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Carandû watched as his brother pulled Elwë aside. And then heard Elwë speaking to the Southrons who held Andtuariel - ‘We will give you Hilde if you will give us Andtuariel.’ It was obvious that Elwë had never treated with the men from the shadowed south. Why should they give the Elf back? It would be far more strategic to keep her – to force the others of Luindal’s band out of the bay and out of the picture as far as finding the palantíri. As far as he could see, Andtuariel was an unfortunate player in this. She would be dead or worse no matter if Hilde were given back or kept prisoner.
As Elwë waited for the Corsair answer, Carandû made his way up to where Hilde was ringed by the other Elves, a smug look on her face. ‘You are nothing but fodder for carrion eaters, old woman,’ he growled at her snatching her up easily in his grip. Dragging her across the ice toward where the Corsair held the Elf captive, he cried out in a great voice. ‘Is this the offal that you seek, southern dung beetles?’ ‘Take her, then,’ he bellowed heaving her small form at the one who held Andtuariel.
Carandû nocked an arrow and let it fly after the Lossoth spy, intending to kill her at the feet of the curs who’d bought her. One of the Corsairs loosed an arrow of his own, bringing the Elf down. He could hear the enraged cries of his brother as he fell, and the zip . . . zip of arrows as they cut through the air from Annû’s bow . . .
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