The rain was pouring on me. It feels like swords. The rocks have gotten slippery. My feet could barely hold their place. I feel the wind pounding me. I hear the thunder roar. Malachi pushes me up the mountain as well. It's dark. I can't really see ahead. I move up the mountain slowly.

"Come now brother. We are elves. We are far superior to any other race of Middle Earth." He says.

"Easy for you to say." I point out. 

He shoves me again. It feels like I'm walking on spikes. He pushes me harder. 

"Keep walking brother." He says.

I let out a shaky breath. I know it's best to agree. Yet... the rain is clouding my vision. The rocks are slippery like slime. I push myself up. It is exhausting fighting the wind, the rain, and gravity. I feel like at any moment, any second my feet will give way, and I'll tumble down the mountain on top of a small party of orcs.  He pushes me again. I cough. 

"Hmm..." He looks down at my feet.

They were starting to bruise.

"Walk it off brother." He pushes me again.