================== Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Late Morning < About 10:11 AM >
IC day is: Oranor <Sun-day>
IC date is: 7 Rhiw <Winter>
Moon phase: Waxing Crescent <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 17 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3041>
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RL time: Tue Sep 04 15:44:01 2007
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Northern Fences of Lorien
The rolling foothills of the northwest come to and end here in this river valley, nestled up against the wide Anduin river
to your east, and the sprawling forest to your south. This region is called the Northern Fences of Lorien, for it forms the
border to the legendary Golden Wood, whose boughs you could soon be travelling beneath, should you venture any further
southward. As you look into the dense forest growth which begins only a few dozen yards into the woods, you recall the
legends which bespoke of the fateful one-way journeys creatures of evil intent undertook when they chose to desecrate that
realm...

A well-concealed hithlain ladder hangs near the trunk of one of the mellyrn, some distance above the ground. It looks
possible to climb up to it.

Contents:
Galharth
Lostiriel
Maglind
Nerggish
=====================================================================

The sun is high in the sky, a fragile lemon-colored disc heralding the coming of noon. Where time ends and forest begins,
the first snows have fallen, melted, and watered the roots with their tears.

The path that leads deeper into Lorien is shadowed and untrodden, and it is carefully, though not obviously watched: a shape
flickers here, there, among the flapping golden leaves; a longbow dangles from a branch; a pair of eyes glints in the dark.

Approaching from behind, moving slowly with caution, the Tailor finally catches up with his companion. The blood from the
wound at his jaw is now dried, but it creates a strange coloration at the edhel's neck. "Have you found anything?" Galharth
whispers. "Surely something lurks. I can not imagine a lone beast would travel outside of a pack."

As the crafter speaks in his soft tones, his eyes scan the landscape, searching for something, anything that might spring
forth in surprise.

Pressed into the forest that overlooks the path leading into Lorien, a figure waits in the shadows, blue-grey eyes peering
out like twin beams of light. Her breath is light, but speeds slightly as she hears a noise, very slight, nearby. Her focus
grows more intent as she gazes forth, waiting, searching, and she leans forward slightly to get a better view, arms wrapped
around a tree as she peers beyond it. But so intent is she, that Lostiriel does not notice her foot slipping on the wet
ground, and she suddenly loses her footing, falling forward abruptly, and as she holds to the tree tightly to keep from
toppling forward, a slight cry escapes her throat.

"Something is there," says Maglind, almost casually. He tosses something to the tailor: a clean cloth, a tangle of bandages,
a flask of water. "Could you find its tracks?"

The Elf dangles his boots under the branch, peering unconcernedly at the dark. "Who's there? Where are you?"

Reaching up, Galharth catches the items tossed down, and it takes him no prompting to wet the cloth. "There are several
tracks, much like the beasts tracts that attacked me to the north." the clothier whispers as he reaches up with the cloth to
clean the wound upon his jaw.

When the noise is heard to the south, the crafter freezes and tucks the dampened cloth into the pocket of his cloak.
Silently, as Maglind calls out, he reaches to place a firm grip upon the hilt of his sword. "Answer!" he calls out,
nervously prompting for an answer to the Guards question.

Righting herself, Lostiriel stands up and let's go of the tree, breath catching as she realizes that she has given away her
presence. Her brow furrowes as she continues searching with her eyes, her ears catching the sound of two voices. Instantly,
relief floods her as she recognizes them to be the voices of Maglind and Galharth, and she moves out of the shadows,
"Maglind? Galharth?"

Maglind sighs and settles back, nestling into the branches of the mallorn. "Lostiriel? I thought we parted at the borders.
The catapult is burnt."

A curl of smoke, rising beyond the tops of the trees, is silent witness on the plains of Anduin.

Stepping from his hiding spot under the trees, Galharth reveals himself to the wandering elleth. "Lostiriel? Join us, take
to the brush or you may be spotted by whatever lurks." the clothier calls out softly as he waves her towards his patch of
brush. Stepping back into hiding, he glances upwards towards the Warden. "Do we remain safe? Has anything moved?"

Hidden in a small copse of trees away from the main forest is a small group of travelling orcs. Fending off the sunlight,
they wait for the fall of darkness to cause any trouble. Seems trouble has found it's way to them this time though. As elves
trip and talk under the boughs of the golden wood, one orc on watch takes notice.

He waves a silent hand at a few others nearby. His strides take him very close to Durbum and he whispers as silent as death,
"Your bow. Let us see what we can shoot." Drawing his own bow the orc squints through the harsh daylight, creeping to the
edge of the brush.

