Chapter 8

Gwaelon's POV

Gwaelon, Son of Glîthor and Lieutenant of the 3rd Archer Unit in the Elvish Army under Lord Elrond was currently trying hard not to piss himself. The Last Alliance of Men and Elves had mustered and marched into Mordor and pushed the Orc host back unto the slopes of Mount Doom. Sauron had been repeatedly spotted commanding the Orcs but had yet to take to the field. Lord Elrond speculates he was waiting for our mightier warriors to exhaust themselves fighting the Orcs before engaging.

What has to do with me is that the Orcs had breached the first rank of Elven Shield bearers, so my squad was called upon to unsheathe our sword for close combat. I had never had to fight an Orc up close and personal, so as the grey and big Orc wildly charged me, he was trying hard to be brave and lead by example, but he just wanted to hide.

Courage, I guess. It is the strength to fight or persevere even when you're afraid. That's what I told myself anyway as I swiftly shifted to my left arm and dodged the Orc's axe as he cleaved it down with his left arm, trying to split my skull. Next, I blindly slashed my sword horizontally and took off his right arm. The Orc howled in agony and then wildly swung his weapon at me. There was no coordination or thought to his swings, just blind desperation.

I remained steady as my training had taught me and waited for him to tire himself out. He noticeably slowed after 4 or 5 swings, which were not as ferocious. Taking advantage of this, I stepped into his body frame and thrust my sword into the bottom of his jaw. The Orc jerked his head back to try and save himself, but I had already accounted for that, so the angle of my blade was angled towards the back of his skull, then directly up.

With a squishing sound, my sword pierced his jaw and his brain before encountering slight resistance and then puncturing the top of his head. I expected to feel delight or pride at besting my first enemy, but all I felt was a creeping numbness. Is this it?

All the training, hundreds of years. All the long nights alone. I didn't feel like a hero or a great warrior. It just felt... so pointless. Sighing, I swiftly pulled my blade from his dead body and checked my surroundings for more foes. My squad was fighting around me.

My breath hitched as I noticed Alagion lying on the rocky ground. He wasn't breathing, and his glass-like eyes stared unseeing at the cloudy sky. Grief slammed into me like a Battering ram. Quickly, I stuffed that feeling down. Mourning must come after my squad needed me. Assessing their situations, I was comforted to see that most were efficiently handling their adversaries, and the ones struggling had other members helping them. Turning back to the front, I stepped into the hole left in the shield wall when the Orcs breached, meeting another trying to use it. Raising my blade, I let the orc axe slide down my sword as I guided it into the ground. Then, I spun until I was slightly behind him and then, in one smooth motion, relieved the orc of his head.

Quickly turning face forward again, I moved back as another Orc made his way forward. Glancing behind him, I saw the vast Horde and realized this wasn't a battle of skill or honor. This was a battle of endurance, and the side that gave in first would win. Gritting my teeth, I concluded that many more elves would die, and although I couldn't see the human side of the army, I could see many more humans as well. And for what? One person's greed for power. It was almost laughable to me. Unfortunately, no one could afford to laugh right now.