"Hir? No it couldn't be. You are dead." Ferethor said, slowly and in wonder. "You perished in the passing of the marshes of the Dead." Ferethor realised that his fist was clenched upon the knife hilt and slowly undid it.
"Not yet," And Hirifilen grinned. "Though it was the merest of chances that brought me out alive." He went on, "This is a poor welcome indeed for your brother, Thor. but you've never had much of a curtsy."
Ferethor gasped, was about to speak, but only stared at his lost brother. "Thor, you've done well, I see. Captaincy of a regiment in one so young - and the trust and friendship of the king."
<font size=1 color=339966>[ 12:47 AM January 28, 2004: Message edited by: Eorl of Rohan ]
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