An orc had been following her now for two days, and as she entered
Lothlorien, exhausted, she considered surrendering. Her home, destroyed,
she ran to the most welcoming place through at the time, she didn't know
what trouble this golden wood would cause her.
The raspy, harsh breathing of the orc reached her curved ears before the rotting smell wafted in front of her nose. He was right behind her.
Looking for a vantage point, she climbed up into a nearby tree, where she found an abandoned flet; overgrown with moss, and lacking in elven light.
She had just disappeared into the foliage when she saw the orc emerge from the brush. In one smooth movement, she plucked an arrow from her quiver, fitted it to the string and let loose. She did this over and over and over until she could no longer lift her arms, and with one last gasp, fell into a wave of blackness. Never seeing the large orc turn into a pincushion with her arrows.
~*~Lothlorien~*~
He stood at his post, watching the scene below. The elven maiden ran over the hill, scared of something, her light brown hair streaming out from behind her.
{She looks suspicious. I wonder what it is she is scared of.}
He watched her run, begin to tire and climb up into one of the mallon trees. One of HIS trees, and he decided to interfere then.
He climbed down from his watch, told the second in command where he was going, and since it was only one tired elf maiden, decided that he could handle it on his own. No one argued because he was the March Warden, the commander of the Galadhrim. One elf maiden should have been no trouble.
He strolled through the wood, his home, believing that the maiden could not get into enough trouble to cause him to break from his leisurely gait.
He wandered through the wood, looking for the path that he saw that maiden take.
Rounding a large tree, he saw a grisly sight upon the ground; an orc, full of strange elven arrows was pinned to the ground. He was still breathing, but barely so. The orc would die.
Looking at the disgusting creature, he winced, the smell of rotting flesh and death was overpowering, and he almost fell back because of the weight of it.
Then, carefully, he examined the arrows. They looked like elven design, but they were not like the arrows of his kin in Mirkwood and Imladris. They were new, like none he had ever seen.
Looking for the source of the arrows, he peered into the tree over head. Seeing an abandoned flet above him, he carefully climbed the tree and found the elven maiden, unconscious.
The raspy, harsh breathing of the orc reached her curved ears before the rotting smell wafted in front of her nose. He was right behind her.
Looking for a vantage point, she climbed up into a nearby tree, where she found an abandoned flet; overgrown with moss, and lacking in elven light.
She had just disappeared into the foliage when she saw the orc emerge from the brush. In one smooth movement, she plucked an arrow from her quiver, fitted it to the string and let loose. She did this over and over and over until she could no longer lift her arms, and with one last gasp, fell into a wave of blackness. Never seeing the large orc turn into a pincushion with her arrows.
~*~Lothlorien~*~
He stood at his post, watching the scene below. The elven maiden ran over the hill, scared of something, her light brown hair streaming out from behind her.
{She looks suspicious. I wonder what it is she is scared of.}
He watched her run, begin to tire and climb up into one of the mallon trees. One of HIS trees, and he decided to interfere then.
He climbed down from his watch, told the second in command where he was going, and since it was only one tired elf maiden, decided that he could handle it on his own. No one argued because he was the March Warden, the commander of the Galadhrim. One elf maiden should have been no trouble.
He strolled through the wood, his home, believing that the maiden could not get into enough trouble to cause him to break from his leisurely gait.
He wandered through the wood, looking for the path that he saw that maiden take.
Rounding a large tree, he saw a grisly sight upon the ground; an orc, full of strange elven arrows was pinned to the ground. He was still breathing, but barely so. The orc would die.
Looking at the disgusting creature, he winced, the smell of rotting flesh and death was overpowering, and he almost fell back because of the weight of it.
Then, carefully, he examined the arrows. They looked like elven design, but they were not like the arrows of his kin in Mirkwood and Imladris. They were new, like none he had ever seen.
Looking for the source of the arrows, he peered into the tree over head. Seeing an abandoned flet above him, he carefully climbed the tree and found the elven maiden, unconscious.