Chapter I
One fine morning in an Elvin town called Mortiquet a young elf walked out of his home ready to have a little fun. This elf could be considered your average elf. Indeed he was slightly high-strung, but that is the way all young elves are. This particular elf was only 120 years old, therefore still young compared to most elves where he lived. This elf's name was Aramil Darkshine. He had long brown hair, and blue eyes. He wore typical Elvin garb, a gray tunic, with gray leggings. His boots were black and made of the finest elvish leather. Over his back was a quiver of arrows and a bow. And at his side was sheathed a sword. The sword's hilt was shaped like the wings of an eagle. Its legs and a part of its body made up the handle, and its head stretched to the beginning of the blade.
Every morning Aramil went out to his favorite place in the forest. A clearing, where he had set up a mini target range where he would practice with his bow, and his sword. As Aramil was heading for the clearing, he heard a cry in the distance. He stopped dead in his tracks. He listened again, and again he heard the cry. He turned and headed in that direction. He ran for a mile, then came upon another clearing. In it he saw a woman being surrounded by three Orcs. And as Aramil stepped into the clearing he spoke. "Good day Orcs. Why are you bothering this woman here?" Aramil asked. The Orcs turned around and looked at Aramil. "Its not your business, Elf! So now bugger off!" said the middle Orc. "I believe it is my business. You have trodden on the territory of my people. I must ask you to leave, and leave this poor woman alone," Aramil said. "And what if we do not?" said the Orc on the right. "Well, then I will have no choice but to fight you. And I wish not to do that," said Aramil. The Orc on the left began to laugh. "You will fight us? And I suspect you will win, correct?" said the Orc on the left. "I shan't boast, but yes. I will win," said Aramil.
"You two! Take care of him. I will deal with the woman," said the Orc in the middle. The Orcs on the left and the right began to run at Aramil. Aramil had expected this. He had pulled his bow off his back. He quickly pulled out an arrow and shot the one of the Orcs that were coming at him. The other stopped for a moment, looked at his now dead companion, then kept coming. Aramil pulled out another arrow and shot that Orc. It fell to the ground. Aramil looked at the Orc who was slowly advancing on the woman. "Excuse me. Am I interrupting anything? I thought you were going to kill me?" Aramil said. The remaining Orc looked at Aramil. "You would be wise to leave now, my Orc foe," said Aramil. But the Orc did not leave. Aramil put his bow back over his back and drew his sword. "I shall give you one more chance. Leave, or die," Aramil warned. The Orc kept coming. The Orc pulled out a sword and readied himself for the fight. Aramil stood that and waited for the Orc to attack first. Without warning the Orc ran at Aramil. Aramil merely took a step aside and lopped the Orc's head off. The Orc fell lifeless to the ground. Aramil cleaned his sword off, sheathed it, then walked over to the woman, who was now cowering on the ground against a tree.
Aramil looked at her. "It is all right. They are dead. I assure you," he said. Aramil held out his hand for the woman to take it. She did, but once she was on her feet, she took off running back through the woods. Aramil was about to chase after her, when something told him to let her go. It was the fact he had to get back to Mortiquet and tell them what he witnessed and what he had done. He took one more look in the direction the woman went, then turned and ran off in the opposite direction, back to Mortiquet. Aramil was one elf who was held in some what high honors. Meaning people would listen to him, and hear him out. He arrived back at Mortiquet and went right to the Lord of Mortiquet, Shamir Brighton. Aramil went to the Lords home on knocked on the door. Shamir opened the door. "Aramil! What a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in?" Shamir asked. "No. You must call a council meeting of the High Elves. I have witnessed something I must tell you," Aramil told Shamir. "Alright. I will get the word out. The meeting will begin in one hour," Shamir said. "Thank you my Lord," Aramil said.
