[The Ruling Ring]

Maeralagos bounded forward, lunging with his by-now reflexive skill with a sword, so slicing into and clean through another wolf. He straightened up, the blade dripping with the animals' blood, whipping his head around, looking for more. But there were none.

There were plenty of dead ones, but none still alive and biting. Maeralagos turned to see Telpeheled, his sword out, driven through a wolf that was now flattened against the ground. The Elf's teeth were gritted in hostility, he seemed set on his task.

"Telpeheled?" Maeralagos chanced softly. "Are you alright?"

Telpeheled started violently, turning and looking at him, the queer look of animosity melting in an instant, when he saw his friend.

"Come," Maeralagos took Telpeheled's hand gently in his, ushering his towards the far end of the clearing, where he heard Bordarigorn's voice, as well as the voices of some of the other Elves.

Melcildir turned on his heel the instant the two came through the trees, Maeralagos appearing first.

"Are you all right?" he cried, seeming not yet relaxed. And with good reason; he was covered in blood, though the majority of it seemed not to be his.

"Yes, I'm fine," Maeralagos said, deciding not to make a fuss over the minor teeth marks in his neck and his torn ear. They would heal by morning, hopefully. He turned to Telpeheled. "What about you?"