Chapter Eight

A/N: I had to edit the final line of the last chapter to make it consistent with this chapter. Sorry.

A single elven guard resolutely stood watch on his secluded section of the eastern wall. The majority of guards were elsewhere at the time, so he was alone. He had to admit to himself that he did not care for the eerie silence or the solitude, but the task of keeping watch here had to be done, and it happened that he was the one chosen for it. So he would do his assigned duty, and he would do it well no matter how mundane or disagreeable, and when it was done, then and only then would he do more pleasant things of his own interest. This ethic had served him well in the past, as he had been proven time and time again to be more than worthy of respect and trust. As a result, this guard had enjoyed more rapid promotions than most, but had also been required to shoulder grim responsibilities unusual to so new a recruit. He took it all in determined stride.

Like everyone else, the guard was delighted to find the storm failing rapidly. Only good could come of it, he told himself. The guard inhaled and exhaled slowly, watching his warm breath fog the air. He made a conscience effort to relax his stiffened shoulders and back somewhat, but failed to feel at ease in the slightest. What was wrong with him? Nothing warranted such tension. He had to remain alert, yes, but there was no reason to constantly be so…

He abruptly whirled to stare hard at a cluster of forest beyond the wall to his left. What was that? Nothing, it was nothing. Just the sound of tree branches breaking under the weight of all the freshly fallen snow. The sudden, heavy snowfall couldn't be good for them, he reflected. Walking in the forest would be more dangerous now. Perhaps they should…

That sound, there it was again, but this time to the right. Now that he heard it a second time, he wasn't so sure it sounded like-

The force of the impact sent him reeling. He hit the ground before he realized he was falling. The instant his body struck the ground, his world exploded in searing, blinding pain. He gasped for breath, but oh it hurt! He continued to gasp for air, despite the screaming protests of his ribcage. With a massive effort of will the guard gathered his strength, and with one slow movement brought himself to a sitting position. His upper body collapsed against the stone wall mercifully near. The actions had cost him, and he nearly blacked out then and there from the utter nausea and pain.

An arrow, he'd taken an arrow to the chest. What did the instructors say? The training that had been drilled into the guard for years came easily back to mind. He was to first evaluate the situation, that's what they'd said.

He knew the wound was serious- maybe fatal, perhaps not quite. Only moments of consciousness left, and once he succumbed, he might not wake again. So he had to act fast, whatever he did. The guard was seized by a sudden sense of deepest urgency. He must stay awake, he must think!

Identify… identify the arrow. It was red- no, that was blood. His blood? Focus! Black, the arrow was black. Orcs? Why had orcs attacked him here? Why would… an attack! Rivendell was under attack!

But, shouldn't he hear battle? Even in his rapidly deteriorating state, the elven guard could tell that there were no shouts or the clanging of metal weaponry. No war horns, no cries of alarm. So what did that mean…? He was too tired to think about it. All he needed was just a brief rest. Tired…

Wake! Your fellows need you!

Who was that? Why couldn't they let him sleep? He decided that the descending darkness was nicer than the pain. He welcomed it gratefully.

WAKE!

A sudden, inexplicable surge of energy filled his body and revived his mind. The pain of his wound abruptly receded into a distant throbbing, unlike the overwhelming hurt of before. He was roused fully, and his eyes flew open.

Somehow, in an instant and without a word, he was made to understand that he had been given supernatural help that would not come again. There was something of importance he had to do, before he surrendered his soul to Mandos.

What was it? Time was passing, he had to think!

Orcs were attacking Rivendell. He was a guard on the wall. They had shot him, but no one had noticed for he was alone and fell silently. There was still no sound of battle, so that meant… It was a surprise attack! The elves were unprepared, unarmed! It would be a massacre!

How could he warn them, though? He was all but dead and would be were it not for divine intervention! What did the Valar think he could do? How cruel of them, to rouse him, only for his prolonged death to come with bitter hopelessness. No, there must be something…

The bell! The memory of it filled his mind, and briefly he saw it as clearly as if it were before him. He remembered now, the alarm bell, not five paces from where he lay prone. It was a chance. Slim, but a chance nevertheless.

He stood. He would never be sure how he did it, but some way or another he stood on his two feet. A clenched fist in his open, bleeding wound, the guard took a wavering step forward. It hurt, oh it hurt. Another step. Another. The pain shot through his chest like fire, and he cried out. The guard tottered, and almost fell. Gathering every ounce of will left to him, he took the last step. Reaching out, he grasped the dangling bell rope. A strong yank. The bell toll resounded, loud and clear, ringing of hope and a fighting chance. A second yank. A third, less strong. Even as the second orc arrow struck him in the throat, the guard rang the bell a final time.

He had done well.

A/N: To clear up any confusion or inconsistencies, this chapter (written all in italics) takes place a short time before the ending of the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed, and if you a leave a review, I'll be extra happy!