Role

Chapter 2

The young Elithranduil enlisted two guards to accompany him on the trek.
Wise men told him he would need more, but Elithranduil would not show
fear to these lesser men, nor would he provoke war by bringing a small
army to Udgaard's gates.

A wise thought, but unnecessary. Elithranduil's party never made it to
the gates of Udgaard. Passing through the Calandaryl mountains and
avoiding dangerous men on the West Loke Road, Elithranduil found himself
face to face with the corpse of a Paladin, gruesomely displayed in some
sort of warning to other travelers.

It was a disgusting sight, but Elithranduil and his men did not have time
to be disgusted. They were set upon by vicious men in black.

The battle was short and brutal. Elithranduil had chosen his guards well.
They were good Elves, and skilled warriors. They fought as honorably as
an Elf has ever fought. But they died just the same. The wicked men were
too many, and they were rushing out of the city like a flood.

Elithranduil, armed with only a walking stick, was all that was left.
Surrounded and without the skill to fight, they toyed with him. Slashing
and prodding with their weapons, they never dealt a killing blow. Between
their sneering and maniacal laughter, they joked about finding a pike to
put him on next to the long-dead paladin.

Enraged, Elithranduil stood, steadied himself with his staff, and
prepared to fight to his last breath. Perhaps it was an inspiring sight,
while it lasted. But it did not last long, as Elithranduil succumbed to
the bloodloss and fell unconscious as the evil laughs echoed around him.