Chapter Thirty Six

The suddenness of being thrown through the air was a shock, to say the least. Knowing what was coming, Legolas’s reflex action was to bring his right hand down across his body to take most of the brunt, saving both his bad shoulder and his head from impacting the hard ground full force. The pain that shot through his wrist was immediate and brought to mind one thought: it couldn’t be broken, because he had to be able to use his knife.

Aragorn was a bit luckier. He didn’t sustain any new injury. The only one he already had was his bad foot, and that hit the ground after the rest of him, saving it from further damage but not from further pain.

This sudden assault was far from the first time it had happened to either the elf or the ranger. Both had experienced this kind of attack more often than they cared to think about, and it was that experience that allowed them both to recover almost instantly, mentally at any rate. Yet no amount of experience could temper the bone jarring impact from causing hurts that would turn into deep bruises and soreness, if they survived long enough for either to develop.

Legolas was on his feet with knife drawn much quicker than anyone would have believed, considering his pre-existing injuries and depleted strength.

The ranger was only a few seconds behind the elf in gaining his feet and drawing the twin to Legolas’s knife. It was obvious that now was not the time to worry about the pain that shot up his leg from the protest of his already aching foot. As long as it held his weight, he would just have to ignore it.

Legolas was just as determined to ignore his own ailments. Once he gripped his knife, he decided his wrist was not broken, so whatever pain he had would be pushed aside. Adrenalin was a great pain killer.

Their attention was quickly drawn to Aragorn’s horse, who was just now making it to his feet. The stallion shook his head, and snorted. He was not pleased at what had just happened. It was a source of pride that he had never before let his master fall. The fact he was not at fault for doing so now was not in his thinking. Rearing up and kicking out with his forelegs, the horse displayed his anger.

It seemed that anger was also a great pain killer, because it wasn’t until the horse tried to take a step that he, as well as Aragorn and Legolas, noticed the large gash in his right shoulder, causing him to limp.

Upset and fearing that more damage might be done, Aragorn sent the horse away from further danger with a few encouraging words. The stallion did not want to go, but the man made sure the animal understood it was for his own good. Reluctantly, the horse moved off, unable to move as fast as his master would have wished.

Legolas sent his own horse off, as well. Not only did he and the ranger not want them to be killed, but they would also be needed if he and Aragorn survived the coming battle, though it was apparent that both friends would have to ride Legolas’s mount.

There were no trolls standing nearby, which was a surprise to Legolas and Aragorn. They looked at each other with mirrored frowns on each face. What else around here could have knocked a full grown horse over?

Then they saw it. A very large tree branch lay a few feet away in the growing shadows of twilight. It appeared as though a troll had torn it loose and launched it through the air, aiming right where it had landed, hard against the chestnut stallion’s shoulder.

Aragorn looked toward the trolls, who were getting very close now, and saw one rubbing his hands together and laughing. He knew that was the one who had injured his horse and ended his and Legolas’s chances at escape. That troll was going to pay, even if it wasn’t done until Aragorn drew his last breath.

Even if they weren’t about to be surrounded, the two friends knew it was no use trying to run away. There was nothing they could do but use the last of their endurance to face the ugly creatures head on. The odds were so far from being on their side, it was laughable, but a stand would have to be made, right here, right now.

With their backs toward the river, Legolas and Aragorn stood shoulder to shoulder, knives held out in front of them, and watched as the trolls advanced.

Tack and Sump were the first to reach the small clearing where the two companions were holding their ground. The two troll leaders were elbowing each other and trying to trip the other up to get ahead, but neither was doing enough damage to gain an advantage.

Behind them the members of their groups were doing pretty much the same, while the rovers were following suit, contending with both groups. Nobody went down, and nobody was deterred.

“Idiots,” Aragorn remarked with disgust in his voice.

“Dangerous idiots,” Legolas countered.

It would have been amusing to watch, if the trolls hadn’t also been advancing while all this maneuvering and one-upmanship was going on.

Aragorn sighed heavily, as he realized that instead of fighting, the creatures were trying to beat each other to the prey - him and Legolas. ‘Well,” he thought, ‘this prey is going to fight back.’

How they defended themselves, when withdrawal wasn’t an option, usually depended on who and how many the enemy was, where they were, if they had any help, what condition they were in and the weather conditions, including the time of day.

Those factors were pretty obvious, in this case. The enemy was huge and numerous, they were in a forest, they were alone, they weren’t in the best condition, and while the weather was nice, it was getting dark fast.

Aragorn glanced at Legolas, and knew his friend was taking note of those very things. After he saw that the elf had sized up the situation, the man said, “Not very good odds, are they?”

“We have had worse,” the blond archer replied wryly.

“We have?” Aragorn figured that may have been true, but he couldn't come up with a single one of those times, at the moment.

There was just enough time for the two friends to look hard into each others’ eyes and transmit a lifetime of emotions. Neither seriously expected to survive the forthcoming struggle, though they never entered a battle without hoping to do so.

“Lord Elrond would not be pleased that we ended up like this,” Aragorn said. “He always said we took too many chances with our lives.”

“I would drink a tub full of his foul tea, if only we could live long enough to get to it.” That was saying a lot, considering how much Legolas hated that tea.

They turned their full attention back to the oncoming trolls. Simply waiting to be set upon would put them at a disadvantage and wasn’t in their mindset. So, with a quick nod, given simultaneously, Legolas and Aragorn attacked.

Their knives were handled with precision, as the elf and the ranger spun and slashed, ducked and wove their way through the leading line of trolls, inflicting wounds that ranged from minor to deadly. The main thing was to keep moving, no matter what.

