A Note from the Publisher
Our firm was contacted recently by an anonymous reporter from a tabloid newspaper, who claimed to have rescued from the trash some lost documents penned in longhand by the world-renowned author, Elena Tiriel.
Ms. Tiriel became a recluse after the raging controversy over her Pulitzer Prize for Fan Fiction in the Drabbles category. Ms. Tiriel was caught between outraged factions, one claiming that fan fiction does not qualify as serious literature, and the other asserting that drabbles do not qualify as serious fan fiction.
We attempted numerous times to contact Ms. Tiriel to confirm the authenticity of this work, but she remains too publicity-shy to respond to inquiries. However, after extensive analysis of the handwriting, including comparison with some rare samples of Ms. Tiriel's early personal letters, scholars believe that the manuscript is genuine, justifying the considerable fee paid to the finder.
We do not know why the author chose to exclude these three drabbles from the published version of the chapter for which they were originally intended. That chapter is widely considered to be the one titled Lórien, A Week before the Battle: Morning of 8 April 2510, which introduces the character of Hirvegil, for many centuries Celeborn's second-in-command. Nevertheless, we feel that they are significant works of a talented author, and accordingly present them here in this addendum to the latest edition of Fell and Fair.
I hurry over when I spot our commander, padded and armoured, selecting a practice blade.
"Good morrow, Celeborn!"
"Hirvegil!" he smiles broadly. "I hope you come here to challenge me?"
"Indeed, it would be my utmost pleasure, my lord." I bow fulsomely. "But surely you have no need to cosset yourself in swaddling and armour? And a blunted weapon suits you not!"
Excited whispers ripple through the warriors nearby.
His eyebrows rise. "You wish to fight Silvan-style?"
"Unless your lady has... civilised you too thoroughly." I smirk. "My lord."
Glaring, he sends for his sword and slowly starts to strip.
"Spoiled Sindarin princeling!"
I bare my teeth. "Such respect!"
I target his weaker left; he blocks my blade with a jarring clang, and then is... gone? He somersaults, hurling soil into my face as he stands. I shield my eyes but do not drop my guard, and so repel his lunge.
"Good to see you were not fooled by that move yet again, youngling!"
"Elu taught me well." I counter his blows and then slash below his defences.
"Ah, but who taught Elu?" He counterattacks, forcing me onto the defensive with a barrage of blows delivered so fast they blur.
"Arrogant Silvan orc-humper!"
I grin, feigning weakness on my left. Predictably, he strikes there; I parry, then roll over headfirst, flinging a fistful of loam at him.
Unfortunately, he remembers that old trick. Even slow learners improve over millennia....
I dodge his thrust before forcing him backwards with my best lightning strokes. Finally, I graze his lower belly. I freeze instantly. The Lady would be angry if I unduly disabled him....
We relax; I take the warrior's handclasp he offers.
But apparently he can learn new tricks... because the troll-whelp throws me down and rubs my face in the dirt.