[Tevildo]

The noise of the explosion so unnerved the guards that they pulled back and glanced nervously at each other as if they were unsure whether to remain and fight or to ride hard towards the animal pens where loud shouts and scuffling could already be heard. Quickly deciding that they had best fend off the intruders who were undoubtedly here for no good purpse, the three men had turned almost at once to attack Lindir and Dorran.

Despite his skill as a swordsman, Lindir found himself steadily losing ground, being pressed back along the muddy bank of the river towards the mouth of the tunnel. These men, whoever they were, were exceedingly good fighters. Uncertain how long he could keep up with his two mounted attackers, the Elf was relieved to see one of the horses buck and send his rider sprawling in the mud. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the wound on the horse's rear flank that had been inflicted by the stone as well as the lanky figure of Rôg lurking quietly in the background. Grateful to the man but sensing that this opportunity must not be lost, Lindir had whirled about again and singled out one of the sentries, pressing forward with his blade extended and leading him away from the tunnel. Elf and man now stood locked in harsh combat, their swords glinting bright under the dark night sky.

As luck would have it, Dorran now found himself facing two opponents at once. He parried and thrust expertly with his sword, but could not shake off either of the men. His first thought, like that of Lindir, was to get as far away from the mouth of the tunnel as possible. This was the spot where their companions would soon be emerging, hopefully bringing the prisoners along with them. Better to lead the slavers back along the stream and keep them busy so that they would not even notice what was going on near the mouth of the tunnel. Plus, by keeping them occupied, neither of the men could go back and tell their leader about the little incursion on the other side of camp.

The one thing a rider of Rohan knows is horses. Taking advantage of his skill and youthful dexterity, Dorran grabbed a hank of the loose mare's mane in his fist and threw his body over the animal's back, righting himself in the saddle with some difficulty just as she clambered up the muddy bank. Dorran gave a loud "yahoo" and intentionally charged off towards the plain with the other riders following in close pursuit.

Lindir managed to finish off the first guard and hastily glanced around, intending to use his blade to help out his friend, but Dorran was fast disappearing in the distance, and the Elf had no way to get to him. A horse! What I would give for a horse.... But there was no horse in sight. Lindir was on foot; moreover, he knew he must stay by the stream. He owed it to Carl and Vrór and, even more importantly, to the two trapped prisoners to lend a hand when they emerged from the tunnel. The Elf frowned and shook his head. He did not like this situation. He tried to reassure himself that all would be well. Dorran was a Rider of Rohan, an excellent fighter and well armed, and he surely knew how to defend himself. Still, it was with a heavy heart that the Elf turned back to the mouth of the tunnel, hoping that Dorran would come to no ill harm on his wild ride across the ashen plain.