A slow mist travelled through the great woods of Mirkwood. Ever since there was smoke rising from Dol Guldur again a great mist has run through Mirkwood; and the creatures have become tainted and violent, more-so than usual. Not even birds sang on the borders of the forest any more.

The only sounds came from a dull hacking of wood just inside of the woods themselves, and this was due to two people, one a young boy in his teens with both man and Elvish features, and the other an Elf. He was a tall handsome man, who although was pleasant to look but had a rugged darkness to his piercingly blue eyes. The Elf was Adanedhel Luinwe and with him was his son, Bervul. The boy was a strong looking lad who had the high brow of the Elf but his eyes, the complete opposite of his fathers – a dark brown – had the courage, the belief, the weakness of man.

They both carried large axes, but Adanedhel had a bow with him. One would chop off the branches of the large, strong and somewhat lively trees, whilst the other would chant in Elvish. The chant was them talking to the forest, for they need wood to build, but the Ents (although many believe them to be gone) would often be displeased with these actions, so must be appeased.

The day drew on, the light slowly fading and the mist building up. Bervul was cutting the wood when Adanedhel stopped his chanting, signalled to his son to stop and glared into the depths of Mirkwood. "Father, what do you see?" Bervul questioned, fear clearly creeping in, but before a response could even be thought of from the dark an arrow whistled towards them, missing the older man by a fraction.

"Bervul, run!" was all Adanedhel could muster as he dropped his axe, grasped his bow and shot into the darkness, and all that was heard next was a horrifying screech of agony. "Orcs! Bervul, why are you still standing here?" The boy was almost rooted to the spot, he couldn't move. He had heard about Orcs from travellers in Esgaroth, and none of it he liked; Elves, corrupted by the powers of evil and now so corrupt, so merciless that they would kill their former kin. "Son, leave now!"

Bervul snapped out of his reverie and scrambled towards the light of the moonlight, just outside of the forest, but something told him to turn around. Some voice in the back of his head. He turned, and was horrified as to what he saw, his father now surrounded by some of the foulest looking creatures he'd seen, they had brown skin and yellow pointed teeth, blood dripped down from their fangs. They didn't even walk like Man or Elf any more, it was more animal like than anything.

However, Adanedhel seemed to be killing Orc after Orc after Orc, he had now moved on from the bow and arrow and once more had his axe in his hands. Strewn across the floor were the bodies of these foul creatures, and now more at his feat. However, from the darkness trudged something. It looked like an Orc, but it stood up straight and it's eyes, they pierced into your very soul and made you feel cold. "You maggots, kill that Elf. We can't have anyone knowing of Saruman's plans!"

Striding forward this creature struck fear into both his allies and Adanedhel, but the Elf continued to strike down the Orcs. He continued forward, into the fray, stepping on the corpses of the fallen Orcs and glaring into Adanedhel. "Well fought Master Elf, but now it is time for you to feel my blade on your throat, for the Uruk-Hai and my master, Saruman cannot allow anything to get in our way for this operation."

"It matters not, these are the woods of the Sindarin and it shall remain so!" bellowed the Elf as he charged towards the Uruk. However, before he could land one hit the Uruk's blade came out of it's sheath, knocked the axe out of his hands and sliced his head off in one swift movement.

"Foolish Elf. No-one shall beat Rashluk the Destroyer!" He snarled and cackled, causing more fear than the battle screams of the Orcs prior to him appearing. However, Bervul still stood there, still frozen from fright and horror at seeing his father being so mercilessly slain. "Smell that you maggots? Smells like.. Smells like half-breed." Rashluk's eyes then fixed on Bervul, seeing, feeling, smelling his fear. "Boys, get him. I'll let you torture this one."

The remaining Orcs surrounding Rashluk smiled with their fanged, yellow teeth and turned, beginning to go after the boy. Bervul turned and ran as fast as he could, not daring the turn back – he could hear their foul laughter and heavy breathing as if they were right next to him.

Bervul's breathing rate increased and a stitch formed in his side, but he knew he couldn't stop now, and with the River Running in sight he knew he could have some sort of safety there hopefully, with guards being on duty. But his thoughts were cut short when his ankle was grappled by one of the chasing Orcs, "Well, little Man-Elf, you've led us on this lovely chase, but now I think it's time we tear your flesh from your bones." Grinned one of the Orcs, drool creeping down his face – he clearly was hungry.

However, just as the Orc had got out his serrated dagger a bright light shone around them, and the Orcs panicked, the light caused these dark creatures to whimper like an injured dog, and crawl back to Mirkwood, back to the darkness, back to Rashluk.

"My boy, what has happened?" Came the soothing voice of Radagast the Brown. "I heard from one of the birds that two men were in danger, but I see only you now. Pray tell, where is your father? And why were there Orcs, here, in Rhovanian?"

Bervul looked into the old man's eyes, he saw warmth and sincerity and opened up to him and that only led to him bursting into tears. With bleary eyes he told him how his father was slain by a creature similar to an Orc called Rashluk and how he had a small group of Orcs with him, and whilst a lot were slain by Adanedhel some still remain. Bervul stuttered and with a pale face finished retelling all that he saw. Radagast sat on a log with him by the River, smoking on his pipe, listening to every syllable intently.

"Well my boy, it seems like the Shadow in the East is really becoming threatening, and you say that he mentioned Saruman? Are you sure in your fear you got it confused with Sauron? As I doubt the White Wizard would stoop that low. Anyway, with your father now gone, and your mother gone for the past decade, you had best come with me, I'll teach you the ways of the world from a Wizards view." Radagast said with a smile. "Everything will be all right!"

Years had passed now, and Radagast was true to his word and had raised Bervul as if he was his own. Bervul was now a tall, well built man who was skilled in both the large axes, hammers and long swords, but since the untimely death of his father had not touched a bow.

Since the death of his father Bervul had sworn revenge on both the Orcs, Uruks and especially that scum, if he still breathed, Rashluk. Bervul had trained for those encounters, becoming Captain of Dale and its Northern Realms, and he was now known for his ruthless and brutal killings of all manner of dark creatures, extending from Orcs, to Wargs, to Goblins.

However, it was somewhat coincidental that four years to the date of Adanedhel's murder he was back in that corner of Mirkwood, almost in the spot. Still, skeletons lay there of both Orc and Elf, but Bervul could not risk to get distracted. He had a mission, both Orc and Uruk had been spotted here in the recent weeks, chopping down trees and stealing livestock.

"C'mon you Mordor scum, I know you're here somewhere." Bervul growled under his breath, his knuckles going white from the amount of pressure he was putting in his grasp of his longsword. He stalked silently into the depths of Mirkwood searching for any clue, and it was not long before he found one. "Hello, what do we have here?" He smiled, almost sadistically.

In front of him, on a large log covered in purplish moss sat a silhouette in front of a fire; and from the Orkish bow on his back it seemed pretty likely that it was one of those dark, disgusting creatures. Bervul continued to sneak closer and closer, his already tight grip tightened once more on his blade. His senses felt like they spiked, he could hear his heartbeat, feeling the slight drizzle trickle down his brow, seeing the slow falling of that purple moss from the log.

Once he was close enough he lifted his sword into the air and readied himself for the strike, but before he knew what hit him everything was black. The next thing he knew he had no armour on, his blade was taken off him and he could see multiple silhouettes around the fire, hear a deep, bellowing laughter and smell of pipe-weed, Longbottom Leaf maybe? "Wait a minute, no Orc would smoke that..." Bervul pondered before passing out once more.