Gilith sat on the flet with her back against a branch, her eyes scanning the forest floor. After days of skirmishes with orcs, most of the animals had started to return the area. A white stag run below to get close the the stream to drink. The commander smiled at the sight of such beautiful creature when suddenly a black arrow flew silently from the other side of the water. The white stag's scream filled the glade, blood began pouring out from its mouth, and after few moment the animal collapsed, drawing its last breaths before death. Gilith frowned and quietly cursed the owner of the black arrow. She was now standing on the edge of the flet with her bow ready to shoot.
The eerie silence made the elven guards feel uncomfortable, their bodies tense. Something was wrong, Gilith thought. Far beyond the borders of the Golden Wood, the world was changing. The presence of orcs in Lothlorien had proven rare in the past, but now they were pressing aggressively into elven land. In response Gilith had been ordered to double the number of guards on the borders. These patrols were hard and took many days, but the orcs Gilith and her men had killed the previous night had washed away their weariness. The enemy could simply not be allowed to pass the border.
"Perhaps that foul creature have decided to give up," said the elf next to her. He spoke quietly and slowly while securing the bow in his shoulder.
The flet fell into silence. Gilith returned her gaze to the forest floor, when suddenly and without warning, a laud and frightening noise thundered through the forest. All the guards jolted to attention on the flet. The whole tree shuddered for moment before going still again, As quickly as it arrived, the sound was over. As the echo began to fade away, Gilith ordered the elves to arms and be ready to fight.
