Dec. 6th, 2010

tuxedo_elf: (Rumil AniMama (Full))
At least I managed to write something in 2010! :P

Title: First Blood
Author: Tuxedo Elf
Rating: PG13
Summary: Rumil's first patrol ends badly.
Word count: 540


His uniform fresh and new, arrows sparkling in his quiver and sword hilt polished in its sheath. That was how he had left home, head held high and proud to have finally taken his place amongst the ranks. Full of hope and enthusiasm for the new life that awaited him. The life he had studied and trained for decades to obtain.

No amount of stories or reports could have prepared him for the savage reality.
Not two days into his first duty, the orcs had come. At first he’d been held back, too green and inexperienced to be of use, only able to watch as Elves fell, injured and dead into the torn ground below.

It was as their numbers depleted that he was called forward, told to defend the realm against the invaders, despite the overwhelming odds. There was sympathy in his Captain’s eyes as well as fear and that only increased his anxiety. The Captain believed him doomed, no matter how he tried to conceal it.

His heart was stone in his chest as he drew his bow, the light wood of the arrow resting on his finger feeling unusually heavy. There was a moment of peace as he released it, watching in morbid fascination as it sank into the neck of an orc.

Then chaos returned and he shot arrow after arrow, barely avoiding being hit as the orcs returned fire. When the arrows ran out he felt his life do the same as he drew his sword and plunged into the fray with what remained of his patrol.

Slashing and hacking, he tried to remember the lessons he had been taught, but all vanished in the face of the desperate need to survive. He discarded skill for sheer strength as he pushed his way through.

He barely heard the horns in the distance as reinforcements arrived. It was only when the orcs noticeably diminished that he realised that they were no longer alone. Yet he kept fighting, until he could not see a single orc still moving, survival instinct too strong to let him stop.
A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he spun around, sword still in hand.

“Rumil!” Haldir jumped back just in time to avoid being sliced in two. “Are you well?” He surveyed his younger brother with concern, looking for injuries while breathing a sigh of relief that his brother had survived the carnage.

Rumil’s heart was still pounding in his chest as he let the sword slip from his fingers. He was dirty, covered in blood and grime. “I...” Words failed him as he looked around the devastation, the churned ground and fallen bodies of friends and foe. How many of the young Elves he had trained with had fallen? How many friends had he lost? He had grown up hearing stories of war, had thought he understood what it would be like. How utterly wrong he had been. There were no stories that could have prepared him for this, for the feeling of utter helplessness and desperation that threatened to overwhelm him.

His eyes filled with hot tears as he turned away from his brother’s worried gaze. “I never knew... I never knew.”


April 2013

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