[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor expressionlessly watched Crystal set off with Atharen, hand in hand. She has not been deterred by my confidence after all. Intelligent, proud and stern-willed, certainly a daughter of General Dorian. Ferethor laid his hand on the hilt of his damasked hilt, taking relief from the knowledge that he was able to defend himself. He had slashed through many battles and accomplished far more dangerous missions.


But... Horseback... I would be completely defenceless if she decides to kill me. Ferethor clenched his fist in frustration, but not fear. Fear was a weakness that he had discarded long ago, with the death of his father. But if I die, so what? It would be a welcome release from this sorrowful Middle Earth that I am bound to. Father...


Ferethor stood there a moment as if petrified with the thought, then went in search of Apple his steed. He would have no time to sink in daydreams. Ferethor's hand moved, caressing the damascened blade - he had borne the burden of so many lives - he would not want to add Crystal to the list.