Disclaimer: I have temporarily "borrowed" these characters and… eventually… plan to give them back… maybe…
Heronion ran. The forest became a dark green blur, and every shadow seemed a threat. A deep gash in his side slowed him down, but he had to warn King Thranduil. An army of Orcs was headed for Mirkwood, and he was the only one to have survived to give the alert. A look of relief graced his fair features as he entered the borders of Mirkwood and saw the black silhouette of another elf ahead of him. "Lasto! Im harnannen! Yrch!" Heronion yelled in his distress.
"Heronion, it has been a long time," the figure replied in a cold, raspy voice, "Mirkwood has changed since I last set foot in its forests."
Heronion froze, fear creeping like ice into his veins. "Feredir… It cannot be…"
"It cannot? Yet here I am." The figure, Feredir, stepped towards Heronion and into the moonlight, revealing an elf with bone-white skin stretched thin over haunted features. A jagged scar marred his once-handsome face. His sunken eyes were as black as coal, and in his hand he held a thin sword dripping with a dark liquid.
"As for warning Thranduil about the Orcs… I am afraid he already knows. My little army infiltrated his palace a little over an hour ago…"
"Rhachon le! Traitor!" Heronion spat, glaring at Feredir. The latter's lips curved into a cruel smile, and a thoughtful look crossed his face, "A traitor, you say…? Perhaps… But, as I am a generous being, I am going to give you a choice: You can continue forth and join your king, or…" He paused, relishing the terror etched into Heronion's face, before finishing, "You can turn back to my army and join them…"
Heronion's dread hardened into rage, and he turned without a sound and ran.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Translations:
Lasto! Im harnannen! Yrch! – Listen! I'm wounded! Orcs!
Rhachon le! – I curse you!
A/N: Be gentle! I know it isn't amazing, but it's a work in progress! This is only the prologue, and I promise the next chapter will be longer! Review please!