~ Time for another fight, the most dangerous so far. A mountain troll... ~

Trigger warning: Graphic battle scene, graphic injury, blood.

27. Fighting a Troll

As usual during a battle, Wynne stayed on Vatna and called the other horses back to her. The elves were lining up, the bowmen a bit behind and the swordsmen in the front, preparing to meet the approaching brute. Soon the zinging of arrows made the air hum.

The troll was huge, at least twice the height of the elves, with arms like tree trunks and sharp, protruding tusks. Its roar when it spotted them made the horses go almost mad with fright, and both Nugu, Sidra and the children fell off their rearing steeds.

Wynne dismounted, tears of fear pricking her eyes. She had to let the animals run away alone this time; she just couldn't leave the uruk-hai family – or Legolas.

The children cried in pain and fright but there was no time to check on them now.

"We must back away!" She tried to pull Sidra with her but the woman wouldn't budge. She was staring at the approaching troll with wide eyes, her face a mask of dread.

"We were too late," she whispered.

Galion, Thranduil and the troll met almost soundlessly. It had no armor and its only weapon was a sharpened, spearlike stick, yet the elves' swords connected with its skin seemingly without affecting it in the least. The monster didn't even flinch when Galion stabbed its belly or when Thranduil's twin swords flicked thin cuts over its drooling snout. Arrow after arrow buried themselves deep into its rough hide, making it vaguely resemble a monstrous pin cushion.

"They will manage. They will beat it." Nugu's petrified face mirrored Sidra's. He had picked up the youngest boy in his arms while the elder clung to his mother's legs. "Let's run away."

"Yes, we can't stay this close," Wynne agreed, but it was like talking to a wall. Why would she not come?

The troll was too close, its howls deafening. With the fight only yards away this was no safe place.

"See how fast they are, Thranduil is a whirlwind with his swords." Nugu tried to drag his wife with him. "Come, we must leave."

"Wait." She brushed his hand off.

Black blood trickled down the beast's sides now and its roars changed pitch, like it had begun to feel pain. Was it going down? It was so impossibly big and strong. But yes! It was actually moving backwards! The elves followed it, winning more ground.

The troll came under a slight overhang on top of which grew a twisted oak. Behind it was a passage of sorts, maybe it was trying to crawl back into its hole?

The monster was swaying now and an arrow had taken one eye out. It waved its crude spear aimlessly on its blind side, spraying black droplets on the rocky ground.

"See? They will win. It's alright," Nugu pleaded.

"This is wrong. It's so wrong. How could we?" Sidra's voice was distorted.

Wynne teared her eyes from the battle scene to look quizzically at the woman. What was she talking about? She acted like this was their fault.

Then the truth hit her: it really was their fault. It had been a trap! The uruk-hai and his woman must have led the elves to an area they knew had a mountain troll instead of taking them to their friends.

Bitter disappointment filled her chest and she looked away from them in disgust. She had thought Sidra was her friend and shared things about her family. How could she have been so false?

Another hooting roar drew her eyes back to the troll. It was on its knees now, bleeding from its thick lips. Legolas made a swift jump up onto the ridge, peppering it with arrows from above.

It looked like they would make it and Wynne began to breathe calmer. They were seasoned warriors, five against one – of course they would win.

Then something moved behind Legolas. Something large, dark and dreadful, appearing out of nowhere.

It was another troll! Where had that come from?

The new troll pounced on Legolas, its fist sending him reeling forcefully against the oak.

Wynne cried out with shock.

He struggled to get to his feet again, turning to face this new danger. His bow was not a melee weapon so he tossed it to the side and pulled out a dagger, still with his back to the oak. The blade looked like a toy, tiny against the massive opponent.

The creature towered over him. He jabbed at it desperately but it easily blocked his feeble attempts with its spear.

Nodir and Bronedir had discovered the new enemy and turned to fire arrows at it, but the two swordsmen were still locked in combat with the first troll, unaware of what happened on the ridge above them.

