The Orc - Know your enemy, love your enemy, kill your enemy. Yet never cease seeking for the enemy who might be a friend

Dashing violently through the trees,
The figure in horror clumsily flees,
Its eyes tear around, but no safety it sees,
Then a log sends it tumbling to its knees

Trunks split into shadows, dark silhouettes,
Whose triumph streams out in menacing jets,
They pose lightly, smirking slightly, and one lets
The figure arise, terror painted in its eyes,
As on its chances of escape it bets

Arrows slip into bows in smug satisfaction,
As snarls rasp in a throat now ready for action,
And a foot prepared to run slips forward a fraction,
It will fight, but still hopes for a lucky distraction

The elves look on this orc, darkness's child,
Who'd dared to enter Lorien, flawless and wild,
Whose life of black strife will now be exiled
Into harsh death, where no tender breath,
Will make him forget the woods he defiled

How strange it is, that fate should decide,
To allot a good heart to a rough, evil hide,
No saint was this orc, or to kindness quite tied,
Yet between torture and mercy-for good he had tried

Once again the bows creak, wanting their glory,
Anxious to end this unusual orc's story,
They didn't know, couldn't see his memory,
Of never playing, managing the staying,
Of desires for the brutish, gruesome and gory

Yet elves were renowned for being kind,
What if they could forgive, compassion find?
To their service his power he'd gladly bind,
And hope once more his appearance lined

"Gotl-" he began, which "forgive"really means,
Yet to the woodfolk it's in the tongue of all fiends,
Arrows flit, into him slit, and black slowly streams
Down his body it drools, into quiet little pools,
Then around him in rippl'ing waves it teams
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The elves turn away, in delicate silence,
Never dreaming of what they have done,
For if knowledge arrived, though purely by chance,
It would rend and rip, a knife madly spun

So they walk on in innocence, talking perhaps,
And one wanders along a new thought,
That maybe one day an orc's evil will lapse,
In the ways of good he'd be taught

All the rest laugh it off, what a stupid idea,
That one bound to evil could be turned,
Yet the elf returns to the blood-stained tree
And wonders if that one could have learned

And that is all.

Lily's Note:

There is good in everyone--you just need to know how to find it.

Thank you for your time

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