Turn 10 - Time of Wolves

Vinhir's Fork, Metrast
 
Dark. The time of wolves. It was as close as Vinhir's Fork to the young and spirited warrior. From the top of his saddle, Leif rolled his eyes around without moving the head. A small night bird chanted happily in the woods, not far away. A weak wind joined the young leaves and balanced them in a calm and long whisper. Ahead, a small shadow covered the right side of the road. Ranak trotted with a steady pace while his master summoned all his perception unto his own self.
 
Somewhere, something had changed. Never had the Rohirrim felt such a strange presence of fate. He had rather dismissed words about fate and destiny since he had the age to hold a sword. But now he sensed that this humble peasants' death had impelled something, somewhere. He was worried.
 

***
 

An old wolf woke up. Grey furs abounded where the dark had lived for many hunting seasons. White fangs gave firm signs of extensive use. They have been feared in its kingdom, but now they were contested by his own blood brothers. He had been noble and spilled dread among men and wolves altogether.
 
The old and gray wolf woke up and raised one eyebrow. His muscles were tense, in dire need of movement. He raised his head to the stars that were drifting above him. A bright one blinked one eye and he responded magnificently with a long howl that, alone, send some of his brothers down to their holes.
 
A long time before, the fathers of men had known him simply as The Wolf. He was gray. Gray and old. But above all, solitaire.
 
He woke up.
 

***
 

Watching the procession pass beyond, Talis could not have worn a deeper frown. It was as if his age suddenly multiplied two foldas the creases of his forehead met above his dark and dusty eyebrows. Judging the distance from his hiding-place to the archers and to the positions of Meneldor and Fletch, the Ranger silently drew many of his arrows from his quiver and placed them to his side selecting one. Benil noticed even with an untrained eye, that the squat blade was a strange shape. Holding the tip to his lips, Talis blew upon it. His eyes searched the enemy ranks once again choosing a potential target.
 

***
 

Shivering slightly with expectance, the small Hobbit warrior waited for a sign from Talis. Catching the Dunadan attention he wavered an inquiring gesture. Talis raised a hand. He seemed to be suggesting them to hold the fire. Still, Fletch's hands knocked an arrow to his bow and prepared to defend himself and Meneldor.
"Meneldor, Talis want us to hold our fire... What do you think?", he whispered, almost with no sound.
 
Meneldor had already retrieved his bow and quivers from his equipment and placed these on the floor in front of him, ready to be used at a moments notice. He saw that Fletch had his bow ready as well, so decided to rely on his arcane knowledge first. He whispered back to Horace, "We must deal with this band before us. I will try another spell first, then I will reach for this bow."
 
Fletch eyes went wide, suspiciously observing the seer. Which one would be the deadliest, the dark warriors or his strange companion? Fletch wondered but said nothing.
 
Suddenly, the seer felt under a quiet mood, mumbling unspoken songs to himself.
 

***
 

From the top of the stairs, captain Alyster looked behind and made his voice heard above the turmoil.
"Oromir, I'm going in to help Wulfright. If something goes wrong, you must regroup the survivors and head immediately to the castle for reinforcements. This is an order."
 
Oromir looked disturbed, but shouted back,
"Yes sir!". He stood on attention and saluted his officer.
 
Answering to the salute, Alyster said to himself, "Take care of yourself, Sergeant."
In a moment he turned around and disappeared through the tower doors.
 

***
 

High clouds raced across the night sky hiding the bright stars for brief moments from the gazers on the green fields of Tol Tarneldor. Aratan waited seated. He had called his officers while the marines rested. This men had deserved it.
 
On the camp torches crackled and danced with the moderate wind. Most men slept, while some talked in small groups or were posted in guard. From the Southwest came the ancient song of the trees as they bent with the wind. Aratan took out the map that captain Alvor had given him. He smiled as he read the label written over the forest.
"Windy Woods. No wonder..."
The sounds of night birds echoed from everywhere, and for those that cared to listen the waves of the Bay of the Raft gave low counsels.
 
The sounds of horses came from the east. Aratan heard a guard demanding identification.
Soon a marine came to him confirming that the three officers had arrived.
 

