She crouched, as still as a leaf, in the branches of the tree above the cohort of soldiers who passed by below her. Her lithe form was predatory yet in line with the contours of the tree, her clothing camoflaged with the colours of the branches and leaves, so even someone looking directly up at her would not see her. The eight strong group of mounted warriors did not detect her prescence as they passed her swiftly by, dust and loose earth kicked up by their horses' swift passage past the tree she was residing in.
She only needed one shot, and that would be the most opportunity she could expect. Her gaze remained fixed, unwavering, at the citadel in the distance, it's curved parapet sparkling golden in the sunlight. Grand buildings clustered round the residence of the King, almost forming a perimeter, and outside this hundreds of smaller buildings clustered together, inside of the city walls that surrounded Uru'baen. The elf had positioned herself so she would be bale to watch the Palace directly all day if needed: at the wrong angle it would be blinding to look at in the full view of the sun. Her stare remained pinpointed on two great, stone doors in the distance below the parapet; so tightly closed one might believe they were ceremonial and not designed for use. Not many knew the doors would only open for a dragon and it's Rider, departing Uru'baen together.
For the first time in some days, the elf's gaze wavered. She blinked, faster than a human eye could see, and in that moment, she fell silently from the tree. As her body dropped to the ground, her lips moved wordlessly in a practised rhythm, with no more sound than a leaf falling from a tree, yet invoking powerful magic unknown to most. The elf fell silently and gracefully but her body crumpled as it hit the ground, ungraceful in the magically induced unconsciousness. The feathered end of the thin, razor sharp dart that was embedded in her neck bounced as it it the ground, but the tip remained stuck, it's serrated end having found it's mark. The elf's head struck the ground but her tightly bound hair remained in it's binding. The shock of the impact caused the elf's arms to fall at her sides and as her right hand struck the ground once, then came to a still position on the dry earth, it's grasp on a tiny dart relaxed and the dart rolled out of her hand. A moment later the dart was gone, transported back to it's maker in Ellesmera.
Inside the citadel, an order was given to retrieve the captive.
The dart embedded in the neck of the elf was coated with enough concotion to keep it's target unconscious for over a day. So when the enormous bulk of Thorn landed next to the prone body of the fallen elf, it could as well have been a corpse. Murtagh jumped off Thorn in a smooth, practised motion and stood next to the elf, looking down at her with a detached interest.