By Scott Wilson
Word Count: 523
“What do you see, Carmalot?” Redgrow the dwarf yelled to his companion.
“Nothing?” Carmalot said. “At least nothing worth shagging.”
“Nothing worth shagging, indeed.” Redgrow grunted. “Is that all you elves think about?”
“Not all the time,” Carmalot said, scurrying down the thick trunk of the tree like a spider. “Sometimes we think about beating silly little dwarves at checkers or drinking or...oh, just about everything else. Is there anything dwarves are good at?”
Redgrow hurled his helmet at his travel companion, missing the elf as he moved far too quickly for the dwarf.
“But seriously, my old friend,” Carmalot said. “We will have company if a few minutes.”
“What and you let me toss my helmet at you. Know I’m going to be behind the count when they come charging into the camp.”
The elf smiled wickedly and said, “That was not the idea, or maybe it did cross my mind.”
Before the dwarf could reply, a dozen orcs crashed through the trees waving rusty and jagged swords and pikes wildly. Carmalot shot three of them with his longbow before Redgrow had even swung his giant war hammer into the skull of his first victim.
“Curse you and your cheating ways, elf,” Redgrow grunted.
“Five,” Carmalot said, letting an arrow loose into the neck of another orc.
Redgrow leapt forward and swung his mighty war hammer into the chest of an oncoming orc. The orc stumbled backwards into two companions, causing the three to topple over. Redgrow stood on the winded orc’s chest and brought his weapon down in three swift blows, crushing the fallen opponent’s skulls beyond recognition, not that orc mothers were in the habit of caring for the whereabouts of their offspring anyway.
“Three!” Redgrow yelled.
“Oh that is impressive,” Carmalot replied. He rapidly shot two more orc’s with his longbow.
“Leave some for me,” Redgrow said.
Redgrow picked up the orc from the pile in front of him and hurled it at the remaining two. They stumbled to the ground over their fallen companion and were quickly disposed of by Carmalot.
“Hey, those two go on my count. They were sitting ducks!” Redgrow yelled at the elf.
“I suppose you can have them. I already added fifteen to my tally this morning.”
“Didn’t we agree that the one that fell on top of me after you shot it was mine? I did twist its neck you know.”
“Fair enough. You really should learn how to use a crossbow or something you know. Half the time there are no orc’s left by the time I’ve spotted them.”
“Well leave them for me. I like a good fight.”
Carmalot pushed a fallen orc over.
“Oh dear,” he said. “It looks like this one has ruined your helmet.”
Redgrow caught the damaged piece of armour as Carmalot tossed it too him.
“That’s it, you, you...elf.” he said. “All the booty is mine.”
“And you said that we elves thought about sex all the time.”
Redgrow’s face turned bright red and he shook uncontrollably.
The Fringe is open to submissions of poetry, flash fiction and short stories of any genre. Stories accepted will be published online in our Ezine and also in the monthly pdf magazine.
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We are open to unpublished and previously published stories up to 40,000 words in length.
About The Fringe Magazine
Here at The Fringe Magazine we publish Short Stories, Flash Fiction, Poetry in all genres and reviews of books, roleplay games, music and movies.
Our variety seems to be hiting the mark with over 100,000 views of our Online Magazine with a good spread across all articles.
Our variety seems to be hiting the mark with over 100,000 views of our Online Magazine with a good spread across all articles.?xml:namespace>From surveys we've conducted, our readers are like most people and enjoy reading all kinds of books, both fiction and non-fiction.
With over 350 readers visiting our site each day, we listen to the voice of the masses and try and procure books in all genres to review. To date, we have reviewed over 600 books, including; non-fiction reference, music, art, photography, gardening, cooking, Self Help, architecture, design, biographies and roleplay games.
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