Twilight was coming on fast, but the trail still held true. Fairlain moved quickly and silently as Nimrandir had taught her, using the shadows and flow of the land to mask her pursuit. Goblins tended to move in bands and these were no different.
The sky above her changed from a rose and golden hue to the clear and deepening blue of twilight. After climbing a steep embankment, she paused to get her bearings. Upon the next sloping hill she saw the faint glow as numerous campfires were being lit. One...two...four. It seemed fair to think there would be at least twenty of the foul creatures gathered around them. Fairlain reached behind her and by touch counted the arrows that remained in the quiver on her back. A heavy breath escaped her lips...not enough. Yet if she were to wait until most were asleep it would be possible to cull them to a manageable number. She sat on the neighboring hillside and waited as night ran its course, the stars watching overhead and the sound of marsh Neekers filling the air. Fairlain had not realized she was so close to the marshlands.
Two hours before dawn the sky began to lighten once more. Fairlain secured the straps to the quiver on her back and taking her bow in her hands began to move towards the goblin camp, arrow nocked and at the ready. As she drew nearer the first campfire she saw several figures sleeping on the ground, and only one lone goblin sat upright by the red flames. Good fortune, that. She drew the bow of the Galadhrim taut as she took aim. It was a clear shot and the arrow leapt forward with the speed of thought, finding its mark and piercing the head of the foul creature who fell without a sound. One by one, she set her sights on each of the prone forms, taking aim at either heart or head and sending them to stillness with a single shaft. Fairlain walked slowly into the campfire's light taking time to glean the arrows she had spent. Six goblins lay at her feet...that was well. She looked at the other campfires that were not far distant. They would not all be this easy.
There were three more camps. The next held only three of the creatures, but there was an unimaginable stench that emanated from the camp. She drew a breath and held it as she approached. These goblins did not sleep and Fairlain drew three arrows from her quiver, threading them between the fingers of her right hand. This would be a fight if she were not fast enough. She felled the first one quickly, the other two exclaiming with harsh, screeching cries and rushing towards her on seeing their brother fall. Almost without thought, she set the second arrow, drew it back and one more fell. With a turn of her wrist, the third arrow found its place and she was drawing back the bowstring as the last goblin reached her. No time for arrow's flight; she wrapped her fingers around the shaft and stabbed it through the grasping demon's eye. The goblin dropped to the ground with a gasping gurgle. Fairlain again gleaned the spent arrows and moved to a spot further away where she could breath easily. The sky was now beginning to lighten.
The last two camps were set close to each other and Fairlain could see figures milling about. She reached behind her and counted the arrows in her quiver...fourteen. There were at least twenty silhouettes outlined in the fire's glow. Fairlain took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once again her spirit reached out for the Light...not in fear, but in knowing that the source of strength lay there. She again took three arrows into her right hand and firmed her stance.
A great noise went up as the first goblin fell and Fairlain could see the churning movement as some of them began to rush towards her and others ran towards the other camp in order to rouse their comrades. These she tried to fell first, but one avoided the deadly shaft and succeeded in raising the alarm. The noise of the creatures doubled as their numbers swelled, but she stood as long as she could against the rushing host. Three...five...ten. Then they were almost upon her and she was forced to start moving, nocking one of her four remaining arrows as her feet flew over grass and rock. A goblin fell, pierced by the golden-fletched shaft, but five others came in its place. Another came, and another fell until no more arrows remained. Fairlain slung her bow over her shoulder and reached for the knives that rested by her side. It was time to seek the wind....
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The daughter of Imladris had proved a wise teacher.
Finduilian had taken her far up upon the rocky ramparts of the valley where the winds blew unchecked from every direction. Within the stone face of the valley stood a cleft within the rocks that caught the winds and tossed them from side to side causing a small whirlwind that caught leaves and debris and flung them in a blinding spiral.
"You see?" She had said "The earth itself shows us how to defend against many foes." Glancing at Fairlain she drew both swords and began to make them dance through the air first one way then the other as she slowly turned. "We learn from the wind and we learn from the leaves which ride upon its strength." She continued the movement in slow, graceful arches which quickened with every turn she made. "The blades are the leaves..." She moved very quickly now, her swords moving faster than the eye could follow in every direction until she stopped her turning and let them drop to her side "...and you must be the wind."
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She made sure she had room to move even though she was crowded around by snarling maws and flashing blades. Slowly she turned, reaching out with the elven steel to drive back the grasping claws and slashing weapons gradually increasing her speed as blade met throat and hand and eye. One by one they fell until only three remained. Two were maddened with rage and rushed to meet the steel that danced in the first light of dawn. The third gave a cry of dismay as he saw the others fall and began to run towards the marshes. Quickly Fairlain threw the knife in her right hand at the fleeing creature. It cried out with an ugly squawk as the knife found its mark, scrabbling and flailing as it fell down a steep embankment into the bog below.
Fairlain stood a moment breathing heavily, then started walking with a deep sigh of annoyance towards the marshlands. Whether or not there was time to retrieve her arrows, her knife she could not do without. At the edge of the marsh she looked down and could see the foul creature lying in a fetid pool, the hilt of her knife sticking from its back. She carefully began to make her way down the embankment as the red sun peeked over the horizon, but as she grasped a tuft of reed to steady herself it gave way and she slid down the soft mud and into the same pool where her weapon lay. It was deep where she landed and her head went beneath the muddy water, making her struggle wildly to regain the surface.
"Caragu rukhs!" she yelled angrily as she pushed herself to the edge of the bog. She reached for her knife and pulled it unceremoniously from the dead goblin. Placing her weapon back into its sheath, she sloshed to a higher bit of ground, her clothes and hair sodden and filthy. She was shaking the water from the sleeves of her tunic when she heard the soft snort and stamp of a horse. Ten paces away from her stood a horse and rider. The white horse was not familiar to her, and the rider's face was covered with a bit of cloth. Fairlain stood tall and placed her hands on the hilts of her knives, her eyes narrowing ready for another battle if needs be. The rider lifted his hand and removed the scarf from around his mouth. It was the hunter Cynraede who looked at her with shining eyes and a slow smile spreading over his face.
"You're looking well, Princess..."
Fairlain looked at him with wide eyes for a moment, then burst into tears.
