A Mysterious Archer
"Well, that's done with then," Legolas said looking down at his dwarf friend, Gimli, son of Gloin. They were headed back from escorting the hobbits back towards the Shire.
"Aye," Gimli replied. "'Tis hard to believe that Aragorn has been crowned King of Gondor and all of our adventures are over." They continued on in this manner, making casual talk about the days past, riding the faithful horse Arod, until Legolas' elf ears picked up a distant noise. As he urged Arod to run, Gimli asked him what it had been that he had heard. "Orcs," was his reply and Gimli took the hint that now was not the time to talk.
They came to a forest, one not too far, from the borders of Mirkwood, the realm of Legolas and his fellow Woodland elves. The elf dismounted, and turned to help his smaller friend off of Arod. Legolas started off at a quick sprint, and Gimli was rushed to keep up. "Keep going," he panted. "I'm right...behind you."
Legolas looked ahead. There was a clearing in the forest. In the midst of the clearing, there was a small cottage. Orcs were surrounding it, yelling obscene chants at the occupants. Apparently they haven't heard that the race of Orcs is ended. He drew an arrow and fitted it to his bow. Just as he drew back to shoot, some of the Orcs let out howls of pains, and dropped to the ground. Legolas gave the arrow a puzzled look and with his keen eyes, he noticed arrows sticking out of them, with blue and purple shafts, made in the same way as his, although his were green and yellow. Who is shooting the arrows? He crept closer to the edge of the woods to investigate.
Legolas scanned the clearing. The small band of orcs had been killed and he hadn't fired a single shot. From which bow have these arrows been fired? Legolas stepped closer to the small house that the orcs had obviously been trying to break into. He parted the undergrowth of the trees and warily looked around. His elf instincts told him that the unknown archer was still out there, watching, waiting.
Legolas held his bow in his hand and grasped the smooth wooden door handle with the other. He started to push it open but he stopped and his blue eyes hardened. He whirled around, blond hair swinging into his face. He reached for an arrow, but not before he came face to face with a sharp, metal shaft. "Drop your bow, elf and don't attempt to do anything foolish," said the cold voice of the hooded, mysterious archer.