[Manelwen]

As he worked, the archers watched in interest, seeing him set thirty-six arrows in a quiver and hand it over to the nearest warrior. His sharp eyes looking them up and down as he set the precious arrows into their arms. "Be careful with them, use them sparingly and try to reuse them." He called out in a booming voice that echoed and reverberated off the walls of his shop.

His hands suddenly still over the quiver, they went up to touch his scar. It seared and made him wince, gritting his teeth as the pain ricochet down the left side of his body. "By the goddess." He brought his hand to cover the scar.

The nearest warrior gasped as Keldin fell to his knees, the pain soaring swiftly like Mandos' eagles fly in the skies. "Lord Keldin, are you alright?" He cried, leaning over to touch the shaking Elf.

"I-I do not know, son. But hurry and count those out." Keldin whispered, finding it hard for him to breath, like someone had stuck a knife in his back. "Thirty-six each." He pulled back his hand that covered the old knotted scar and gasped. His fingers were coated with thick red blood. It ran down his face and onto his tunic, like it had those so many years ago when he first recieved the wound. Could it be? Could she really be near? I thought I killed her. , he thought, panic tearing through the years of delicately laid walls of self-discipline. "Oh god no." He groaned, slumping to the floor, as he was pulled into the cold black void of unconsciousness.