Creative Fiction Short Story-The Orc's Meal

Ragnarok the Feared laid out the red and white checked blanket out of his pack in preparation for his afternoon meal. The battle hardened orc was alone atop the hill, where his troupe made their meal at the bottom. Ragnarok needed to eat his meal in solitude to gather his thoughts.

The previous days' events had altered the course of the war. On the eve of year seven in the siege on the elven city of Shemellmeballz the elven prince Lector led a night-time raid on the orc encampment. Their attack left 8,500 orcs dead and 2,000 wounded. 5,000 raiding elves were killed in the battle along with 2,400 wounded.

The assault commenced when torrents of rushing water swept into the orcish camps. After months of preparation, the elves assault worked like a charm. Signi, the Elven mastersmith, had designed three pipes that would reroute the Shemellmeballz's aqueduct system to flood the orc camp. Under cover of night the pipes were put in place an army of 15,000 followed the rapids.

Ragnarok saw the current rush in as he bit from his apple. In an instant the troupe of men at the foot of the hill were in disarray. The unfortunate troops on the eastern side of the hill, restrained from ascending the mountain by jagged rocks, were impaled on through the spiky juts. Their number totaled near 2,000. The remaining 10,000 orcs on the western side rushed up the hill, the occasional orc going down via arrow.

Lector led the charge on the orcs going up the hill. Upon his brown steed he led his horde through the orcs, slaughtering all caught in his path. The blood bath was over as soon as it began. The elves made their rounds slaying the wounded orcs. The orcs had been routed. Or so the elves thought.