Linvin was beginning to seriously regret leaving his sword at home. If he were going to save his family, he would only be able to count on his bow. How many could I possibly slay before they took me in a rush? he thought. Three...maybe four if I’m fast. That was not a satisfactory answer.
He looked at his uncle lying on the ground and tried to think of what advice the old elf would give him in the situation. Anvar’s speech at the monument was still fresh in his mind. Somehow the sentimentality of the statements was lost on Linvin in the moment. The swelling rage in his heart left little room for remorse. There was, however, one useful piece of knowledge from the experience he could put to use. He remembered Anvar’s depiction of the Tree Line Stand in the war. “Archers in the trees!” Linvin exclaimed. A plan formed in moments and Linvin was ready to set it in motion.
He pulled an arrow back on the string and found a spot in a tree where he could get a good view of the field. For his plan to work, the first shot had to be true. Linvin took great care aiming, then let the arrow fly. It sliced through the air so fast that Linvin lost track of it until it reached its target.
With a hiss, the arrow went through the neck of the goblin leader. He gasped for breath and then fell to the ground. It was a perfect shot. Not taking time to marvel at his shooting, he fired two more arrows into the crowd of stunned goblins and then jumped to the next tree.
Among the goblins, panic had set in like sudden fog. Their captain was down and before they knew it, two more goblins had fallen beside him.
The sentry nearest to the tree where the arrows came from, rushed over and thrust his spear into the branches. When he looked up, he saw nothing but leaves. There was not a sign of anyone. He looked down and saw the boar carcass with an arrow in its shoulder. Connecting the two things, he turned to hail his comrades. The only sound he could make though, was a scream of pain as an arrow pierced his chest plate. He was driven to the ground by the sheer shock of the blow.
Spears were held high as the goblins reacted to the cry and hurried to the sight. The sentries, however, maintained their posts with surprising discipline. Though an honorable act, it would be their undoing. The main force was still running to the first sentry, while Linvin dropped the others in turn with his stealth attack; hopping from tree to tree like a squirrel.
The hoard halted as they saw their watchmen cut down. Again, panic struck them. In an act of desperation, they spread out and rushed for different areas of the perimeter from which the arrows might have come. The act was in vain. Linvin was several trees away before any goblin came near his last point of fire. One by one, they succumbed to the bow.
Arrows came from all directions. The goblins could not tell if there was one enemy or dozens. Whatever direction they searched, was of no use. Goblins died as quickly as Linvin could draw his bow. Not a single arrow missed its target as Linvin channeled his hatred into the slaughter.