|
Valesseka crept about the undergrowth, down the small hill. Éomeléo stood and fidgeted, unsure whether to go after her or not. He was worried by the noises they had heard. Who could it have been? It was the clash of steel that pierced him most: undoubtedly, there was a man, but more likely men, here. What kind of people should be in this area?
And then he saw what kind of person. A scruffy-looking man had shuffled to the shrubs Valesseka had parted half a moment ago, and was peering into the gap. He had a brown cloak, and was clutching what looked to be an iron rod.
''Hi!'' the Gondorian called out, loud as he could, and then, because he didn't want to shout Valesseka's name, ''Man! There's a man!''
Said man promptly turned and growled up the hill at Éomeléo. His snarling face the last sight before the hard ground came crashing up to meet him. He had been struck, hard, on the back.
|