#meme: arrow

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Gwindor had been the first to break rank and in truth, Belenwen doubted there were many or any that could blame him for his reaction.  The amount of troops that followed him and broke upon the ranks of Orcs was proof that they did indeed agree with the reaction.  However, the host from Gondolin stood in their formation and watched the haphazard charge.  At first, it seemed as though things were going in their favor as orc after orc fell but then it seemed as if the ground itself opened up and belched forth countless more of the foul beings.  

Then Turgon gave the command and the might of Gondolin was unleashed upon the forces of Angband.

Their target was simple: Fingon.  If they could reach the guard and remaining forces the High King had brought to the battle, they could provide a more unified front and offense.  Many of houses had sent fighters: archers from the Swallows and Heavenly Arch to provide cover for those that fought with sword, spear, club or axe.  They operated well together and soon pierced the ranks of orcs and joined with their target.

Now it was time to endure.

Fingon and Turgon were well guarded even as the kings joined in the battle.  Belenwen was unaware of the status of the eastern host, her focus was resting within her immediate surroundings.  It was an ebb and flow of movement and in time, she ended up closer to Fingon than Turgon but she was equally prepared and willing to defend him or follow his command.  Never once did it occur to her that she might be recognized to him from their youth, she was hidden behind her helm as every other member of infantry present.  

Arrows flew, swords clashed and there was the screeching sound of armor being crushed and broken.  When there was the sudden volley of arrows, she reacted out of instinct and training.  Shield raised and pulling the nearest ally closer and beneath the protective covering.  In this case, it happened to be Fingon and other members of his guard did exactly the same.  

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Belenwen did not like the cold.  She had lost all fondness for ice and frozen lands long, long ago.  Given the reaction and countenance of Glorfindel throughout their trip further to the north and after they had set up their camp, it was obvious that he felt the same.  Fornost was not a kind or forgiving landscape.

It was hardly the first time they had fought together but never had they fought in such close company.  During their time in the First Age, they had served different houses and had been divided for it.  She had normally stood upon the front lines among the archers and with the Swallows while the Golden Flower had been among those that led charges.  Today, that had been the case initially.  She had stood upon the front line of archers and helped to relay the commands shouted from Glorfindel and Círdan as they commanded the forces that stood united against the Witch King of Angmar.  

Their forces combined with all others that stood together was leading to a very sound and resolute victory.  The orcs fell in far greater numbers than Man or Elf, but they did not fall without a fight.  

Glorfindel was easily seen among the other Elves there, even with his gleaming hair pulled back and hidden beneath his helm -- ah, he could be taught! -- simply for his height and the might of the Two Trees that was apparent in his bearing.  It made him a frightening foe but an alluring target for archers and swordsmen alike.

He was far more crucial to the battle than the likes of herself and Belenwen knew it.  When she saw him become a target and was near enough to him, she dove at him with her shoulder leading the way.  It was enough to tackle him out of the way even as the arrow lodged itself between two panels of her armor but the linked armor she wore beneath the plates and leather served its purpose to save her life.  Oh that was going to hurt tomorrow.

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It had been meant to be a simple hunt.  There had not been reports of fell creatures trickling down from the north or the mountains for two moon cycles now and the game had returned in full to the foothills once more.  The foul taint of war and dark creatures had been washed away with the change of the seasons.

It felt like the days of old, the days of her youth, when they would hunt together.  They were only missing the echoing, merry laugh of the Huntsman and his favored pupil.  It was too quiet without them … no, it was simply too quiet.  There were no birds singing in the trees, no barks and wheezes of squirrels or the rustle of smaller game moving through the brush and branches.  It was not simply the absence of booming laughter or passing snarky comments in friendly competition.  It was the absence of everything natural and the sudden presence of clattering armor and snarling voices, both orc and warg alike.

She heard Huan growl and snarl beyond a stand of trees and she abandoned her blind to rush through it to his side.  Even a true sprint had not been swift enough and by time she burst beyond the tree line, he was surrounded by the pair of warg and their riders.  It was not so many but they were smart, they were coming at him from either side and dividing his attention.

It was not difficult to dispatch of the riders from her position.  From there, Huan lunged at one with his massive jaws and the other warg was brought down with two more arrows.

They were not alone.

From the nearest hill, more broke over the crest and descended upon them and the pair of them were caught in the melee once more.  Belenwen worked her way closer to the mighty hound, providing him with cover as she could for fear of him being injured.  He had been lost to the world once before and given the opportunity to return, she did not wish to see it squandered and lost for a morning hunt gone awry.  However, he was a hound of Valinor and no mere canine to be faced as the warg quickly learned.  In the end, a few broke from the pack and made for the hills once more.

Huan was preoccupied with a warg, the two circling one another and clashing together time and time again.  Even with her aim, she was unable to find a shot that would work without putting him at risk.  The orcs did not share the concern as one arrow and then another embedded themselves within the thick hide of the warg as they tried to hit their white-furred mark.   Reaching for an arrow, she was met with an empty quiver and no way to hit her mark where he stood upon the hill.

Desperation took hold of her and she followed the first impulse that came to mind.  It all happened in an instant: the shudder inducing crunch of a snapped neck as Huan dispatched his foe but the twang of a bowstring being released.  Belenwen lurched closer, whirling to face him before she gave a less-than-graceful and unnatural jerk, pain contorting her expression.

"You forgot to mind your flank," her voice was calm and steady but there was no mistaking the dark arrow - a bodkin - that had pierced through the top of her shoulder above the collarbone.  No sooner had the words escaped her than did her legs give out under her.  The hissing, howling laugh of the orc fading was proof that it thought it had been successful and fled.

Urgent whispers rose among the guards.  "They've found our camp."

"Mama!"