[Lyra Greenleaf]

Marsilion hadn’t let his guard down. It was a good thing, otherwise he’d never have caught the woman in time. She was short and dark, and came flying out of the main group of Dunlendings with amazing agility. Marsilion barely managed to block her blade as she came toward the hobbits. Quick maneuvering with his feet put him between her and the main group, a tiny smile on his face as he concentrated on the fight.

“You think you can beat me easy?” she laughed, catching sight of his smile. “You never fought Mara before.” Her laughter surprised him, as did her quickness. She was right, he’d never fought a woman with such skill with the sword. He drove her back from the group a short way, his main advantage in his size, he determined to use it while he could. Her sword was fast, faster than his. Lighter too, probablyhe thought grimly, as he barely blocked her next attack.

The day was growing hot and the battle in the rest of the camp was fierce. Marsilion lost sight of the others as first his face and then his palms began to grow slick with sweat. Mara’s last stroke had caught him in the shoulder as he tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes, and his arm ached with every clash of swords. He bit his lip, fighting back rage at the Dunlendings in general and this woman in particular. She paused in her relentless attacks and Marsilion flew at her, his sword tracing circles in the air between them. She blocked it at every point. Except the last. His sword blade slid off hers and bit into her leg, just above the knee. Mara’s eyes widened, and she cursed in some language he didn’t know.

Marsilion moved in again, thinking finally, he’d beaten her, but she raised her sword just as his fell. Marsilion cursed inwardly as his felt his sweaty hands slip and his sword fall to the ground. Mara’s grin was wicked as she stood over him with her blade raised. Pulling Glorenwen’s dagger from his belt just as the stroke that would have killed him came, he deflected it with the smaller blade. Mara’s sword sank into his left arm, but it gave him time to regain his sword with his right.

**********
Mara gasped as she swung her sword, her limbs were starting to feel wobbly and every move was an effort. This man was nothing like one of Raken's monsters, or a Rohirrim peasant. He could fight as well or better than anyone she had ever fought before. It was very frustrating. Mara simply was not used to fighting someone her equal! It was strangely exhilerating, despite the exhaustion. For the first time she began to feel a sense of regret that this man would die. It was inevitable, unless she were to die- and that was an even worse thought. Unless...

***********
For a moment they stood there, eyeing each other. Mara with her weight all on one leg and blood flowing freely from the other, and Marsilion with his left arm hanging limp. “Get out of here.” She said, finally. Marsilion held his sword up in front of him, cautiously. “Go.” She said louder. “I don’t kill people I like. Unless your honour would not let you?”

Marsilion’s eyes widened as he understood her offer. “You couldn’t kill me anyway. Look at your leg. But I don’t kill women.” He added in roughly the same tone, but with a twinkle in his eye.

***********
“Ha!” Mara responded, “You mean you can’t kill women.” How much do I trust him? she wondered slowly,If I put up my weapon I would be defenceless Finally she shrugged her shoulders and stuck her sword in its sheath. She nodded with her head toward the rest of the group, “Get out of here.” She said again. “Someone will have to bury your friends.”

***********
With that she turned and headed back toward the Dunlending group, moving faster than Marsilion would have expected. He shrugged his shoulders too, wondering what had made him let her go, wondering who’d have died first if he hadn’t.

He stumbled back into the group, to an audible gasp from Anduneriel. Elen shot him a look and asked “The Dunlending woman?”

“She got away.” he answered.

***********
Slowly, pain stabbing at her leg, Mara went to look for Raken.
We didn't get the Ainereg flower. I was defeated! she thought, with a groan. Still, it was an interesting fight. I shall just have to raid the next village instead of leaving it all for pigs like them
Mara spat on the ground as she approached the stinking, but reduced number of Dunlendings.
"Where's Raken?" she asked the first hairy man, receiving only a grunt in reply. Something tickled at the base of her spine. Where is he? she thought, fear that was wholly unexpected creeping down her back. He may be a madman but... Her thoughts tailed off as she gazed around.

*********************************************

They waited for about an hour for Raken, Mara leant against a tree feeling the blood pound in her head. She had bound her own wounds, not letting any of the brutes come near to her. They had left her alone, after she drew her knife on the first to try to exchange small talk. They huddles together now, talking almost quietly. They looked lost, leaderless. After a while she went back to the battlefield. The scene of my defeat! The thought curled her lip. That is why I am upset she told herself.

Mara walked slowly around the bodies of Dunlendings. There were a good number of them. Finally she saw what she was looking for. Raken, blood all around him on the ground. With a sigh she leant over and closed his eyelids. His eyes are scary! she said to herself with a shrug. For a few moments she sat on her heels, the oafs remaining at a respectful distance. More respectful of my sword that their leaders body! she thought. Animals. I've always worked better alone.

Without looking at them she got up, carrying Raken's knife.

"Let us hope he has found what he wanted in death" she said, putting it through her belt with an attempt at a smile. "Bury him"
Without turning back she began to walk off, in the direction of Dunland.

[ May 14, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]