A/N
To Navaer: Thanks but I think I'll stick with what I have. Thanks so much for the websites though! :)
To Erindi: Aww...poor sleepy Aragorn-lover. :)
Morantwen ran to the stables where her favorite horse Astalder lay. Astalder was a beautiful mount whose coat was like a shimmering silver that glistened in the light but if there was no light, it was literally impossible to see him. That is why Morantwen, even with her sharp-seeing elven eyes, had to light the candles to see the horse.
Morantwen ran up to the horse and found that he was already up and waiting. She jumped on in mid-run.
"Rima, Astalder! Rima!"
-"Run, Astalder! Run!"-She yelled. Astalder leaped out of the stable and through the forest of the Darkened Realm. Then, in a blinding flash, Morantwen found herself on the ground floor. She quickly looked around and found Astalder lying near a ditch. As she approached the ditch she realized it wasn't a naturally made ditch.
"Orcs." She leaped onto her mount again and ran on. Deep in the braches of the trees were sounds. Shrieks. What came crawling down the trees confirmed Morantwen' s worst fears. Tens of orcs came down each and every tree, surrounding her.
"Aiya! Rima ten 'ta, Astalder!"
-"Oh! Run for it, Astalder!"- Morantwen pulled out her sword. It was a beautiful sword made by her uncle. It was as light as the air yet when in contact with something, it made a clean cut with no pressure made by the holder. The hilt, which was long enough to place two hands upon, was crystallized and see-through. Unless someone was staring directly at the sword, no one would know it was there.
Astalder ran without commands through the brush and trees of the Realm. Orcs jumped from bough to bough in order to keep up. Then, one of them took a risk and jumped Morantwen and Astalder. Slash! To the orc's dismay, Morantwen's blade severed its head with her accidental wrist movement. At this action, the orcs screeched and shrieked horribly. They started to leap down the smooth bark and rain down upon her. Aghast, Morantwen started to force her mount to speed up. Astalder, not even trying to run, started to sprint at a pace that even the orcs' arrows couldn't pin down.
All of a sudden, Morantwen's instincts took hold. She extended her arm swiftly to the left and grasped onto the cold, silver-like covering of the trees. She leaped off her mount and spun around, using the tree as means of support, landing in the opposite direction, toward the orcs. She held her sword level toward the orcs in front of her and decapitated them before they could move one muscle. But do not worry; she did not come out unharmed. Morantwen spun around to face a continuous wave of the massively gruesome creatures. As she tried to kill each one of them, she herself was being somewhat slain simultaneously. She stabbed one through the head as its blade sliced down her arm. Her groans of pain blended in with the shrieks of the orcs. But Morantwen kept going.
Then, Morantwen quickly glanced to her left. She saw a short bough not too far away. She managed to somehow depart herself from some of the orcs. She sprinted toward the branch and leaped upon it. She then hopped higher and higher until her head barely grazed the canopy. She pulled out her bow and aimed several arrows toward the mass of deadly creatures. Every arrow met its target. The young elf smirked and ran through the canopy above the half defeated group of orcs. Morantwen blew a shrill whistle. As she leaped from bough to bough, Astalder came toward her in respond to her call. The elf jumped down about fifty feet onto the back of her sturdy mount.
"Oh, god. I'm getting to old for this. It is amazing what a thousand years can do to the body."
Astalder turned around and bolted toward the edge of the realm. Morantwen could still hear the shrieks but as her steed sped across the rough terrain, the calls grew fainter. She turned around. What she saw was unbelievable. Half of the orcs were still on her tail. About a league away, but still on her tail. Astalder reached the borders of Middle-Earth and hesitated for he had not been there hundreds of years.
Morantwen was confused for a second.
"Rima. Rima, Astalder."
-"Run. Run, Astalder," Morantwen whispered. A few moments later, Astalder began sprinting again. All of a sudden, something whizzed by Morantwen's ear. A great pain rattled down her body. An arrow had gone through the back of her ear. The warm, thick, blood dripped down her hair and her clothing and trailed onto the ground behind her. Morantwen desperately covered her ear and tried to stop the flow. More arrows sped past them. She turned around and saw that orcs were once again falling back but Morantwen was worried. She had led tens of orcs into Middle-Earth. She would never hear the end of it.