And just as Shamir had said, the meeting begin the next hour. Shamir stood up and spoke. "High Elves. Welcome. Our young friend Aramil has something he must tell us. Aramil, you may take over from here," Shamir said. "Thank you my Lord," Aramil said as he stood. "What I am about to tell may surprise you. I came across three Orcs this morning. In our forest. I dealt with them, but I do not think they where here by coincidence. There may be some purpose to this," Aramil said. Then the High Elves began to murmur amongst themselves. They were not sure if Aramil was telling the truth. "I speak the truth! I have brought the head of one! Would you like to see it?" Aramil said. He walked over to a bag sitting next to a chair. He grabbed it, then walked back into the center of the meeting. "Here is your proof," Aramil said and he pulled the Orcs severed head out of the bag and set it down. "You see! I speak truth to you! Am I not trusted among you? Have I ever lead you wrong?" Aramil said. It was true, he had never predicted anything wrong before. They nodded in agreement. "Thank you Aramil. Now please leave us to discuss this situation. Please take the head with you," Shamir said. Aramil picked up the head, stuffed it into the bag, then left the council meeting room.
A friend of Aramil's was waiting out side the council meeting room when he walked out. His name was Larami. Larami had brown hair, and blue eyes. He was dressed in a brown tunic, brown leggings, and thick brown boots. Larami looked at Aramil. "Is it true what you spoke?" Larami asked. Aramil nodded. "There were three of them. They were chasing a human woman. After I fought them off, she ran off into the woods. I am off right now to go and find her," Aramil told Larami. "But what of the council? What if you are not here when they get done talking?" asked Larami. "Trust me I will be," Aramil said. They got to Aramil's horse, Spade, a black horse with a white spot on his forehead. Aramil looked at Larami. "Be careful my friend," said Larami. "I shall," Aramil said, then looked at the bag in his hand. "Here, would you dispose of this for me please?" Aramil finished. Larami took it. "What is it? It has a foul smell," Larami said. "Just dispose of it for me," Aramil said, then rode away.
Larami watched him, then looked at the bag and opened it. He looked inside and saw the Orc's head looking up at him. He hurried and shut it. Then turned and walked out of the stables.
One fine morning in an Elvin town called Mortiquet a young elf walked out of his home ready to have a little fun. This elf could be considered your average elf. Indeed he was slightly high-strung, but that is the way all young elves are. This particular elf was only 120 years old, therefore still young compared to most elves where he lived. This elf's name was Aramil Darkshine. He had long brown hair, and blue eyes. He wore typical Elvin garb, a gray tunic, with gray leggings. His boots were black and made of the finest elvish leather. Over his back was a quiver of arrows and a bow. And at his side was sheathed a sword. The sword's hilt was shaped like the wings of an eagle. Its legs and a part of its body made up the handle, and its head stretched to the beginning of the blade.
Every morning Aramil went out to his favorite place in the forest. A clearing, where he had set up a mini target range where he would practice with his bow, and his sword. As Aramil was heading for the clearing, he heard a cry in the distance. He stopped dead in his tracks. He listened again, and again he heard the cry. He turned and headed in that direction. He ran for a mile, then came upon another clearing. In it he saw a woman being surrounded by three Orcs. And as Aramil stepped into the clearing he spoke. "Good day Orcs. Why are you bothering this woman here?" Aramil asked. The Orcs turned around and looked at Aramil. "Its not your business, Elf! So now bugger off!" said the middle Orc. "I believe it is my business. You have trodden on the territory of my people. I must ask you to leave, and leave this poor woman alone," Aramil said. "And what if we do not?" said the Orc on the right. "Well, then I will have no choice but to fight you. And I wish not to do that," said Aramil. The Orc on the left began to laugh. "You will fight us? And I suspect you will win, correct?" said the Orc on the left. "I shan't boast, but yes. I will win," said Aramil.
