[Nerindel]

Waking suddenly, to the cries of the watch, Astalder instinctively grasped for his sword, squinting in the new days light to look upon the source of their cries. A tall dark, pillaring tower of smoke rose high into the morning sky. His heart sank, as he had feared they had come too late. “Mount up!” he cried, though the command was not wholly needed, the men already hastily prepared to leave. Quickly rolling and stowing his bed roll, Astalder mounted and lead the knights from the cover of the trees and rode with all haste towards the smoking tower, hoping beyond hope that he would find some survivors.

They had not gone far when he called a sudden stop. Dismounting he pressed his ear to the dew filled ground and listened, after a moment he rose wiping himself down. “Riders two perhaps three, coming in this way and in great haste.” he informed his company.

“I see them, there are two and they ride like the enemy is close at their heels” Khalad cried, from the top of the next rise. “Then they are Gondorian?” Astalder questioned as he mounted and rode to join the younger man. “I can not be certain the sun is against them, making it difficult to ascertain their appearance, However, it has occurred to me that if these riders are scouts of the enemy would they not be moving with more care and less speed?” Astalder nodded his agreement, looking out towards the two fast approaching riders.

Messengers, he thought as he turned and indicated for the rest of the company too follow. As they drew closer they could indeed see that the riders wore the attire of the Poros guards and that one of them was wounded, slumped over the neck of his mount. An arrow sat lodged in the slumped messengers shoulder, calling a halt he ordered two of his company to see to the wounded messenger. “Report!” he ordered turning towards the other rider.

“The southern watch tower has been breeched by the Haradrim, sir,” the young man reported.

“We didn’t stand a chance!” the wounded rider wheezed, gritting his teeth as he forced himself to sit up. “You have come too little and too late!” the messenger continued looking at their numbers, then back to Astalder, shaking his head wearily. The rider was tall in his mid-thirties by Astalders reckoning; his dark grey eyes showed his pain, telling Astalder the worst, this man had seen his friends and comrades fall.

“They surprised us at first light,” The second rider continued, “we were greatly out numbered, but we did our best too hold them off as long as we could, But when they set light to the tower the watch captain ordered riders to take word to the village. Only we remain of those riders sent.” he finished sadly shaking his head and Astalder knew he wondered the fate of his comrades.

Leaving Khalad to question the messengers further and his men to attend the wounded messenger he took a few pace ahead looking out in the direction of the tower, pondering what he should do now. A few things troubled him, he had encountered the Haradrim several times in minor skirmishes and knew them to be brutal but not foolish, so why then had they torched the tower sending them a clear signal, where they really that overconfident or is that what they wanted then to believe? A gently cold breeze made him shiver and he looked back in the direction of the village. His heart told him to return and protect his family, but his duty told him that he should at least stay and try to determine his enemies’ numbers and armaments. As he struggled with his conflicting loyalties to his fellow soldiers and his family, his gaze fell on his company and the wounded messenger who was now bandaged and his decision became clear his loyalties were as they had always been to his people all of them, from farm hand to those he loved dearly. Raising the hilt of his sword to his lips, letting the white ribbon bound to it flap in the morning breeze, he prayed to eru to let him keep his promise to his wife.

“We must determine our enemies’ strength and numbers!” he issued, re-sheathing his sword and looking upon his men with renewed strength and determination. He then ordered three of his men to return at once with the two messengers and report to Anhelm of the attack, trusting that the young captain would already have preparations well under way. He then turned to Khalad, “What are you thinking?” he asked watching the young man gaze in the direction of the smoking tower.