[Estelyn Telcontar]

Merisuwyniel shot arrow after arrow, each released with deadly accuracy, often passing through one orc to pierce a second one. It did not occur to her that her amply-filled quivers should certainly be empty after a time, until she realized that the arrows felt different in texture and form than usual. A glance at Vogonwë, not far away from her, showed her that his arrows too were strangely made, though they flew just as quickly and certainly as ever. Yet there was no time to wonder as long as throngs of orcs poured forth from the fearful fortress.

After a time the enthusiasm of the orc troops had diminished noticeably and their onslaught was more hesitant. Merisuwyniel breathed deeply, her chest heaving in a most spectacular manner. She turned to look at her fellow Elven arrow-slinger and saw that he was staring behind them in bewildered consternation. She swung around in a whirl of flowing hair and divided skirt to gaze into – blackness! Though the daylight had not yet faded in front of them, a dim, dusky darkness had crept up behind them, casting fear into the hearts of the foes and wonderment into those of the Fellow/Galship. Branches were stretched out toward them, as if they were offered to them to be used as arrows.

“Whence cometh this strange wood?” asked the Elven maiden in astonishment.

“I called them!” rang out a voice, clear and proud, though rather wooden. “They are the Thorns, those trees that have reverted to aggressive attacking behaviour. They have come to avenge themselves on the Tree-Slayers and Burners, those run-burra-run, the orcs.

“Well, why are you all staring?” the Entish Bow asked. “Have you forgotten that I too can speak and that this is indeed my quest which you pursue? Did you think that I am merely a common, crude weapon? Do not underestimate the power of the Ents!”

Then their hearts were glad of the unexpected aid and they praised the Bow, saying, “Praise it with great praise!”

Several orcs had taken advantage of the pause in the fighting to approach with as much stealth as was possible, considering the warning effect of their stench. Quickly the company parted and pursued the foes into the trees, and they were never seen again.

Merisuwyniel turned back to face the enemies, looking across the battlefield into a pair of burning eyes that gazed at her. Her breath caught, her heart skipped a beat, then raced in wild elation even while she fitted another of the Thorns’ arrows to the Bow. She shook her golden tresses to dispel her momentary confusion, carefully aiming far to the left of those eyes. So intense had been her concentration during the battle that she had not even been aware of the fact that the Bow too sought its marks away from that familiar face.

Swords flashed, arrows flew, foes fell – the battle continued to rage around her, yet she was aware only of the unruly beating of her heart…