Tol Tarneldor, Belfalean coast
The shouts and screaming were dying as the one-side slaughter came to an end. All but the dozen Haradrim were out of combat.
Angorn raced to Aratan and reported, "Sir we have four dead Haradrim, two serious wounded and five prisoners. All others fled the field. No casualties on our side, so far!"
"Good job, Sergeant, but I want you to deal with those... I'll call the Cudin for support.". On the corner of the hilltop, the Haradrim had regrouped and were preparing to hold the Cambeleg.
Angorn took hold of his Dunedain again and ordered a two-line deep phalanx formation for maximum defense. The Haradrim responded, spreading their numbers in a loose disposition. Mostly of them carried hand axes, some had pikes and three or four were about to shoot their bows. They seemed to be a battle hardened irregular group, led a frantic man that kept shouting orders to each one of his men. "They look like they are able to pull out a dirty trick.", warned Angorn to his men, "Be alert!".
Soon, behind the armed group the chieftain and another Haradrim disappeared but they were spotted again climbing a small natural path that existed on the mountain wall to the north.
As the Dunedain line marched slowly towards the enemy, Aratan ordered half of the Cudin to support them, while the remaining where to stay near the woods protecting the flank, now with melee weapons drawn. Quickly, a score archers moved to a good shooting position.
Upon noticing the Cudin, the enemy group retreated, always keeping their front to the Cambeleg and using the short bushes and a few boulders as cover. Two arrows found their targets on the Cambeleg line and one Dunadan fell from the line with an arrow buried deep in his shoulder, despite the strong mail armour. He was in pain but not dead and the sergeant ordered him to retreat to the woods.
As the chieftain made his way up the rocky wall, Aratan reached the Cudin line that were about to support the Dunedain phalanx. "I want a volunteer for a scout mission to go with me in a dangerous mission.", he said among his panting.
The Cudin looked in surprise to each other, but two men stepped ahead. The first one was a tall commoner with a blond and short, almost shaved, hair and an ugly scar through his right eyebrow and cheek. He looked tough, Aratan considered. His name was unknown to him. At his side stood a short but muscled man with Dunlending blood, named Forlak. Along with his bow, the man carried a strange leather belt crossing over the chest and with six daggers' hilts glowing with the last rays of the day. He had a particularly mean smile.
As Aratan was about to select his scout, another man stepped from the
ranks.
"I would like to go with you, sir.", a grin smile greeted the captain. This
man Aratan knew very well, it was Serpent, the man that have been giving
him a lot of trouble from the beginning.
Serpent grimace was met with a determined look from his captain and soon
it dissolved on Serpent's hard face.
"Then come.", said simply Aratan.
***
All the leaves bent at the presence of the warrior, such was his haste. Not even the wind challenged him that day. Mighty wore the giant steps of Ranak, his war-horse, on the road to Vinhir. Mighty as the hammer of Tulkas on the anvil of Arda at the beginning of times. And even in the deep vaults under the world strange and very old creatures shriveled in their pity holes. And strange were also the sounds that the warrior found on the road of the valley, halfway between the castle and Vinhir.
The man from Rohan quickly stopped Ranak with such alertness that the willful horse complained vigorously. Ahead but still far from him, Leif saw huge piles on the road and some beings around them. Another sound like the one that had called his attention told him what was going on. The men on the road were chopping trees and blocking the road!
Giant clouds of smoke swirled up in the air as yet another tree fell over the road. Swiftly, the warrior dismounted from Ranak and leaded him out of sight of the beings. With a friendly pat, Leif whispered some words in the ear of the giant horse before leaving him behind.
He moved on the south side of the East-West road under the trees and using the bushes as cover. With all his senses alerted, the Rohirrim made his way to the strange group of wood-cutters. They were working very fast, sometimes stopping just for a second to catch their breath and watch the road.
Boldly, Leif moved closer and examined them. He stood ten meters from the closest wood-cutter. They all looked strange to Leif, and yet, something reminded him of the slim creature of the barn. They were not as high nor as slim as the one he killed, but rather they had Leif's build. Large arms and muscled torsos worked the trees, but their faces were also harder and darker than the slim creature and their slightly bent body told Leif of their non-human condition. But Leif's heart pumped hard on his chest when one of them raised his eyes at his direction. The eyes were red and flickered like torches. Fortunately, he hadn't noticed the warrior. Leif observed their clothing. They were very unsophisticated, at the least. A noble like Leif would describe them as rags. Most of them had a strange metallic helm and large leather weapons' belt. Some wore chain mail but the majority had some sturdy leather chest armour, built in a square pattern with metal tips on the crossings. "These must be the Dark Warriors that Mara told about", thought the Rohirrim.
