HPS Grade 6 Short Story Contest Top 10 – No. 7 (Tie)

Swords and Sorcerers

A homage to fantasy adventures
By Dare Pelletier

The village burned. All of it. The village was in a large valley in the land of Tor. Tor was an ancient land. Many wars were edged into its hard cold ground. It was a large land, with many kingdoms. Nearby, there were several other islands including the land of Loria.

This town in the land of Tor was inhabited by elves. Elves were, and continued to be, a very graceful race. They built beautiful citadels and majestic cities. They were also a very ancient race. Their history was filled with many brutal wars, and many great accomplishments. This village was called Ashsil, and it was being attacked by orcs. 

Orcs were a terrible and brutal race. They were very distantly related to elves. But the orcs were now enemies of most other races. They were not always terrible. They once lived alongside the elves in beautiful coexistence that is until a strange person came to their king and offered something they could not resist: land. The orcs are a race of conquerors. They always have been. So, they took the offer. The man gave them what they wanted. But, he said it came with a price. They would forever be ugly beings. Their knowledge was taken from them. Lost, along with their knowledge, was their grace, their wisdom and their compassion. 

The man later proposed he lead them. The orcs wanted to refuse, but the man then offered them more land. This time it was a bigger parcel of land; huge in fact. But this time the price was for him to lead them. The man was called Lacramies; he was a mage who was born in the grand city of Loria. He then chose to follow dark magic. So, he murdered his family and left Loria for a long time. In fact, centuries passed before he returned. He wanted to take over the entire land of Loria and the land of Tor. So, far he had not succeeded. Many people tried to keep it that way.

The village of Ashil burned. All of it. For it had been attacked by the wicked orcs. The defenses of the town were useless against the orcs and their wargs (giant wolves they ride like horses). The guards were caught unaware. The guards wore light armour and were only armed with melee weapons. They were surprised. The orcs arrested and killed everyone. Few escaped. 

One elf was sleeping when he heard a very loud noise. This elf’s name was Eldrin Woodlow. He had always been interested in other places and other beings. He was very interested in the land of Loria and had always wanted to go there. He grew up in a rich and economic environment. He very much enjoyed archery and the outdoors.  His father was his only living relative. He was a guard for the Royal Elf Military. Little did Eldrin know, his dad had been shot by an arrow in the back of the head by the infamous orc Sludgetonge II. Sludgetonge was an orc Grand Captain and was in charge of the grand army of Lacramies. Eldrin’s dad had gone to the realm of the mystic because he had died protecting others. 

Eldrin sat up. He looked around to see where the noise had come from. He heard a loud noise come from the kitchen where the door was.  He was worried. He decided he better go look at where the loud and disturbing noise had arisen from. Just as he was going to leave his old bedroom, the door broke into a million pieces! A large figure came through the door. He looked like he had wrestled a bear and then ate it. His face was covered with blood. His armour was very primitive. His nose looked like it had been ripped off and glued back on again. His eyes danced with an evil blue fire that looked like it would come shooting out at Eldrin. This intruder’s weapon looked like a stick with a big heavy rock tied to it. 

As the orc approached, he coughed a loud and rough sounding noise. He raised his primitive tool above the little elf’s head. The little elf heard another noise. The orc seemed to notice but to not even care. The orc looked back at the elf and was ready to attack. The little elf closed his eyes. He heard a loud noise that sounded like talking. He assumed it was the orc using some colourful words. He heard a noise that sounded like a pig grunt. He opened his eyes and saw the lumpy and gross dead body of the orc. He saw the head of the orc glaring at him as if to say, “I’ll get you for that.”

Eldrin looked around the room to find out what had happened. He saw a dwarf standing in the doorway. The dwarf was wearing beautiful golden armour with a blue sword. The dwarf looked about 130-years-old. He had a beard that went down to his neck and wore a quiver of arrows on his back. His bow looked different than the one his father had possessed. The arrows were all beautifully decorated. On his armor, he had engraved a picture of a lion. Dwarfs were a mighty race. They built their grand strongholds into the huge mountains of Loria and Tor. Their weapons and armour were beautifully decorated and forged with great care. The dwarfs had a mighty history of leadership and valour. They greatly honored chivalry. They believe in huge pantheons and complicated religions.

The dwarf took a minute to look at Eldrin and then frantically signaled for him to come. Eldrin stumbled out of his little bed. He grabbed a small painting of his mom and dad and a book titled When the Swans Cry. He ran up to the dwarf and they ran through the kitchen dodging falling debris and little fires. As they ran out of the house, the dwarf hacked down about seven orcs. The elf wanted to think this was a dream, but deep down he knew it was true. They ran over to a little horse. He was brown and had little white spots on his back. His hooves were covered with black fur. The dwarf patted her back. “Easy girl,” he said as he stepped on. “Hop on,” he said to the little elf. He said something in dwarvish that the little elf could not comprehend. They then began to move. Then they rode off into the darkness. 

Lulled by the horse’s movement, Eldrin had fallen asleep very quickly. When he woke, he was riding through a beautiful mountain range. He looked around and saw wild horses and streams flowing gracefully. At one part of the stream, he saw a black deer. The deer’s eyes were dark and evil looking. He decided to ignore it and pretend he hadn’t seen its malice.  After the deer was out of sight, it turned into Lacramies who wickedly declared, “you will be sorry old friend.”

 Eldrin looked at the dwarf. “Sir.”

“You don’t have to call me that. Call me Thorin. I’m an outcast. I was exiled out of the dwarven kingdom.” 

“Why?”

“You will learn later, but for now welcome to the kingdom of Northland.”

“Or should I say welcome to the land of Loria.”

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  1. A Pelletier’s Press book

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    No part of this work covered by the copyrights herein may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or used or transmitted in any form or by any means – graphic, electronic or mechanical – except by a reviewer, without prior permission of Dare Pelletier.

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