Thoronmir capably wielded the slingshot, and Mellon took a brief moment and happily surveyed the battlefield. The orcs were in disarray, a trail of steam was once again disappearing into the distance, and there was a tree he hadn't noticed before waving in the wind. Mellon stood.
"Todd you! You would ndot, add could ndot bass!" he called after the retreating fog bank.
"What?" chorused the Shieldmaidens.
"Dothigg. Dhe orcs are reforbig ragks. Bore Sdowballs!" At that moment, a well-aimed, firm snowball caught Mellon in the right eyebrow, splattered evenly in all directions and drizzled down his nose and cheek. He sneezed six times in a row. While he was gasping and sneezing, several orcs took advantage of the moment and pelted him with snowballs.
"Mellon, sit down!" Aëria and Felly snatched one wrist each and yannked him earthward. He was still sneezing. Ædegard took charge. "No one has ever breached Ædegard 's Keep while Rohirrim defend it!" he cried, brandishing his slingshot. The Sheildmaidens took up the cry. "For Rohan! For Rohan!"
Mellon made some more snowballs, and took aim at the orcs once more.
There was a warrior at the gate yelling something about Osgiliath. Hmm, that name sounds familiar, Mellon thought.
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...down to the water to see the elves dance and sing upon the midsummer's eve.
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