To Tame A Fire

2. Beyond the Forest

For nearly five days now they patrolled the forests, tracking the heavy boot prints of a pack of orcs.

A distant bird call floated to the patrol's ears. Legolas listened closely to the signal, his face masked in concern. He replied to the bird's call with a soft whistle.

The patrol was on high alert now, hands grasping weapons firmly as their eyes scanned every tree.

The enemy was near.

Legolas turned his eyes to his patrol and noticed the novices' nervous glances. "Steady. Shoot to kill, we cannot afford wasted arrows. Stay close to the seasoned warriors and comply with the orders given to you."

Nods followed in reply, and the novices and warriors quickly scurried into the trees. They held onto their weapons and waited.

It was the stench that first hit them and many crinkled their nose at the acrid smell of orcs' rotten flesh. A guttural roar followed and soon the unwelcoming sight of orcs came into few. Instantly, arrows flew from the treetops, embedded themselves into the hearts of the foul beats. Many howled and fell to the ground to drown in their own blood. The elves took advantage of the cover the trees provided and fired arrow after arrow down upon the confused orcs.

It didn't take long before the orcs spotted the elves. Pulling out their own bows, they shot into the treetops, spewing filthy curses as they missed.

One arrow came dangerously close to Legolas and the novice beside him. Legolas released an arrow with lighting speed and watched in satisfaction as it pierced the eye of the orc. "Thalin! To your left!" Legolas shouted to the novice as another arrow came dangerously close to his shoulder.

Thalin jerked to the side and stared wide-eyed at the rusty arrow embedded into the tree. His hand stopped in mid-air from notching his bow.

"Thalin! Compose yourself!" Legolas shouted over the squeal of a dying orc.

The sound of battle soon died as one last arrow sung threw the air and into the heart of the last breathing orc. Sharp eyes scanned the area one last time before the elves dropped to the ground.

Legolas drifted his eyes over the carcasses and counted twenty orcs. Their numbers were multiplying. Each party they came across became larger. "Clean up," Legolas growled. "And you! Thalin, you never freeze when lives are on the line!"

Thalin flinched at the harsh tone in his Captain's voice. He made a fool out of himself. He bowed his head in shame. "Forgive me, my Lord. It won't happen again."

Legolas moved in so close that his nose nearly touched Thalin's, and his eyes bore into the novices. "See to it that is doesn't," he hissed and strode away.

"Stand tall, Thalin," a warrior clamped his hand on Thalin's shoulder. "You will have plenty of chances to prove yourself."

He nodded. He hated the pitiful glances the others shot his direction. Aye, he would prove to them. He would make their Prince proud.

They had pilled up the stinking bodies and burned them. The stench of burning flesh filled their lungs. Only the novices had covered their noses, for the warriors were used to this.

Legolas turned away from the ashes, even for him the stench was unbearable. "Come. We leave here and make camp."

They set up camp some distance away. To lessen the chance of alerting more orcs, only a small fire was allowed. They ate a small meal of smoked meat and fresh fruits; a rare bounty when patrolling.

A shadow loomed over Legolas causing him to look up from his meal. "Lieutenant Círdan," he greeted simply and watched as he sat beside him.

"Lord Legolas," smiled Círdan. "The novices did well today."