Feadhros watched intently from the high branches of a tree as Harlon cavorted about the camp, singing a song about the dirty rag that he had found on the ground. The scout was surprised that they had caught the Easterlings so early, for that very morning they had been many miles away, deep into Mirkwood. Now Feadhros crouched over the head of one, an arrow fitted to his bow, waiting for the right moment. Glancing above, he saw Lilebrian eyeing the men individually, looking for the best target. Jemel was flattened against the trunk of the same tree, her knives drawn, and Aniram circled above, waiting to dive. Thoriel and Garen lay on their stomachs behind a nearby bush. Feadhros looked at each of them while trying to keep an eye out for Harlon, who was now tumbling in the midst of the Easterlings, throwing out sarcastic compliments to each of them. One of them ran for the fool wielding a spear, but Harlon somersaulted out of his range. "Why sir, there's no need to be hostile! Can't you Easterlings handle a bit of foolery and fun?"
The man ignored the comment, still running at the fool... who tripped at precisely the wrong time. Falling flat on his face, Harlon did not see the man raise the spear above his head, about to bring it into his back. But Feadhros did, and he knew the moment was right. Releasing the arrow, he winced as it hit his target right below the shoulderblade. The man froze for a moment before he slumped to the ground and lay still.
**********
Rū-Sahn looked about in surprise as one of the men fell in a heap on the ground. His eye caught a glimpse of a winged figure in the sky, and he did a double-take. "The hawk spirit..." he gasped. "The elves are here!" he shouted for the entire camp to hear, running for his knife. At that moment Feadhros and Lilebrian, who were acting as backup distractions, leapt out of the tree. Feadhros looked back toward the remaining three. "Find Nuhrive and get her away from here... hurry! Good luck!" Now turning back to the angered tribe of Easterlings, Feadhros strung another arrow and readied himself for battle.
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That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
.................William Wordsworth
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