As the shadows projected on the road were growing with the last quarter of the sun's trip, the dark warriors barked furious orders to each other. Some of them started walking aside and it looked like they were finishing their jobs. Leif's gaze followed the slow walk of the warriors behind the pile of trunks and noticed that they marched toward a group of three or four other warriors gathered around a cart. On the cart there was a large opened barrel and several small chests. Standing over the chests stood another dark being that had a large spoon on his hand and a dreadful mask over his head. Leif shivered and wish they couldn't spot him.
"Damm, I would like to end the pitiful lives of these hideous beasts but I
am injured and I must warm the Lord's Warriors", he said almost too loud.
With his face etched with the frustration he was feeling, Leif made his way
back to Ranak and leaded him by the bridle to a place far enough away from
the road block that he could be confident he would be not overheard. He
leaped aboard Ranak and rode like the wind back toward the castle, his eyes
scanning the road ahead for the advancing warriors.
***
The wind blew tiny drops of cold water from the tree-tops and down over the iron snake that followed the earthen road.
From the saddle of his horse, captain Alyster looked back at the infantrymen that queued behind him.
First were his own 'Crown Guards', with purple and white plumes flowing from their helmets. They wore rigid leather chest armours over their purple robes. From the weapons belt a short sword swung and made a characteristic sound at the rhythm of their march. A medium sized oval-shaped shield hung from their left arms, while they held a medium 'sarrissa', a pole arm that could be thrown or used in melee combat. The Crown Guards had always served Alyster faithfully and respected their captain, but on those days they were at half strength, numbering forty men led by a Dunadan, sergeant Oromir.
Behind Alyster's men, the white and red colours of the Iron Watchers had some troubles to keep up with the forced march. Unlike the Crown Guards, the sixty men known as Watchers wore chain armours, arms and leg greaves, metal helmets and round shields. Their favorite weapon was the longsword but they also carried composite bows and quivers of arrows on their backs. While the Crown Guards were very mobile and preferred skirmish tactics, the Iron Watchers based their action on slower movement and solid defense, usually tearing the enemy down with their volleys before switching to their melee weapons. They were superb swordfighters that more than once had been seen charging and disrupting the enemy. Their leader, Sergeant Wulfright, was a particularly charismatic man, famous in the province of Metrast and well known in all the Prince's army. He became famous when, after rescuing Arumar - the third son of the Prince - from an Orkish raid, he had been granted a large sum of riches but all he asked for was to serve as a Sergeant and be allowed to wear the large beard that his northern forefathers had always wore. Now he stood as a striking and uncharacteristic commander, his full blond beard almost reaching his weapon's belt where his weapons of choice were secured. He rarely wore any armour and he loved two-handed weapons. His favourite was the renowned Slitter, the twin-axe. Although he had no Dunadan blood, he was particularly broad and tall. Every man and Dunadan under him liked his sergeant but Alyster knew that, although utterly loyal, Wulfright tended to make his own decisions in the heat of action, and many times he could not be stopped in front of the enemy. Until now his out-of-the-time charges had not been disastrous, but all captains feared that Wulfright boldness could break a gap on their lines and destroy all the pre-plannings.
Alyster turned his head from the east to the west and watched some of his
twelve strong rangers patrolling the road ahead and on the flanks, not far
from the main body. He smiled upon seeing their professional job being
made.
***
"There is fresh water on the well outside and big game must be abundant around here.", said Talis to the elves and Benil as Mara and Fletch walked to the door of the shack. "We can establish a nice base here, if we need it."
"I don't really like the idea of being isolated here. I know the woods are
your realm, Talis, but shepherds prefer broader horizons...", and in a low
tone he added, "Besides, I don't even know if I can trust Mara...".
"What do you mean?", asked Meneldor with a deep interest.
"It is not me. It's Bogas. He avoids her all the time. He is a friendly and
calm dog but at her side he becomes nervous. Mostly unusual.", whispered
the shepherd.
Meneldor turned to Blanchon and said in Sindarin, the elven language of
old, "How do you view this power that Mara seems to possess? She seems
oblivious to it. She would probably be hostile to even the idea of
possessing it. I'm beginning to wonder if her passing through that strange
pool she mentioned has something to do with it. Is this possible and what
do you make of the type of power?"
"Those words are strange, my friend. I did not detect any power from her. I
am sure that very few of the second kindred can master a strengh of mind
capable of disturbing you. And those that can, are counted as Kings and
Lords of their petty realms. I tell you, Meneldor, she does not distorts
the Essence or else I would have sensed it. Unless you are telling about
other powers I know not.", Blanchon's eyes shone instantaneously at his own
words.
