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As they neared Weathertop a harsh din was raised of screams, clashing metal and the sound of ominous thudding that could only mean one thing.
"Trolls" Silrûth uttered harshley under her breath, she drove her horse hard over the hill, bow aimed and ready for whatever scene there was to behold. Her closest target was a Troll, his large scaly form looming over Aidwain.
With bowstring taught she let the arrow fly, a glimmering golden streak drove into the flesh of the Troll's arm and he went lumbering off in pain and confusion. A hail of arrows was sent after them, as fast as her skill could allow.
~*~*~*~*~*
She sat beside Aidwain on the hill, having grudgingly taken the poison leaves, she disliked using such devices to gain an upper hand in battle, but Trolls she despised even more. The leaves had a light fragrance when she rubbed them on her golden arrows, being careful not to get the toxic substance on her hands, she crushed them between a rock and the sharp metal edges.
Silrûth's face was a stern display of compassion, concentration and rage and for all her beauty and frail seeming features she was certainly more than able to seriously opppose her enemies. She placed her arrows carefully back into her quiver.
"And what are we to do now, now that we know what was behind these attacks as some of us may have feared. Many of us are wounded, shall we return back to Bree? Gather supplies, then begin the journey to Gondor where we report to King Elessar, or do we wait and find out more about these assailents?" Her tone was gentle, but her eyes may have betrayed her had they not been downcast tending to Aidwain's injured ankle.
She was sorely angry at what the Trolls and orcs had done to her companions, especially Aidwain who she knew the best.
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