***
 

Leif climbed cautiously from Ranak's back and drawing forth Frostbane, approached the dead peasants. He found nothing strange but the fact that the bodies showed no signs of having been spoiled. One of the peasants still wore a small family ring. It was not an expensive item, but it would catch the eye of the common road bandit...
"Most strange...", Leif frowned and respectfully removed the ring. With his head down he spelled a quick prayer over the dead...
"Araw, I commend the spirits of these two people of the land to you. Look over there earthly remains, which will soon be yours as well."
The old trees echoed a long whisper in response.
 
Leif walked around in search for a good blanket or cloth. As his warrior eyes searched the ground, he concluded that the attackers had used pole arms, maybe spears. The broken wheel suggested, perhaps, a short pursuit or maybe it had just been broken on purpose after the attack. Soon he found some pieces of soft leather. This old leather had once been used to cover fresh fruits, but now it would cover the bodies of its former owners.
"That's better. Now the birds won't pick you anymore."
And they didn't.
 
As any Rohirrim, the respect for those slain by weapons burned the noble spirit as Leif Hanirsson returned to Ranak and staring into his intelligent eyes, he said, "Now boy you will have to be silent as the snow on the White Mountains... Can you do that for me boy?"
The horse snorted as if in reply and Leif rubbed his hand on the horses head... "Good boy."
He headed on.
 

***
 

The Wolf crossed the wooded ground as a phantom. Tears burned down the feathered eyelids of the Forest Owl that observed his powerful stride. The Wolf stopped and looked at him. The bird shook with fear but the Wolf just smiled wickedly.
 

***
 

As the prisoner and guardian disappeared shortly from Talis' view, blocked by a large grass-tufted lump of rock, the ranger swore silently and brought the great bow about, it's horn-tipped ends lying horizontal so as not to attract attention by moving, pointing first at the black-robed stranger, then to the following soldiery. It was difficult to gauge which presented the most dangerous opponent. Talis prayed that Fletch and Meneldor might take the hint and put up a successful defense from their end. He waited, heart thumping with the battle-rush.
 
At his side, Benil pulled Bogas down beside him and placed his finger to his lips. Bogas looked at Benil then at the strangers approaching and bared his teeth in a silent growl. Benil satisfied that his dog understood him gripped his staff in his hands and offered up a silent prayer to Eru, to guide him through the possible battle to came and to wish that the headstrong Leif was here to lend a hand. His shaggy brows came together as he concentrated all his energy upon the strangers. He then waited patiently, as he has done many times in the past while tending his sheep, for one of the more experienced fighters in the party to initiate the combat. The fair man looked inquiringly to Talis, expecting his orders. The ranger seemed willingly to let the group pass.
 
"Talis," the Shepherd whispered, "they are almost out of reach in this dim light.
 
"The odds, my friend, are stacked against us. The prisoner is of the Corsair nation and thus cannot be trusted any more than those that have bound him. I would like to gather much more information on these strange folk before showing ourselves. It would have been an equal fight and not knowing their strengths, would be dangerous for us - perhaps fatal. No! We shall find out more and then strike when we can be more sure of victory."
 
The shepherd allowed himself to raise his head slightly over a small boulder and looked at the back of the procession. "What is your plan?"
 
Talis also turned his attention to the dark group, "They have come from the beach and yet I see no dark ship to the horizon. Methinks, they have secured a base below... perhaps in a cave. We should investigate - cutting off their supplies and backup will maneuver them into our hands or those of yonder garrison."
 

***
 

Fletch thought that he could not count to much with the elf at his side. Had he fell in sleep at this hour? Damn, he cursed as he looked for support. Talis and Benil remained hidden and he could not see them, so, he looked behind. The growing shadows covered almost all the woods behind him, enclosing the mage and the lady inside it. Suddenly, he felt alone.
"I hope those two are ready for it...", he mumbled between teeth. Then, as the procession marched slowly northwards, closing the distance to him with each step, Fletch considered the choice of running as only a Hobbit could toward the darkness of the trees behind.
 

***
 

The huge oak doors were pushed inward against the sturdy and cold walls of the Tower of Metrast. Alyster crossed the entrance hall, following the men of the 4^th Line of his personal Guard. On the floor two dark warriors laid dead, slain by sword. In front of him a high stone archway gave way to a large room, the tower's dining room. Several tables and benches were dragged out of place, as heavy fight had already passed through there. To Alyster's pain, another three or four dark warriors were laying on the floor, as well as two Wulfright's Dunedain. One of them seemed still alive, but heavily wounded.
 
