[Hilde Bracegirdle]

Rauthain

It pleased Rauthain that Avanill crossed the river after only a slight hesitation, and without any further persuasion from him, deftly gained its far bank. Though the ranger had marked a certain sense of resignation as he spoke of pursuing Naiore and Ferny to the death. He lacked the enthusiasm one would expect from an avenger. And happily, he also lacked the glimmer of pleasure one might see had he been purposefully drawing the ranger into a trap. Rauthain felt comforted seeing that his suspicions thus far appeared to be correct. Avanill had not left Naiore's service under the best circumstances, but was acting more as a man impressed into duty having little by way of loyalties.

But now defending his charge, Rauthain rapidly depleted his quiver, pausing only to swing his bow over his shoulder again as his horse struggled to crest the muddy bank. Once more on level ground he raised the orcish blade he carried, and bore down on the great orcs, steadily working his way toward Avanill's position. Avanill meanwhile remained constantly engaged. The young man was a fine swordsman Rauthain judged from the corner of his eye, but that swordsmanship could just as easily be played out against his own skill and he was doubly glad that his ward had risen to the task.

But as the two men were so occupied, a guttural cry broke out echoing across the river, and Rauthain turned back, his horse rearing. A large contingent of orcs was streaming rapidly out of the north following the western bank, the spearhead of which had reached the ford and was eagerly closing in. Seeing Avanill had spied these newcomers also and now fought off his opponents with urgent intensity, the ranger kicked Juta sharply and charged, scattering the remnants of the young man's opposition. Wheeling the horse round, the grizzled ranger extended his arm, saying, "We must make for the stair or we will be too easily extinguished." Grasping the hand offered him with his own bloody arm, Avanill swung up behind the ranger, and together they bolted hoping to find a more defensive position on the stair, but instead the enemy's numbers grew thicker, and in the distance they could see a knot of activity moving hard by its entrance.

Rauthain slowed, wavering in his decision, for there seemed no harbor for them. And as he scanned the terrain near the stair he spied a bare outcropping not far from it. On that lonely outpost a dark sentinel stood, slender and clad in black mail, her two curved swords flashing red and her hair golden in the sun. She stood for a moment, silent and regal, coldly observing the bloodshed below before quickly vanishing again under the cover of the woods. Rauthain twisted around to see if Avanill had seen this fleeting presence as well, but upon turning saw instead the oncoming tide of orcs from the river. Springing once more into action, he again headed for the stair, and as they drew closer the mournful sound of a horn rose above the fray The assemblage quickly unraveled with a ground swelling of terror at the well ordered advance of the elves, its thinning bulk expelling orcs in every direction. Chiefly they fled seeking another passage to the safety of the mountains, but some rushed back toward the ford. The confusion grew and the riders soon were caught between the two converging groups. Still aiming for the passage to Imladris, Rauthain faced the fleeing forces. For as they began to meet them, the great orcs passed them by, having no thought but to break through and save themselves from the encroaching elves in the chaos, and thus spread their confusion to their newly come comrades. And so Avanill and Rauthain passed through with only a few challenges, as though they were nearly invisible to their enemy, and at length come to a the spot where the elves still fought the remaining creatures they had encircled. Joining in the fighting the riders fought beside the elves at the foot of the stair.