Moving quickly to the hiding spot, Lostiriel replies to Maglind, "Well, we did part there, and yes I can see the smoke. But
I wondered how the two of you would fair and...well... Galharth," she asks, staring at his jaw, "What happened to you?" Her
eyes gaze at his face for a moment, but quickly dart away, a strange feeling of uneasiness moving over her. "Something about
this...reminds me of..." But her voice trails off and she sighs, "Anyway, how did it fair for you two, and what happened to
your jaw?"

Walking forward from the camp, Korzushk approaches the group of orcs and says in a soft hoarse voice, "Does you see the tree
huggers?" he had seen the group leave and followed to see if he could be of assistance.

"I don't think we were seen," replies Maglind to Lostiriel, beckoning her into the denser forest. "Galharth found his enemy
on his own. I don't know what happened."

One hand slips stealthily to the curve of his bow, but nothing is noticed; nothing happens.

He may have followed to see if he could be of assistance as well, or he might just be out to rob the dead. Unk shambles
along in the wake of Korzushk, keeping silent as he can as he peers around a bit suspiciously.

Durbum moves carefully and slowly, it's harder to be sneak and sly when you can see as well as usual. He does hear the words
spoken to him though, and unstraps the bow from his back carefully being as quiet as possible. He tries to find a spot where
the accursed sun is out of his eyes, as he will hit nothing where he is, he finally decides on a spot. He turns towards the
others and nods. He finds an arrow and places it into the string.

Reaching up a hand, the crafter lightly touches the cut upon his jaw. "Uruk. I was set upon by one whilst Maglind was away."
Glancing to the north, he shakes his head. "It was a strange beast. Weak compared to what we've faced before. Perhaps it was
a runt."

Glancing upwards towards the Warden, he waves him down. "Lead us Warden, we're near to home so certainly it's safe to travel
the last length in view."

The black cloaked Nerggish also notches an arrow to his bow. His eyes narrow as he squints as well. His hushed voice travels
to his close companions, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" A pause as he continues to look. The low voice continues in the language
of the orcs as he steps forward just a bit more, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>"

Suddenly a piercing howl erupts from the camp as some cruel dog tortures yet another snaga carrying his stew.

Drawing forth a scimitar, Korzushk takes a step forward and says, "I's crunch them when theys find us. They's not coming
back alives."

Eyes widening, Lostiriel listens to Galharth's story with a faint shudder, pressing herself further into the shadows. "Ah, I
see... Well, I should hope we haven't been seen... Do you think it safe to move out into view?" Suddenly, ears catching
something foul, she freezes, looking from Maglind to Galharth, a slight tremor racing down her frame.

Unkpulls out the dagger he's somehow snuck past the observations of the Dogs around him. He grunts quietly, but remains
otherwise silent.

The warden shrugs and leaps from the high branches, landing softly on the damp ground. His back is turned fully on the
watching enemy as he moves forward. "Lostiriel's right. I'll get a ladder to pull us into the trees, and we can go above the
undergrowth then."

Maglind jerks his head about at the howl. "So they are near," he hisses, moving one hand closer to shelter, herding his
companions backward.

Looking on to the elves in the distance, Durbum licks his crusted lips, and lets only slightly disturbing smile crack over
his face, he looks over a moment "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" he says as softly as possible hoping the wind and outside noise
will disguise it.

"They's be gone by then," Korzushk says, moving forward. "If we's wants fresh meat, we's gots to do it now."

"I trust Maglind's view, I'm....." Galharth suddenly falls silent in his reply to the Courier as his eyes grow wide at the
howl. In an instant, he reaches for his sword and draws it forth. "Not only near, but close. Can you smell them?" the
clothier hisses nervously.

"Drop the ladder, quickly!" he calls out as he steps around Lostiriel. Turning to face her, he frowns as he says. "When it
drops, go up quickly, and ready your bow."

As the howl breaks out, Nerggish mutters under his breath, cursing the warriors in thsi group. Did he not try to teach them
some sense just the other night? With a shrug his eyes finally detect something tangible. A form falling from a tree. TWING!
The bowstring snaps forward with a sharp retort, propelling the arrow forward at the warden.

The black clad orc shakes his head as he lets fly, muttering to Durbum, "Yeah. Cept the stinkin' dogs think torturing snagas
and killin' each other is fun. Wait till Grishnakh finds out about this." Another arrow is produced and strung, red eyes
watching the trees.

