[Garen LiLorian]

The Wargs were among the groupe without so much as a warning, and Angóre, who had been riding back, could do little more than watch, horrorstruck, as they slashed through the group. Torfithien and Tintallë went down, writhing under the grey forms. Elrohir and Findorfin slew many of the lesser beasts.

Angóre dashed forward into the group, sword flailing at the smaller wolf-forms. He knew not whether any went down under his assault, his purpose was to reach those in peril. "Torfithien!" He cried in warning as the Elf-maid's arrow found the Warg's life, and the lithe maiden rolled quickly to the side. By the time he had looked back, Tintallë had stabbed his foe through the neck, and now was struggling out from under the bulky form, his face a mask of disgust.

Angóre swung down from his horse and helped pull the Warg's body from Tintallë, then looked up at Elrohir's question to the group. "Hunt them? Surely they are broken and divided. We might spend weeks hunting down the remains of the pack. I do not think that they will return, and we can ill afford such a delay. My vote is for continuing on, with all speed. Let these curs come again if they dare."

[ April 20, 2003: Message edited by: Garen LiLorian ]