This public room looked like any other Dunedain military canteen. It was simple and practical, nevertheless, filled with good taste. Several ceramic vases held flowers and small bushes. The walls were covered by tapestries reminding ancient heroes or fantastic battles and decorative shields and weapons. Torches, half of them still burning, flicked with the wind that drifted through a couple of broken windows, giving the room a phantasmagoric and dim light condition. The northeast corner remained under heavy shadows and Alyster promptly commanded his men to secure the room and search the dark corner.
 
On the eastern side there was a particularly large table, where the commanders would seat with their guests during the few official meetings. Behind it a huge fireplace still had a dying fire burning.
"Captain!", cried one of the Guards that seized the dark corner.
"What is it?", inquired Alyster.
"We have found one of the rangers that had been sent as scout... He is dead."
"Ragnar", said Alyster addressing his standard bearer, " go there and take care of it."
"Right away, captain."
 

***
 

Aratan strode to the improvised table with Angorn.
"Have you found anything interesting, Angorn?"
"No, sir, the Haradrim prisoners are not a big help and no one understand the crossbowman. Even the Haradrim don't know much about him. They say he belonged to a special guard posted on this island and that they were recruited on the south lands. They had never seen those lands before and they don't know why they were here. They keep saying that they were not allowed to make questions beyond the bounty rewards and they were happy with that. Their captain, Kakrat Goldencrest is a common opportunist pirate, I guess. And not even a bright one."
 
Aratan gave a brief, tired smile to Angorn and looked at the three officers that approached him.
"Good to see you in shape, commander.", said captain Alvor.
"We were lucky today. Good to see you also, Alvor."
"Captain, I must protest against this counsel. There are no senior officers in the ship nor in the base. I just hope no one seizes our only escape route..."
"Calm down, Fletcher. Captain Alvorn, have you not followed my request?"
"Yes, I have and Fletcher knows it. Mister Torway is a graduate officer from the Dol Amroth academy and in spite of his young years he knows how to defend the ship. At least as well as I know."
"Your first mate is but a...", Fletcher interrupted.
"FLETCHER! Enough.", cried Aratan at his officer insolence.
The Cudin leader became red with anger and bit his tongue. He seemed he would strike his own commander but then came to attention.
"That's better. Now Matrus, let me ask you how is your company.", said Aratan as he saluted warmly the leader of the mounted scouts.
"My men are fit and happy to touch ground. The horses are on the beach, resting from the trip and eating this fine grass. I brought four with us as an escort."
"Wise decision, sergeant. Now let us start this War Counsel at once."
 
The first half of the counsel was spent with the formalities and Aratan's tale of the recent events. Oromir picked up where Aratan left and the Dunadan sergeant explained how they have defeated the Southron army. He proudly detailed the smart movement of Aratan, that surprised completely the enemy. Fletcher smirked at the Dunadan that almost punched the Cudin man with his pride hurt. Fortunately, he did not, since he would have to pay dearly for such an act in a formal counsel.
 
At this time Aratan had Serpent called to the counsel and gave him a seat at his officers side. The Cudin marine looked suspiciously around while he seated to the left of his sergeant. Fletcher rolled up his eyes with displeasure but said nothing.
 

***
 

Leif kept riding toward Vinhir, sword in one hand, reins in the other...
 

***
 

The Wolf licked his forelegs and spitted the blood. Human blood tasted awfully, but this was even worse. In front of him two twisted dark bodies still showed the despair they had felt. Before resuming his journey, the Wolf stared at both bodies once more and went serious. His rage had gone quicker than it had boiled in him. He was alone once more.
 

***
 

The dark group kept his hypnotic pace toward the pool without a word. Meneldor and Fletch wandered which side they would choose. Should they turn eastward, then they would be free from trouble. But if they would chose to round the pool clockwise they could not avoid being spotted. The prospect of being stumbled by those warriors gave Fletch an uncontrollable shake.
"But wait...!?!", the Hobbit almost gave away their positions with surprise, "Meneldor!", he whispered, "Meneldor, they are coming through the pool right onto us! What shall we do?"
 
The seer rose slowly his eyelids and motioned his understanding. But Fletch thought that Meneldor had really fallen asleep.
 