Nerggish launches an arrow...
Nerggish's bowshot hits Maglind, lightly wounding him.

"Who's ever don't have bows, comes with me and we's distract them while you's guys shoot," Korzuskh mutters to the group.
"More confusion equals more blood."

"Very, very near!" Lostiriel gasps, horror flooding her in a sickening mixture of fear and the smell of something foul. She
falls ever further into the shadows, but Galharth's words soon register and she nods. "The ladder...yes the ladder..." Her
eyes lift upward and she waits for it to fall, her face paling as the sound of an arrow whistles through the air.

Nerggish scowls grimly at Korzuskh. He states quite simply, "Go ahead. None of these other warriors will move unless the
Tek'rak orders it! This is a SCOUTING mission. We will be slaughtered!"

Unk snorts quietly as Nerggish fires his bow at the elves. His first reaction is to charge out of the cover he is under, and
he takes a step or two forward, but something gets the better of him as he starts to slink the long way around towards the
Elven position, "We run across, those dirty elves shoot us, they will. Best to sneak."

"How abouts I go's teach them other dogs at the camp how to shut up!" Korzushk says, then without another word he storms
back to camp, ready to get the remaining orcs there to be silent.

Like a silvery web the elven ladder falls, dropped by unseen hands. Above, there is the creak of readying bows.

The orcish arrow finds its home in elven flesh, below the leather sleeve of Maglind's arm. The Elf roars in pain, pushing
out at Galharth and Lostiriel as if to hurry them onto the ladder, and spins to face the foothills.

"You again?! Who calls this time?" Quick as wrath, a grey-fletched arrow springs from his bow, glinting in the morning,
somewhere toward the copse of trees.

An elven arrow quivers in a tree just a foot from Nerggish and quite close to his bow wielding counterpart. He mutters to
Durbum, "Ya know. I think they can see better than us."

It might not be on the orders of the Tek'rak, but Unk continues forward, keeping low in the brush until he is nearly upon
the Elves in an attempt to cut them off from their ladder, and give the scouting party a bit more time to snipe the Quendi.
He suddenly pops up from the underbrush with a roar and jumps at Lostiriel, dagger swinging for the fair one's midsection.

His point becoming moot quite quickly after he speaks shrugs, Durbum quickly takes aim at one of the fleeing elves. He
quickly pulls the string back on his bow taking a moment to make sure the light it out of his eyes. He listens to what is
going on around him, but keeps his focus finnaly releasing his arrow at his target

An elven arrow quivers in a tree just a foot from Nerggish and quite close to his bow wielding counterpart. He mutters to
Durbum, "Ya know. I think they can see better than us." With a quirked brow he lets fly again, siming for the group of elves
he can somewhat discern. Then, with a nervous glance back at the still high sun he moves swiftly to his right, into thicker
brush.

Nerggish launches an arrow...
Nerggish's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

When the ladder drops, Galharth waves the Courier towards it. "Hurry, as soon as you're up, then I'll follow." The Tailor
ducks down as an arrow flies and strikes the Warden above. "Maglind!"

Arrows are exchanged and yet it seems only the first found a home. "Hurry Lostiriel, into the trees!"%rAlas, his words are
for not as something appears in their haven of brush. He blinks several times, as if in hesitation as to what to do with
this attack. For those first few moments, he leaves the Courier to either take on her attacker or to escape into the tree.

Strange memories of her last terrifying encounter flood through Lostiriel's mind, creating a strange
flood of emotions, which crash and recede like a wave, leaving only a void, filled with a strange numbness... Her hands
reach for the ladder and she begins pulling herself up, but is suddenly alerted to danger by the sound of something crashing
through the brush. She begins slipping, and as she does so, Durbum's arrow flies just above her head, but she is sliding out
of that danger and into another, for down below, Unk awaits. His aim is accurate, but only slightly so, for his dagger
grazes across her midsection, leaving a rip in her dress and drawing forth a stream of blood from a mild cut. Her lips part
in shock and pain, and she drops down for a moment, grabbing her own dagger, but she does not further the attack, but rather
staggers slightly backward.

Unk seems to be attempting to keep Lostiriel between him and the archers hidden up in the trees, and for the time being it
would appear he's succeeding. The few shots that are fired in his direction miss, though it is a very close thing. The orc
considers for a moment, and then tries another attack upon the female elf, this time attempting to slash diagonally across
her chest.

