I sat in a tree, and watched as the elves began to fall back. I cursed myself for not arriving sooner, but halflings can only run so fast. I kept waiting, drawing on the experience from a life before the war. A life that seemed so far away now. Regardless there were lessons to be learned, things to remember. As a burglar the first thing I learned was patience. Never move until the time is right. The second thing I learned was judging when the time was right. That time was drawing close.
I had spotted the band of orcs heading towards a small village, and had hurried to get there first. I didn't make it. I made it to the village a minute after the orcs, and instead of bursting in the front door, I climbed over the wall. I saw the band of elves and the group of orcs and knew that they were going to be pushed back. They were afraid, and they weren't ready. Except for one half-elf. I didn't know his name, but he led the charge, shouting encouragement to his fellows all the while. It was a courageous but futile gesture.
I looked around for the highest tree and scampered up crawling onto a branch overlooking the fight. Once the troll was gone it would hopefully galvanize the remaining elves to fight back, and fight hard. The elves were past my branch now, and the troll was almost directly beneath me. I tensed drew my daggers and pounced. As I fell through the air towards the troll's head and neck I looked back to the third thing I learned: How to kill.
I landed on the beast's back and grabbed it in a strangle hold. Well... I tried to anyway. It started to flail around reaching for me, trying to grab me, trying to pull me off. His arms as big as clubs or tree trunks swinging around hitting his own orcs. I felt one of his arms grab me and start to pick me off. I squirmed and started stabbing with my knives into the creatures hands. Then I heard a dull thud and was suddenly looking at an arrow embedded in the meaty flesh of the troll's hand. I looked up to see the half-elf, bow in hand, giving me a salute then ducking under the strike of another raider. The troll was growling and he let me go and began tearing at the arrow in his hand. I fell to the ground, rolling with the fall. The troll had disengaged the arrow and swung one gigantic arm at me. I saw my chance. I dodged the swing, and the arm went crashing into the ground. I leapt onto the arm and began to run up it. I jumped as the other arm tried to grab me, and time slowed. I kicked its nose in mid-jump, and as he raised his head in a roar I spun bringing my daggers around in two identical slashes across his throat. Its yell was cut off as the monster reached dumbly for his throat, then toppled, his eyes glazed over.
There was no time for glory, no time for praise. I turned and ran towards the melee where the elves fought with renewed vigor. The orcs began to fall in increasing numbers. The elves had no interest in prisoners. Neither did I. The orcs, their number almost depleted started to flee. But even in their cowardice they fell as the elves pulled bows off their backs and shot flying death towards the intruders. None of the orcs made it out alive.