"They will sing song of your courage for generations you know." Murmured scared old Braid. Miller looked down the small rise to the massive elven host waiting to sweep his little militia aside for what ever reason it was they were there for. For two whole days and nights his tiny force of two hundred village men and boys had somehow held off the massive host. He didn't know how it was possible, against such skilled foes that marched with such discipline and fought with such ferocity…

"Aye…" answered Miller gruffly, grimacing at the wound across his ribs.

"You know they have named some of you…" said the old mage "The Bear, Long Bow, Two Foxes…yes you have their respect."

"Look…I'm not after respect, my job is to hold this here hill at all costs an that's what I'm gonna do." He growled using his spear as a source of support.

"Look at you Miller…you can hardly stand…look at you men, their all used up, you can't ask anymore of them…Damnit Miller!" Old Braid turned red in the face with anger "You and your fools honor you and your damned flag!" he growled pointing a knobby old finger at the red cloth with a black paw print of a wolf painted upon in.

"This aint bout the flag either."

"Than what the hell for!?"

"Defiance."

"That's it?!"

"Yes…to spit in the face of he who would kill me and gloat, to go down with steel in my hands simply to say that I do not except helplessness, who ever wants to wait for the soldiers to come rescue them can keep hiding, I'll fight for myself."

"Does your son think the same way!?"

"Yes." Braid fumed for a moment

"Fool…you bloody fool…you wont be able to hold them off anymore…this is your last stand you know."

"Yes."

"You won't retreat?"

"Never." Below the hill that could hardly be called a hill war horns blared and orders shouted in the elven tongues echoed through the valley.

Limping away from Braid Miller called out

"Alright boys, its been an honor to stand with ya, lets die like men!" he stopped for a moment to look over his little force of two hundred neighbors, sons and farmers before bellowing "Good god its been an honor! Now FOOORM UUUP!" Even the wounded stood if they could, those that couldn't were given the few cross bows left, some were even only standing by the strength of a comrade holding them up. Presenting a mismatched collection of shields and boar spears the little rag tag army of men gathered with such pride around their poorly made banner to look down at the sea of silver clad elves in long ranks marching towards them.

"Archers!" called Miller, a two score long bows…good long bows made of good yew drew arrows to ear

"Fire!" two score arrows flew forward into targets that moved much slower then the deer they were used to firing at…

"Well lads…we've tried everything else…" said Miller…Miller the farmer…Miller the husband and father… "Lets give em a going away present CHHHARRRRRGE!" with a war cry that awoke the primal violence inside his little army they charged down hill to crash into to elven lines……..

Herothi sat upon his war horse in silvery armor and a plumed helm. His face was grim.

"Such courage for humans…"

"Aye my lord, an honorable foe indeed…they weren't soldiers…you would think their kings would protect their people." Murmured his second in command standing beside his horse.

"See that they are buried with honor."

"Aye my lord." Herothi knew his second would do just that…he had been wounded and left for dead on that hill side, his weapon lost. The human leader had walked down the hill and helped him up from under his dead horse, clapped him on the back and told him to rejoin his army that that day was not his day to die…the human would be remembered indeed…

Days later cresting a hill Herothi looked down to see a small village with no wall, no moat, not even a fence but at its center flew a red banner with a black wolfs paw gathering in the fields stood an even smaller army of the elderly and woman folk shouldering shovels and pitch forks they looked proud…so proud, the pride in knowing their brothers…their husbands and sons had held off the mighty elven host for days. Drawing his sword and resting it on his shoulder Herothi looked back over his army, and then back down at the rabble below him….

"Commander…sound the….sound the retreat."