[Novnarwen]

And so he had failed, or at least, he had somewhat failed. Asking Grash to be friends was apparently not the smartest thing Rhând had done during his time as a free man. However, hopefully Grash would reconsider his offer and maybe he would turn to him (Aldor, which was the name Grash knew him by,) when Grash needed him. Yes, for if Grash didn't need him now, he would certainly in a while. Thinking this through a couple of times, looking at Grash, he made up his mind that this arrangement would probably be for the best anyway. At least it would be best in the long run Rhând noted to himself, being immensely satisfied by his accomplishment. It didn't take long for the part Southron to get lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, he thought his armour too heavy for him and wanted to pull it off, but remembered it would be too risky if Grash saw the knives he had collected and hidden. So, even though feeling as if being drained of energy, he held firm and stood watching the women who came bursting into the courtyard. He stared at them with pity. As he discovered that one of them already had collected several pieces of weapons and armed herself heavily, he couldn’t help himself getting quite frustrated by their ignorance; especially thinking of the woman who was collecting weapons in a sack. Poor woman. She doesn't seem to know her place . . . He tried not to take heed, but he grew stuck with the thought of how wasted it was to bring these two women along; they would simply just ruin everything, by getting themselves killed or something. That would certainly not be very good for Rhând. Not good at all. Turning in these eleven prisoners, would be the least he could do to gain trust again. In fact, when he thought about it, less than these eleven would actually seem as if he was making a fool of Him. But there was nothing he could do now, he would have to run through with it, only having eleven, and hope it would help him and his purpose. Yes, Rhând would make sure that everyone stayed alive until he could show his true self.

“Kill!” he cried out. “Kill orc! Kill kill kill!”

Rhând was under the impression that the orc had come from nowhere in particular, as if the orc had lain hidden amongst the many dead orcs and watched them from his pile of dead bodies. As he could see the orc running through the courtyard where they stood, only standing still for a moment or two watching the freed prisoners, he was alarmed. Rhând hadn't reacted at once. Now, on the other hand, he had realised what was happening and knew instantly that the cry, which had seemed so faint at the moment it was let out, had come from Grash. He pointed at the Orc, who was speeding towards the gate. As desperate as he felt, he couldn't do anything but stand quietly beside Grash and see the orc run on. Few seconds later, one of the dwarves, he had seen in the storeroom earlier, came hurrying after. The dwarf called out something, but Rhând couldn't quite make out what he said as he didn't understand it.

By this cry filled with panic, all of them seemed to wake up; they couldn't possibly just stand here, letting the orc escape, could they? Rhând looked desperately around at the others. They wouldn't live to see another day if that happened. All their effort till now would be wasted. For a minute or so, Rhând regretted the fact that he gone with Grash in the first place. He had survived in the cell for thirteen months; surely he could survive at least this year through. Yes, he should have waited. He would probably have managed to escape somehow anyway. But as much as Rhând regretted now, his situation didn't alter to what it had been before; the lonely life in the cell. He was here, present, seeing an orc running towards the gate which would definitely be his death; a bitter end it would be. Could they prevent it from happening? Could he do anything? After all, his longing to be cleared from the false accusations lingered inside of him. No matter how he tried to explain himself that he was innocent, and where his loyalty lay, he couldn't stop yearning after the moment where others, too, would realise that Rhând was forever faithful and would never have betrayed the Dark Lord.

Trembling with anxiety, as it was certainly a thought which made him excited; the day he would be cleared, he found himself springing after the orc, seeing the back of the dwarf and Grash ahead.