[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Inzillomi's intense regret at her outburst disappeared the second the guards appeared. She was too busy calculating their chances of escape to spare any thought for her recent stupidity. A bolt pierced the neck of the spokesman for the King's Men. She spared a second to glance at Azarmanô... he held his bow and appeared to be sizing up the enemy. The hapless man fell to the floor, a choked gurgling coming not from his mouth, but from the new hole permeating his throat. Chaos ensued.

A tall guard slipped past the men to reach Inzillomi. Violently he grabbed her by the hair. She bit back a scream while, encumbered by the chains of her disguise, she grasped his hands. She felt quickly for the tender spots on his forearms and pressed hard, digging with her nails. He released her with a grunt and dove forward, propelled by anger. She ducked fast, barely missing his fist coming in direct contact with her face. She heard Abarzadan yell unidentifiable words as she gripped her attacker by the arm and helped him to fly over her hip. He slammed hard into the bars of the empty cell, slumping. It never does to underestimate a small opponent when you are giving them all the momentum they need, though Inzillomi with a resigned sigh as she advanced, pulling a small black vial from her wide sash. She broke the seal, uncorking the bottle. As the dazed guard looked at her hazily, Inzillomi poured a small amount of the pearly liquid into the unlucky man's mouth. Within seconds he was unconscious. She did not envy him the headache he would have upon awakening.

She turned on her knees, eyes sweeping the scene for more attackers. Azarmanô fought ferociously. Thoronmir grappled with his own opponent a short distance away. Abarzadan was missing.