The arrows glided with deadly skill towards the Haradrim leaders and Jinan instantly saw that this could quickly become a massacre if the bowman were not instantly destroyed -- which could only happen if they took the tower, but they could very well be slaughtered before they had a chance to do that. As he ran madly forward, shield held high above his head, Jinan smiled smugly to himself: they should have slinked past the towers. Even if Gondor already knew they were marching toward the Poros Settlement, they still wouldn’t know when they would attack. But if the smart captain wanted a beacon to announce their coming, that would be no concern of his. Thinking of the captain reminded Jinan of Frôzhal and he wondered if the worm, his heart palpitating with fear, had buried himself in the dirt. He scoffed: Frôzhal’s absence could only aid the army, for fear was as contagious as the most deadly plague.
Ah, now they were sending out foot soldiers…the rain of arrows had somewhat slackened and Jinan knew that supplies were more than likely running out. With a small smile, the white of his teeth just barely glimmering, he drew his dagger and spat on the blade. It was awkward in his hand, but he would get used to that -- after all, one can’t carry a bow all the time.
A Gondorian, lips curled back in a bestial smile, charged furiously at him, his broad blade, stained with Haradrim blood, lunged hungrily for the throat. Jinan dodged lightly aside and stuck the Gondorian heavily in the stomach with his fist, momentarily forgetting that this was no drunken, insolent fool he fought, but a seasoned warrior who wore a heavy breastplate. Hollow popping sounds exploded from his knuckles why a fiery pain seared the bones. Jinan wasn’t sure, but he swore afterwards that he heard the Gondorian laugh loudly as he saw a flicker of a wince rush fleetingly across the Haradrim’s face. Ignoring the pain, Jinan raised his dagger and plunged it forcefully at the neck, staring in cold pleasure as the crimson blood flowed from the open wound (like water released from a dam), staining his tanned hand.
Inhaling deeply as he took jerked the knife from the dead man’s neck, Jinan paused and frowned. The pleasant fragrance of smoke mingled with the pungent smell of the dead. He jerked his around and saw smoke billowing from the top of the tower. Orange flames licked greedily at the dried thatch that served as a roof, while red flames, glimmering with blue, danced a wild orgy of gleeful delight from the windows.
The fool! Jinan cursed as he watch the tower burn. It was a signal, a warning to the Poros settlement. He could feel the dead delight as the heat of the fire tore at his face, forcing him to back away from the tower. With a toothless smile, his black eyes like onyx stones, he helped his men finish the last of the Gondorians that hoped to stay their passing.
|