As you have probably realized already, some of my titles don't actually exactly pertain to the problem of the situation at hand. But I try to make them sound interesting and be at least remotely related to the story I am to tell. Here is a paper I wrote (as you can see,) that is due on Monday. So, as another example to what I have just stated -- the title doesn't really pertain to the situation at hand. But I thought you might enjoy it, and I would love to hear any critique that any of you may have.
Oh, and by the way, it is only supposed to be three paragraphs long, but Mr. Pudewa basically said we could make it as long as we liked. (But just reading in between the lines, I think he would prefer if they weren't excruciatingly long. And just between us, it's really hard for me to keep a story short.)
In Death’s Company Sept. 21, 2010
By
Kathryn R. Lawless
Thangorn the dwarf, was walking at his leisure through the woods owned by his dwarven uncle,
the chief of their tribe. The colorful birds that inhabited that part of the forest fluttered and
melodiously chirped around him. Suddenly, their cheerful notes changed to that of warning.
Thangorn quickly peered behind him, only to behold a large raven-black panther who’s fierce
yellow-orange eyes glared with a malicious hunger. With his small battle-axe in hand, and
preparing for the worst, Thangorn took his fighting stance, knowing he had little chance of
survival. But before the panther’s charge and before he had to strike, a voice above him
exclaimed,
“Give me your hand!”
Thangorn threw his hand into the air. It was grasped firmly by a strong hand and he was quickly
lifted up into a large tree. The panther leapt up with his forepaws outstretched and his long sharp
claws unsheathed. Thangorn’s unknown assistant bent his bow and skillfully pierced the panther
through its shoulder. But the panther still clung to the tree and soon they would be within the
reach of his powerful claws. The dwarf who was not accustomed to fighting from a tree was soon
stable enough in his position to strike at the persistent panther. The young man had already taken
out a long, sleek knife and prepared for the panther’s assault. The panther was making its way up with an
enormous amount of speed. He was now in their reach. And together, Thangorn and the young
man fought back the beast. Thangorn was thrashing with his heavy battle-axe, and the other was
slashing and stabbing with his sword. The panther went limp and fell in one bloody mass at the
base of the tree. Thangorn made himself comfortable on the limb next to the figure who had
lifted him up. As Thangorn gazed upon him, he realized it was a young elven warrior no older
than a lad of 20. His name was Arentith from the land of Elentor that lays far in the south. After
declaring his most grateful thanks, Thangorn and Arentith began conversing about many things.
They found that they were not as very different as they had been taught. As the hours flew by
and the subjects became scarce, and the sun sank lower and lower over the horizon, they came
back down from the tree and disposed of the panther’s bloody remains. The fur was matted with
the deep red blood that marinated its whole body. They would not have taken the flesh home for
food because these panthers were known for their atrociously disgusting flavored meat. When
they had finished and were about to part ways, they shook hands in friendship.
“Drop your weapons, elf!” shouted a deep harsh voice. And even before the sentence was
completed, a troupe of 20 ugly ferocious orcs who were armed with shields and various weapons
appeared from all sides, and surrounded the elf and the dwarf.
“Halt!” Thangorn thundered in reply. “Foul creatures! Stand back! This young elf is with me!”
“We don’t care who he is with; we shall take you both!”they shrieked.“Only when we are dead!”
and as he closed that sentence, he laid into the orcs with such a fury, they were taken aback.
Arentith slashed one across the chest and stabbed another. But now the orcs were slowly making
their way between the two warriors.
“Stand fast, Dwarf!” Arentith gasped, “Look to your back!”
The orcs drove them farther and farther apart, encircling them separately. Soon, some of the orcs
left the fight with the dwarf to join in the array with the elf. They were overpowering him now.
One pounced on his feet and pulled him to the ground. He was now flat on his back. Another orc
sprung at his head, but paid his life dearly for it. A third grasped Arentith’s left hand and
stretched it out on the ground. His swinging arm was still free, but not for long. They grabbed
and pinned it on the bloody, slimy forest grass. All the orcs around him began shrieking and
screaming with delight! A large one stood beside him with a large ax uplifted above his head.
“Ahhh!” another harsh yell met his ears! The large orc's head was immediately severed from his
body with one fell swing of Thangorn’s majestic axe. He was just in front of Arentith; right in
the middle of the fray. Arentith struggled in the grasp of the orcs burly hands. One arm was now
free. His hand still clasped his sword. As he leapt up from the bloody grass, he dispatched the orc
who still held his feet. The orcs numbers had been cut to half.
A powerful blow had got past Thangorn and his left arm hand a large gaping wound, and
Arentith’s left leg was bleeding from a blade that sliced him when he had been pulled down. The
slippery ground was red with the blood of both sides. But the orcs were quickly diminishing.
There were but two great ones left. One was already wounded, and the other seemed hesitant to
continue the fray.
“Phhht, Phhtt!” Arentith’s bow sung twice, and the two orcs fell down dead. The battle was
over. As the elf and the dwarf observed the forest that had so quickly become a battle-field,
Thangorn said weakly, while clutching his wounded arm,
“You shall come to my home, and there we shall dress our wounds. My people will welcome you
because I have. And in time they shall more willingly welcome your race. But come, I feel my
weakness coming upon me, and who knows if there are more of these confounded creatures out
here.”
“You have my thanks!” stammered Arentith. “I would not have made it, if it wasn’t for you. But I must tell you that--”
“I was already in your debt for my own life. Let us call it even.” Thangorn interrupted with a
grin. “But there is one thing I don’t understand. Why were those fiends so bent upon your
destruction? They seemed to care less about me.”
“Well, this is what I was going to tell you. A fortnight ago, I was out hunting by myself when I
met their king and his guard. I killed him out of self defense, and as you know, orcs do not have
the same forgiving nature that you or I have. And I have since that day, not been able to return
home for they have been hunting me.”
“By Jove! Well, all the more you shall come home with me! Anyone who is an enemy of those
beasts is a friend of mine! Come!”So, they left the company of the dead, and made their way to
Thangorn’s home, where the elf and the dwarf remained friends for many years to come.
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