"He will not make it." Sidra sounded urgent. "Nugu! He will not make it."

"Cut me loose," he barked, holding up his hands in Wynne's face, blocking the sight of the troll sweeping Legolas' dagger away with another thrust of its spear. "Now!" he added when she only stared at him uncomprehendingly.

Her mind snapped back. Of course. The uruk-hai could help, he was strong as an ox.

With trembling hands she fumbled after her knife and managed to unsheath it. In a frenzy she sawed at the rope. Why was it so thick?

While working, she threw nervous glances at the fight. Where was Legolas? Then she saw him, on his feet again! Still alive, but under heavy assault. The troll seemed oblivious of the multitude of arrows sticking out of it.

Finally the rope was off and the uruk-hai covered the few yards between him and the beast in huge strides. He climbed right on top of its gnarled back, grabbed its massive head with both hands and tried to twist it.

The troll reeled and growled, scrabbling at the annoying burden, but the uruk-hai locked his legs around its throat. Again he began to twist, muscles bulging. He grunted with effort.

"Yes! Do it! Come on Nugu," Sidra cheered.

With a sickening noise of breaking bones the huge head was wrought around. The troll's eyes bulged and a fountain of obsidian liquid poured from its maw.

A violent shudder went through it and it toppled over.

Wynne started running before it hit the ground. "Legolas," she murmured.

Thranduil was faster; he jumped onto the ridge in a single step. There he stopped dead, staring at his son.

Legolas stood with his back against the oak, swaying slightly. He was clasping both hands over his stomach, eyes wide and confused.

"No..." Thranduil whispered, his face ashen.

Then Wynne saw it too. Legolas had been impaled, nailed against the tree by the troll's crude spear. With a gurgling noise he slid off it, tumbling head first into the ground.

Thranduil wailed in agony. He fell on his knees and tried to lift the limp body.

Wynne couldn't move, only stare at the sobbing elf and his son. A crimson stain expanded over Legolas' green tunic.

Around her a flurry of activity began. Elves ran to and fro, someone was trying to stop the bleeding, another went after medical equipment.

Wynne shook herself out of the paralyze and hurried to get the fire water, but she felt numb, disconnected from her body.

He would die. She loved him and he would die.

Back at the ridge, Thranduil sobbed like a child, his son's head in his lap. "Stay with me. Please stay."

Strangely, Legolas was awake and able to reply. "I will Ada. Of course I will. This is not so bad." It was disconcerting to hear how cheerful he sounded, but from his glossy eyes and flushed cheeks it was obvious he was deep in shock. He didn't understand how dire the injury was.

Bronedir made him gulp down a few mouthfuls of fire water and Galion poured a generous amount of it straight into the wound.

Legolas grunted, face briefly contorting with pain, but then the unnerving cheerfulness was back. "Do not cry." He stroked his father's damp cheek. "I will be fine."

Wynne forced herself to look at the hole, calmly assessing the damage. The spear had pierced him about a hand's width to the right of the navel. Were there any important organs in that area? His heart was higher up at least, but down there must be something too. Intestines?

Then suddenly all blood drained from her face and everything around her became hazy. As from a distance she heard Nugu's calm voice. "Bow your head. Keep it low."

Soft hands guided her to bend, squatting with her head between her knees.

It helped, the blood returned and her nausea subsided.

When she slowly rose again, cold sweat forming on her forehead, Sidra was there, embracing her. For now, Wynne let herself be held. She could think about the woman's betrayal later.

"He needs a healer." Galion's voice was tense. He had covered the wound now, dressed it with absorbing material soaked in strong spirits and the elves' healing herb paste, and then secured it with several layers of linen wraps.

"Damn it," Nodir growled. "Minas Tirith must be the closest city from here and that takes days to reach, even by boat."

"We have to try or we shall certainly lose him."

A/N:

Sorry for this... It hurts to hurt my poor baby Legolas but it has to happen, unfortunately.

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