Editing BW XXIV - Morwath

Morwath recalled his last thoughts before sleep engulfed him; as ever they were of Malenwe.  Why did he ever let her go?  Had the shock at what he thought to be her death deprived his mind of reason and filled it with visions of what he hoped would come to pass?  He longed to see her again…

Kneeling, Malenwe touched the grass as if to ensure that she was on the Prime. Still not quite sure whether it was another dream or whether she had actually been visited by a Goddess, Malenwe looked at her folk, loosely scattered in what cover they could find.  The grass was wet and cold – as were her followers. Had not Morwath spoken of the Dwarves that were well served by such ancient Gods? The Lady the avatar spoke of was Athena, a Goddess of some considerable power who now enjoined her to take up the fight against those from whom she ran.  Strength began to pour through her, warming away the chill of despondency and offering new hope. 

“Eleron!” she called, standing and shaking as if to remove the robe of despair, “We fight!  We can no longer run.”  

Eleron nodded, as if he understood exactly what had just happened.  “We must be close and swift, save our arrows and make all count. We must choose the weakest point in their defence and break through.  Then we do not look back! Our destiny lies in the North, where my father has taken our people on a fool’s errand.”  Eleron bowed and ran to pass on the orders.  

Malenwe jogged up the slope, which but a moment before she had used to keep her movements from the enemy. Crouching at the top she looked over the rolling plain before her.  

Gilderin joined her, “My Lady they are less than a league from us.  I am convinced that they know of our path.”

“They do.  I know not how, but they do.”  She did not turn to look at her fellow elf; instead she continued to stare fixedly at the enemy.  “I count eight score Gith, mayhap a few more and some fell beasts from the north.  A scouting party of some considerable strength…” she was lost momentarily in thought.

“Your orders my Lady?” Gilderin gently prompted, nervous that he might have interrupted some vital cognitive process.

“Kill them, Gilderin, kill them…” The venom is her voice froze the captain, she continued, “look how the Gith sweep left and right as they cross the ridge before us.  As they weave they leave a gap between them and the Trolls on the right flank.  That is where we will strike.  We will kill those that dare interrupt our path but we will not tarry.  Strike hard and fast, create the gap and run a swift as the wind as close to north as we may.  Assemble and pass on my word – they are to wait for my final order.  I’ll see you on the other side or in a more blessed place.”

The order was passed swiftly, the elves moved to the ridge and, crouching, they took up an arrow formation.  Malenwe paused momentarily as if doubting herself before leaping up the slope and whispering as if in prayer, “For Athena, Efforendil and Amorsland…” 

Her movement, slowed in Morwath’s mind though he knew it to be rapid, failed to draw the attention of the Gith, less than a mile away and in plain sight.  She covered the ground easily, leaping over the odd rocky outcrop or tuft of long, course grass which pockmarked the Great Plains.  The elves were difficult to see, even at less than half a mile range, blending in with the natural colours of the landscape.  They were quick to bow range not releasing a single shot until the very last minute.  The Gith’s weaving southerly drive created the gap that Malenwe had hoped for. The slower and more clumsy trolls were late to react to the appearance of the elven band leaving a 100 yards between the most easterly flank of Gith and the nearest of their number.  Obeying the order to conserve arrows, the elves did not return the hasty sabots launched by the Gith and the ill-aimed rocks thrown by the trolls.  Instead, they ran for the gap. 

Only a few Gith were mounted and they charged the elves, seeking to slow their progress and allow the company to prepare for the battle.  The elves’ arrows found their mark well, culling the first half dozen before they came within 40 paces.  Without stopping, Malenwe’s own skill with a bow proved to be the demise of two of the evil creatures.  Short of arrows and closing rapidly to the gap, Malenwe drew both her long and short sword, wheeling them in each hand to gain balance, judge their weight and time her blows.  She struck down the first foolhardy Gith to come within range, barely pausing to make sure of her aim.  Each weapon, circling in a blur of steel, found their mark to skull and neck.  At her side, Eleron struck down another with his bastard sword, defending Malenwe’s left flank as she continued her sprint.

Half through the gap, the Gith were upon them.  Many of the enemy’s number were already dispatched to Hel by the elves unerring arrows but they came on, threatening to close the void on which Malenwe had relied.  Would this be her undoing?  A huge troll, twice her size, swiped a spiked cudgel at the elf’s beautiful head, whilst a Gith stabbed at her side.  But she was too quick: leaping forward she rolled over the Gith’s cruel sword whilst ducking below the Troll’s wayward swing; somersaulting she landed on her feet and kept going.  Eleron took his opportunity and, skipping to the Gith’s left, whilst he attempted his lunge at Malenwe, cut the evil beast down with sword and knife before running to catch his Lady. 

Gilderin was less fortunate, becoming embroiled with the Troll as it flung out his cudgel in a wild, frenzied attack furious that it had missed the young female.  The first blow proved too powerful to be deflected by the elf’s short sword and, catching his left rib cage, winded the elf.  Unable to slip away, the second blow was more damaging, striking down hard on the elf’s shoulder, shattering his clavicle and dislocating the joint.  Still Gilderin struck with his right arm, cutting the troll’s head from its shoulders. Realising his doom, Gilderin screamed, “Fly my Lady!” and, turning to see those that followed he called, “Rally here all too ail to continue the pace!”

Many of the wounded saw the sense and dragged themselves to Gilderin’s side.  None escaped with their lives.  Because of their sacrifice, Malenwe, Eleron and more than five score of her folk broke free, briefly turning to use up what remained of their arrows in the defence of those less fortunate.  

Looking back down at her fallen followers, Eleron said what Malenwe could not, “Come!  We must fly!  They will not be forgotten lest we fail to remain alive to tell of their bravery and sacrifice.  Come, we run north!”    

Choking back the tears, she turned and ran.  Whilst subconsciously grateful to be free and for the moment’s peace, she could not think of much more than the image of her wounded followers being slaughtered.  At that moment her heart hardened – there would be no mercy. A voice came to her, a voice Morwath heard as well and would always be remembered by them both for it was Athena, 

“Thou art the bravest and most worthy of your folk.  The Gods will bless, reward and watch over you. The Men of Farass will guide your path…”