A groan escaped Maeralagos' lips as he straitened up from behind the boulder, clutching the arm that still ached spasmodically.
"I did," he said heavily. "He was not unarmed when I fired, not that I could see. He wanted to hurt us, he wanted to hurt my friend..." Maeralagos looked hazily at Telpeheled, whose expression was unreadable from where he stood. He looked back at the Easterlings. "Don't punish all for the deed of one. I wish for no grudge between our people. If Elven blood must be spilled in exchange for Easterling, let it be mine," Maeralagos flung his bow aside as he spoke, unslinging his quiver and casting it down beside it. He drew out his sword, raised it in front of himself briefly, then dropped it also, to the other side. Let them do what they would.
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" Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?"
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