"Lostiriel!" Maglind yells, lending a sparing glance backwards. "Galharth! Drive him away!"

As arrows zip overhead, Maglind's piercing gaze rakes the trees. Here -- there -- a movement catches his eye, he notches an
arrow to the string, sights momentarily, and with gritted teeth releases it at the target: Nerggish.

Maglind launches an arrow...
Maglind's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Nerggish notices the orc who has gotten away. He sighs loudly and seems torn. Giving a glance at Durbum he says
quietly, "Cover me with sword or bow. I'll retrieve that one and we'll run from here. Can't afford to lose any more." With a
nod he fires off one more arrow before dropping his bow to the ground and darting on the same route that Unk had taken.

Somewhere in the light camp someone organizes a retreat and the orcs left start to filter away. This leaves Durbum,
Nerggish and Unk alone to fend for themselves.

Nerggish launches an arrow...
Nerggish's arrow flies wide, doing no harm.

Any hesitation that might have been is quickly gone, and the Tailor steps forward with his longsword held at ready. "Leave
her!" Galharth shouts in Sindarin, with narrowed eyes and an angry posture. "Enough blood has been drawn this day."

Stepping closer to the knife wielder, he attempts to catch the beasts attention. "Fight back Lostiriel, or flee!"

Durbum growls under his breath as his first shot narrowly misses his target. The attempting to be hidden orc scout pulls
another from his quiver, as the elf presents himself as a target and fires on the other bowmen. The orc swiftly places the
bow to his sting, and pulls back the string hard before taking careful aim, and finally allows the arrow to fly. He only
than turns "Gah i'd agree!" he calls to the other

Durbum launches an arrow...
Durbum's bowshot hits Maglind, moderately wounding him.

Amid the pain and shock, a new emotion flares into life--anger. Lostiriel takes advantage of the few
steps she has taken to move herself further away from Unk, quickly moving to the side to avoid this new attack and, gritting
her teeth, she moves suddenly forward as Unk is in mid-swing and, with Galharth moving forward to face the attacker,
Lostiriel thrusts her dagger at Unk's side.

The first rule of knife fighting is: expect to get cut. As Lostiriel's dagger rips a gash in his side, letting
black blood flow, Unk grunts but does not appear to be too preturbed by the gash, though he does lower his arm to slightly
cover the exposed flesh. As Galharth takes a step forward, he turns his head to bark at the elf in his black tongue, "BACK!"
He then attempts a feint against Lostiriel, attempting to get her off balance.

Nerggish quickly gets to the spot of the encounter. His pitch black cloak fluttering out behind him as he runs. The
orc seems light on his feet and nimble. More so than most of his kin. His hand reaches down to a belt where four daggers are
attatched. With hardly a thought, the personnal guard of Grishnakh flicks his wrist sharply. One dagger takes flight towards
the midsection of the female elf as he rolls by.

With a curious looking grin on his face, Nerggish eyes up Galharth. He speaks softly to the elf as he draws another
dagger, "Come now. Leave my friend be." The left hand reaches back to a small shield and that too is held to the front.
Dancing softly on light feet in front of the elf, he waits.

The second arrow finds the warden, lodging between armor and collarbone. Slowly he turns, face tightly schooled, bleeding
freely. "Come," Maglind grates between his teeth, stepping slowly toward the ladder with a hand on his longsword, "let my
friends be."

"Well done Lostiriel!" Galharth calls out as he narrows his gaze upon the knife wielding beast. The grip held on the hilt of
his longsword is tightened and a slight rise in the firstborn's elbow hints of a coming strike. This, however is not to be
as yet another creature swiftly appears.

"Fine," Galharth says in common tongue, "I'll take you instead." Moving forward towards this new threat, he swings his
weapon outwards, aiming at the creatures knife weilding arm.

Galharth attacka Nerggish with his Longsword...
Nerggish dodges his attack.

At the sight of blood, Lostiriel feels a strange sensation, slightly relieved, slightly sickened, but
mostly desperate. She tries to continue her attack, but it does not work, for Unk's trick works well and she loses her
balance, falling forward. And yet this proves to be somewhat useful, for it causes Grishnakh's dagger to miss its target.
Her breath explodes from her as she attempts to roll away from Unk, one hand gripping her dagger, the other attempting to
push herself up.

Nerggish's grin doesn't dissipate in the slightest as another orc steps forward, this one already bleeding. He
looks a little confused, almost absentmindedly getting his arm away from the sword as he takes a step back, "What? We just
want to be on our way!" He smiles sweetly ( yellow fangs and all) as he eyes both elves....then he moves.

