Guardians of Middle Earth
Chapter One
Enter the Elf
He ran through the trees of the forest, his dark brown, double layer cloak flew out, billowing. He tried hard to laugh with mirth, for now wasn't the time to make any noise. An orc snarled and growled as it crashed through the trees. The blue clad being leapt up and grabbed a tree branch, pulling himself up. The orc ran underneath, missing the young man by a mile. He chuckled as he loaded his bow. A fine bow it was too. A silver bow with fine, frost like engravings decorating the weapon. He pulled out an arrow from his quiver, and loaded it into the weapon. He pulled back the string, taking aim as he did so. When the orc stopped for a moment, he released the arrow, which sailed smoothly over to the orc, diving deep into its fleshy neck.
"Ha ha, yes!"
Jack leapt from the tree and pulled out the arrow, now stained with the blackish red blood of the orc.
"Man, you're not very bright." He laughed. "You should know better than to try and attack an elf."
Jack arose and placed the arrow back into the quiver. He looked around, smirking, trying to see if the blundering creature had any friends. When he saw all was clear, he flipped up his hood, concealing his eyes. He walked through the trees, the albino elf's ice blue eyes bright with mirth.
Jack was a simple elf. A loner, a free spirit one could say. He didn't care for the company of others, for he was perfectly happy with being alone. He didn't need anyone, hadn't needed anyone since his banishment three hundred years ago. He was only eighteen years old, a mire child compared to the other elves of his village. After failing to save his sister from drowning, he was accused of drowning his sister and was banished. Jack never went back to the village. Sure he missed his sister, he missed her so much since her death, but there wasn't much he could do. He now lived in a small, secluded hut, in the middle of a thick forest. It was simple, a fire pit for cooking, a hammock for sleeping, and a small trunk for his belongings, not that he had many. Jack entered his small home and shed his cloak. He stowed his bow and quiver in the small trunk, as well as his knives. He pulled off his sweaty tunic, the navy blue cloth was now darker around the neck line and armpits.
"So tired." He moaned, as he pulled off his boots. "Stupid orcs."
Jack climbed into the hammock and sighed. He needed this well deserved nap. Sadly, a nap was not allowed. A falcon soared into the open window. It's screech terrified Jack, causing the elf to fall out of his hammock. The falcon screeched again, ignoring the moan from the elf. Jack looked at the falcon and saw a piece of parchment attached to its leg.
"What the...?" He mumbled.
He took the parchment, grunting when the falcon pecked his hand with its sharp beak. The letter was written in elvish, messy elvish.
"Why in Mordor does Manny want me to go to Rivendell?" He murmured.
Jack grabbed a clean tunic and struggled to put it on. After many difficult moments, he managed to put on the tunic, with silver thread making a frost pattern. He shoved his boots onto his feet, and grabbed his cloak. He grabbed his weapons from his trunk and hurried out of the hut.
"This better be important." He snarled. "I don't even know why I'm going."
Little did young Jack know, trouble was stirring in Middle Earth. And it was more than just a few orcs.
And we start the story off with Jack Frost. I wonder what Manny wants. Hmm. Well, I'm not telling.