A/N: Hi everyone! In case you don't know me, I'm LEDlorien7. This is my second LotR Fanfic. I've written three fanfics all together, two being LotR. But all the other ones got removed because Fanfiction is evil incarnate. This actually started as an English assignment that I got really into, and I ended up going slightly overboard. As of right now, I have about 20 pages of this written out already. I'm kind of addicted to writing this, I write it during class (especially band), during lunch, when I should be doing my homework… Whatever. Interestingly enough, the direction it goes next chapter is not how I'd originally intended it to go. Just a warning, this ends up being a kind of man + man thing, except with elves. Anyways… enough of my drivel. Read on, you potential reviewers.

Oh yeah, this is an updated and edited version. I fixed it up.

Disclaimer: So, yeah, everything belongs to John Ronald Reul Tolkein. The only things that are mine are Erebaras, and Lalaithriel, a female elf who appears later in the story.

Erebaras Chapter 1

When Erebaras heard the order to fire he felt excitement burning through his veins. He breathed deeply and released his arrow. Instantly he reached over his shoulder for another arrow while he maintained his focus on the orcs directly in front of him. As his body and eyes fell into the rhythm of 'draw an arrow, pick a target, loose the arrow, draw an arrow, pick a target, loose the arrow…' he allowed himself to explore the battle with his other senses. He smelled the foul, putrid stench of orc blood. He wrinkled his nose in distaste. Erebaras exhaled; then sniffed even more deeply than last time. Faintly he caught a whiff of the silvery, light scent of elf blood. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered the fact that his brothers were dying, but he did not allow himself to think about it. There would be time to mourn for the dead after the battle. He caught the far-off scents of the human ranks: the salty-sweet smell of sweat, the salty-earthy smell of human blood.

Even as his nose was taking in the smells, his ears were listening to the battle. He heard the whizzing of arrows as they flew, the ping of arrows hitting armor, the soft thud of arrows hitting flesh. He heard the clanging of metal on metal; the thumping horse hooves; the screams and cries of the wounded; the silence of the dead.

Less than a minute after he began shooting, the charging orcs were upon them. Erebaras slung his bow over his shoulder and drew his sword.

"We shall break many antlers today," he whispered to it. In the tongue of man, Erebaras means 'Lonely Deer', so he named his sword 'Antler-Breaker' because a buck's weapon is his antlers, and when the buck fights, he breaks other antlers.

Erebaras leapt into the fray, whirling his sword. He briefly saw a flash as Antler-Breaker caught the dim light before its momentum was drastically reduced by a collision with an orc's neck. Of course, in keeping with the law of conservation of momentum, the orc's head went flying, trailing blood. It smacked into another orc's face. The second orc roared and charged at Erebaras, blade raised. Erebaras raised his sword to block, when two arrows came whizzing over his shoulder and plunged into the orc's chest. The orc fell right at Erebaras's feet. He looked at it in disgust; then looked back to see Haldir and Celeborn fighting side by side with drawn bows.

"You didn't have to do that! I can take care of myself!" he yelled back at them. The two older elves shot their arrows over Erebaras's shoulder, and he turned back to see an orc with his sword arm raised to strike; stiffen and fall to the ground.

"Stay focused youngling!" Haldir called gruffly.

Erebaras turned around and dove back into the battle with a will. His sword danced as he plunged and stabbed and sliced and blocked.

Suddenly Erebaras paused. His instinct told him something was wrong. He listened: silence. Silence? In the middle of a battle? Erebaras looked around, and was surprised to see a small pile of dead orcs at his feet. Some of them separated from various body parts, some of them cut open in random places. Everybody was standing still, staring at the back of the orc army. He looked back and saw that Haldir and Celeborn were still behind him. They too, were staring at the back of the orc army.

"Sauron," Celeborn muttered.

Erebaras looked. There he was, Sauron himself. He was huge, towering above both armies, the epitome of evil and hatred in spiky black metal armor with a sharp pointy helm. Erebaras saw the huge mace; and on the hand holding it, a glint of gold. Sauron strode to the front of the armies and raised his mace.

Suddenly Erebaras remembered his bow. I can shoot Sauron! He thought excitedly. He didn't even have time to sheathe his sword before the giant mace smashed into his chest. Pain exploded in his chest and the air rushed out of his lungs. He felt his rib cage shatter. He couldn't breathe. Dimly he was aware of flying through the air. His hand tightened its grip on Antler-Breaker. From far away, he heard Haldir scream his name. Then slowly the world dimmed into blackness.

Thus ends the portion of the story that I handed in for my English homework. Mwa hahahahaha! Is he dead? I can't tell you, ha ha ha ha ha. Actually, I read this aloud to my class, and a friend of mine, who doesn't seem like the type to get into a fantasy story, turned to me and was all horrified and she was like, "You killed him!"

Please review, please. (puppy eyes) I love reviews. I do. Yes I do. Pretty please…

LEDlorien7, over and out