Whelp. Looks like I'm saving your thread, Shadow
I miss this thread, soo...
The ten Pendorian Man-at-arms were chuckling, riding into the forest. They were mercenaries, hired by the Ebony Gauntlet for a large sum of money to kill any Noldor they stumbled upon. Their armor shone brightly in the midday sun, revealing their location from a mile away. Their armor clicked and rang noisily together. They were obviously very new to this Noldor-hunting.
The horsemen rode into an empty field to see a lone Noldor woman holding a bow. The knights stopped, their unease tangible in the air, before one rode his horse forward, whistling.
"Well, now. Look at this pretty lass!"
The other man-at-arms jeered and laughed nervously as the man continued riding forward. A few feet away he dismounts, trailing a finger on her cheek as the Noldor woman glared at him.
"Well, my dear elf. What are you doing staying out in the woods." He grinned, tickling under her chin. "Alone...?"
The Noldor stayed silent, continuing her leer at him.
"Well, you know what we are going to do about that, don't you?" He smiles. There was a small whistling before the man collapsed, an arrow in his back. All the riders froze, looking over their shoulders. Another Noldor woman was facing them, bow strung. They look back to the one by the dead body, noting her bow was strung. All of them rang out a war cry, spurring their horses onward.
Half split one way, half the other. The Noldor worked in silent coordination, shooting at the backs of the men heading to the opposite maiden. Six were down before the knights were on them. The Noldor dropped their bows, drawing the flawless and unnotched steel. One dropped to a knee, holding it parallel as the horse ran into it while the other jumped into the air with a careful strike. One was decapitated while the other was crushed under the weight of the horse. The maidens sheathed their swords, both facing the last one.
"Run." the lilting and peaceful voice called, yet the simple word set goosebumps on the man's skin and his blood to run ice cold. He looked down at his comrades and fled, never seeing the arrow the split the air and planted itself in the back of his head.
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