[Thenamir]

Between the heat of his exertion and the flames which threatened to sear his lungs with each breath, Thenamir might be excused for jumping with such abandon into the stream which lay across his path. He was just thankful that the fire was well behind him enough to allow him the luxury, and grateful that his was not a heavy armor suit, which likely as not would have been the perfect oven to roast him to a turn.

Thenamir was, for the moment, alone. In that moment, though, all the rememberance of the last half-hour came back to him in a torrent. The battle, the fire, the Dunlendings, and most amazingly, Guthrin. Guthrin! Not only had he redeemed himself, he had given them their only chance for escaping the marauding enemies, such a charge as would have shamed any warrior in Gondor or Rohan.

Thenamir took stock of his situation. Not only was he totally alone, but without pack, supplies, or hunting gear. Having been trained in field survival by the best in Gondor, he did not fear for hunger or thirst, but for his friends, the allies for whom he felt a measure of responsibility. He had no way of knowing whether any of them were alive or dead.

And then there was that shift in the wind...how convenient that it shifted at the exact moment when it would foil his plans to slow the Dunland band, and drive his enemies towards him instead of away from him. He had overheard Elwood fearing devilry in the air, and again re-pledged himself to the thwarting of the wizard Saruman, even if he had to do it alone.

Thenamir plunged his head into the stream again to drink, and to let the stream wash some of the battle grime from him. He washed his wounds and dressed them as best he could, then stood up in the middle of the stream to assess his position. The wind, which had shifted again with a sigh as if free once more to go its own way after an annoying redirection, was now blowing the fire away from him -- that immediate danger was past.

Taking his bearings from the setting moon half-hidden in the hazy smoke which remained, he comforted himself that at least he had retreated to the north, which put him that much closer to his eventual destination. He pulled the map from his inner jerkin, the only item he had managed to escape with aside from what he wore, only to put it back again. The long and the short of it was that he was utterly exhausted.

He climbed out of the stream which had been so delightfully cool to his feet, even with the boots on, and scouted a place where he could sleep for a time without being easily seen, against a small rock outcropping near the stream itself, where leaves and a few fallen branches could be used as a temporary camouflage. Tomorrow he would scour the forest for signs of his party, and of his enemies, to aid the former and elude the latter. When all the preparations were made as he was able, Thenamir took a last look around, then he lay down on the ground and slept the sleep of the dead.

Morning had crept over the near hills and illumined the treetops when Thenamir was startled awake by the sound of a walking horse, muffled by the leafy ground cover. He moved quickly but quietly to a position where he could see without being seen, and waited...

[ September 03, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]