Del wondered why he was standing here now for a moment or two. His serious countenance was almost grim to look upon as he slowly drew his steel and gazed on it with what amounted to seeming nonechalance. Wandering free far and wide over foriegn terrains of Middle Earth one day... He thought with amaze at his own change. And Facing a bunch of stragglers in War of the Rings who failed to get themselves back to the their natives lands far to the south, next day... A drastic change indeed.
Then Del instictively lowered his head in a flinching gesture as two arrows arched over the clear sky with a shrill, piercing whistle, apparently loosed by those on our side. His train of thought was broken by a fey cry of the outlaw archer who had been hidden by the boughs of leaves, who thudded onto the rocky ground and fell silent with a broken neck
"There was no need to shed blood as yet, and methinks you reck too little of lives." Del said almost mildly as he surveyed the limp form of the outlaw with distaste. "Once the raiders have seen the blood of their brethren and comrade they'd come to assail us like ravening wolf packs."
Roryn exclaimed fiercely, "Our lives or theirs, Delphinous! That accursed archer was going to shoot us down first in stealth, have you not noticed? Tevildo Tibereth take them!" as he grasped the sable hilt of his damascened blade in a challenging gesture. Indeed already the raiders of Harad were appearing from the eves of the wood with their longbows strung and their metallic blades drawn.
"They'd not stop to parley, these." Ferethor breathed through clenched teeth and paled as he noted other soldiers mounted and in full battle gear also riding out of the other side and closing in. Del winced as he said, "Nevertheless we must make an attempt, however hopeless."
"Greetings, fellow huntsmen of Harad! You wander far from your own land, we see. Why would you trouble us?" Ferethor went to the direct point without dallying and acted as if he was the leader of the company, Del noted with some amusement even in this situation. Wonder how Ferethor learned to speak of it so well. Even I have trouble with pronouncing the foul language of these folk though I have little trouble in understanding. But the leader was not amused as was visible in his curt and angry reply, and there was almost a gloating sense in his voice as he raised his lance and cried, "And my word is the law here. Die, and curse in vain!"
But it was Ferethor who was swifter as it proved in the end, for he straightaway disarmed his opponent then plunged his blade into his chest, effectively silencing him for ever, crying out "For Gondor!".
In the uproar it caused Del found himself face in face with a mounted champion of Haradrim riding forth with a heavy spear at Atharen's back, who seemed unaware as yet of the dire peril he was in. Moving instinctively he raised his earthen shield to ward off the black-feathered arrows as he cleaved the horse's neck with the blade he held, who was harryed by the confusion in the glade. "Will death not be more sweeter if you have a comrade to go along?" His fieldish grin was directed at the dead horse as the rider fell with his steed, and he slew the man with his own spear.
The spear broke at the forceful stab and his shield was shattered by the dying man's thrust with his dagger. Del threw down the useless slivers of wood angrily. He did not fail to hear Roryn's cry, "Retreat!" but he had already been beleaguered by the other horseback outlaws who seemed very keen on taking revenge. He cried, "Flee! I will follow if I can."
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