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Description
The horses chomp fervently on their bits, metal clanks fill the air, they stomp their hooves and chuck their heads into the air with anxiety. The uproar of the Orcs devours the sounds instantly, their repugnant shrieks and bellows fill the starry sky and you can hardly believe that but an hour ago you were in utter serenity upon the cliff with the prince of the elves at your side.
“Dina lire lye neva (Be silent when we near),” Legolas commands, he stands at the front of the group. A true prince in the night.
His horse is as silent as the grave as the quiet falls upon you all. His exquisite crystals glaze over you all but you sense them lingering. When you all but glance back at him his eyes hurriedly move on.
“Gurth gothrim lye (Death to our foes)” mutters Bitter to your right. His eyes are set on the gully ahead and you can see the unmistakable mask of hunger splashed on his face.
You hear a snicker at your left, looking over you see Larien grinning to herself. Her small golden elfin eyes find yours and you see the layer of humour in them and wonder what is so funny.
“Mela (love),” she mouths and your lips set into a straight hard line. You ignore her childish ways and stare ahead. Legolas has turned and you cannot help but admire the ghostly white locks that tumble down his back.
The group has begun to move and you kick Erazin into a brisk walk. Your heart accelerates and you close your eyes, the revolting stench of decease invades your nostrils but you care not for your blood runs hot with thrill.
When you open your eyes you can see the Orcs clearly. The gully they have hid in works easily to your advantage, on horseback it should be easy to rid of the beasts. An elf hunting on ground is dangerous, an elf hunter on horseback is lethal. Especially elves that have been trained as well as Larien and Legolas.
There are trees in the gorge that block your path, but they have kept you from being seen so there is really nothing to criticize. But it did mean one thing. The horses would not be able to enter the gorge, it was far too treacherous to risk the lives of the Elinkin, the clan of Elvish horses, for some Orc horde.
Orcs should have seen that the trees could aid rivals, but perhaps all that rotting flesh had finally filled their brain, by and by till there was none left.
Sliding off Erazin you let her mane brush against your face, adoring the feel of the silk like strands glide alongside your skin.
You feel your feet connect with the ground and she snorts softly, her feet are still and you can see she is hesitant. The Elinkin are no mortal horses, they are smarter, more agile, and they comprehend far more than any creature you know. You have contemplated that they are even smarter than some Elves you know.
When Legolas’s stallion, Alatariel, moves past you in a silvery blur your beautiful black shadow is not far behind, along with the several other horses.
You know if you looked at Legolas right now his smile would be as big as the moon, he loves hunting on foot.
The elves slither across the rocks, jumping from stone to stone until you and your kin are metres from the horde.
Your fingers dance up and down across the delicate oak Elvin sword handle, Semiliak, that is pressed hard against your hip. The steel blade vibrates, yearning for the blood of an Orc.
Legolas raises his bow in the night, the moonlight glinting off the deathly string, you watch as he pulls an arrow from his back, gently placing it in his bow. You see the slight movement of his fingers as they play with the end of the arrow.
Your heart quickens before it stops completely.
“Uuvanimoea! (Monsters!)” bellows Legolas. His bow is raised, arrow on the ready. Your kin pull out their own swords and bows. The battle has begun.
The Orc uproar falls off and there is well over a hundred eyes that tumble upon you.
This is the lethal peace before the chaos.
“GOLUG APPS! (ELF MEAT!)” comes the shrill Orcish cry. “DIIS- (ATTACK!)
You get a good look at the Orc, he is taller than the rest, and scars are painted across his hideous face. His mouth screws up into a glower and out comes his beastly growl, “thrak-izish-ulub kaar. (Bring me their heads.)”
Time blurs and your feet rush forward without hesitation.
Looking around you see that your kin have taken completely different routes.
There is a grey blur before your eyes and you rip back into reality. The stench of rot is close to unbearable as the Orcs near.
In the blink of a mortal eye you whip out your sword and feel the smash of the resilient steel against the iron of an Orcish axe. The sounds echo around you as your kin are faced with the rampage of beasts.
“Amin feuya ten’ lle! (you disgust me!)” you yell as you swiftly duck below the slaying motions of the axe and drive your sword deep into its gut. You try your best not to grimace as the black blood oozes out in a hurry and the foul stench is amplified.
Your blade meets yet again another weapon similar to the one before, though this axe is enclosed in finger length barbs so close to each other it is hard to distinguish where each barb starts.
A gloomy darkness sets itself in the gully and you quickly glance up at the moon to see several black clouds hurtling your way and covering the little light that was offered.
Lucky it is that Elves fight well in the dark.

