[The X Phial]

Borgand had seen to the distribution of prizes, and was about to take Illith and the now sleeping Bregand back to the tent when the shouting started. As one of the least drunk men in the hall, he was almost the first to his feet when the giant hillman burst inside, followed by more than a dozen...no, two dozen... warriors. All were armed and had a sort of berserker rage in their eyes. Borgand's thoughts flew to the women and children still populating the hall. They had to run! Thankfully, there was a back entrance to the hall. It had been planned as an entrance for bringing in food and wine, but it would do as an escape route with the other doorway inaccesible.

Through the shouting, his deep voice rang out...desperation making him louder than even the screams of the terrified children.

"Women and children, out the back. Roland, Cuilad, guard them with your lives! Make for the horses and run to Bree as quickly as you can!"

He caught the eyes of the two boys, frightened and determined. Maybe they would be spared the worst of the fighting now. They were young, but both had proven to be strong, and Borgand needed people he could trust to guard the innocents, but also people who wouldn't be too missed in an all-out battle. He watched them spring into action and had to force his mind back to the issue at hand. He had done what he could for the innocents, it was time to deal with the guilty. He wished he had told Illith once more how much she and the boy meant to him, but couldn't spare the time now. Nor did he want her to stick around so he could tell her. He watched the women stream out the door behind him, thankful that most of them seemed to be keeping their calm in spite of everything.

Borgand drew his sword and advanced on the hillmen. Already, the air seemed thick with fighting. He engaged a wiry young man who was chasing a girl on the cusp of womanhood, buying time for her to escape with the others. The hillman was clumsy with his weapon, but strong in general, and fast. Borgand disarmed him, but wasn't able to cut him down. Something was interfering with his sight, and his breathing... SMOKE! Aware of the threat to everyone in the hall, he shouted once more.

"Everyone outside, the hall is on fire!"

Those who heard him pushed toward the entrance. The others would figure it out soon. Smoke was quickly filling the space, making defender and attacker alike cough and hack. It was an unusual tactic, running into a burning building. Borgand didn't understand these hillmen at all. Did they -want- to die?

Borgand lost track of individuals as he fought his way to the door. He slashed at the hillmen, injuring at least one as he went, trying not to lean too much on his false leg. He had heard no alarm. That meant the guards were likely dead. He wondered, briefly, if Calumdril was among the dead. He had slipped out before the attack and failed to raise the alarm. It did not bode well. Still, perhaps he was simply engaged in the fighting. Borgand sincerely hoped this was the case, had grown rather fond of the ranger. Thinking of rangers, he noticed that they were none of them too drunk to put up a fight. He wondered how much more effective they would be if they hadn't been drinking for several hours.

Borgand dodged an attack, a close one, and parried another. This was bad..he was trapped and his air was slowly failing. He stabbed out in a rather non-graceful, but effective, manner and watched as the wiry young hillman from before fell down dead. His path was clear, and he took it as quickly as his one leg would allow.

He entered the open night, which seemed cold and crisp to his smoke-filled eyes and lungs. Coughing and hacking still, he fought the urge to let his guard down. The hillmen had also made it out, and the fighting was thick out here as well. Borgand looked around, trying to identify their leader. They wore no rank or insignia...cowards. He assumed the largest man must be the leader. The others certainly seemed to rally around him. There was another rallying point as well. A smaller man, older..he might also be the leader. Borgand decided the giant was his best bet, though. These hillmen would value physical power.

The one-legged man advanced toward his target. Take out the leader and dishearten the enemy; it was a well-known and proven tactic. He heard the roof of the town hall collapse as he threw himself into battle; all their work up in smoke. The anger flamed within him, rivaling the heat of the actual flames behind him, and he attacked the large hillman with a vigour he had not mustered since the fields of the Pelennor. Slashing, shieldless, he let his body surrender to the battle lust.