But then the dark group stopped by the pool.
The tall, thin man raised a hand and ordered something in a strange language that neither the Hobbit or Elf understood. The warrior that was holding the Corsair picked up a dagger and cut the ropes that held his hands, still he did nothing to the chains at his feet. The prisoner seemed despaired, his young years still shinning under his beaten face. The other two dark warriors closed up and each one grabbed an arm of the Corsair and forced him to bent with his face flying an inch above the water mirror. The small creature laughed wickedly and kicked the bottoms of the Corsair, laughing uncontrollably. The robbed man cursed something at him but the small creature just ran away then came back and danced around him. The furry being was pressing his temper and the man showed him a long, thin and dark dagger. But the creature laughed and danced in circles with greater vigor, but now wisely out of reach of the tall man.
 
The dark robes seemed to drift as the strange man walked toward the prisoner and asked something in a low voice. The prisoner did not answered and soon found his head under the water. It seemed that a long season had passed before he had been pulled up again. Between harsh breathes and strong coughs, the man asked again but the Corsair kept silent. Then, the dark hood fell and a white, skinned head appeared. It seemed that the man had never seen the sun. Huge yellow circles were painted under his eyes and his lips almost glowed with a reddish colour.
 
The man asked once again, now in a high voice and speaking South Westron, with a strange accent."
"For the last time, tell me, Corsair! Where can I find the Guardian!"
 
"I DON'T KNOW! I already told you..."
 
The man smiled and turned into the lake. Again Fletch shivered as he thought that he had been spotted. But the man just raised both hands to his mouth. A long, low whisper left him and melted itself with the wind. From the center of the pool circles grew wider and wider as the whisper grew in an insidious tone.
 
"NOOOO!", the Corsair cried. "Ghunt Fund Asda! Ghunt Fund Asda!"
 
Suddenly the man raised both his pale hands to the sky and repeated while laughing,
"Ghunt Fund Asda Ossiriand!"
 

***
 

From an opened door to the north came strange battle noises. Human cries and shouts were mixed with metallic sounds, as if someone was throwing pans and plates.
 
Alyster posted his men on the three exits of the large room and headed for the kitchen.
"Ragnar, came with me and bring some men".
Quickly, the young Dunadan catched Alyster.
"What have you found, Ragnar?", asked Alyster as he prepared for battle.
"The ranger is dead, murdered."
"No doubt."
"I have also found these maps and a letter over the large table near the fireplace."
"Not now, Ragnar, not now.", Alyster dismissed the papers that Ragnar showed him.
 
The sounds of a charge came from the kitchen and with his weapons drawn, Alyster leaded his escort there.
 

***
 

"In short, gentlemen, we found what I believe is a large underground and well fortified pirate base. Given some recent events that I'm not allowed to talk about, but that captain Alvor knows," Aratan looked to the captain of the Ice Dragon that nodded in answer, "I believe that this place might be some sort of staging point for an invasion of the mainland. The base is too large and too well supplied for just a pirate base..."
"No pirate base would have dark priest wandering about!", interrupted Serpent. This was clearly a breach in discipline and Fletcher took the chance to make clear that he was his superior.
"Speak only when you are asked, soldier. You'll regret your insolence."
"Leave it that way, Fletcher.", Aratan forgave the man since he was not supposed to know the navy rules. The sergeant looked angrily at his commander for having him contradicted, so Aratan added, "For now..."
 
The other officers lowered respectfully their heads to the table and did not argued. Not even Captain Alvor that being of the same rank as Aratan could have spoken. Silently Aratan noted this noble gesture before proceeding with his reasoning, "Indeed I believe there are two courses of action we may take. First attack the base and destroy the supplies and arms for the invasion thus crippling it's supply line. Second retreat back to the ship and go to the nearest port where we could warn them of what we have discovered. We would return with a larger force or fight the invading fleet if there is one. The first option is indeed the most dangerous, for the garrison maybe to well defended and we maybe overwhelmed thus no word of this base shall reach the mainland. But assuming that this is only a staging point then it may only be a token garrison. Furthermore, we may never get a better chance to destroy this base. The second option is, perhaps, the most prudent since we will warn the mainland against attack and, perhaps, will give them time to fortify or at least reinforce them. Secondly, the enemy may have more ships on the way and even if we take this fort they may catch us in port and again overwhelm us."
The Dunadan captain fell silent for a moment, while his assembly digested the speech. But then he took the word again, "The garrison is not all we have to fear. This palace also contains the Dark Priests that Serpent talks about. The enemy by now must be alerted to our presence so we must act quickly on either account or lose the initiative. What have you to say, gentlemen?"
 
