I woke up with a groan. Slowly, but surely, I climbed out of bed and began to perform my morning routine: shit, shower, shit again, get dressed, eat breakfast, shit one more time, brush my teeth, and then head to work.

However, this morning was different. As I turn to lock the front door behind me on my way out, I heard an amazing battle cry and felt a wallop on the back of my knees. My legs buckled below me, and I crashed down hard on the concrete porch. Then another thump to the back of my head. In my last moment of consciousness, I could see two figures standing above me: a short, stocky man that appeared to be 75% fiery red beard and a tall, slender being that moved with a grace that I had never seen before. Before I could truly analyze their faces, my vision went fuzzy then faded to blackness.

I awoke to a splash of freezing water across my face. My eyes opened to see the same two figures standing in front of me as I had seen when I was knocked unconscious. I tried to stand, to run away, but I had been fastened securely to a wooden chair with thick, scratchy rope.

I glance around, we're in a shady clearing of a forest. Trees stand hundreds of feet tall, the canopy is thick and almost impermeable, only a few rays of sun reaching all the way to the forest floor.

"You really think this beardless warthog can do it?" the bearded one asked incredulously.

The blonde one gave a soft chortle and leaned on the head of his much shorter compatriot, "Of course he can. Can't you?"

His blue eyes met mine as they widened in fear. My voice quivered as I asked "Do what?"

"You, as an impartial third party, must officiate a competition. Gimli, here, and I have had a rivalry of sorts to see who the better fighter is, but someone always seems to lose track of their kills," the blonde elf said, nodding his head downward to implicate the dwarf standing under him.

"Oh, come off it, Legolas" Gimli said gruffly, reaching up and knocking the elf's elbows off of their perch on his head. "You know I can count fine, you just can't admit I kill more orcs than you!"

"Well, that's why he's here," Legolas said, finger pointed directly at my nose before turning to speak to me again, "So, you can do it, can't you?"

"I can give it a shot," I say, trying to shrug, but the ropes have me restrained so tightly I can't even pull that off.

"Correct answer," Gimli chortles, taking his axe and chopping the ropes off of the chair and myself. My hands and feet tingle as blood finally rushes back to them.

The two competitors begin to prepare, Gimli sharpening his axe while Legolas restrung his bow. After a short while, they both declare their readiness.

Their first competition was a test of speed. Each had a score of life-size wooden orcs placed in front of them. The first to knock all of them down is the victor.

"On your mark, get set, go!" I announced, and the two were off to the races.

Gimli sprinted toward the wooden orcs on his short legs, knocking each one to the ground with a swing of his axe.

Legolas, however, stood completely still, licked a single finger and held up in the air. After a few moments of feeling the wind on his wet finger, he nods and lines up a shot with his bow. In a few short bursts of arrows, he has knocked down all twenty of the orcs.

"Stop! Stop!" I yell, "Legolas wins the first round!"

The elf laughs while his dwarf friend curses, hacking away at the final wooden orc in front of him, sending splinters flying every which way.

The next contest was a test of strength. With a single attack, they would have to destroy as many wooden orcs as possible.

Legolas started this one first, piling as many arrows as he could fit into the nock of his bow. He pulled the string back slowly, careful not to lose any. Finally, he released, and a dozen arrows went flying wildly. Eight of the arrows hit an orc, while four went flying into the forest.

He looked disappointed in his performance, but I was amazed. I'd seen three arrows at once before but twelve was ridiculous.

Then Gimli stepped up, ready to take his turn. He took a deep breath, then began to spin, his axe held at arm's length. After four or five rotations, Gimli let go of the axe with a hefty shout.

The axe spun through the air, connecting with wooden orcs as it flew, chopping off heads directly at the neck. It passed through wood as if it were butter, flying and spinning and chopping through fourteen orc replicas in a wide arc before returning to Gimli's outstretched hand.

"Never saw that one before, eh blondie?" he chortled tauntingly.

"Round two goes to Gimli!" I shout, they were tied. I looked at all of the destruction and splinters that they had caused, and I was impressed, they definitely were very skilled fighters. But then I made a sad realization.

"I don't know what to tell you guys, we're out of wooden orcs for you to destroy. Could we just call it a tie?" I ask.

The two friendly competitors look at me, then to each other, then back to me shaking their heads.

"Oh no, there are no ties," Gimli said sternly, a wicked grin crawling across his face. "We've got one last thing to kill."

"Ready…" Legolas murmurs.

"Set…" Gimli says in reply.

"Guys! No! Jesus Christ! No!" I scream, turning to run away.

"GO!" They shout together, and I hear their feet begin to chase after me.

THE END