[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Ambarturion scowled at Thorvel’s retreating back. It was madness to stop the battle now: the orcs were scattered and leaderless, unaware still of their danger and more bent on booty and pillage than ordered combat. With swift action, the Elves could destroy them one by one, rather than face an ordered attack. His disdain for these Mirkwood scouts grew even more. So used are they to hiding in the trees and shooting their opponents from beneath the cover of darkness that they have lost the will to face them in open combat. He tightened his grip on his sword and paused, lost in a moment of rare indecision.

As though he had been waiting for just such an opportunity, Megilaes spoke. “Perhaps Thorvel is right, Master. If we rejoin the others we can take counsel for a more ordered defence.”

He had expected a tart retort, and was surprised when Ambarturion replied to him in an even manner. “Thorvel is not right, I fear. At the moment the orcs are dispersed into small groups and could be easily engaged by us. We could destroy half of them or more before they were even aware of their danger. Retreating now gives them as much time to regroup as it does us.” Ambarturion looked about, having already decided to press ahead with the attack, when he saw through the trees three Elves making their way for the meeting point described by Thorvel. Ambarturion cursed beneath his breath. “Come Megilaes; it would appear that we must follow the plans of our Mirkwood brethren.” There was little point in continuing the battle alone.

They ran back through the trees and saw no orcs, but their cries were all about them. Once, as they passed by a small growth of shrubs, Ambarturion sensed the sickly gaze of two orcs in hiding, but as they seemed more intent on avoiding combat he passed them by. They found the others waiting for them where Thorvel said they would be. Coromswyth had bound the wounded Elf’s shoulder and now stood with her blades drawn. No matter what Ambarturion said to her now, she would not be left behind in the battle. He smiled at that with grim satisfaction. The two new Elves with Thorvel were a surprising pair to Ambarturion. One bore about him a deep despair that Ambarturion did not have the time to think upon, although it was clear that this Elf was the nominal leader of the group. The other seemed in equal parts angry and dismayed by his leader’s manner. Ambarturion began speaking quickly.

“We haven’t much time. The orcs will soon realise that we have escaped and that their captain is dead. They will then seek to recapture or kill us rather than return to their masters with news of their failure. Now that we have withdrawn from the battle they will have time to take counsel for the attack, so we must do the same. You three,” he said pointing to Thorvel and his companions; “you are still armed with bows. When the orcs come, shoot as many as you may. The rest of us will engage them here, in the midst of the trees where their advantage in numbers might be lessened.”