The surprise attack was working, but the two companions were too battle-savvy to think that this advantageous situation would last. It wouldn’t be long before the creatures would recover and aim their wrath at their prey.

Despite the initial bloodshed, the trolls were far from the point of wanting the two beings dead. Experience had taught them that they couldn’t be defeated by such inferior creatures, so they thought that anything done to them would be negligible. That overconfidence was a weakness and would be exploited by the pair.

After the initial advance by Legolas and Aragorn, two trolls lay dead, one with a knife wound in his chest, courtesy of Legolas, while the other had gone down when Aragorn sliced through the large tendons at the back of his ankles and then jumped forward to slit his throat when he hit the ground.

Most of the trolls carried no weapons. Three of them held tree branches swung like bludgeons, while several others had actual clubs. It was hard to tell those from the trolls’ long arms and fists. The result of being hit by either was equally bad.

Legolas found himself ducking from one troll’s arm and jumping over the leg of another, who had a long gash in his thigh from Aragorn’s deft stroke. The elf tried to inflict more damage, but the act of getting out of the way took him too far from the beast to make an effective strike.

A moment later, Aragorn felt himself being lifted up by two very large, very hairy arms that gripped him like a vice. The pressure that was being exerted began to crush the man’s chest, forcing air from his lungs. He tried to yell to Legolas, but no words were forthcoming. A painful wheeze was all he could manage.

As he spun around to the back of a troll, Legolas saw what was happening to his friend. He struck out with his knife, causing a deep cut in the troll’s right calf. He then crouched down and rolled forward to avoid a blow leveled at his head. As he did so, he aimed his body toward the troll who was holding Aragorn.

Legolas grabbed his knife with both hands so that when he straightened up from his roll, he would have the two-handed strength to ram the blade into the foot of that troll.

The knife went down through the creature’s foot bones with a crunch, eliciting a scream of agony from the beast.

The archer just barely rolled away before Aragorn came crashing down after suddenly being released. He winced when he heard the ranger’s impact with the ground.

“A soft cushion to fall on would have been nice,” the man grumbled, as he shook his head to clear the cobwebs the lack of air had created.

“you would have landed on my head had I not moved,” the elf pointed out.

“Well, that definitely isn’t soft.”

“You are welcome,” Legolas commented with a hint of sarcasm to the man’s lack of expressed gratitude. Then he came to his feet ready to meet the next troll.

By now, the two friends had made their way through half the trolls. That was due mainly to the fact that, even with their prey inflicting more than a little damage, the three troll groups were refusing to cooperate by rushing the elf and ranger as one and overwhelming them rather than attacking one or two at a time. They also continued to punch and push each other aside, which was fast becoming an advantage for the two friends. Unfortunately, there were still more than enough creatures left to accomplish their goal, cooperative or not.

Aragorn yelled a warning to Legolas when he saw Tack take a branch he had just ripped from a nearby tree and throw it. The large plank of wood was headed straight for the elf’s back.

Throwing himself forward, Aragorn swung his knife down in a savage arc and sliced through all four of Tack’s fingers, leaving only his thumb. An ordinary knife would probably have cut through only the flesh, but the elven blade, wielded by a skilled hand, sliced through bone, as well.

The tree branch fell harmlessly to the ground at the elf’s feet.

Tack wailed in pain, clutching his mutilated right hand in the crook of his left arm. “Kill ’em!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Kill ’em both! Now!”

“None of you better kill them two,” Sump yelled above the din, aiming his words at every troll within earshot. “They be mine, and I want ’em alive.”

With blood pouring from the stumps of his severed fingers, Tack yelled back, “They was ours first, you scummy maggot, and I want ’em dead.” The pain on his face was mingled with a deadly glare in Sump’s direction.

“I side with the ones that don’t want to kill us,” Aragorn said with a grim smile on his face.

“Do not be too anxious for that,” Legolas warned. “I do not think we would care much for the alternative.”

“Point taken.”

Darkness had fallen completely now. The night sky was clear, and the first stars were just beginning to wink into view. The moon had not yet risen enough to offer any kind of light to those beneath the trees far below.

The vision of trolls was roughly equivalent to that of humans, so they held no benefit over Aragorn that way. However, Legolas had a distinct advantage, since his keen eyes could draw in even the tiniest bit of light available to aid his night vision.

The trolls were not night blind, so sneaking past them was not an option. Elf and ranger would have to continue to fight their way through the hulking creatures around them.

Legolas knew that every time he and Aragorn advanced, it put more trolls behind them. For that reason, he wasn’t surprised when Aragorn moved to try and keep them being jumped from behind.

Back to back, each friend was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with a troll.

The creature facing Aragorn was in Tack’s group and was trying to kill the man, who was swinging his knife like a sword to avoid that outcome. The blade was effective in keeping the troll from moving in too close.

The creature facing Legolas was from Sump’s group, and he was making every effort to disarm the elusive being in order to capture him the way his leader wanted.

The troll in front of the ranger reached down and picked up the branch that Tack had dropped and began swinging it, negating the man’s knife.
Just as Aragorn stepped back to get out of the way, his injured left foot, ignored until now, had reached its limit and finally gave out. Aragorn found himself lying on the ground, and the branch swung over him.

Unfortunately, it was just at that moment that Legolas stepped back to avoid a blow from the fast moving troll he fought. The branch connected with the elf’s back right below his shoulder blades, sending him forward into the fist he had been trying to avoid.

Receiving devastating blows front and back, Legolas was stunned into near unconsciousness.

TBC