71 Arrow.
Long, slender and lethal, the arrow is caressed almost reverentially before being notched in the powerful longbow.
A few steps forward then stop.
Braced, the orc draws back the string, holding the arrow ready for release. Savouring the moment as he aims at his enemy's chest.
Breathe in.
Hold.
Breathe out and release.
Watch the arrow fly, straight and true to its target. Witness the spray of scarlet as it penetrates leather and skin. Inhale the tang of iron in the air and feel the tingle of pleasure unconstrained.
With a shiver of need the orc reaches back once more.
Plucks another arrow from its nest upon his back.
Caress.
Notch.
Let fly.
Bliss…..
A/N
When I first saw this prompt I thought, of course, this will be about Legolas and indeed I wrote the first line with him in mind. But then something happened and the next couple of lines sort of wrote themselves and it turned into something completely different. Something you may not have been expecting. I know I wasn't.
