[Nerindel]

Sweat and blood clung to Astalder’s hands and face as he battled on plunging his sword deep into the stomach of another pitchfork wielding soldier, but even as he pulled his blade from the dying farmer, he was replaced by three others, forcing him to step back as they advanced trying to encircle him. These were no newly trained conscripts but seasoned warriors; he was forced to take another two steps back as he furiously defended against their timed attacks. His mind raced trying to find a weakness in their unified attack that he could use to gain an advantage, but suddenly their ranks broke and Astalder’s eyes met that of the Haradrim leader, Lan’kash but the officer did not stop he was coming right for him, spear thrusting for his midriff. Quickly he twisted his body to avoid the full force of the attack; the metal tip ripped though his tunic and glanced off the metal rings of his armour. As he twisted to avoid the blow he swung his sword above his head and brought it down heavily on the wooden shaft of Lan’kash’s spear, snapping it clean in two.

Astalder raised his head, the blue grey of his eyes meeting Lan’kash’s dark ones with a mocking grin, already the officer had discarded the broken shaft and was bringing his sword to bear, He met steel with steel and the two weapons clashed violently. Each man pushing forward trying to unbalance the other, there was silence between the two officers their eyes locked, each taking the measure of the other as they turned in intricate circles, looking for a suitable opening? The sounds of the battle around them dimmed to a dull murmur as all focus was given over to the battle at hand.

The seasoned Haradrim warrior took the offensive first, right, left, forwards, coming fast with the fury of a winter storm, Astalder worked his sword hard in a flood of defensive parries, gradually turning them and shifting his body into a more offensive posture, forcing the Haradrim warrior back.

“Well done,” Lan’kash congratulated mockingly, as he stepped back over the legs of a fallen comrade. Astalder said nothing but returned the jibe with a grin and a slight incline of his head. furiously he working his blade, left, right, left again lunge, the blade rushing for Lan’kash’s head, the Haradrim warrior picked it off with an up raised blade as expected. He turned his sword under the others blade feigning a disarming moves, but with his left hand he thrust forwards with his dagger.

Lan’kash caught the glint of the second blade just in time, accepting the cunning turn of the Gondorians blade, he turned right, driving his sword forward, pushing the winger’s sword across and forcing him to shift and alter the daggers thrust.

“Good but not good enough,” The Haradrim warrior scornfully laughed as he was once more forced the Gondorian to take up a more defensive posture.

Astalder gritted his teeth in restrained anger and pressed forwards. Their weapons rang against each other repeatedly, a blur of motion, an invariable sound. Right, left, parry, feign right, lunge, Astalder scored a hard stab against Lan’kash’s right side as he move to block the right feign. For an instant the Haradrim warriors eyes went wide with surprise, but he recovered quickly, pulling back and slashing out to his right, knocking Astalder blade wide and coming round again to score across the Gondorians midriff, But recovering quickly Astalder jumped back his opponents blade catching only his hip as he twisted to deflect the blow he kicked out clipping Lan’kash’s right knee, The warrior grunted in pain as he stumbled back a few steps.

“One for one,” Astalder grinned menacingly, his breathing heavy and ragged, his dark hair soaked to his face, he could feel the warm seep of blood leaking from his side, but took satisfaction in knowing that his opponent would be experiencing the same feeling. He rushed forwards and again their weapons clashed, matching blow for blow as they continued to vie for dominance over the other.

“Why do you bother to still fight winger?” Lan’kash hissed. “The battle is already lost. Look! The settlement is ablaze and it’s people dead or dying,” he taunted forcing Astalder to move round so he could see the devastation for himself. Flames licked at the walls from within and the cries of the dying reaches his ears, his eyes welled and stung as he realised his enemy spoke the truth, but he forced back the despair knowing with pride that this would be a short lived victory for the Haradrim, the Steward would send his armies to crush this insolent rabble and put the Haradrim firmly back in their place and he would be there with them when they did. He continued to press the Haradrim lieutenant, his sword working furiously as he remembered the cold way in which the officer had taken his young co-conspirators life, denying the young man the honourable death he deserved.

“We fight for honour, something the Haradrim clearly have no concept of. You may have gained a victory this day but you have won nothing, the might of the Gondorian army will send you fleeing back to the desert to hide under what ever rock you crawled out from!” Astalder spat back venomously.


“Pah! Honour, pride what use are they if you are dead, winger?” Lan’kash retorted with a snort of disgust, “Your people hide behind walls of stone hoping for the return of a king that will never come, how long will the stewards of your city be able to hold, what allies do they have? No winger they will fall, already they have lost one city,” the Haradrim lieutenant grinned cruelly, driving his sword left and deliberately slicing through the fine embroidery of the emblem of his house to the flesh below. With a winch Astalder drew back, his eyes narrowing to meet the knowing look of his opponent.

“How did your family escape Ithilian? Did they run screaming in terror, do you have coward’s blood winger? Is that why you fight so hard, to prove yourself, eh is that it winger do you hope to restore your families honour!” Lan’kash taunted, grinning menacingly.

“No!” Astalder shouted furiously, driving forward hard, knocking Lan’kash to the ground, “you know nothing,” he spat pinning the haradrim to the ground.

“I may be all that is left of that once noble city but I am still Gondorian and as such I will fight, like my father and his father before him. I fight so others may live, that is honour, Haradrim! Something you shall never know!” But as he raised his dagger to his enemy’s throat, Lan’kash kicked, knocking him off.

“Then you will die winger!” The Haradrim officer promised. “

“If Illuvatar deems it is my time to die than I shall die, but honour will be mine.” He retorted defiantly as he forced himself to his feet, raising his sword before him, both men where tiring but neither would back off. Astalder struck with wide-reaching blows, coming in from the left then the right, keeping Lan’kash before him. Right and left again, and then he turned suddenly catching his opponent of guard, spinning and slashing as he came round.

The victory was his, his sword drove deep across Lan’kash’s side, tearing flesh, bouncing of ribs and tearing through a lung, then cutting back out across the front of the Haradrim’s chest. The stunned warrior stumbled backwards staring at his chest in disbelief, the metal of his plate torn open like tin. Tripping over a fallen soldier’s corpse he fell hard to the ground, one lung collapsing and his lifeblood running out freely. Astalder leaned over the dying man his sword held limply at his side, his breathing deep and heavy. he stretched out his free hand and retrieved the silver chain that hung from the Dying Haradrim’s belt, “I believe this is mine!” he said dryly as he fastened it back around his neck and walked away from the dying leader of the Haradrim’s army. Several of the haradrim soldiers around him shied away in fear and disbelief, but some one soon filled Lan’kash’s vacant position and the battle raged on.

Astalder cut a path back towards the settlement trying to locate his captain, he had to convince him, forcibly if necessary, and that the time had come for them to fall back. The settlement was lost, but the war had just began and if they where to be part of a greater victory they first had to admit defeat. As he drew back to the city he called to others to do like wise, it was madness to continue this fight, he had to make Anhelm see this.