Angorn was the first to speak. He had no doubts. He was for a good, old-style assault on the base. He just seemed to think about glory, law, and rightness.
 
Fletcher was more pragmatically and did not liked that idea. He would rather leave the island but he added that if an attack would be the final decision, a stealth group would do much better than a 'foolish blind giant' as he used to call the Cambeleg. During the counsel, his points of view shifted more to the second option, mainly since he heard Serpent telling about the boxes on the cave. It didn't pass Aratan the idea of a secretly desired bounty for Fletcher.
 
Captain Alvor suggested that Aratan had a precise mission, and that this effort would detract him for too long. He argued that they did not even know the real threat that the people on the island posed. Angorn replied that the pirate army had been almost completely destroyed on the mountain fields but Alvor reacted saying that those were only visitors and not the islanders. Aratan sensed that the captain was secretly thinking more on the 'Red Keel' menace than in anything else. Still, Aratan agreed with him that they had already lost a day since the naval pursuit began.
 
Matrus, the leader of the horse scout company, just shifted nervously on his feet, never adding anything interesting during the counsel. Nevertheless, he seemed to support Angorn but Aratan thought that his dislike for Fletcher might have had something to do with his decision.
 
Serpent was alone in the matter. He was completely opposed to strike the priests. But he did not added anything significant. Aratan fell that he lied somewhere or just did not want to tell all the truth. One thing was certain, the marine was really afraid of meeting those priests.
 

***
 

As the warrior rode southward toward Vinhir, the burned barn appeared ahead. Leif's injured shoulders pained him a little as he passed at its side, remembering the hot steel sliding into his shoulder. Then he remembered tender, beautiful Mara, who wrapped his wounds and, for the first time since he had left the village, he smiled a little.
 

***
 

Already the dark bodies were left far behind. The old muscles of the Wolf gained his ancient practice with each passing minute. His spirits rose as he felt some warm from a strange, foreign heart, harsh but noble, childish but vigorous, once evilly proud but now softened by the humblest. He smiled a little.
 

***
 

Watching with surprise showing clearly on his face, Talis waited, indecision clear in his hesitant stance. When the dark-robe began to chant, it was as if the etheric whisper flowed back down the path to galvanize the Ranger into action once more. With resolve hardening his movements, Talis swiveled on one ankle, silently and to the right, to get a better view of the targets by the pool. He could not see the effect the arcane words were having in the depths of the pool but the insidious call still felt horribly wrong to the Freeman. Muttering to Benil beside him, he revealed his thoughts: "A Corsair may be a Corsair and enemy to us all, but I will never permit a sacrifice while I have the strength in me to stop it! We must send those men into that pool - remember Mara's tale!"
 
With that, Talis raised his hand in a quick chopping motion, signaling to Fletch but quick enough to return to his bow should the enemy also detect the motion. Drawing back the great horn-rimmed curve of Elvenwood in one fluid motion, and whispering a word of encouragement to the arrow nestled across it, the Ranger let fly the broad arrow at the exposed back of the Dark-robe.
 
The harsh laughter died in a surprised abysm as the arrow barely missed the target but picked up the dark robes at shoulder height. The black robed man turned on his feet wildly, only to see another arrow on its deadly course. This time the archer master made justice to his name. The arrow caught the black man between two ribs, giving him a serious wound. The man fell on his back and splashed into the pool. In front of him, three archers jumped for cover, while the dark warriors shouted orders in a strange, harsh but at the some time rhythmic, language. One of them grabbed the Corsair and pulled him down, with a dagger itching his neck. The small, furry being seemed paralyzed at first, but soon started to shout in a very high pitch. It was a painful sound. He rushed to the fallen body and tried to pull something from his neck. The man was not dead yet and cried back, frightening the creature that quickly jumped away and rushed northwards, to the woods, among a rain of arrows. The remaining two warriors took advantage of the small creature's action to pull the tall man from the pool and run from the frail.
 
At the first sign of Talis's action against the enemy, the Seer began to cant quietly in Sindarin. Despite the obvious chaos erupting nearby he looked unconcerned. He did not seem to take any notice of the brave little companion by his side. As he canted his long, slender fingers moved swiftly, in a wild dancing pattern that dazzled the eye. And then, for a moment, he was still.
 
