave on strange
shadows which quivered on the walls behind the places that they seems to be.
There were pones of all colours and ones darker than pitch black.
It all seemed very strange. Eventually, my eyes alit upon
the strangeness part of this room, which was an old woman, round eared and
grey, asleep in a corner of the room. I had overlooked her before, as her dress
resembled sackcloth and her grey hair was worn in dreadnoughts which fell over
and disguised her features so it was almost as if she were a sack of greying
potatoes, if not for her bare feet which poked out of the dress and were lying
on the floor, gathering dust in my opinion.
I coughed rather loudly to get this woman’s attention. But
she remained as she was, silent and still, so I took some of the bottles, which
I later identified as the most evil and potent potions, and scurried, away from
the room back to Isilindil. She had just finished selecting her arrows when I
burst in and landed in a heap.
“Where have you
been? Gontorion just spotted an orc scout rushing away from the forest!”
“I saw a-“ But I was cut short as Gontorion swept into the
room and began ordering us for the battle. He paused and explained to me that a
contingent of two hundred orcs had been spotted entering the outskirts of the
west side of the forest.
“Strange…” He muttered under his breath “that so few should
come…. We are more that a match for them… They must be a distraction, but they
shall have to be dealt with…”
So he ordered about more than two hundred elves, including
Isilindil and I, to go and root out these orcs from the leafy paths of
Lothlorien, while he stayed there to keep watch for the main army, which he was
sure would appear.
We marched though the gathering dusk to meet the orcs, all
of us as silent as we could be. I used all of my hobbit skill I had to avoid
making the slightest amount of noise, and the only things that I heard were the
far off grunts and shouts of the orcs, their attempts at being stealthy.
Half an hour later, we had them surrounded.
Then, after I had drawn my blade, Isilindil and the other
elves had rushed towards the orcs, shouting war cries and screaming revenge. White-hot
anger was painted on their brows as they beheld the orcs milling around the
trees in confusion.
I leaped after them mimicking their sounds. I hacked at the
knee of an orc, and was shocked as my blade bit straight to the bone. I glimpsed
it glowing blue, almost as if it were relishing the taste of orc blood after so
long.
The sound around me was unbearable, and I was caught up in
the midst of it, a little hobbit, lost fighting orcs with the elves, I gutted
an orc as he rushed towards me, his warm blood spurted across my face and I grimaced with disgust. I glimpsed Isilindil fending off an attack from three orcs at
once. She skewered one in the eye with her blade, then swung the dead orc into
his companions, winding them and giving her the chance to decapitate one and
hobble the other before finishing him off. Then she was lost again as she
leaped to find another enemy.
I returned my attention to the battle before me. Just in
time, as an orc had come up behind me and was about to stab me in the back
before I turned around and stabbed his ankle, causing him to jump back and I
lunged forward and skewered his elbow, hot blood running down my blade. He fell
to the ground, and bringing my sword up, I chopped him as I had done many times
with logs. I turned away from him to focus on my next attacker, and heard his
body fall to the ground. First one half, then the other. After taking my first life, a red haze took
over my eyesight and I darted among the orcs, shouting, stabbing and killing,
if I remember correctly. The last thing that I remembered was the wail of on orc
as I stabbed him through the mouth, before I blacked out.
I woke up drenched in sweat and blood. I must not have been
out for long. I glanced around me and saw Isilindil striding towards me, with a
grim look on her face. She pulled me to my feet, and I winced as i suddenly
felt the pain of dozens of bruises and a long gash across my left cheek.
Luckily, I only had a few minor injuries and a deep wound on my kneecap, which
bleed tears of blood when I put my weight on it. Isilindil looked unharmed and solemn.
“What’s happened?” I heard the fear in my own voice as I
asked her.
“Gontorion has found the army of orcs,” she replied “And
they are headed straight for Mirkwood.”
-Ruby Burrows
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