Talis turned to watch the hobbit step out into the fading light of the afternoon sun. He watched also the slim figure of the strange woman who had joined their little band - seemingly almost against some inner will. His raised eyebrow was his only comment to Meneldor's words.
"Shall we make camp then?", asked the shepherd who could not understand the language of the elves.
Taking Fletch's lead the Ranger recovered his bow and quiver, leaving the
soiled rag on the table and stepped out of the musty shack to scrutinize
the treeline to the northwest. Sniffing the air as if to confirm his
thoughts, he muttered, "at least Vinhir seems to still stand.". He turned
his attention to the south and east to where the sea could perhaps be
faintly heard. "My thoughts are that we may have a little time before we
must return, to scout that beach that Mara knows", he said raising his
voice slightly so that those both in and out of the shack could hear.
"At least Mara speaks the truth when she talks about the dangers of walking
in these woods at night. If we get stranded here, this shack is better than
nothing.", replied Blanchon as he followed the ranger, "But first we should
send word to Vinhir or leave a message for Leif telling our whereabouts..."
"I will leave a sign for him which hopefully he may guess, otherwise we
will no doubt meet him shortly later in the village.", said the Dunadan
ranger, "I do not wish to tarry here long and those footprints trouble me
greatly. I believe we should continue our reconnaisance! "With ears alert
for a response from his fellows, Talis cast his eyes downward to the sward
beneath and about, searching for signs of rabbits.
Benil looked puzzled. "Talis, If I may ask what you are looking for at the
moment, I thought there were no signs outside this hut of intruders or the
like. Do not forget that in Bogas here we have an excellent watchdog. There
have been many a time when he has warned me of threats to the sheep. Also
he is an excellent hunter, aren't you boy?", Benil leaned down and gave him
a rub between the ears which Bogas seemed to enjoy.
"You will see soon enough," replied the stoic man as he went about his
task. "Ahh, that should do." he muttered, stooping to collect a scooped
handfull of sandy soil and carrying it to the hut entrance. As Benil looked
quizzically on, Talis stepped in the doorway and flung the sand to the
floor, then returned to the outside to collect more which summarily went on
the floor and on the table - the rags having been replaced in a pocket of
his tunic. After a short time, it was obvious to see the sand littered
through the hut to anyone looking in from the outside. "If Leif is not
dreaming about other things...," Talis smirked, "he might well notice this
and realise we are headed for the beach. Then again, he may not! In which
case we can rendezvous with him back in Vinhir".
"Ah I see. You are a man of hidden talents, I see. A subtle message. I only
hope our hot headed Rohirrim will identify the signs.". Turning to Bogas,
the shepherd kneeled down, "Well boy, looks like we all have a lot to learn
eh! I think in some ways we have spent too long in tending our sheep, and
not enough travelling. I have learnt more in the last few days than in the
last few years.". Bogas gave a low bark and licked Benil on the face as
though understanding what he said.
***
Aratan and Serpent got around the Haradrim warriors and raced after the chieftain and his companion. Following some climbing, they saw both Haradrim vanishing behind a curve. From below, lots of screams could be heard as the Cudin delivered their fire and the Cambeleg, all as one, start charging the enemy. A couple of Haradrim was already down, at least one or two more seemed wounded critically, but the others were preparing to hold their ground. Hidden to the Cambeleg and Cudin, Aratan noticed two other Haradrim. They stood behind their companions, stretching a net. He also saw another trio of crossbowmen that stood behind a large boulder. Aratan raised his eyebrows upon noticing that these crossbowmen did not seemed Haradrim, since they looked taller and thinner from his high position. But it was hard to tell from there.
Aratan first thought was to warn his men of this newcomers, but his voice would only mix with all the shouting down there and go unnoticed. Besides, no one seemed to be focusing his attention on the mountain. The Dunadan looked from side to side, and chose a broader and flatter length on the path. He unhooked Caras and gave one long blow to indicate danger. The mighty sound of Aratan horn echoed on the mountain walls and the soil seemed to vibrate with the strength exerted by the Dunadan blow. Every man and Dunadan could not avoid looking to Aratan. He took the opportunity, drew back his bow and fired it towards the hidden men. It was an inaccurate, lost shoot, but it didn't went unnoticed for the Cudin. In the heat of action, Angorn and the Cambeleg did not understood the sign but the Cudin redoubled their attention, uncertain why his captain was gesticulating and pointing towards a void zone of the field behind the action. Nevertheless, four Cudin moved to cover the area.
As the Dunadan captain watched the battle going on, Serpent called from
ahead. Aratan turned to the man as he raced toward him. For a moment a
suspicious thought filled Aratan and he held hard to the rocks, but Serpent
stopped in front of him and said, his smirking smile back as he caught his
captain's doubts, "Captain, this path seems to be well used. After all,
these Haradrim may know this island! Or there might be other beings here...