Benil shook Talis shoulder and said, "There!". Both men noticed that the two dark warriors were running low, in a wide circle. But soon the trees and the growing evening worked together to cast a dark blanket over the warriors.
 

***
 

Leif reached Vinhir. A couple of men behind a quickly raised barrier challenged him, "Who are you, stranger?"
One was armed with a fork, the other held a two-handed axe, more suited for trees than for men.
 
"I am Leif Hanirsson, recently sent by your Headman Cirlin to bring Lord Acthelion's soldiers to your aid... I would speak with him." Leif stepped forward so that they could see him and sheathed Frostbane at the same time.
"He his the one", said one of the guards.
"Come in, then..."
"Where can I find the headmaster at this hour?"
"At his house, at the center of the village. Look for the stone building just in front of the fountain. You won't miss it."
Leif started to leave but after pushing through the barrier he addressed the man with the fork, "I hope you are more awake than you were when I approached, some dark fiends were behind me all the way here!". Grinning Leif headed to the Headman's House.
Both men launched worried looks toward the gloom of Blossom Hills.
 

***
 

Aratan listened silently to the advise from all his officers. In the end he took the word once more, "Very well, my mind is made up, we can not miss such an opportunity to strike at the enemy, the first thing you learn is never to leave an enemy at your back. We must neutralize this base first and then go to the mainland to warn of what we have discovered. Captain Alvor your opposition is noted, I will take full reasonability for my actions make a note in your ships log that you reminded us of our original mission, thus will protect you from any repercussions from my actions. I feel this is a major enough encounter to warrant we divert from our original plans, any others who wish to speak up about this please speak know and it will be noted in Alvor's log."
 
As no one spoke, Aratan proceeded, "I agree with Fletcher. A stealth group would have more success than a head on assault. I propose that a small stealthy group lead by myself shall enter the Caves and attempt to take them by stealth. We shall set up our base at the base of the Mountain. The 3rd Cudin will remain on board the boat for it's protection, also if we are defeated by greater numbers someone must get back to warn the mainland.
 
"I'd feel more secure with another Line, captain.", said Alvor, "A Cudin is fine, but could you leave also a Cambeleg Line behind? Remember, we are protecting your way out of here..."
Angorn seemed displeased, he wanted to take all his men and expressed that vehemently.
"This night will be a very long one...", said Alvor.
 
"We will see about that later.", Aratan replied before resuming his plan, "Our main force lead by Angorn should surround the caves and wait for the stealth's groups signal to advance. Matrus's scouts will patrol the surrounding area also acting as communications. Fletcher will hold home base protecting our backs. Fletcher how many men do you suggest we take on the stealth group, you have more experience in this than I?"
 
"I'd say six hand picked Cudin could do the job. More could be a crowd and make things hard. But since you're coming I would suggest that you could take me along, or at least two other with the mission to protect you.", said Fletcher.
 
Angorn seemed a little upset, still he showed but little signs of it. He added, "Sir, I agree with Fletcher in these matter of a bodyguard. But you should take a real Cambeleg guard and not a Cudin. Missile weapons are not that great under the earth."
"I advise you, Angorn, stay out. My men know how to use a melee weapon, besides, they are really deadly at close quarters. Their targets won't even notice that they are dead...", Fletcher grinned.
"Murderers are no real soldiers!", Angorn accused the twon Cudin at the counsel.
 
This time things really got hot, both sergeants began a series of mutual insinuations and had to be aparted before clashing against each other. Aratan showed his displeasure and severely spoke to his officers. He had got used to Fletcher's insolence, but Angorn surprised him. The proud and huge Dunadan used to have a calm, quiet demeanor. Fletcher seemed to be changing that.
 
"We'll take it then. I want the stealth group to be volunteers and my first volunteer shall be Serpent." Aratan gave the marine an evil smile. "This way your knowledge of the Dark Priests will come in useful if not then at least you will die besides me!"
 
Serpent complained loudly and cursed his own life, but in the end Fletcher ordered the man to obey his commander.
 
"This Counsel has ended.", said Aratan after another twenty minutes had passed discussing specific military planning, "Fletcher, go and hand pick the stealth group. Don't forget that I want volunteers only."
 
