Esgallhugwen had been witnessing what Lira and the Hobbits were going through but could do nothing being engaged with more than one enemy around her. She knew who had killed Gorby's brave pony, who took his own life, rearing up just in time to save his master from the cursed arrow.
She galloped up to him and drove her terrible blade into his heart "a heart for a heart, though yours is of lesser kind" she cried as arrows went whizzing by her head. Her horse reared with a resonating roaring scream knocking men clean off their mounts.
A number of spears were sticking up from the ground, failed casts that never had a second chance at their target. Esgallhugwen plucked one up from the ground and with an awe-inspiring cry of her own threw it at close range.
The cruel twisted metal spike struck the target's throat with great force, but missing the voice box he choked and spluttered as he slid off his horse, Eswen rode up to his fallen body, blood foamed from his mouth, she took the spear from his throat and his life with it.
The mangled bronze glowed with crimson blood with the last failing rays of the sun, the stars arose from their deep blue cloak and the moon cast ominous light on all the figures who were engaged in battle. Eswen threw the spear one last time leaving it embedded in the man's chest.
Then a second wave crawled over the hilltops, after all they could only come in so many at a time. Esgallhugwen drove at them with fear and power as a shepherd drives cattle to the slaughter.
She was full of wrathful tyrant-like slaughter, but the thought in her heart was pure she must do her best to keep any further men from getting to the Hobbits and Lira who were sitting in a rather tall sickly tree, susceptible to arrows and perhaps spear throws. Lumiel was doing her share taunting and harrasing the men trying to distract them from their exposed companions.
And now Eswen had been surrounded by four horsemen, with notched blades and tempers full of hate against her for killing many of their own men, she taunted them further "hah, you dare brandish your swords at me when they are barely sharp enough to cut a loaf of bread! You fools! My sword will play your ribs like a violin and you will weep to see an end to that sweet melody"
With that she struck the one to her left in the head, dodging the swing that came at her next, parrying yet another, she managed to miraculously dispatch all four without injury to herself.
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