[Farael]

It seemed the day was finally drawing to an end, when an arrow flew across the path of the riders. It was soon followed by another, and another. Osmod’s horse had seen many a fight with wolves, but he had never seen those missiles coming straight at him. He reared, almost throwing Osmod off his mount and kicked the empty air behind him. It took Osmod a moment to realize they were under attack and another moment to bring his horse under control. By the time he was ready, the Easterlings closing in on them and there was no time for him to grab his bow and arrows. They were secured to the back of his saddle but might as well have been left in Bregoware.

Then, he heard a blood-chilling scream. The leader had indicated a charge and the Easterlings were moving in for the kill. Osmod drew his sword and straightened his back, remembering what his grand father had told him.

”Never let them see your fear, lad. A fearless enemy is the most feared enemy of them all.”

The group was in disarray. Sythric was calling out to Brand and then charging by himself, a small clump of riders still held together and Osmod found himself caught slightly separated from the rest. He heard another scream, yet this time a different one. Turning on the saddle, he saw one of those wretched men cheering as he grabbed one of the girls by her hair. It was Athwen.

Blood boiled in Osmod’s veins and he decided to charge back at them. Letting out what he hoped would amount to a battle cry, Osmod spurred his horse towards the riders that surrounded Athwen. Two of them wheeled and faced Osmod, while the third still struggled with the girl. Osmod had no time to smile, but the girl seemed to be putting more of a fight than what the brutes had thought of. Charging blindly towards the Easterlings, Osmod lunged with his sword at one of them yet his attack was repelled by a shield. Osmod’s momentum had him galloping by the Easterling’s side and he stuck out his elbow, hitting the surprised rider on the head and throwing him off his horse. It was not quite the normal Rohan fighting techniques, but it would have to do. He wheeled his horse around where Athwen was struggling bravely against the Easterling, but he miscalculated the angle and found himself too far to help her. There was still another enemy on his horse and he was coming in too fast for Osmod to change his course. The Easterling levelled his lance for a kill but Osmod was able to duck out of the way at the last second. The lance’s point found the back of his arm but it barely scratched his skin. A lunge of his sword later, Osmod had killed a man for the first time.

Athwen had struggled free and Osmod wheeled again and charged at the Easterling by her side. The man simply moved away, letting Osmod by Athwen’s side. It was small consolation and there was no time to stop and talk, the battle ravaged on around them and he could only pray his luck would not abandon him now that his anger was subsiding. He felt a cold pang of fear and tried to press it back, knowing that it was not the time for him to cower and run away.