Under the fast clouds and the growing wind, the members of the counsel dispersed.
 

***
 

"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
"Yes?"
"Greetings Cirlin, I have returned with news of aid from Lord Acthelion...".
"Oh, Leif Hanirsson! Please come in. I didn't expected you so early. What news are those?"
"Lord Acthelion has sent a company of horsemen. Several infantrymen lead by a knight will follow, but they will arrive late this night, I guess. The horsemen should be here presently to bolster your defenses, which I may say are sorely in need of bolstering... I found a sorry sight not half a mile from here, two peasants murdered and their cart over turned, work of these creatures of the dark no doubt. I covered them and said a prayer over them and took the ring off one of them, lest it go missing.". Leif placed the ring on the table.
 
"Bartandur Fairtravel!", Cirlin seemed shocked.
"Who?", replied Leif.
"My cousin Bartandur. The other ought to be his son Margot... That's terrible. A real shame. Hanna will be helpless now..."
 
Leif stood uncomfortably as Cirlin lowered his head and covered his eyes. When Cirlin looked up he added, "I am sorry for your loss Cirlin, I would not try to recover the bodies until morning... There are too many odd things going on. You have news of my companions?"
"Last time I saw them they were heading for the hunter's shack. Here. Look at this map. The shack lies slightly north of this small beach. They may be there. Follow the cliff path and turn north at this milestone. You can't miss it."
"Well I hope they have not run into trouble. Do you have need of my sword arm here... or may I take your leave to go and find them?"
"A good blade always keep the spirits up in troubled times, but I feel that your heart is not here. Your place is at the side of your companions, Lord Hanirsson. You have already done a great job to this village. I thank you, my Lord. I just hope that those riders don't take too long. Don't waste your time."
"I am not a Lord, Cirlin... Leif or Hanirsson will be sufficient. The riders shouldn't be long, they are good horsemen but none may match a Rohirrim Warrior. Nor Ranak in his prime! I will see to my horses, and then go to find my companions. We will return as soon as we can to lend you what assistance we can."
"Yes, we will need it."
 

***
 

Four dark warriors were cornered by six men of the 2^nd Iron Watchers on the Tower's large kitchen. Alyster, Ragnar and three other Guards appeared behind the Watchers in time to see a Dunadan being repelled with a long spear, gaining nothing with his bold assault but a serious, though not fatal, wound in the upper arm.
 
Alyster raised a hand and his escort stopped. They were not yet involved in the frail and Alyster wanted to study his chances. Right away, neither of the contenders wanted to take the initiative. The cries of the Dunadan, a squad leader, seemed to have left some doubts on the remaining Watchers.
 
The dark warriors had turned the long and heavy kitchen table and were using it as a good cover. Sometimes they would pick an object and threw it. A small kitchen knife barely missed one of Wulfright's men.
 
All the dark warriors wore rigid leather armours over dark robes. Three of them also had metallic, conical helmets. Of these, two were holding long spears with rose and gray feathers tied to the tip. The other had a short sword and a plain small shield but he remained far from the fuss for now, waiting near the kitchen's large fireplace.
 
The fourth dark warrior was a tall and fat one. He carried a particularly broad butcher's knife and really seemed to be a tough warrior. Alyster thought that he ought to be the cook of this strange army. For some reason he had led these warriors to the kitchen.
 
The fat warrior cried several orders in an unknown language as soon as he noticed Alyster and his escort. Recognizing Alyster as the army commander, he held himself straight and launched a muscular, challenging smile at the Dunadan.
 

***
 

Fantastic sparks shone on the warrior's chain mail. Leif had chosen to leave both his mounts behind and bring only his weapons and a sturdy rope. His left arm still ached, but he had to conced that Mara had done a really great job. Even knowing that he would barely be able to use his shield, the Rohirrim traveled with it hanging from his shoulders. The colours of Rohan helped his spirit as he moved on the cliff trail following his companions steps.
 
Leif's torch had not lighted more than a five minute march when he noticed a woman behind a tree to his right side. She was looking at him with a sad look. At first Leif's hand rushed for the hilt of his sword but as she did nothing, it remained sheathed. The Rohirrim strode slowly without leaving the path until he reached the closest point to the woman. Under his torchlight, Leif could see that recent tears had left a mud trail on her face. She had some signs of Dunadan blood, though the link should be a distant forefather. Over her middle-aged body she wore a simple, stained gray-white robe and on her feet discreet sandals. Her hair was long, of a dark brown colour with silver strips and seemed in real need of a hairbrush.
 
