Second Age 1697, Iavas
Soft plumes of ash and smoke rose into the sky, ever watchful. The smoke could be seen as far as the Misty Mountains, the Gates of Moria, The sloping vales of Dunland...
The Dwarves shut their gates, leaving the Elves to fend for themselves. It was not that they were selfish or anything, but they feared for Moria, for Khazad-dûm. Arri, Gate-keeper of Durin's Door, was the last to pass beneath the Doors - and the first, to shut them in a thousand years.
Back in Eregion, Daerundros was relentlessly slaying here and there, spilling the foul blood of the Orcs, her short hair gleaming in the sun. She wore simple armour of leather and cloth, refusing to don chainmail, to prevent her movement from being hampered.
Daerundros stopped an incoming blade, blocking it with her small shield, before she in turn, slashed, and watched as the last orc before her fell to it's knees, horrifying gurgling sounds coming from it's mouth, for Daerundros had struck it by the throat.
The Blood-coated blade gleamed in the sun, the Elven properties outshining the black blood, not letting itself be dimmed or faded by the remnants of a furious battle.
"Daerundros!" Candeth yelled, her father, Turon, was clad in battle gear, his blade as equally stained by Black blood as hers. Candeth, on the other hand, only wielded a long, majestic bow, a quiver strung to her back, her golden hair shining in the light as she took an arrow from her quiver, ready to loosen it should any foe attempt to harm her family.
"Daerundros, we must go! Hurry!" A swarm of orcs were pouring slowly into the town in which they were currently located in. Daerundros, wanting to fight, kept herself firmly fixed, until she felt herself being grabbed, strongly, by her father. The last thing she saw of the town was friends, dear friends, dying, being devoured by hordes of orcs, as the family fled from the scene, too little and too weak to attempt to save any of their friends.
Daerundros ran, ran without thinking, ran like the wind, behind her father and mother, who incapacitated any who attempted to stop their flight. She ran without knowing what to do, ran without any tactic, any strategies, to help her in battle. Ran alongside fleeing birds.
Her mind and her body froze, thoughtless, from seeing Eregion destroyed.
Suddenly, a band of orcs hindered the family. Daerundros looked at them, time slowing, as she saw the orc's faces - jeering, filled with malicious hatred, and a thirst for battle. Rage overcame her desires, and she cried out in a bloodcurdling scream, a battle cry, something that was never heard coming from the mouth of a pure maiden;
"Gurth 'nin yrch! Gurth 'nin yrch!"
Without another thought, Daerundros sprinted past her father and mother, who were about to engage the band of orcs in battle, and slashed with her blade furiously back and forth, without tiring. Her desire to kill the orcs, to avenge her home, blocked out anything else from her thoughts, her entire mind fixed upon destroying that which destroyed her home.
The battle which her family fought brought them up to a steep cliff, a dangerous one. The Orc leading the assault upon the family tirelessly blocked every effort from Daerundros, as the battle brought them close and closer to the edge of the Cliffs.
Daerundros suddenly found herself losing, as the Orc overpowered her slowly, her family watching helplessly from below, not being able to do anything, for they knew that the orc would slay Daerundros on the spot were they to attempt to interfere with their battle. Daerundros was losing the will to keep fighting, the Orc now truly having the advantage over her--
Suddenly, Daerundros, hopeless to win the battle, toppled over the edge of the Cliff. Candeth screamed as she watched her daughter fall, and Turon and his wife immediately ran to the orc to avenge their seemingly fallen daughter. Turon swiftly attempted to stab the orc, who was peering down triumphantly, but before he could do so, the Orc screamed in fright.
Confusion reigned in the scene. The Orc was peering down below in horror, fright from an unseen foe, yet, as he was about to retiliate, a sharp blade protuded from his back, and a small drop of blood fell from his closed mouth down the cliff. The Orc yelled and thrust himself back to an upright position, his eyes centered on the elvish blade that had pierced his chest.
Down below, Daerundros was dangling, with one hand, from the side of the cliff, smiling up at her parents who were now peering at her in astonishment and relief - She was alive.
Daerundros hoisted herself up, grabbing her father's hand, and she was pulled up, over the cliff, out of danger, and in bewilderment. She triumphantly took the blade from the fallen orc's chest, the black blood dropping from it in silence. She had some small scratches here and there, yet she was otherwise unharmed, but the most prominent thing about her reappearance was that she had a small drop of black blood running down her cheek.
Without bothering to wipe it off, she surveyed the land before her, triumphantly smirking.
The time for battle could wait. Daerundros frowned, and turned her back on Eregion, running with her family into the Sunset.
((OOC: I'll probably be doing an Image of Daerundros on a cliff in the scene I described, but I can't assure you that it'll be as awesome as I imagine, so please bear with me ^^))
