As Tinuiel's last arrow found it's mark in the last of the dreadful creatures, she rushed to the fallen Mornovarion's side. Lifting his head, she helped Novannon to carry him a little ways into the woods. "I need some athelas," she muttered as she bent over Mornovarion's body.
"Here," said Anarya, handing some to Tinuiel. "I always carry some--just in case."
"Thank you," Tinuiel said as she took the plant and began to chew it. She stuffed the hastily prepared plant into his wounds. "We must get him back to Thranduil's hall. Prisoner or no, he needs our healing."
Anarya, Novannon and Rűdhchamion nodded. "Who will help me carry him?" asked Tinuiel.
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Such lissom limbs no more shall run
on the green earth beneath the sun;
so fair a maid no more shall be
from dawn to dusk, from sun to sea.
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