[Child of the 7th Age]

At that instant Nitir heard a sound like nails or a weapon scraping against the wooden boards that had been hammered over the window. Then she heard pounding of a fist on the door. She strained her ears to hear the sound of Elvish words that would tell her it was safe to throw open the door, but she heard no words of Elvish.

Outside, in the streets, the noise and tumult were growing as people ran this way and that to try and reunite with loved ones. Nitir could hear nothing above the despairing cries of the throng as babies howled and men shouted orders to their wives and children in a vain attempt to guide them through the mob to their homes. She strained her ears again, and detected a small voice crying out, not in Adunaic or Elvish or even the vile Orcish tongue. Instead, she heard faint words of Westron, a sound so out of place in this tableaux of destruction and fear.

Nitir inched over to the door latch, fumbled with the inner lock, and then pried open the door only far enough to peer through the opening and thrust her sword out. As she gazed about, she at first saw nothing, but then stared down to the crumpled figure of a hobbit girl, a figure that looked all too familiar. Nitir threw her weapons down inside and dragged the unconscious form through the threshold into the safety of the house.

[ August 08, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]