CHAPTER VII
THE FLAMES OF GONDOR
A few hours after the battle, Aralokë woke up. He fell in the battle when a one of the blades hit his neck and sprung a painful infection in his body, and the infection didn't seem to be any better then. He got up expecting to be in a room full of Silvan prisoners of war, but he was in a surprise. He found himself right in front of Minas Tirith, but it wasn't the Minas Tirith he knew. This Minas Tirith was in flames, and it's walls crumbled up like old bricks falling from the sky. And more noticeable was the White Tree of Gondor, which was black from the vile flames instead of white from the Silmarils that it sprung up from. He then heard several voices behind him. Cruel and deep voices that could only come from one place- Mordor.
"What about the women and children?" asked one of the voices.
"Are you kidding me?" said another voice. "Kill them exactly the same way you do the warriors- except make it a slow, painful death. That will lower the morale of enemy".
"Whatever", said the first voice. Somehow, the second voice sounded totally out of place with the other ones. While most of them were deep and raspy, this voice was high and clean, as if he came from the Bree area. So Aralokë walked to the direction of the voices to find out the mystery of the voice, but the mystery baffled him. As he walked closer and closer, he could make out the voices as an army of Orcs. All of them looked the same to him, so there wasn't anyone that was different. But as he walked closer, he could make out one really short orc. As he got even closer, he figured out that this wasn't an orc. It's skin was light, it had long, curly hair, and it's eyes burned with the flame of evil. It was defiantly a Hobbit wearing Orkish armor.
"Hey", said one of the Orcs. "The enemy is drawing closer".
"I know that", said the hobbit-orc. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"
"No", said the orc.
"Good", said the hobbit-orc. "DRAW SWORDS! WE SHALL HAVE MAN FLESH TONIGHT! " The entire Orc army then drew out their swords and cheered. "CHARGE! ". The Orc army then charged out into the distance, and Aralokë charged with them. He wanted to see what all this fighting was about. As he charged with the enemy, he saw what they were facing. It was a group of surly men, elves, and dwarves who were all dressed in rags and carried blunt swords. All except one man, who bore one great huge sword that outshone all the rest of them. Aralokë could make it out as Narsil, but that blade was broken. Who would wield the blade? None other than the king of Gondor. But surely this wasn't him? Most of the Kings of Gondor were men of great stature, looks, and fame. This man sure wasn't one.
"ATTACK!" yelled the man who wielded Narsil. The two armies then clashed and the battle began. It was all a blur for Aralokë, who could barely make out how each army was doing. But as the battle went on and as more and more people died, he could make out what was happening. The men in rags appeared to be winning, which was a huge surprise for him. And it looked like the Narsil man was having an easy time with the battle. He kept killing the Orcs with such swiftness and skill that had not been seen since in the old days of Numenor. Aralokë was very glad about this, since he hated Orcs all his life.
"We are losing", said one orc to the hobbit-orc. "Should we call out Groshma?"
"Are you kidding me?" said the hobbit-orc. "You should've called him out ages ago". The orc then grabbed out a large horn and blew it. Several seconds later, a large, dragon-like shape came out of the flames of Gondor.
"BALROG!" yelled the Narsil man. "RETREAT!" As the good army left the battlefield, the orc kept blowing his horn. Then, out of the flames, a great big Balrog came out. He then unsheathed his sword and started swinging it at the men. The battle then turned into a massacre as the Balrog seriously reduced the numbers of the company. The Narsil man then ran up to the Balrog and deflected the sword blow with Narsil. Then, out of nowhere, the Hobbit-Orc walked up to him and stabbed him in the back. The hobbit-orc then laughed an evil, bone-chilling laugh that froze the hearts of all the good people present. Then, he felt a sharp pain in my back and a voice shouting in his ear.
"Wake up, you maggoty slug!" said the voice. He then woke up to find myself in an Orkish concentration camp. He then got up and the orc started whipping me. There was truly no hope for Middle-Earth.
