by Ben Robotham aged 11 years
The air was thick with the sound of something being torn apart: a wrenching, screeching, groaning sound that made the earth tremble. The smell of smoke was so strong it caught in my throat and pooled like acid on my tongue.
It was scary - terrifying - but exhilarating. After all our work, it was finally happening.
In the once lush landscape of Swampdale the two mightiest forces were at war. The Elves and their dragons fought Men and their trolls. Casualties on both sides were dramatic. What used to be paradise was now a barren landscape.
Men were ready to attack. Their forces strong, swords sharpened.
Suddenly arrows were flying through the air. The Elves had made their attack. The dragons came. Fire rained down like it was the end of the world. It seemed all hope was lost for this squadron of men, and it was. They looked into the eyes of the enemy. The eyes of a soul looking for revenge. Revenge for lost ones, loved ones. Men started the war. Men had tricked the dim-witted trolls into their fight. The war was for more than domination. More than power. It was for those who had fallen.
The war would not stop unless they were a miracle.
The Elves soon heard about their success. They knew men’s scout had reported back to their king. He would be thinking of making an attack as soon as possible, but for now they would gloat on their victory.
Over in the Kingdom of Men, the king was enraged and as the elves predicted he was planning a new attack, however under stress, anger and pressure there were many flaws. His advisers spotted these but the king would not listen. Not now, not ever.
Neither of them knew that they were being overserved. Not by one, but by many.
In the Elves Kingdom, The King was talking to his prince.
“Send a dragon to patrol the area, Vil” ordered the king.
“But why father, men have lost the majority of their soldiers in our attack?” question Vil.
“I am king. Do as I command!” bellowed the king.
Vil did as he was told and went to the dragons’ home. He soon found the dragon he was looking for. Flicker.
“Hey Flicker” shouted Vil. “you need to go on a patrol, kings orders”
“Why? We just got rid of most of the men. Why me?” Hissed Flicker.
“Orders” replied Vil.
“I’m not an elf, he is no king of mine” protested Flicker.
“Please” whined Vil. Flicker reared up. With a gust from his wings he flew off. He was out on a scout.
Flicker flew over mountains, rivers and battle grounds. Men were nowhere to be seen. So, he decided to take the scenic route home. One that war had not damaged. On his way he saw a colossal pit surrounding a pillar of earth. Flicker thought this was rather peculiar. He saw a boy on the pillar with no means of escape. Flicker knew what to do. Flicker’s morality kicked in. Defying all laws of the Elf Kingdom he went in and scooped up the boy and safely put him on the ground.
This was the first act of kindness between the kingdoms since the war had begun. Suddenly, the sky started to get devoured by little burst of fire, like paper on fire. It led towards the mountain. As it burned it revealed a ledge. With a cave behind it. Flicker flew back to the Elf Kingdom. He reported the news.
The Elf royalty researched all the scrolls in the kingdom. They found a new threat. Warlocks! From the dawn of time the cult of the warlock shall cause war, death and destruction. They are concealed with a cloaking spell. Only to be broken by an act of kindness.
The elves decide the only way to defeat the warlocks was for men and elves to unite as one. So, they sent a messenger to the Kingdom of Men. Their offer was declined.
However, that night they had a visitor. A visitor of men. Vil rushed to the palace gates. The visitor shouted!
“I am Howard. I have heard your message and come to your aid. If the King of Men found out about this, I would be … b-beheaded.”
Vil replied “Come, join us!”
The King of Elves heard this news. He decides to send Vil, Howard and a small band of elves to find more about this new threat. After days of trudging they made it to the mountain. One more week and they made it to the top. When they entered the cave, the air was thick with the sound of something being torn apart: a wrenching, screeching, groaning sound. The smell of smoke was so strong it caught in their throats and pooled like acid on their tongues.
Finally, they found the warlocks. Out of one of the warlock’s hand flew a flaming fire ball and knocked Vil’s flask spilling water all over the floor.
“Well, well, you found us. However, you shall be the first to witness are new creation.” Declared a warlock. As a giant black hound came out of nowhere. It had ruby red eyes. Ruffled fur. Claws and teeth as big as daggers. Suddenly it charged at them. It slipped on the spilled water. He skidded all the way off the ledge and fell to his doom. As it fell it made a high pitch bark. The echo of the bark caused the cave walls to crumble, a cave in. Trapping the warlocks.
Both kings were delighted and they made a peace treaty. The whole band were knighted. They were heroes.
War never broke out again between the elves and men. The dragons returned to their home land in the north, the trolls in the south. The warlocks were never heard of again. Men decide to go to a place called “Australia” and Elves to a place called “America”. They never met again.