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Old 05-15-2008, 07:15 PM   #252
littlemanpoet
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Location: The Edge of Faerie
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“Ulfast, lord Lachrandir has been killed,” Uldor snapped as he mounted. “We must return home at once.”

That familiar hardening twinged in his gut in response to Uldor acting as if he had the right to command him. But Ulfast had a question.

"How was he killed?"

"How in blazes am I to know?" Uldor had asnwered hotly, and gave orders here and there as if Ulfast did not exist.

"Uldor, dear brother, you have no right to order my men about in my presence. Tell me what you want to do and I'll order my men."

Uldor favored him with a disgusted look and rode ahead.

Ulfast cursed. This was not going well. With each day it seemed that Uldor took a firmer grip of command, threatening to leave him as an afterthought. Ulfast cursed some more. He would regret it! He thought that he had the right to rule from father Ulfang, but Ulfast knew better. He and Jord had had words, close words, and he had been assured that Lord Morgoth looked upon him as the more favorable next lord of the Ulfings. The Great One had suggested that there would be rich reward in lands much greater and finer than these rough woods where they now lived. And he had hinted that this Jord would be his queen to own and give greater legitimacy to his claim as overlord of all Men in Beleriand. All he had to do was bide his time, and give command to his men in battle to turn against the arrogant Elves, and Morgoth and Jord would see to it that Uldor was taken out of the way and all the reward would go to him.

Where was Jord? Ulfast wanted to see her again. His mouth went dry and he licked his lips. He kicked his mount harder, urging it back to the hall.

Last edited by littlemanpoet; 05-26-2008 at 08:15 AM.
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