Rhavaniel ran back to share the good news of finding water.
She coo'd like a dove to alert Kili of her approach, because he had determined that her brown owl hoot was a disaster. When Kili did not hoot back at her, she slowed and raised her bow.
She took a cautious glance around the rocks where she had left Kili. To her amazement, she saw Vehiron standing with his back to her. His clothes were as torn and dirty as hers, but she could tell it was an Elf Guard uniform, and she knew his silhouette. He had also escaped Burnt Ridge, and by the grace of Ilúvatar had caught up with them!
"Vehiron!" she called, and lowered her bow.
He turned, and she realized with a sickening jolt that an Orc stood before her. But it had been Vehiron - that was his face, now twisted and gray, staring at her with hatred. A few short days ago, this had been one of her own kind, willing to fight to the death to defend her. Before that, in the Woodland Realm, he had been the favorite father of any of her friends. She had been in his home for dinner. He had helped her and his son with astronomy, his best subject when he had been in school. He was often at the West Forge for Guard business, and never failed to make time to speak with her. Now, Vehiron was worse than dead.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Glennodad rise from the tall grass, a monstrosity of his former self, and covered in blood.
Rhavaniel recalled her grief at letting him slip away from her and into the hands of the Orcs at Burnt Ridge. At night, when Kili slept and Rhavaniel had endless hours to herself in the dark, her mind did not find peace, as she claimed. Her memories took her back to Burnt Ridge, and a thousand scenarios in which she had not lost Glennodad. Now, the only regret she would ever have was that she had not put an arrow through his heart and spared him whatever abominable acts did this to him.
Rhavaniel raised her bow, but what was left of Vehiron was too close to her and grabbed it. She did the only thing she could think of - she gave up her grip on the bow to take the arrow in both hands and shove it into Vehiron's chest.
He spit black blood and clawed at her, but she pulled away. Glennodad was approaching now, his broken leg had been braced straight. Rhavaniel turned and ran. She was faster than him now, at least. Where was Kili? She despaired that he must already be dead in that tall grass.
She fumbled to free her sword, since it had been peace-tied to the sheath during her sparring with Kili. Glennodad had a knife in his hand, she was sure, but did not know what other weapon he might have carried.
'An arrow would already be in my back if he had a bow handy.' she thought grimly.
She circled the rock formation, with the glowing sword drawn. If children's games were all she had for strategy, that is what she would use. She snuck up behind a limping Glennodad, and struck quickly as he awkwardly spun around to face her. She took off his head, with his own sword.
Kili was right. It was over in less than a minute, and the first blow determined the outcome. She did not feel the thrill of triumph or the relief of survival. She felt like a coward. She was a coward because she could not make herself walk over to the blood splattered tall grass and find Kili dead.