Note: This story happens before the May UC and is still intended as part of the flashback I introduced earlier.
olwendôl woke in the middle of the night. Bells could be heard faintly in the town as well as wailing and screaming. What was going on? He didn’t quite know, but whatever it was, he had to get out of there. As he started throwing his few belongings into a small bag he would take with him, the door to his room flew open and in came Sir Erlinger.
“Grab your things, you must be off at once!” he cried, “Dwarf attack, you must fly. Here, take this cloak and sword, you’ll need human stuff if you’re going to Tomeu. No time to change; just throw it on over your others.”
Golwendôl took the cloak and flung it over his dwarven guise, the sword he buckled around all of it. He then grabbed his bag and ran out of the inn with Sir Erlinger close behind. “You’ll find your horse already saddled in the stable. Fly!” came the nobleman’s voice from behind him.
The elf jumped on the horse and galloped away calling as he went, “I hope we will meet again someday. Farewell.”
olwendôl was just reaching the road he would travel to Tomeu. At this point, just outside Consord, the road was bordered by a hedge of tall bushes. He was completely hidden from the view of it except his head. He could hear that something was going on in the road. A woman called out, “No! Spare me! Help!” and a gruff dwarven voice answered, “I’ve had my run, now it’s time for the fun.” He raised his axe above the hedge in preparation of his final blow. Golwendôl urged his horse to jump the hedge landing his front hooves right on the dwarf’s helmet. A shriek erupted from the woman as the little figure fell on top of her, his axe clanging on the road.
Golwendôl dismounted, pulled the dwarf up by his beard, and relieved his shoulders of his head. Putting the corpse aside, he looked at a beautiful lady and gathered the courage to say, “Not hurt, I hope.”
“Not at all, just frightened, you might say,” answered her sweat voice, “I am most grateful to you for sparing my life.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the elf. “My name’s Golwendôl but I really must be going,” he said mounting Celegpôd, “But I hope we may meet again when need does not press.”
“My name is Teresa,” said she.
“I bid you farewell,” Teresa called as Golwendôl galloped away.
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