As she awoke, she shook off a brief feeling of disorientation. 

Where am I? she wondered, her hand unconsciously brushing through her flowing hair.

As her senses returned to her, the first thing she noticed was the elaborate beautry of her surroundings.  The grass was an unadulterated green, and massive regal trees larger than she had ever seen before rose up around her. 

The next thing she noticed was the dead husk of an orc sitting a mere two feet away.

Where am I? she thought, louder, and her deep blue eyes grew wide with fear.  But the voice did not return.

Luckily she found a bow and arrows sitting just several feet away.  I can do this remembering her archery lessons at her preparatory school in England.  She remembered a time before the beatings, a time when she was free to be her own person.

As she picked up the bow, she realized it was made for her, and she for it.  The arrows had been fletched with a perfect precision, much unlike ones she had fired before.  The perfect blue of the feathers matched the inner depths of her eyes.  She ran her hand along the elegant curvature of the bow, and then plucked its string with her index finger and heard it "twang" with absolute perfection.  The wood was strong and firm.

Suddenly, she heard a commotion to the east.  Unsure of which way to run, she hesitated.  She was no coward, but she was hardly a fool either.  She crept with a stealth unmatched by any but the most skilled Elves of Mirkwood. 

Suddenly, her acute vision picked up the source of the commotion.  A party of eight was being accosted by a large band of orcs.  Immediately she leapt into action.  She drew the first of what would be many arrows from her pelt, and heard the smooth crease of the bows string being pulled back.

TWANG.  The arrow traveled cleanly through the neck of a particularly vicious looking orc.  She couldn't help noticing the strong clean nobility of the man and the elf amidst the carnage and scene of death around her.  The elf.  Could it be?  There was no time for those thoughts now she chided herself.  She drew the second arrow and released.

Another hit.  Another orc fell, dead before it hit the ground.  The party was killing with a skill unseen before.  She watched as the man deflected the blows of three orcs with his huge sword, managing to strike out offensively and kill two of the three even while being steadily pushed back.  A dwarf fought with ferocity she would not have thought possible for one so small.

As she drew another arrow her acute gaze drifted upon the blond elf once again.  An orc was sneaking undetected towards his rear.  She swung her bow around and fire without fail into its back.  It cried out, not yet dead.  This drew the elf's gaze, as he whipped out his elven curved blade and thurst it into the orcs torso, dropping the disgusting creature where it stood.  His gaze lingered, as if he was attempting to understand who had just saved his life.  For just one moment, the blues of their eyes were united in contact, until the elf quickly looked away, knowing the battle was hardly won.

Legolas drew another arrow, but realizing the attacking orcs were less than three feet away instead lunged out stabbing the first with the arrow in his hand.  Pulling the arrow from the now dead orc, he fired it into the other, dropping two dead within moments.  Abandoning his bow for the general melee, Legolas wielded his curved white knives with a passion for death.  Evading, weaving, stabbing, Legolas was truly a bringer of death.

Emeraldiamond was watching his back.  His recklessness put him into danger, but with her picking off any threatening orcs he would be safe.  Safe in her arms.  (A/N: lol shes sooooooo ahead of herself but u kno, Leggie is so hott how can she not??/ lol)

The old man wielded a glowing blade with great skill.  He and the noble man fought close together, and she noticed the orcs beginning to lose some of their initial tenaciousness.  They had already suffered heavy losses, and to what avail?  The old man struck out with Glamdring and the orcs fell back rather than submit to the wrath of his blade.

Blade struck blade, but the old man's strength was surprisingly greater than that of the fearsome creatures, and he forced the orcs blade back into its own throat.  

A flash of movement caught her eye due to her keen vision, and, peering beneath the raised arm of the noble, kinglike man, she spotted four small people, looking as barely more than children. They wielded swords of their own, but with considerably less danger to the orcs. This made sense, she supposed, due to their small size.    

Surrounded by the new stench of death, she fired arrow after arrow.  As metal met flesh, and the screams and howls fell into silence, she lost herself in her mission.  Her arrows sailed true, bringing deaths to those foes which threatened her, and ­­him.  

Fifty-four more orcs met their deaths due to Emeraldiamond's arrows, as she fired with incredible precision and accuracy. I'm so lucky that this pelt had so many arrows in it, she had time to think as she drew yet another perfectly-fletched messenger of doom from the pelt on her back.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling behind her.  As she whipped around to face this new threat, she saw the largest orc she had ever yet seen.  And its blade was raised a single foot away, ready to strike...