The frore season had cast a shroud of gloom upon the two groups alike, almost like a cerement that signalled their impending doom. Discontent was spreading, distrust was brewing, anxiety was strewing.
A perilous quest had proven triumphant in its early execution. The thieves were fleeing from a mortiferous band of riders while the horsemen were making a tenebrous pursuit.
The lethal encounter between the groups would be a pardon beyond the thieves could expect for their tortious act, and a canter for the riders on the trail of these mortal foes. An evil so ghastly that their spines would shiver and crack and force them to seek umbrage in the most unlikely of places, was seeking them out.
Their only hope lied in matters beyond their minds, matters beyond most men except for the Line of Kings.
"I sense a portentous gloom in this fell air," said the Ranger, "must we fear the worst?"
"The East is growing hazardous, it does not bode well that our path is leading South. Let us hope beyond hope that other matters busy the Enemy. Free peoples everywhere might yet keep the evil at bay, with their relentless quest for justice. Every resistence will aid the cause of Elves and Men," said the Grey Wizard and as he nudged his horse into a quicker pace, the beast stopped suddenly and let out a short neigh.
|