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Not all the Elves had retreated. The small group of wounded, which the two brothers alongside Elwë and Andtuariel were protecting, were just being helped to their feet as the main body of Elves and Lossoth allies followed after the Captain. Annû heard the horn call that signaled the troops to pull back. He knelt down and hoisted one of the wounded up, putting the man’s arm across his shoulders. Elwë and his sister had already helped the rest of the wounded up and had turned to guide them toward the southern part of the shore.
‘Come, brother,’ Annû said, putting his hand on Carandû’s arm. ‘Let us make haste to join the others. These men need the services of the healer.’
‘Start toward where the rest of our group is headed,’ returned Carandû. Not taking his eyes off something in the distance, he shrugged off his brother’s hand and waved him on.
His gaze was on the one who had just shot at Luindal. ‘Foul men of Harad,’ he muttered. ‘Bedfellows still to Mordor’s shadow,’ he cursed, seeing the shaft graze his Captain’s arm.
The Elven warriors of Rivendell trained long in the uses of their weapons. And by the time he had been sent to escort the Lady Celebrian to the Havens, Carandû was already a master of the bow. He nocked an arrow quickly and drew back his longbow, murmuring a plea to Manwë as he did so.
'O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Firstborn in their need!
His shaft flew true and would have pinned the Southron dog between the shoulder blades, save for the quick jog to the left the Corsair captain made as he sidestepped a small group of dead men that lay in his way. Instead, Carandû saw the shaft nick the man’s right shoulder, then fall to the ground as the Corsair yanked it from him.
Face impassive, Carandû gazed a short time at the Corsair, then turned quickly on his heel and returned to help his brother and the others bring the wounded to safety.
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