Shall I take a peek behind the turning?"
"Be careful, Serpent, they must know the way and will be waiting for us."
A broader and meaner smile told Aratan that those words were unnecessary.
"Never was I caught in justi... ahh... in my enemies' traps. I won't start
doing it now..."
Below, a strange mix of rage and madness, youth and experience, survival
and righteous clashed on the blooded soil of a distant island that was far
from every contender's home.
***
Leif did not take long to meet the two score riders that were pressing hard to reach Vinhir. As he charged the mounted warriors, a Dunadan in the front ranks raised his gauntleted hand and the group stopped its mad race.
These should be the White Runners, thought Leif as the Dunadan detached
from the group and trotted to him. Leif responded to his salute. "Sergeant
Cuivenen of the White Runners", confirmed the Dunadan, "And I supose that
you are the mensager from Vinhir, or do you have other fellow countrymen so
far from home?"
"It is not time for flippancy... Sargeant", he said disdainfully, "I am
Leif Hanirsson the messenger, who came to your Lord."
"Why are you waiting here? I was told that you were taking word to Cirlin
of Vinhir in order to prepare a place for my men..."
"I was but I stumbled upon a roadblock and a possible ambush not three
miles back that way... they are beasts, that walk and talk, taller than
orcs... and not so ugly... but with no real pleasent faces, either. I rode
so that your pretty company would not be slain too man and my friends not
receive the relief they were promised! Come I will show you, there is not
much time!"
Leif wheeled his horse round to charge off without waiting for an answer.
Sergeant Cuivenen was mostly a man of action and did not really care to
know if the stranger was telling the truth or not. He had a job and as
always he would stick to it. But he took some precautions and two riders
raced behind the Rohirrim, while the rest followed closer behind.
***
The night was almost upon the small army but the group didn't slow the pace. Alyster kept pressing his men. The road was not paved, but the legth from the Castle to the Metrast Tower was on very good condition and the army advanced fast.
Well before dinnertime one of the rangers reported that the Tower laid ahead, but no sign of the patrols were found. Alyster mounted over the last small hill that stood before it and frowned. Usually the presence light was on, but there was no sign of it. Worse than that, should the mysterious boat have been noticed, then the Tower would seem alight. But no message came from it.
Alyster called for his standard bearer. The man rushed to his commander,
unfolded Alyster's banner and sounded their coming with the horn. Now
Alyster was really upset, as no guards or signs could be seen, no answer
came from the Tower o Metrast. The hold remained a big, dark finger
pointing to the dark, cloudy sky.
***
The tall Dunadan returned to the slanting rays of the afternoon sun and
removed all trace of his actions from the ground about. He then moved in an
expanding circle outward round the shack checking for signs of their
passing. Removing a few hoof, shoe and paw prints from the soft loam and
brushing back some bent grass stems with his booted foot, Talis was at last
satisfied and returned, bow in hand to where Benil, Bogas, Mara and Fletch
were preparing to leave.
"So it is to the beach we venture, huh ?"
Benil stood up, "Lead on Talis, you seem to know where to go."
Mara looked to the ranger and shrug, "If your heart is that brave, I will
take you to the small beach. Going to the pool area above the beach won't
be a big problem, I think... But climbing down the hill or even going to
the cave where I was before is another matter. Anyone on the beach will
clearly notice us going down... And mind you, I want nothing from those
dreadful warriors or naked men. In case any of you fall, don't count on me
to rescue..."
"Your words fill me with foreboding of what we maybe dealing with, Lady but
nonetheless I intend to find out what is going on and I would welcome your
sidearm by my side... for a while at least," replied Talis, moving across
the sward to where she stood. "We will certainly have to be extra careful
if they have laid watchers still by the sea but it may prove useful to find
this pool of which you speak. I have a mind that our friend Meneldor, or
Blanchon even might learn a little more there than a mere woodsman might.
We have outstayed our welcome in this place already. Let us move on before
chance throws discovery in our path.". With that, the Ranger looked to the
others shortly, before turning back towards the road and jogging, bent low
to the ground and silently once more, headed for the sound and smells of
the seashore on point.
"Trust a tall person, no thought for us short people", puffed Fletch as he
tried to keep up with the Ranger's "jog". Whilst he ran, Fletch
contemplated that this adventure was not turning out like he wanted. "Oh
for a warm fire and some good decent food.", he mused. His mind wandered
for a time, his gaze fell on Bogas. "Nice doggy, I wonder if he's
ridable'", with a shake of his head, Fletch focused on the task at hand,
ready for what laid ahead.
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