Throwing his cloak up to his right at Maglind, Nerggish comes forward. He darts swiftly towards galharth. The short
blade in his hand knifes forward with a flash in the sun. Straight for the guts it is aimed. Even as he attacks he spins to
keep both elves in his vision

Nerggish attacks Galharth with his Dagger!...
...and he misses!

Unk grunts a little as Lostiriel falls for his feint, and then swings his non-dagger weilding fist at her face. With her
falling forward he adjusts a little, though he is still keeping an eye out for arrows zipping in his direction.

"<Sindarin> You know I'm a joke with a sword," sighs Maglind in his own smooth tongue, skidding back as the cloak blooms in
his face. Resignedly, the warden hovers on his toes, watching for the orcish archer Durbum -- but his sword hand, spattered
with drying blood, is ready on the hilt.

Stepping to the side, the Uruk's aim misses, though the movement sends the firstborn's cloak fluttering. Turning swiftly,
Galharth brings his longsword swinging forth, aiming for the beasts shoulder. "Why leave, when you can die now. Or at the
very least, take back a memory to show your friends."

Galharth attacks Nerggish with his Longsword...
Galharth's attack against Nerggish mildly wounds him!

Durbum looking from far away he knows that with this sun, it may not be the best idea for arrows at this point. He straps
the bow onto his back once more stepping up from his hidden position. He begins moving towards his before bow target. As he
moves his hand is kept down ready to pull the weapon when he is within range.

Pain explodes in Lostiriel's face as Unk's fist makes sharp contact with her, his aim hitting just below
her eye in a spot that begins to instantly darken, turning a sickening shade of blue. For a moment, her vision goes black,
and she feels the world spin slightly, as though she is travelling further and further away from the scene... Then,
suddenly, her eyes widen and the light begins flooding back in and she desperately tries to stand, digging her dagger into
Unk's leg, using this leverage to help her regain her footing.

Nerggish literally shrugs off the blow. He can't quite shrug completely out of the way though. The sound of metal
striking metal bursts out as his armor absorbs the impact. Still the blow slices through a bit of his cloak and this doesn't
seem to please him. The shield goes up high at the face of Galharth, followed by the dagger on a much lower trajectory. More
towards the....groin.

Nerggish attacks Galharth with his Dagger!...
...and he hits! Ouch! Galharth has been mildly wounded!

A knife in one's leg is never an enjyoable experience, but for Unk at least, it gives him a chance to
reciprocate by trying to slide his blade between Lothiriel's ribs as she pulls herself upwards. His teeth are gritted, and
it appears he is using all of his willpower to keep from fleeing under the pain that he is recieving from the elf.

The threat of bowshot is gone for the moment; Maglind turns smouldering eyes upon the black-clad Nerggish. "You play foul,"
he calls, drawing his longsword with an eager ring. "Take your 'friend' and go. Perhaps the guards above will be merciful."

If it is a bluff, it is quite a desperate one, for the grip on the sword is shaky, and the guards in the talan above are
few.

Blinded by the Uruk's shield, Galharth attempts to move to the side, so to gain a better view of his opponent. The strike
received is one that brings forth shock. The dagger strikes his chainmail, and yet the tip is able to land upon his inner
thigh, driving the crafter back to protect vital parts.

His face colors slightly with anger. Opening his mouth as if to speak, the Tailor ends up growling deep within his throat as
he strikes once more, aiming as if to take the beasts head.

Galharth attacks Nerggish with his Longsword...
Galharth attacks against Nerggish moderately wounds him!

At first relieved that her attack seemed to be working, Lostiriel pushes herself further upward, but as
Unk's knife begins sliding between her ribs, she screams in agony. She rips the knife from his leg, and out of sheer pain,
begins a frantic attempt to slice at his shoulder and across his back, hoping that this will cause him to retract the arm
that is holding his dagger.

Unk did not leave his dagger in her ribs for long, and as an arrow grazes past his shoulder, Unk realizes that he may have
overstayed his welcome. With barely a grunt to Nerggish, he turns and flees back the way he came, with a noticable limp in
his gait.

Durbum the evil grin back on the orcs face at the words of the elf as he charges in to close the distance. The warrior only
than unstraps his axe, and grabs it into both hands as he moves readying it for battle, this slows him down only a little.
He doesnt pay to much mind to those above as thus far the guards there have troubled him little. He stops waiting for the
perfect moment. He lashes out but with words. "Make your move than filth!"

