[Child of the 7th Age]

The leader of the Balchoth beckoned to the others to follow behind in a single line. After riding for some time, Lord Calimehtar indicated that they were getting close to the junction of the trail where the strangers should be found.

Calmehtar raised a hand in warning, his jewelled ring flashing as it picked up the last light of the day; the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. The riders moved with perfect grace. They barely made a sound as they pushed ahead to the spot that the scouts had identified. Their leader bore an ornate bow slung over one shoulder, and an elaborate curved blade that hung down on his hip. On his chest was an breastplate emblazoned with the symbol of the Eye. For these men were Easterlings, members of a cruel clan completely under the sway of Sauron. For nearly six hundred years, the tribe had terrorized the lands on both side of the Great River, often in the company or with the help of Mountain Orcs. Long ago in the year 2510, they had launched a massive invasion to the west, but had been thrown back by the combined might of Cirion, the twelfth steward of Gondor, and Eorl the Young, who had led the horsemen of the North.

The Balchoth had nursed their grievances and injuries for some five hundred years, never forgetting how they hated the riders and those who called themselves the Rohirrim. Soon now, Lord Calimehtar reasoned, they would take their long desired revenge, dragging off the populace to serve as slaves in Mordor and taking over the lands that should rightfully belong to the Balchoth and the other servants of darkness. Their secret raids were only the first step in a campaign that had been carefully planned, an unleashing of blood and terror that would signal the advancing power of Sauron over the peoples of the west.

Earlier that day, Calimehtar had been closeted with his two scouts. They had reported seeing a good sized party of travellers heading south and west over the broad plain the locals called East Emnet. Both the scouts had agreed that the riders were ripe for the picking.

"Women, a column made up of women," one scout had increduously exclaimed, spitting crudely on the ground. "And the few men with them no more than children. I see one, maybe two, seasoned warriors....no more than that. We may deal with these fools hastily. There is no need to wait for nightfall. Get them just as they arrive at the rise, for surely they intend to camp there. We will have great pickings. Perhaps we'll run the men through with our blades and drag the women back to our lord in Mordor. Fine slaves they'll be, women as young and foolish as these." The scout rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the rich booty that such a gaggle of women would certainly command on the open market.

There had been no disagreement, and the plan was quickly hatched. Now they stood within a stone's throw of the hill, hiding on the far side. "Remember now," growled Calimehtar, "You're to encircle the hill as they are struggling to make their way up. Surround it from all sides that none may escape. When I give the signal, let the arrows fly. And after that we will go in with our swords. The muddy hill will be hard to manage, but remember that we have the advantage of surprize."

As the Easterlings saw the last of the small party of riders mounting the trail that led up to the oaks, the raiders drew their bows and shook them over their heads, letting out a combined howl that could be heard from nearly a mile away. Calimehtar cried out about the ruckus, "Forward then, leave none of the men alive. Skewer them with your swords. Throw the women over your saddles and bring them back to where Aliharmi waits at the top of the ridge. Then return to fight again. Alinarmi will guard over our living booty with his whips and prods."

With a savage cry, the band raced forward, hooves pounding hard against the wet earth. Wave after wave of arrows came streaking through the air, falling upon the heads of the small band of riders. Calimehtar was the first one to come roaring up the hill, heading straight towards those who had positioned themselves at the rear. He reached out with his sword threatening one of the riders and as lust for battle overcame him joined with one of the women in close combat. Leaning over, his fingers closed on the long hair of one of the female combattants....