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Arry · 12-02-2004, 03:10 PM

He no longer noticed the pain that flamed in his side; it had become such a constant companion. Still, it was an increasing effort to move. Lessons, though, learned long ago in training and years spent in the service of his Lord sustained him as he fought against the Corsairs and the Lossoth who had allied with them. Legs and arms moved in familiar patterns as he struck and cut and felled those who came against him . . .

---

The press of battle was slackening as the Elves pushed hard against the Southrons. Weariness returned as Annû paused, leaning heavily on his club, breath coming in ragged gasps. One hand strayed to his side, pushing on his wound. It was open again, oozing down to soak the waistband of his breeches. And without the distraction of the fight, the pain had begun to return. Dizzy, he shook his head trying to shake off the feeling.

No!

He heard Elwe’s silent cry. Annû looked round the deck, seeking where his friend had gone. He could see him a ways off where he stood against one of the Lossoth. Tarn, it was. The one who had knifed him. Pulling himself erect he moved toward where Elwë stood. His friend was unharmed as far as he could see, though waves of great pain radiated from him. Quickening his stride, Annû approached the two combatants.

Not so! Not so! It cannot be!

Elwë's words rang in Annû's mind as he saw his companion fall. But it was not for himself that Elwë cried out. She is gone . . . were his last thoughts, cut off as his head hit hard against the stairs. Elwë’s hard fall had not killed him, but Annû could already feel the Elf slipping away, his spirit following after Andtuariel . . .

---

‘Shadow’s pawn!’ Annû said quietly to the Lossoth, his voice filled with regret. ‘You have killed what is fair; pushed back the light with your darkness.’ With a sigh, he brought up his club, preparing to engage the Lossoth. ‘Second born,’ he murmured to himself, his gaze far away ‘tell me, where is the light my brother saw in you . . .’

Annû threw down his club. It clattered on the deck and rolled to one side. ‘Come, little brother,’ he said in a flat voice, his face slick with sweat, grey eyes fixed on Tarn’s face. Let us fight evenly.’ The Elf and man circled each other. Tarn was as sly as ever, his movements defensive as he watched Annû. The Elf lunged toward him several times, feinting, looking for a way to get within the man’s defenses. Tarn could see his opponent’s movements were slower than before, that he grimaced slightly as his torso twisted. The man smiled to himself. This will be easy, he thought. And just as well, he followed up, feeling the soreness in his own ribs.

For his part, Annû fought against two opponents . . . his own failing strength and the persistent foe who sapped it further. He did get in several cuts along the man’s forearms, but could push in no further. Tarn’s knife sliced against his flesh as well, leaving trails of fire. Nearly done in, he made one last desperate attempt, rushing forward. His feet lost the thread of command Annû intended for them. The Elf stumbled, barely regaining his balance.

Tarn grinned, slipping beneath the outreached knife with which the Elf had hoped to finish him. His eyes lit with a feral pleasure as they spied Annû’s club lying near. In a single move, he snatched it up, bringing it round against the Elf’s side with a hard Crack!. Annû fell hard, crumpling down to the ship's deck, his head hitting solidly against it.

The club fell from Tarn’s hands. He was gasping now as the quick movements for his blow had made his own cracked ribs protest loudly. Looking down, he saw the Elf sprawled on the deck, unmoving. With a groan of pain, the man picked up his own knife which had fallen from his hands and stumbled toward his opponent, intending to finish him off . . .

12-02-2004, 03:10 PM	#253
Arry Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Jan 2004 Posts: 704	He no longer noticed the pain that flamed in his side; it had become such a constant companion. Still, it was an increasing effort to move. Lessons, though, learned long ago in training and years spent in the service of his Lord sustained him as he fought against the Corsairs and the Lossoth who had allied with them. Legs and arms moved in familiar patterns as he struck and cut and felled those who came against him . . . --- The press of battle was slackening as the Elves pushed hard against the Southrons. Weariness returned as Annû paused, leaning heavily on his club, breath coming in ragged gasps. One hand strayed to his side, pushing on his wound. It was open again, oozing down to soak the waistband of his breeches. And without the distraction of the fight, the pain had begun to return. Dizzy, he shook his head trying to shake off the feeling. No! He heard Elwe’s silent cry. Annû looked round the deck, seeking where his friend had gone. He could see him a ways off where he stood against one of the Lossoth. Tarn, it was. The one who had knifed him. Pulling himself erect he moved toward where Elwë stood. His friend was unharmed as far as he could see, though waves of great pain radiated from him. Quickening his stride, Annû approached the two combatants. Not so! Not so! It cannot be! Elwë's words rang in Annû's mind as he saw his companion fall. But it was not for himself that Elwë cried out. She is gone . . . were his last thoughts, cut off as his head hit hard against the stairs. Elwë’s hard fall had not killed him, but Annû could already feel the Elf slipping away, his spirit following after Andtuariel . . . --- ‘Shadow’s pawn!’ Annû said quietly to the Lossoth, his voice filled with regret. ‘You have killed what is fair; pushed back the light with your darkness.’ With a sigh, he brought up his club, preparing to engage the Lossoth. ‘Second born,’ he murmured to himself, his gaze far away ‘tell me, where is the light my brother saw in you . . .’ Annû threw down his club. It clattered on the deck and rolled to one side. ‘Come, little brother,’ he said in a flat voice, his face slick with sweat, grey eyes fixed on Tarn’s face. Let us fight evenly.’ The Elf and man circled each other. Tarn was as sly as ever, his movements defensive as he watched Annû. The Elf lunged toward him several times, feinting, looking for a way to get within the man’s defenses. Tarn could see his opponent’s movements were slower than before, that he grimaced slightly as his torso twisted. The man smiled to himself. This will be easy, he thought. And just as well, he followed up, feeling the soreness in his own ribs. For his part, Annû fought against two opponents . . . his own failing strength and the persistent foe who sapped it further. He did get in several cuts along the man’s forearms, but could push in no further. Tarn’s knife sliced against his flesh as well, leaving trails of fire. Nearly done in, he made one last desperate attempt, rushing forward. His feet lost the thread of command Annû intended for them. The Elf stumbled, barely regaining his balance. Tarn grinned, slipping beneath the outreached knife with which the Elf had hoped to finish him. His eyes lit with a feral pleasure as they spied Annû’s club lying near. In a single move, he snatched it up, bringing it round against the Elf’s side with a hard Crack!. Annû fell hard, crumpling down to the ship's deck, his head hitting solidly against it. The club fell from Tarn’s hands. He was gasping now as the quick movements for his blow had made his own cracked ribs protest loudly. Looking down, he saw the Elf sprawled on the deck, unmoving. With a groan of pain, the man picked up his own knife which had fallen from his hands and stumbled toward his opponent, intending to finish him off . . . Last edited by Arry; 12-04-2004 at 11:13 AM.