<font face="Verdana"><table><TR><TD><FONT SIZE="1" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Pile o' Bones
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Re: Reinforcements
Telefax's unshod hooves made little sound on the soft floor of the forest and it was easy to track the other riders provided Kalohern stayed some distance back. He fervently hoped Telefax would not betray his presence by calling to the other horses. At first his pursuit was made easier by the noise of Guthrin's loud and boastful account of his prowess as a warrior drifting through the trees ahead, but eventually the noncommittal grunts of the other more seasoned riders caused even Guthrin to fall silent.
Kalohern realised that the trail seemed to be leading westward, probably towards the River Isen, which marked Rohan's border with the realm of the mysterious enchanter Sarumen.
An unestimable period of time passed; the moon rose higher and Kalohern held Telefax back still furthur to avoid detection. Suddenly Telefax pricked up his ears and gave a soft whinny of recognition and Kalohern quickly slipped from the horse's back to silence the quivering nostrils with his hand. The rustling of dried bracken alerted him to a presence and a pale grey shape loomed out of the darkness.
With beating heart and a sharp sense of foreboding tearing at his gut, he realised that Telefax had recognised a stable companion; the grey roan steed belonging to a stranger who had recently joined the ranks of the riders. Kalohern saw that he was scarred and bloodstained as if from battle; the shaft of a strange arrow was buried in his left haunch and he limped painfully towards the other horse.
Gently taking hold of the horse's reins, he noticed that one stirrup was missing, and as he instinctively went to secure the remaining one to prevent the horse sustaining furthur injury his glance fell on a small scrap of parchment which was caught on the skirt of the saddle.
On closer scrutiny it bore a hastily scrawled rendering of the insignia of Dunland. What could it mean? The riders had obviously been attacked and had tried to send warning of some peril.
Grim faced, Kalohern remounted his horse and quickening his pace trotted in the direction that the others had taken. Suddenly he heard harsh cries and the clash of weapons; there was a dim glow ahead and the smell of woodsmoke as if from a smouldering campfire.
Emerging from the trees into a large clearing he saw that a deathly struggle was under way. In the centre the two warriors Gurthden and Baranthôl stood back to back, hard pressed and surrounded by what looked to be about a dozen swarthy and determined attackers. Another, Thenamir, was valiantly weilding his sword despite a bloody wound on his arm. The bodies of several of the foe were scattered underfoot and yet another rider, Taradan, lay as if dead, his helm dented from a severe blow.
The two approaching riders bellowed the battle cry of the Roherrim and leapt into the melee. One charged his horse at the swarm of dark faces surrounding Gurthden and Baranthôl and began to lay about them left and right with his sword. The other quickly sprang to the aid of the staggering Thenamir.
Aside from the furore, Guthrin sat astride his horse immobile, with a frozen expression of fear reminiscent of a cowardly child confronted by a ferocious dog. His sword dangled limply by his side as a whimper of terror escaped his gaping mouth.
Cursing, Kalohern gave a frenzied yell and as Telefax surged forward in answer he rode alongside and snatched Guthrin's sword from his palsied hand. Bearing the blade aloft he swept into the fray.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000220>Iulbahar </A> at: 9/13/01 12:12:43 pm
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