Exercising Horseback Archery

A cold wind blows from the north.

Endless meadows.

The sky keeps meeting the earth, as far as one can see.

It is Lothlann, home to those who protect eastern Beleriand from Morgoth's malice.

It is the land of hunting hawks, of boisterous horses and buzzing bees.

The eyes of Dorthonion in the west are ever watchful, and strong are the foundations of Himring. The riders of Ard-Galen have won every battle since the arrival of Finwë's sons in Middle-Earth.

It is Maglor's folk that forms the spear head of east Beleriand.

Somewhere north of Maglors Gap a single rider keeps exercising.

Mounted archers have proven to be a good choice in open plane. They are ready to attack an approaching enemy a hundred times, always staying out of reach, tiring the intruders, diminishing their forces.

But at all times, they must be ready to abandon their camps and fortifications.

They must be ready to abandon their homeland if necessity arises.

However, this rider does not look like he is abandoning anything...safe his war-bow.

He is moving his arms as if he was in constant pain.

He twists his torso and shoots with an imaginary bow.

After a few times, the young elf takes his real bow, but before attempting to draw it, he hesitates.

With a grimace, he turns his horse around. Enough exercise.