"You two! Take care of him. I will deal with the woman," said the Orc in the middle. The Orcs on the left and the right began to run at Aramil. Aramil had expected this. He had pulled his bow off his back. He quickly pulled out an arrow and shot the one of the Orcs that were coming at him. The other stopped for a moment, looked at his now dead companion, then kept coming. Aramil pulled out another arrow and shot that Orc. It fell to the ground. Aramil looked at the Orc who was slowly advancing on the woman. "Excuse me. Am I interrupting anything? I thought you were going to kill me?" Aramil said. The remaining Orc looked at Aramil. "You would be wise to leave now, my Orc foe," said Aramil. But the Orc did not leave. Aramil put his bow back over his back and drew his sword. "I shall give you one more chance. Leave, or die," Aramil warned. The Orc kept coming. The Orc pulled out a sword and readied himself for the fight. Aramil stood that and waited for the Orc to attack first. Without warning the Orc ran at Aramil. Aramil merely took a step aside and lopped the Orc's head off. The Orc fell lifeless to the ground. Aramil cleaned his sword off, sheathed it, then walked over to the woman, who was now cowering on the ground against a tree.
Aramil looked at her. "It is all right. They are dead. I assure you," he said. Aramil held out his hand for the woman to take it. She did, but once she was on her feet, she took off running back through the woods. Aramil was about to chase after her, when something told him to let her go. It was the fact he had to get back to Mortiquet and tell them what he witnessed and what he had done. He took one more look in the direction the woman went, then turned and ran off in the opposite direction, back to Mortiquet. Aramil was one elf who was held in some what high honors. Meaning people would listen to him, and hear him out. He arrived back at Mortiquet and went right to the Lord of Mortiquet, Shamir Brighton. Aramil went to the Lords home on knocked on the door. Shamir opened the door. "Aramil! What a pleasant surprise! Won't you come in?" Shamir asked. "No. You must call a council meeting of the High Elves. I have witnessed something I must tell you," Aramil told Shamir. "Alright. I will get the word out. The meeting will begin in one hour," Shamir said. "Thank you my Lord," Aramil said.
And just as Shamir had said, the meeting begin the next hour. Shamir stood up and spoke. "High Elves. Welcome. Our young friend Aramil has something he must tell us. Aramil, you may take over from here," Shamir said. "Thank you my Lord," Aramil said as he stood. "What I am about to tell may surprise you. I came across three Orcs this morning. In our forest. I dealt with them, but I do not think they where here by coincidence. There may be some purpose to this," Aramil said. Then the High Elves began to murmur amongst themselves. They were not sure if Aramil was telling the truth. "I speak the truth! I have brought the head of one! Would you like to see it?" Aramil said. He walked over to a bag sitting next to a chair. He grabbed it, then walked back into the center of the meeting. "Here is your proof," Aramil said and he pulled the Orcs severed head out of the bag and set it down. "You see! I speak truth to you! Am I not trusted among you? Have I ever lead you wrong?" Aramil said. It was true, he had never predicted anything wrong before. They nodded in agreement. "Thank you Aramil. Now please leave us to discuss this situation. Please take the head with you," Shamir said. Aramil picked up the head, stuffed it into the bag, then left the council meeting room.
A friend of Aramil's was waiting out side the council meeting room when he walked out. His name was Larami. Larami had brown hair, and blue eyes. He was dressed in a brown tunic, brown leggings, and thick brown boots. Larami looked at Aramil. "Is it true what you spoke?" Larami asked. Aramil nodded. "There were three of them. They were chasing a human woman. After I fought them off, she ran off into the woods. I am off right now to go and find her," Aramil told Larami. "But what of the council? What if you are not here when they get done talking?" asked Larami. "Trust me I will be," Aramil said. They got to Aramil's horse, Spade, a black horse with a white spot on his forehead. Aramil looked at Larami. "Be careful my friend," said Larami. "I shall," Aramil said, then looked at the bag in his hand. "Here, would you dispose of this for me please?" Aramil finished. Larami took it. "What is it? It has a foul smell," Larami said. "Just dispose of it for me," Aramil said, then rode away.
Larami watched him, then looked at the bag and opened it. He looked inside and saw the Orc's head looking up at him. He hurried and shut it. Then turned and walked out of the stables.