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An arrow suddenly flew over the company's heads, awaking Edhener from his dark broodings. He drew his sword, clutching it in a tight grip, so tight that his hand hurt, although he was only dimly aware of the pain. His heart began to race faster, at the thought of immediate battle. He felt full of restlessness, and he could also feel the agitation of his horse. "Have patience," he thought, "It will come soon, very soon." He looked arround him, waiting for the attackers to appear, a wild and almost fey smile playing on his lips, his eyes burning with the madness that was gathering within him.
He saw three men on dark horses heading towards them, but he saw something else also, something that alarmed and sobbered him. They were setting fire to the grass arround them! Very soon, they would be surounded by flames.
A bow sang as Mayonette shot an arrow at one of the riders. He departed with his two companions, shouting threats at her. Yet the peril of the fire had remained, and was drawing ever nearer.
Edhener's horse neighed with terrible panic, and, in his frantic movements, he nearly made his rider fall. Edhener caught hold of the reins with one hand, to steady himself, while in the other he was still clutching his sword, its hard steel bringing him comfort.
" Steady, lad," he spoke to his horse. " Steady. Let us not be daunted by this small fire, we who came out alive from the pyre of the Great War. Let us not forget our dignity."
Yet even as he spoke, he felt fear overwhelming him, a fear greater than he had ever known. He had battled with the armies of Mordor, and he had attacked the great beasts of the Haradrim, but never had such dread and dark despair take hold of him as it did now, while he stood helpless watching the flames drawing ever closer to him.
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