[piosenniel]

Without giving thought to herself or her charges, the hobbit left the pack pony and the safety of the procession to Imladris, rushing headlong into the fray. Dodging this way and that to avoid the sparring enemies, she reached her former captor’s side, just as an orc raised his blade to finish him off, as if some wounded animal were left on the field. Enraged, Gilly ran thrusting the point of Dúlrain’s sword between the lacings of the creature’s leather armor, shouting, “His life is his own, and neither you nor your mistress will have it of him!”

Stout-hearted little mistress! Well done!