[Thenamir]

Flandhere and Guthrin continued running southward, fording small streams and rushing over low wooded hills, their night illumined by the fires they left in their wake. Their lives depended on their speed, not only to outrun the fire they deliberately started, but also to outflank the enemy they hoped to catch within the opposing pincer of flame set by their companion Leoden to the north and east.

An occasional night breeze drifted the stinging smoke lazily towards them as they ran, but they were glad, for the wind would drive the fire into their enemies and away from their friends.

They stopped for a moment to drink and catch their breath at a larger stream which would afford them some protection should the fire move faster than they anticipated. Setting his torch carefully in the ground so as not to start a closer blaze, Flandhere gasped, "You run like a hart beset by hounds, Guthrin!"

"Hounds would be a mercy compared to either the Dunlendings or the flames," replied Guthrin after slaking his thirst from the stream. "Think me not any less in hatred for the Dunlendings because I fear facing live swords or spears in their hands." He sat down on a rock and sighed. "The old warriors always cautioned me in my arrogance, 'It is easy to boast of prowess in battle when one has never seen bloodshed,' but I never took their words to heart until this quest. I have a new respect for those who face such dangers repeatedly and willingly."

Flandhere responded, "Do not be over hard on yourself. Had you asked, many of those same warriors might have told you stories of times when their fear might have bested their resolve, but they would not volunteer them to you, lest your arrogance laugh at their fear, and you become yet more insufferable." Flandhere chuckled, and Guthrin smiled ruefully at his haughty poltroonery.

Flandhere surveryed the surroundings. "How far do you think we have run since we started? Do you believe we are ahead of those barbarians enough?" "Nay," returned Guthrin after a moment's thought, "I deem we run yet again as far as we have come before we turn and try to get across their retreat-path ahead of them. Then we might rejoin the company."

Flandhere nodded. He dunked his head in the stream once more, then caught sight of a glimmer of the spreading flames thru the forest some ways off. "We must leave 'ere the flames catch us here," he said taking up his torch again, and lighting a new one pulled from the pack on his back. He threw the old torch into the woods in the direction of the oncoming flames, starting a new flaming patch, and then he and Guthrin set forth again.

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Leoden's thoughts wandered as he too ran, setting the opposing wall of flame that should turn back their adversaries. His pace was slower, but less urgent, since he was already well across the intended path of the enemy, and he began to curve away to the south and east. "And thus the fiery trap is set, and may we all be far away when it is sprung," he thought. "And may Saruman rot in his tower!"