When I finally dared to open my eyes, I found it difficult not to scream. My peaceful home would never be the same for me. In that moment, I felt as if I would never be able to see anything but the broken pillars, the black arrows, and the bodies stained with blood. I myself lay in a slowly growing puddle of my own blood, which had begun to turn my long, dark hair a sickly shade of red. My dress was torn and I could see through the ripped fabric the deep gash in my shoulder. The unthinkable had finally happened- they had attacked Rivendell.
They called themselves "Sauron's Chosen". Of course, everyone knows that Sauron died over 100 years ago, when Frodo the hobbit threw the ring into Mount Doom- but Sauron's chosen don't believe that. They think that Sauron's spirit still lingers, and so they do their awful deeds 'in the name of Sauron.' This group is a gathering of orcs, trolls, goblins, and all sorts of other unsavory creatures. But worst of all, it includes men, and even elves. I think they must be deranged to join such a group. No one knows why they do it. Some people think they are mad. I've heard many tales of a fearsome leader, but he is always wreathed in shadow and mystery.
There have been many attacks on places other than Rivendell, but none quite so devastating as this. No one had expected it- we hadn't been prepared. One moment all was peaceful, and the next my beautiful home was swarming with orcs, it's loveliness and purity forever soiled by the footsteps of the orcs. I ran. But the orcs were all around me, and the last thing I felt before I fainted was a stab of pain in my shoulder.
I guess the orcs must have thought I was dead, because other then the wound in my shoulder, I was unharmed. If the elves had succeeded in defending Rivendell, I might yet live. But I doubted that, and when the orcs came to dispose of the bodies, they would kill me. Suddenly I heard a voice, right above my head, and I could smell the pungent scent of an orc. "I think this one's still alive." The other orc grunted- there must have been two of them- and I felt a sharp kick in my back. I let out a gasp of pain. There was the sound of a sword being drawn. I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.
Then the orc spoke again- but not to his companion. He was speaking to someone else. I couldn't hear what he was saying through his thick accent, but I heard more footsteps- light and graceful this time, sounding more elven than anything else. There was a startled kind of gurgle from the first orc, and I heard the thud of a body hitting the floor. I could hear the rapid, heavy footsteps of the second orc running away, but they stopped abruptly. Another thud. I opened my eyes. A tall elf, wearing the tunic of Sauron's chosen, stood before me. Stretching out his hand, he said two words- "Get up." I knew that if I stayed there much longer, I would die. Even though the elf was probably going to kill me, I was going to die anyway. So I forced myself to ignore my wound, telling myself that it was only a minor one, and sat up. Having no other option, I took his hand and stood up, albeit with some difficulty from my wound.
He pulled me over to an alcove, and whispered in my ear. "Do exactly what I say, don't make a noise, and follow me. No one can know we're here." He peered around the corner, looking for danger. Suddenly, I heard the heavy breathing of an orc, coming from the opposite side of the alcove that the other elf was looking out of. Leaning out a bit, I could just see a hideous orc, prowling menacingly in our direction. It stopped every few steps to sniff the air, as if it were searching for something... or someone. I tapped the elf on the shoulder and pointed slowly to the orc. He put his finger over his lips, indicating that I should be silent. He pressed closer against the wall of the alcove, and I did the same, trying to dissapear into the shadows. The elf extended his arm across me, pulling his dark cloak over my bright dress and making me appear as a just particularly dark shadow to the casual observer. I held my breath as the orc passed by the alcove. It stopped for a moment, sniffed, and was just starting to turn towards us when it fell, an arrow protruding from it's chest. The elf calmly put his bow back in his quiver, retrieved the arrow from the orc's body, and crept silently farther into the hallway, keeping to the shadows. I followed him, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible.
As we rounded another corner, I heard orc voices again. Since we hadn't seen any for a while now, the elf had taken less precautions and we had gravitated towards the middle of the hall. I could see the orcs, and they had seen us. Several of them took out bows and arrows and aimed. We were sitting ducks, standing in the middle of an open hallway. I stood there, frozen, for a moment, and probably would have been shot if the elf hadn't shoved me out of the way, slamming me against the wall as an arrow whizzed by my ear. I felt the impact in my shoulder, and slid to the ground, dizzy from blood loss. The elf grabbed my hand and dragged me back around the corner, then ran back into the hallway to fend off the orcs. I ripped off a strip of fabric from my dress and tried to staunch the bleeding, being only partially successful. Using a statue of some long-forgotten elven warrior, I then pulled myself to my feet. I could hear screams and the sounds of swords clashing from around the corner. Determined to protect the elf who had saved my life, I picked up a piece of stone from the statue- it had evidently been broken off during the battle- and rounded the corner.
There were still two orcs left out of the original five, and the elf was managing to fend them off pretty well with two long daggers. Finally, he managed to strike one of them, who fell off to the side. I started to retreat back into the other hallway, but I tripped over the hem of my dress, falling backwards. My injured shoulder now hurt even more, and as I struggled to stand up, the orc that the elf had striked earlier did, too. It now crept up behind the elf, brandishing an evil- looking dagger. He was still fighting the other orc, and had no idea of his impending peril. I screamed, trying to warn him, but it was no use. I couldn't stand, but the rock I had taken from the statue was just close enough for me to grab. I threw it in desperation, doing the only thing I could. It hit the orc squarely in the back of the head, knocking him to the ground just before his dagger made contact with the elf. A few moments later, the elf thrust his dagger through the orc's chest and turned around to face me. "Well done," he said, striding towards me. He pulled me up and we headed off, being careful to stick to the shadows.
Luckily, we didn't run into any more orcs as we crept along the deserted hallways. Once or twice we had to hide in an alcove as orc sentries passed by, but there were no confrontations. Finally, the elf lifted up a tapestry, revealing a dank tunnel. I'd discovered this passage some years ago, and often used it to get out into the forest. It's not like I couldn't have used the normal exits, but I liked being alone and there were usually a few elves who frequented the woods around the other doors. This led to a different section of the forest. I had to duck to get through the passage,and could hear the dripping of water around me. I almost fell once on the slick, wet floor, but the elf caught my arm just in time. The passage sloped down steeply, and we had to climb back up a flight of stairs to reach the surface. When we came into the open, the elf looked around, checking for enemies, then set off at a brisk pace into the forest. I followed behind him.