[Estelyn Telcontar]

Lord Sourone, seeing that the captain of his troops had gone mad, as he assumed, resolved to lead the onslaught of the orcs himself. He came down, terrible to behold with his bifocals gleaming, and the tower trembled with his steps. The fact that this was caused by poor-quality construction rather than the might of his feet did little to mar the effect.

He swing his mighty black mace, but since he had not yet located the enemies, the only ones who fell were his own orcs. Enraged and frustrated, his eyes searched for someone upon whom he could release his wrath. There he saw Gravlox, seated on his Warg as a spectator on the sidelines, watching the battle with an amused grin.

“U!” he spat disdainfully, falling back into Black Speech in his rage. “I c u r 2 la-z 2 fite! Wot fav x-cuse were u going to give me l8er? Do u think u can fool ppl with ur stoopid grin?”

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

Merisuwyniel’s eyes stung from weeping, from the dust of battle, from the smoke that arose upon the burning of Halfullion’s body. She had remained in the background of the battlefield, since the Bow was of no use in hand-to-hand combat, and she would have been ashamed to draw her small generic dagger, which had no name, no lineage, no history, not even the slightest of magical properties.

She blinked as a ray of sunlight shone into her eyes. It illuminated the clearing ahead of her, and there she gazed upon a terrifying sight. A menacing figure approached, threatening one who sat upright upon his mighty beast of burden. She saw the shadow of the black mace swinging, and with sudden clarity realized who it was that was in such grave mortal danger.

From above came a cackle of maniacal laughter. “Go get ‘im!” rung a harsh female voice from the ramparts of the tower. Both Gravlox and Sourone looked up, distracted momentarily.

Instinctively, Merisuwyniel fitted a Thorn arrow to her Entish Bow. Sourone’s head spun around as he heard a clear voice calling, “Begone, foul limerick, lord of pulp poetry! Leave the noble in peace!”

His cold voice answered: “Come not between the Evil Lord and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the concerts of orcish pop singers, beyond all torment, where thine ears shall be exposed to maximum volume, and thy shrivelled mind be left witless to Britney’s lyrics.”

The Bow sang as she drew it taut, aiming carefully for the left eyeglass. “Do what you will; but I will hinder it, if I may.”

“Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!”

Then Gravlox heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest. It seemed that the Bow laughed, and the sound was like a knock on wood. “But no living man am I! You look upon the Ent that was Broken, wielded by a female, and an Elf at that! You stand between me and my kin, the wooden foot. You are the one to blame for the misery of our separation, and you shall pay for it in this hour.”

Lord Sourone made no answer, and was silent, as if in sudden doubt. The light now fell on Merisuwyniel, and her golden hair gleamed brightly. Then the arrow flew, whistling a happy tune as it raced toward the Dark Lord, shattering his left eyeglass and piercing his eye. With a cry of hatred that stung the very ears like a Black Metal song he let fall his mace and dropped to his knees. The last thing he heard was the swish of the mighty Zig-Zag sword, which now showed its true enchanted heritage, severing his head from his shoulders. As it spun around, the opened eyes saw Gravlox and Merisuwyniel clasping their now weaponless hands, gazing at each other in triumph and joy.

Then the very foundations of the earth seemed to shake, the leaning tower lurched dangerously, swayed, tottered, and fell down. Amidst the sound of rocks tumbling, roaring ruinously, crushing all who stood beneath the walls, they heard a screech, then all was still. A shining object rolled away from the wreckage, undamaged. Gravlox hurried to pick it up and bring it to Merisuwyniel; they gazed at it, golden and black hair mingling in the breeze.

Suddenly a voice came from the Golden Globe, saying, “This Oscar is not for you, for the Academy does not take fantasy seriously!” Shocked and puzzled by the sound of a voice that seemed vaguely familiar, as if heard before in dreams, the Elven shieldmaiden turned to the Orc captain and asked, “What was that?” The voice then spoke again, with changed tone, “Oh, you have captured her? Excellent! Now bring her to me! I await you ASAP!”

Gravlox wrapped the globe in his cloak and answered, “’Tis a new-fangled invention, called a Cell-antír. It is used to communicate over great distances. Alas, now I perceive that there is a greater might than Sourone who used him for his purposes. We must seek and destroy that power, or it shall devour us. Will you dare to brave that foe with me?”

“I will!” she answered gladly. “But first we must escape this chaos, together with my comrades.”

They heard a voice calling, “The Dragon is coming! The Dragon is coming!”

Chrysophylax swooped down beside them, pausing only long enough for them to scramble onto his back before taking to the sky again. One companion after another was found and joined them, until all were reunited. Though they were astonished to see an Orc in their midst, they asked no questions, seeing that he was giving Chrysophylax directions. The dragon flew swiftly to the Great River. Landing on the far side, they finally reached safety and respite.