He presumably had a name when he was a young elf (assuming Elves had young like the rest of us), but to us, he was Fletcher.
Every time we stopped, he would sit a little way away from the fire and make arrows from whatever was around. I saw him make arrows from oak, pine, cactus, dried seaweed, roots, whatever was plentiful.
After a battle, I went to yank one of his arrows out from a dead demon when my hand went through it.
He apparently thought we'd be scared of him if we knew he shot mental force arrows.
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