Dilthen Ae || Legolas Greenleaf

|0.2| Two Millennia Later

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a crimson glow across the field. Elaria stood at the edge of a rocky outcrop, her chocolate hair billowing in the wind as she surveyed the horde of orcs advancing through the valley. Their guttural roars echoed against the cliffs, a chorus of menace that sent a thrill through her veins.

"Stay sharp!" she called to her comrades, a handful of warriors who flanked her. They tightened their grips on their weapons, eyes narrowed in determination.

Elaria drew her sword, its blade glinting like ice under the dying light. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her responsibility. These orcs were not just marauders; they were the harbingers of chaos, their eyes gleaming with hunger for destruction.

With a fierce cry, the first wave of orcs surged forward, a mass of green skin and jagged weapons. Elaria leaped down from the outcrop, her feet finding purchase on the rocky ground as she met them head-on.

The clash of steel rang out like thunder as her sword met the first orc's axe. She twisted, using the momentum to drive her blade deep into the creature's side. It let out a howl, collapsing in a heap, and Elaria spun to face another attacker.

The second orc charged, but she sidestepped, her movements fluid and precise. She struck out with a swift kick, sending the brute stumbling before she followed up with a deadly thrust. The creature fell, leaving a brief respite as more rushed to fill the gap.

Around her, her allies fought valiantly, but the orcs were relentless, swarming like a tide. Elaria's heart raced as she dodged a heavy blow, the axe grazing her shoulder. Pain flared, but she pressed on, her spirit unyielding.

"Form a line!" she shouted, rallying her comrades. "Hold the line!"

They fell into formation, a shield wall of steel and determination. Elaria stood at the forefront, deflecting blows as the orcs crashed against them like waves against the shore. She felt the surge of energy from her warriors behind her, their resolve bolstering her strength.

Suddenly, an orc with a massive warhammer broke through the ranks, his eyes locked on Elaria. He swung his weapon overhead, and she barely rolled aside in time, the hammer smashing into the ground with a shockwave that rattled her bones.

"Not today, ugly!" she yelled, regaining her footing. Elaria's focus sharpened as she darted forward, weaving through the chaos. The orc swung again, but this time, she ducked beneath the arc, thrusting her sword into his exposed side.

He howled, staggering back, but Elaria was relentless. With a swift motion, she twisted her blade and drove it upward, piercing through his armor. He fell, and she turned back to the fray, her resolve burning brighter.

The tide of battle was shifting; her comrades rallied behind her, pushing forward with renewed vigor. Elaria raised her sword high, calling forth a rallying cry that echoed over the din.

"For Celebrían!"

The warriors surged, and together, they pushed against the oncoming horde. The orcs, sensing their impending defeat, faltered, their unity splintering.

With the last of her strength, Elaria led the charge into the heart of the orcish mass. They were fierce, but she was fierce too, a whirlwind of steel and spirit that carved a path through the chaos. One by one, the orcs fell until, at last, silence settled over the battlefield, broken only by the heavy breathing of the victorious.

Elaria stood amidst the remnants of the clash, her body weary but her heart triumphant. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in twilight. She had faced the darkness and emerged victorious, but she knew this battle was only one of many to come. With a deep breath, she steadied herself, ready to protect her home and seek vengeance for her mother no matter the cost.