THE FLAMES OF GONDOR
A few hours after the battle, Aralokë woke up. He fell in the battle when a one of the blades hit his neck and sprung a painful infection in his body, and the infection didn't seem to be any better then. He got up expecting to be in a room full of Silvan prisoners of war, but he was in a surprise. He found himself right in front of Minas Tirith, but it wasn't the Minas Tirith he knew. This Minas Tirith was in flames, and it's walls crumbled up like old bricks falling from the sky. And more noticeable was the White Tree of Gondor, which was black from the vile flames instead of white from the Silmarils that it sprung up from. He then heard several voices behind him. Cruel and deep voices that could only come from one place- Mordor.
"What about the women and children?" asked one of the voices.
"Are you kidding me?" said another voice. "Kill them exactly the same way you do the warriors- except make it a slow, painful death. That will lower the morale of enemy".
"Whatever", said the first voice. Somehow, the second voice sounded totally out of place with the other ones. While most of them were deep and raspy, this voice was high and clean, as if he came from the Bree area. So Aralokë walked to the direction of the voices to find out the mystery of the voice, but the mystery baffled him. As he walked closer and closer, he could make out the voices as an army of Orcs. All of them looked the same to him, so there wasn't anyone that was different. But as he walked closer, he could make out one really short orc. As he got even closer, he figured out that this wasn't an orc. It's skin was light, it had long, curly hair, and it's eyes burned with the flame of evil. It was defiantly a Hobbit wearing Orkish armor.
"Hey", said one of the Orcs. "The enemy is drawing closer".
"I know that", said the hobbit-orc. "Do you think I'm that stupid?"
"No", said the orc.
"Good", said the hobbit-orc. "DRAW SWORDS! WE SHALL HAVE MAN FLESH TONIGHT! " The entire Orc army then drew out their swords and cheered. "CHARGE! ". The Orc army then charged out into the distance, and Aralokë charged with them. He wanted to see what all this fighting was about. As he charged with the enemy, he saw what they were facing. It was a group of surly men, elves, and dwarves who were all dressed in rags and carried blunt swords. All except one man, who bore one great huge sword that outshone all the rest of them. Aralokë could make it out as Narsil, but that blade was broken. Who would wield the blade? None other than the king of Gondor. But surely this wasn't him? Most of the Kings of Gondor were men of great stature, looks, and fame. This man sure wasn't one.
"ATTACK!" yelled the man who wielded Narsil. The two armies then clashed and the battle began. It was all a blur for Aralokë, who could barely make out how each army was doing. But as the battle went on and as more and more people died, he could make out what was happening. The men in rags appeared to be winning, which was a huge surprise for him. And it looked like the Narsil man was having an easy time with the battle. He kept killing the Orcs with such swiftness and skill that had not been seen since in the old days of Numenor. Aralokë was very glad about this, since he hated Orcs all his life.
"We are losing", said one orc to the hobbit-orc. "Should we call out Groshma?"
"Are you kidding me?" said the hobbit-orc. "You should've called him out ages ago". The orc then grabbed out a large horn and blew it. Several seconds later, a large, dragon-like shape came out of the flames of Gondor.
"BALROG!" yelled the Narsil man. "RETREAT!" As the good army left the battlefield, the orc kept blowing his horn. Then, out of the flames, a great big Balrog came out. He then unsheathed his sword and started swinging it at the men. The battle then turned into a massacre as the Balrog seriously reduced the numbers of the company. The Narsil man then ran up to the Balrog and deflected the sword blow with Narsil. Then, out of nowhere, the Hobbit-Orc walked up to him and stabbed him in the back. The hobbit-orc then laughed an evil, bone-chilling laugh that froze the hearts of all the good people present. Then, he felt a sharp pain in my back and a voice shouting in his ear.
"Wake up, you maggoty slug!" said the voice. He then woke up to find myself in an Orkish concentration camp. He then got up and the orc started whipping me. There was truly no hope for Middle-Earth.