Handorth looked up at the sound of Skaibad's vile sword clanging on the rocks. He called over three men and ordered them to keep a close eye on the Orc, and to kill him if he tried to spoil the captive. The orcs wouldn't appreciate it, but Handorth didn't think that Skaibad had very strong leadership skills, and thus they would tolerate his passing or even be glad of it.
The tree-birds called and chirped. Handorth was doing his best to interpret their sounds, for the woodlands were silent and rumour of comings and goings echoed among the inhabitants of the wood like stones falling in a pool of water. Unfortunately, the Elves were stealthy to the point where they could not be thus detected, and Handorth's efforts were in vain. He partially unsheathed his sword and slid it up and down in its sheath, testing to make sure it would come into his hands swiftly.
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Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountains. Like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the west. Behind the hills, into shadow.
How did it come to this?
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