Chapter Three

I finally found Kingsfoil. Within a week of the Kingsfoil treatment my leg was healed. I was still lost, just now in a never-ending forest. No one to love me and take care of me. I became brittle. Orc attacks were becoming a daily routine. I was battle-hardened, no one would ever bring down the emotional wall I had created. All my hatred concealed, all my sorrow blocked from the world. I couldn't afford to be any other way. If I had any emotions, they were of murder and death to all who dared cross me. I came to like killing, I did it for fun. All stress gone in a flash. Often I would ride into random battles on Fuirnil. I would have no idea of the conflict at hand, I would just fight against orcs and help the Elves and Men in the battles for amusement. It was easy, and I got better every time. Soon, I discovered, I could wipe out an entire band of Orcs alone. The thrill of the battle, knowing that you could die any second, was incredible. I loved it more than anything. As soon as the battles were over I would simply leave. No trace that I was ever there. I never even had blood spilt. I would often take a weapon of the dead, which is how I got to be a master archer and long-knife wielder. I would leave with everyone asking who I was, but they would never know. I was a lone warrior, and by then I didn't want to live with anyone. I liked being alone where all my wrath could stay hidden. And no one would change that.

I continued this for a thousand years. Ride in, ride out without a trace. Kill orcs for pleasure. Not just orcs, food if I ever needed it. Killing my food was nearly as satisfying. I was a machine, a maniac. I had bloodlust. One day, I was riding the plains of who knows where, just looking for Orcs to kill. I hadn't a single kill in a month, and Berethcrist was hungry for more blood. Suddenly I saw it. A great darkening in the North. I thought oooh Crebain! I love shooting Crebain!. I rode closer. There were no Crebain. This was a dragon, a fire-drake of the North. I was incredibly happy, my biggest challenge yet, bringing down the Dragon. I charged at the Dragon, only to notice the hunting party. They were obviously tracking Orcs, their weapons had orc-blood on them. The party was now under attack. There were flames and fighting, attacks and retreats. From my angle, I could just make out that the leader had a crown. He must be a king, I thought. A kingdom always needs a leader. Suddenly, this king was thrown off his horse. His horse burned, and he fell on his right cheek. The dragon came down, and as his stomach glowed gold under the black, I knew what was coming. Suddenly, the fire erupted. The king was being burned. I rode in and scooped him onto Fuirnil, but it was too late. His entire left side was burnt. And soon enough I realized that my cape was burning too. I quickly discarded of my cape, and rode on. We escaped the fire. I began to treat him with reserve Kingsfoil I had. I knew it would not do much, but it was worth a try. As I began the treatment, the climax of the battle was nearing. The Kingsfoil was not working at all. I had two choices to make: attempt to save the king with a treatment that was not working, or kill the dragon. I decided to kill the dragon. I took up Berethcrist and jumped nimbly onto Fuirnil's back. From there I jumped to the dragon's talons, swung onto his tail. He tried to jolt me off, but I was there for good. The hunting party was losing. I'm going to rephrase that, all but one were dead. The one still alive was the one I thought was a king, but he was barely hanging on. I agily swung off the dragon's tail and to his back. There was only one way I could kill him from up here: go under his neck scales. I held Berethcrist high, and rolled dramatically to his neck. I lied down gripping his scales. He was still trying to throw me off, and it still wasn't working. With my right hand I held Berethcrist high, and slid my sword under his scales and right into his spine. He came crashing to the ground.

I dismounted. I ran to Fuirnil, her tail was burning. We ran to the conveniently placed river and she dove in. It must have hurt having that beautiful long tail burned. Thankfully, the water was EXTREMELY cold, so her burns stopped easily. We ran back to the dying king. I placed him in front of me. Out of the blue I heard a faint voice.

"We are from Greenwood the Great. Our palace is in the North. The forest is the closest forest you can find," the voice told me.

"Who are you?" I asked the voice.

"I am a soul passing into the Halls of Mandos. This is the last I will ever speak. Thank you for saving our Prince." And the voice was gone. A prince? I thought, I was close.

I rode fast, I rode hard, I rode for 3 days and 3 nights. The forest was hard to navigate, the Sun was shadowed by the tallest trees I had ever seen. Finally, there were signs of life.

"What is this? A rider with a jewel-crown? Are you trying to be royalty?" asked what was obviously a guard Elf.

"No. Never. How dare you presume that because I have a gift I am royalty. I live alone and I fight alone. I do not answer to… royals. I ride into battle because I want to, not because I was ordered to do so," I spat, "Now do you want your prince or not?" These guards were astounded at my rudeness, and that what was draped across Fuirnil was their precious prince.

"I will have to take you to the King, lady…?"

"Gilrin. Gilrin Hathol."

"Lady Gilrin. The King will want to know details."

"Fine." I announced annoyedly, "But don't expect me to stay for more than an hour."