But hark, the wood elves cry! Whose heavy footfalls do we hear draw nigh? What denizen of the world of stone and iron turns his surly countenance in our direction? Verily, a snare shall rid us of this trespasser!
Their mischievous eyes light on a young tree, grievously fallen to the ravages of the forest when scarce more than a sapling. There it lay, 'twixt stump and boulder, precariously paused mid-fall. Could the prowling menace be tricked into disturbing its uneasy slumber?
Sylvan magic entices the bumbling intruder on to his peril. Sure enough, the wood elves' rustic contraption catches his foolish gaze. What is this? Do the wood elves speak in the voice of his companions, urging him on with false promises of paltry reward? Do they hush the few timorous words of caution behind whistling breeze and rustling foliage?
With a thunderous crash, the great beam submits to its fate, and helped on by a brawny pull, completes its return to the earth from whence it arose. Oh calamity for the hapless victim of the wood elves' schemes caught beneath, the breath crushed from his odious lungs!
Clamor gives way to anxious silence. The wood elves await in eager anticipation while the oaf struggles for the cold mountain air, so quick to pierce cloth yet reluctant to pass his lips! An eternity, and, to the wood elves dismay, the brute makes clear that he is battered but unharmed. As they suppress hisses of outrage, he slowly regains his feet, brazenly attempting a feeble jest at his escape! Though soon enough, chastened, he limps away.
The forest uneasily settles back into its wintry calm. The wood elves pay homage the remaining trees, kin to that which drove away the intruder. The interruption to the wood elves' revels is soon forgotten, for this is their kingdom and those unwelcome are driven away with cunning, magical power and no mercy.
No comments:
Post a Comment