Chapter Text
~ Thranduil POV ~
As I had feared, the fleeing group of Orcs was catching up with what appeared to be several humans who had left Dale. Some dozens of them were hurrying along the shadowy road, men, women and children. I urged on my Elk which now seemed to fly. But I would not reach them in time. And the Orcs, true to their abominable Orc-nature, were swinging their clubs and chains to massacre all the figures they would pass while still running from our Elven swords.
I growled. What stupidity made these humans leave Dale so late, too late? They would pay with their lives for their carelessness.
Suddenly a figure in the human treck turned around. Confronted with the vile pack of beasts sprinting towards them she was snapping back to hurl a command at the group in front which was now finally realizing the danger descending upon them. The humans veered off course and streamed into the woods to the right of the road where they were somewhat protected by the plethora of thick ancient poplars.
A family was at the rear of the group, with a little girl now being carried by her mother, her husband urging her from the pebbled path. The first ugly monster swung its club high into the air, directing a gleeful grin at the stumbling mother shielding her daughter. The woman leader seemed to have detected the move this moment also. Running a horse length before them, she abruptly turned with a vicious cry and darted towards the attacker, eyes flashing and dark with anger.
“No-ho!!!” she shouted, unsheathing a long glinting dagger and lunging herself towards the Orc with a speed, viciousness and brutality I had rarely seen in even the best of elven fighters.
Surprised, the hideous ogre could not stop his own forward momentum, and she collided into him, burying her dagger to the hilt in his left eye. The beast roared and writhed with the searing pain, and half-blind dug his claws deep into the side of the mortal who had hurt him thus, flinging her savagely to the right, sending her flying for several yard until she crashed into a tree, collapsing in an unmoving heap.
My sword now found the first Orc necks. Falling to my front and sides the foul creatures did not escape the singing elven swords, as my warriors slashed down at them with unfailing precision.
Ignoring the growing pile of debris, I guided my Elk off the shaded path and into the lush green moss which had formed among the high trees. With a last glance down the road I dismounted and approached the slender figure which lay on the ground, unmoving, but faintly breathing. A waterfall of thick dark hair fell over her shoulders as if she were sleeping, but when I carefully turned her, my hand came away coated in warm blood. Her doublet was ripped, three deep claw marks bled profusely and dark blood flowed from her right side. Several ribs seemed to be broken as well, and I ghosted my fingertips over her body to make sure that they were not piercing her lungs before I gathered the small human in my arms and mounted my elk.
This one would live, I decided, if only for the vicious attack she had subjected the Orc-filth to. My healers would make sure she lived.
Following my order in Sindarin, one of my guards moved to pull her dagger out of the now severed stinking head. The weapon would return to its owner in time.