A Lost Soul
Many years ago, at the time before the battle of the last alliance of elves and men, in the back streets of Rivendell, sat an elf boy who was in hisfourteenth year. Sauron had killed both of his parents a fortnight ago. He watched the soldiers parade about on the streets. He knew what they were doing. They were recruiting every man in sight for their ranks. In 3 days, they were making a stand against Sauron. Which was why he was hiding. He knew that if they saw him they would take him away to fight. It wasn't so much that he was afraid, it was that he had never wielded a sword in his life. He was so busy watching the soldiers in the streets that he was taken completely by surprised when a voice from behind him said "you there, get up" He stood up quickly.
"Good, he's old enough." said a stern looking soldier.
The boy was then dragged to a covered carriage and thrown in the back. Around him were all sorts of other soldiers. He pulled himself up on a bench. Everyone was amazingly quiet, like they didn't even notice he was there. He turned to the elf next to him, who could only be twice as old as himself.
"Where are we going?" He said.
"To war" The other elf replied.
The journey took several days, but they finally arrived.
When they did, he was shoved in a coat of mail and a helmet that were much to heavy for him. He was also given a sword that was almost as long as his body and a shield that was so heavy he could hardly lift. He was placed in the front row of the formation and his knees knocked so hard it made a sound.
He turned to his friend and said shakily, "Just promise me one thing."
"What?" "That you will fight with me as an equal, not a child."
His friend nodded quickly. The young elf now turned his head back to the oncoming rush of orcs. He had never seen anything so terrifying in his life. He could feel his heart beating faster and his breath quickening.
The orcs were almost upon them. His heart was about to burst out of his chest. He raised his sword and shield. Then, with a tremendous CLANG! The armies met. He swung his sword wildly; quite amazed he had not died in the initial impact. The armies were amongst each other now, and you couldn't tell who was who.
He thought he was doing pretty well, but then, an orc flew out of nowhere and was on top of him. He managed to slash its side with his sword, and it ran off. Out of sight, out of mind. He thought to himself. Then, suddenly he felt a piercing pain in his back, then cold metal going through his body. He looked down and there was the tip of a sword protruding from his chest. He cried out in pain as he fell to his knees and landed face-first in the mud. His vision blurred as warm blood seeped over his body. Well, if he was going to die, at least he would take the orc with him. He hurled his sword with the last of his strength and the orc slipped to the ground, dead. He turned his head and saw his friend slip to the ground next to him, pierced with many arrows. He reached for his friend's cold hand and his vision went black. His spirit slide from his body into the dead marsh. All that could be heard was screaming and all that could be felt was the pain of death forever.