The dagger wielding member of the black guard winces as he ducks, knowing he can't get completely out of the way.
CLANG! The sword bangs against his helmet HARD. His eyes roll for just a split second before he gets his bearing with a
glare. A trickle of black blood oozes down his forehead.

Giving a thankful nod at Durbum and seeing Unk flee, Nerggish too backs swiftly away. His voice is thick with
sarcasm, "Leave my friends alone." Out of range of the swords, his eyes glance up at the trees as he backpedals swiftly.

Maglind stands quite still, with red blood dripping slowly down the blade. "Let's go, Galharth," he whispers low to the
tailor. "I'll see that they leave quickly."

Breathing heavily, Galharth watches as the Uruk flee. A glance towards Maglind as he speaks and then to Lostiriel, results
in a frown. "They flee Maglind, and both Lostiriel and you are injured. Let us all go together." Pausing to confirm the
departure of the Uruk, he steps near the Courier. "Do you need help Lostiriel?" he asks gently.

A strange shooting pain begins ripping across Lostiriel's chest as Unk's dagger is removed, and she
drops to her knees as she watches him leave. Her hand lifts to touch the gash that has been ripped between her ribs, and at
the touch of warm blood, she moans slightly. "Galharth..." The words are very light, soft as the sound of dry leaves
rustling. Pain shoots through her head, and she discovers it hurts to move her eyes. "Help? No...I'm fine..." She attempts
to stand, but the world begins spinning again and she changes her reply, whispering, "Maybe a bit of help. Are you hurt? And
Maglind, are you alright?"

Durbum looking to the elf in front of him as it seems the rest of his kind flee. He lets out a laugh. "We will see." he
looks to the others but than backs away with the others knowing they are but a scouting party not meant to wage war yet.
When he is far enough he picks his pace up to catch up with the others going to lick there wounds.

Ignoring Durbum, Maglind turns his attention to the trees. "Get Lostiriel first," he says. "We need to get her to the field
hospital. And you?"

As he speaks, the warden glances at his skewered arm. The first arrow comes out, ripped carelessly from the torn leather
armor; the second shaft is more stubborn, and is working inward, tender to the touch.

One final glance at their surroundings offers Galharth confidence that they are now alone. Kneeling beside Lostiriel, the
Tailor frowns as he grasps the hem of his cloak. Ripping a strip from the bottom, he leans forth to bind the Couriers
wounds. "Sit for a moment Lostiriel and I'll bind your wounds before we head home." Pausing he glances at the elleth and
then to the Warden. "I'm fine and took a minor scratch upon my leg."

Satisfied that the elleth is cared for, even if with a temporary bandage, the Tailor rises to his feet and moves towards
Maglind. Reaching forth he lightly touches the area around the embedded arrow. Wincing as he inspects the damage, he frowns.
"I'm going to have to pull that out." Sincere concern reflects in the crafters eyes, "I'm sorry for the pain I'm going to
cause," He says as he reaches forth with one hand to grip the arrow, and the other hand to brace against the Warden. In a
swift motion, he pulls firmly.

Content to sit and let Galharth care for her wounds, Lostiriel sighs, "Well, I suppose it is only fair
that since you once ruined my cloak, I am now ruining yours." She winces as Galharth bandages her wounds, reaching down to
feel the cut on her midsection. "I am glad you did not suffer as badly this time, Galharth." She then watches as Galharth
cares for Maglind, finally closing her eyes as she waits, for this seems to relieve at least some of the pain throbbing in
her head.

"Ow," says Maglind weakly, frowning, stumbling forward with the arrow's pull. "Tailor turned guard turned healer," he
chuckles lightly, clapping a hand to the wound. "Thank you, Galharth."

Rummaging for bandages behind his belt, the warden looks up at the ladder. "To think they'd be this bold ... what drives
them? Craving for blood?"

Offering Lostiriel a gentle smile, he nods. "Fair is fair," the Tailor says with a wink, "Though I'd have rathered you not
be injured."

Turning back to the task at hand, Galharth looks at the freed arrow and then at the Warden. "Sorry," he whimpers softly at
the damage done. Sitting the arrow on the ground, the clothier reaches once more for his cloak. Another strip is torn from
the bottom. "Let me bind this and then we'll be off." Without waiting, the crafter carefully binds Maglind's arrow wounds.
With that done, he urges both injured to their feet and forward towards the safety of Lothlorien.