[Lyra Greenleaf]

Telpeheled sat quietly, in his thoughts roaming the woodland of his home. Amost he managed to forget the danger, so close at hand. Then a thick scent pervaded his nostrils, one unlike any other he had experienced before.

Not orcs, he thought, though they are bad enough! A shout came from Maeralagos on guard duty.
‘There are wolves to the North!’
Wolves! At once Telpeheled was reminded of his inexperience, and regretted his rash decision to join the party. What do I know of wolves?

Uncertainty and, yes, fear clutched him. Unconsciously he stumbled backwards, fading into the darkness. Terror made him senseless to the din from the fighting going on in front.

A voice cut through the fog clouding his brain.
"Help!" cried a voice desperately. Telpeheled blinked.
"Help!" it came again. Telpeheled recognised the voice as Maeralagos. His reasons for joining the quest flooded back. In the short time he had known his companions, he had come to respect them and, though they were difficult in many cases, even like them.

Without thinking the warrior that lay hidden inside Telpeheled came out. Running forward he slashed at the neck of the wolf that had pinned down Maeralagos and Bordarigorn, cutting off its head. Without even waiting to check on the man and the Elf he turned again, hacking at the other wolves, instinct and good training taking over. The battle was in full sway, and Telpeheled was in the thick of it.