Description
The horses chomp fervently on their bits, metal clanks fill the air, they stomp their hooves and chuck their heads into the air with anxiety. The uproar of the Orcs devours the sounds instantly, their repugnant shrieks and bellows fill the starry sky and you can hardly believe that but an hour ago you were in utter serenity upon the cliff with the prince of the elves at your side.
“Dina lire lye neva (Be silent when we near),” Legolas commands, he stands at the front of the group. A true prince in the night.
His horse is as silent as the grave as the quiet falls upon you all. His exquisite crystals glaze over you all but you sense them lingering. When you all but glance back at him his eyes hurriedly move on.
“Gurth gothrim lye (Death to our foes)” mutters Bitter to your right. His eyes are set on the gully ahead and you can see the unmistakable mask of hunger splashed on his face.
You hear a snicker at your left, looking over you see Larien grinning to herself. Her small golden elfin eyes find yours and you see the layer of humour in them and wonder what is so funny.
“Mela (love),” she mouths and your lips set into a straight hard line. You ignore her childish ways and stare ahead. Legolas has turned and you cannot help but admire the ghostly white locks that tumble down his back.
The group has begun to move and you kick Erazin into a brisk walk. Your heart accelerates and you close your eyes, the revolting stench of decease invades your nostrils but you care not for your blood runs hot with thrill.
When you open your eyes you can see the Orcs clearly. The gully they have hid in works easily to your advantage, on horseback it should be easy to rid of the beasts. An elf hunting on ground is dangerous, an elf hunter on horseback is lethal. Especially elves that have been trained as well as Larien and Legolas.
There are trees in the gorge that block your path, but they have kept you from being seen so there is really nothing to criticize. But it did mean one thing. The horses would not be able to enter the gorge, it was far too treacherous to risk the lives of the Elinkin, the clan of Elvish horses, for some Orc horde.
Orcs should have seen that the trees could aid rivals, but perhaps all that rotting flesh had finally filled their brain, by and by till there was none left.
Sliding off Erazin you let her mane brush against your face, adoring the feel of the silk like strands glide alongside your skin.
You feel your feet connect with the ground and she snorts softly, her feet are still and you can see she is hesitant. The Elinkin are no mortal horses, they are smarter, more agile, and they comprehend far more than any creature you know. You have contemplated that they are even smarter than some Elves you know.
When Legolas’s stallion, Alatariel, moves past you in a silvery blur your beautiful black shadow is not far behind, along with the several other horses.
You know if you looked at Legolas right now his smile would be as big as the moon, he loves hunting on foot.
The elves slither across the rocks, jumping from stone to stone until you and your kin are metres from the horde.
Your fingers dance up and down across the delicate oak Elvin sword handle, Semiliak, that is pressed hard against your hip. The steel blade vibrates, yearning for the blood of an Orc.
Legolas raises his bow in the night, the moonlight glinting off the deathly string, you watch as he pulls an arrow from his back, gently placing it in his bow. You see the slight movement of his fingers as they play with the end of the arrow.
Your heart quickens before it stops completely.
“Uuvanimoea! (Monsters!)” bellows Legolas. His bow is raised, arrow on the ready. Your kin pull out their own swords and bows. The battle has begun.
The Orc uproar falls off and there is well over a hundred eyes that tumble upon you.
This is the lethal peace before the chaos.
“GOLUG APPS! (ELF MEAT!)” comes the shrill Orcish cry. “DIIS- (ATTACK!)
You get a good look at the Orc, he is taller than the rest, and scars are painted across his hideous face. His mouth screws up into a glower and out comes his beastly growl, “thrak-izish-ulub kaar. (Bring me their heads.)”
Time blurs and your feet rush forward without hesitation.
Looking around you see that your kin have taken completely different routes.
There is a grey blur before your eyes and you rip back into reality. The stench of rot is close to unbearable as the Orcs near.
In the blink of a mortal eye you whip out your sword and feel the smash of the resilient steel against the iron of an Orcish axe. The sounds echo around you as your kin are faced with the rampage of beasts.
“Amin feuya ten’ lle! (you disgust me!)” you yell as you swiftly duck below the slaying motions of the axe and drive your sword deep into its gut. You try your best not to grimace as the black blood oozes out in a hurry and the foul stench is amplified.
Your blade meets yet again another weapon similar to the one before, though this axe is enclosed in finger length barbs so close to each other it is hard to distinguish where each barb starts.
A gloomy darkness sets itself in the gully and you quickly glance up at the moon to see several black clouds hurtling your way and covering the little light that was offered.
Lucky it is that Elves fight well in the dark.