"If you want to talk to me, talk. If not I would prefer you didn't skulk around watching me. I am Leif Hanirsson and I mean you no harm. But there are creatures and people out here tonight, who are not as friendly as I. Let me offer you the protection of my sword... lady...", said Leif.
 
She stood motionless, as if a great pain had stunned her and she lowered her head. Still, she said nothing.
 
Leif stopped his march, his right hand still resting on the hilt of Frostbane, and watched the woman. He remained ready at a moments notice, should this be a trap of some sort.
 
The flames danced and jumped on her head and again she looked at the Rohirrim.
"Where is it?", she suddenly demanded in a grave voice..
Leif looked uncertain.
"Where is what Lady... I have introduced myself.... who are you?", he asked gently.
"The ring. Bartandur's ring.", she added coldly.
"Ah! You must be Mistress Hanna, I returned the ring to Cirlin... But how did you know I had it?"
 
The woman seemed slightly surprised that Leif knew her name, "Hanna I am. And you Leif Hanirsson, you are smarter than you seem. Giving the ring to Cirlin was a very wise thing to do, indeed. Still, there are questions you should not ask a lady in these woods."
 
A long silence settled among them and Leif pondered if she was alone. "Come you should not be wandering by yourself in the woods let me lead you back to the village. I am very sorry for your loss. I hope to find those responsible and avenge your husband and son."
"A great loss indeed, but there was not much hope for them and they knew it.", during a moment her face twisted with painful memories.
"Come.", repeated Leif, piety flowing in his eyes.
"No warrior. There's nothing I can do there. Listen to my words carefully. You talk about revenge but those who follow the path of revenge will turn their own hearts against themselves. And sorrow they will spill. No, there are other things I can do. Would you follow me?."
 
She turned around and disappeared between the trees, without looking behind or having Leif's answer. In a moment she was out of sight, but soon Leif heard her again. Her voice was smothered by the leaves, yet Leif noticed that she was speaking a strange language. Leif wondered if there was someone else there or if she was speaking to herself? On the middle of the road Leif pondered on her words.
 

***
 

Countless seasons had passed since Meneldor had learned to confuse man and beast. The ancient Green Elves had based their defense on deceit rather than on the power of mind or arm, as their powerful cousins. And many had been Meneldor's masters. But never had he heard, seen or felt such a strange reaction to his efforts. The dark warrior seemed stunned for a moment, but then he shook his head, one hand firmly holding the prisoner. Meneldor was sure that he had overcome the creature's defenses, still he seemed to regain his normal senses quickly. But another thing was wrong. Meneldor was tired. He felt as if he had been running at his top speed for a while. He laid on the floor over his chest and rested with is eyes closed.
 
The small creature was almost under the trees when Fletch jumped onto the rock that had served as cover and aimed calmly at the furry being. "That little critter!", he said in horror as if an evil infested Hobbit had fallen under his sight. He simply did not sit well with Fletch and his stomach.
 
Noticing Fletch to his right, the small creature shrieked and doubled his already fast run. The warrior that held the prisoner stood up and turned his head toward Fletch and his former small companion, but Meneldor's art took his toll and the warrior had to use both his hands to hold himself. He was dizzy and the world was spinning slowly. Seeing that his captor was having difficulties, the young Corsair pulled himself free and rolled aside.
 
The three archers stood on a small depression ineffectively exchanging arrows with Talis and Benil. One of them had noticed Fletch standing on the rock, presenting an easy target. Soon, both of his companions shot arrow after arrow at an impossible rate, giving cover to the archer that crawled to a good shooting position.
 
Talis understood the move and wanted to shoot the archer, now himself exposed to Talis's arrows. But the archers' fire was to thick and the ranger could barely raise his head without a shaft missing him for an inch.
 

***
 

"There is sorcery about!"
Leif still had doubts in his mind, "...is she a witch or some sort of shapeshifter?", he questioned himself.
"Nevertheless, I do feel strongly compelled to follow her...", he said in a low voice.
 
"I am coming Mistress Hanna...", he shouted to the woods. "Though I know not why I do!", he mumbled as he followed the strange woman into the trees, stepping warily all his senses alert for any danger.

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