
For the son of Thranduil, I give an archer’s thumb ring. Carved of soapstone, inlaid with gold, it will give your arrows the power of fate itself.
Any bolt you fire will have the eyes of a hawk and the wings of a tern; it may fly for hours, turn corners, weave through branches, and dodge obstacles in their way. They will find the heart of their target even if you fire blind into the north wind, at a mark that lies half a world away.
Yet you must know precisely at what you are shooting; if there is any doubt in your mind, if your resolve should slip even for an instant, the arrow will kill the first living thing in its path, guilty or innocent.
Take care, for the arrow must be dipped in living blood before it ceases to fly. If its target should be dead before its tip finds their heart, it will be yours it seeks next.
