12. Level Two
“Sixty-eight! Sixty-nine!” the voice of Legolas rang out above the clamor of battle, “What are you at, Gimli?”
The dwarf smiled that slightly psychotic smile of one who enjoyed this a little too much, “I’m at eighty-four!”
“What?” Legolas yelled as he sliced another orc with his knife, “Impossible!”
“I’m afraid not, Master Elf,” Gimli replied, bashing an enemy with his axe, “Eighty-five!”
Legolas stopped. Seeing the look in his eyes, Gimli faltered. The ordinarily stoic and together elf was looking downright...angry. Seething, even. His eyes were wide with fury and he spoke through clenched teeth, “I will not be bested in battle by a dwarf!”
The orcs around him ceased their attack when they saw the elf’s transformation. His shoulders rose and fell heavily with his breathing. His pale skin turned a bright shade of green. His slender frame began to fill out and his clothing burst with his bulging muscles. In moments, he was not the elf he had been before. He was a green, hulking monster of a thing.
With a feral yell, he started grabbing orcs and throwing them into each other, ripping arms off some and beating them with them. A passing oliphaunt made the mistake of swinging its trunk too near Legolas and the elf grabbed it and swung. The oliphaunt flew through the air like a sling, roaring in protest at its strange plight. Its riders were flung off before the beast was hurled out toward one of the enemy’s catapults, crushing the machine to splinters.
“Leggy smash!” the elf yelled to no one in particular. All the enemies around him now retreated to anywhere else. The dwarf just huffed.
“So we’re playing it that way, are we?” he asked, then smiled. Before the orcs knew what was happening, Gimli had ceased to be flesh and bone and had apparently become made of metal. He shone as silver in the sunlight, which may have been the reason for the twinkle in his eye. “Good.” And that’s when the competition really heated up.
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