Thenamir2

They were still a good mile or more from the camp when Elwood stopped so suddenly that Baranthol and Ulfwine nearly ran into him. Thenamir, bringing up the rear, saw Elwood standing rooted to his spot like a troll caught by daylight, head cocked slightly to one side, listening. "What is it, Master Elf," Thenamir managed to whisper as his concern and suspense mounted.

"I was unsure for a moment, but the wind bears news -- there is fighting ahead, near or in the camp. I can see firelight reflected in the air above the trees, and there is a smoke rising. There is faint shouting and the clash of steel on steel. We must hurry!" And with that Elwood sprang up and away with the speed of a hart, nocking an arrow to his bowstring even as he ran. The three others followed as they could, but soon Elwood slowed. As the others caught up he motioned for them to stop and take cover, which they did.

"The fighting has stopped," Elwood murmured, "but the burning grows greater. We must approach with stealth -- if the attackers worsted your men we may be all that is left of the pursuit."

"You have the best eyes and ears to see what our options are," said Thenamir, "how should we proceed?"

Elwood listened to the stillness again for a moment before answering, "I hear voices, excited and troubled, but not like those of the Dunlendings. We may have new enemies to worry about, or our band may have routed the enemy in our absence."

"I know this area well," contributed Ulfwine, "and there is a place not far from here where we can get fairly close without being seen, on that little rise to our right. Our hawk-eyed elf might be able to get us more intelligence than his ears and nose from there."

"Lead the way, Ulfwine, and quickly, for the camouflage of the night will be passing soon," Thenamir responded. They each made their way, half-sliding, half-crawling between bits of cover to the south for a couple hundred yards until they came to a stand of trees on a low hill overlooking the village. The first weak light of morning was beginning to show in the east when the elf got his first clear view of the village.

"Aspida's hut is engulfed in flames," Elwood said in a low but not emotionless voice. "Several of our men who were within lie nearby. They are alive and unmolested. The only living I see are comrades. The dead mostly lie on the edge of the camp, except for..." Elwood paused, "...Aspida herself, who lies dead under the vigil of Dwarin not far from her burning hut..."

Thenamir and the others cast aside what remained of caution and ran full tilt to the camp, swords drawn, but it was useless. Thenamir himself came first to Dwarin who barely noticed his arrival. When he did look up from his seat on the ground, all the dwarf could do was mutter, "Where were you..."

Thenamir fell to his knees near Dwarin as Ulfwine, Baranthol, and Elwood approached, and each allowed the tears to flow freely for some minutes, each in his (or her) own remembrances of the wise woman who had so touched each in a unique way. Thenamir then stood, and hoping that she found some peace in death he ordered a couple of the men to raise a mound over her in the manner of Rohan with full honors. Dwarin insisted that he should direct the effort, and Thenamir assented.

The rest of the men who were able to ride were ordered to make ready to leave in two hours. Taradan or no Taradan, this band of savage barbarians had to be crushed and their errands turned aside.

Once the burial was complete, Baranthol, Dwarin, Ulfwine and Thenamir, along with the rest of the Rohirrim who could still ride, gathered at Aspida's fresh mound. Thenamir tried to speak, but no words would come. Having no wine with them, they watered the mound with their tears, and none more than Baranthol, before dispersing to finalize their departure preparations.