Eleanor, daughter of the Great Warrior Maethor, is a High Elf entrusted when she was but an infant to Finarfin, Galadriel's father. The youngling is then raised alongside Galadriel and her brothers as a member of their family.
Centuries pass in Val...
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Tirharad, Southlands, Middle Earth
Outside the tavern, the whole village was burning, the flames almost as high as the houses now, forcing Elanor and her troop to halt. She looked around, already feeling the hot air pressing against her skin, a thin layer of sweat slowly covering her forehead while her soldiers deployed around her.
Then, she heard it. The chanting.
"Nampat! Nampat! Nampat!"
The sound of the hundreds of orcs' voices mingling together gave the sensation that thousands of rocks were crashing against each other.
"Black Speech..." she whispered more to herself than to share the information with her troop.
She looked around once more; this time, her midnight gaze settled over a tall silhouette. From one look, Elanor knew he was an Elf, one of those who had been kidnapped and turned against their kin, one who had turned to Darkness.
An Uruk.
Staring at the approaching silhouette, Elanor noticed his long black hair and his pale, white — almost ghostly — skin, as well as the long and thick scar marking the side of his face, and she wondered if he was Adar. He walked through the fire as if it was nothing, marching among the bodies and debris with his head held high, similar to a king walking among his court. Following behind him, hundreds — no, thousands — of orcs marched to the village, chanting and screaming in Black Speech.
It was war, Elanor thought, and for a moment, she allowed herself a prayer. She wished to see the next sunrise, if only it would let her see Elrond and Galadriel one more time before the endless night.
"Nampat! Nampat! Nampat!"
More orcs ran towards the village, the first few reaching its walls and Elanor and her soldiers stood ready amid the burning debris and bodies. The silver of their armours shone brightly, bringing light to the surrounding darkness, as they held their swords tightly, observing the orcs coming.
"Nampat! Nampat! Nampat!"
When the first orc reached Elanor, she slayed it with a swift movement of the wrist, the blade of her sword cutting deep and easily the flesh. Then, as if shaken awake, she finally left her stand to march toward the orc's army, her sword raised high above her head, quickly followed by her troop.
They fought longly; Elanor was waltzing among the enemies as she beheaded, slit, cut and tore apart bodies. Soon, she was covered with even more black blood and grim, dimming the shine of her armour and concealing the elegant beauty of her face. Nonetheless, it could be said that what used to look refined and delicate now seemed beautifully savage and brutal, for one could consider there was beauty in destruction and chaos.
However, no matter how skilled Elanor and her soldiers were, and no matter how many orcs they slaughtered, they were simply far too many, and soon, a bunch of them managed to reach the tavern's doors, trying to force it open. Elanor tried to fight through the crowd to get to the tavern before the orcs could enter, but others blocked her way as they kept attacking. She could only watch as she fought four orcs simultaneously when they eventually managed to enter the tavern.
