[Thenamir]

<font face="Verdana"><table><TR><TD><FONT SIZE="1" face="Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif">Newly Deceased
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An unfortunate Dunlending

Thenamir silently put on his night-black helmet, pulled down low over his face but not so far as to obscure his vision, as Ulfwine stumbled towards the trio. Using hand signals, Taradan directed Thenamir to distract the hapless Dunlending from the right, while Taradan moved left to drop him from the opposite side. Gurthden, the tall rider, watched with a blindfold in one hand and his sword hilt in the other as Thenamir and Taradan readied themselves into position.

The Dunlending walked past the well-hidden warriors, stopped about ten feet short of Gurthden, and emptied his painfully swollen bladder (well clear of Gurthden, much to his own relief). He had just finished righting his rough clothing when Thenamir unsheathed his sword with an unnecessarily loud clang. The Dunlending, still tipsy but instantly alert turned immediately in that direction. At exactly that moment, Taradan rose without a sound from his cover and crashed the hilt of his sword down upon the head of the unfortunate Dunlending who swayed only a moment before collapsing.

Taradan caught him as he fell and set him gently to the ground, avoiding noise that might be investigated by the others. Thenamir and Gurthden quietly rushed up, Thenamir securely roping the hands behind him, Gurthden expertly handling the blindfold. Taradan’s keen eyes scouted the area, but could discover no evidence that they had been detected. Thenamir hoisted the limp Ulfwine none too gently over one shoulder and signalled ready to move out. Taradan led, attempting to make a quick but quiet path for the others to follow, and Gurthden followed behind as rear lookout.

The shorter rider, Baranthôl, breathed an audible sigh of relief as the trio came into view with their prize. Thenamir set Ulfwine sitting upright with his back against the rock. Taradan opened his water-skin and dashed cold water into the face of the unconscious Dunlending while Thenamir by prior agreement kneeled near, knife at the ready. Ulfwine came to with a start, but Thenamir held him down and pressed the point of the knife to his throat.

“See ‘ere now,” said Thenamir in a near-flawless rustic accent, “you be out of earshot of your friends, still havin’ a nice nap. You just sit ‘ere nice and quiet-like, and you won’t have to feel how deep me blade can go, there’s a good lad.” The Dunlending struggled only a moment before he felt a trickle of blood winding down the side of his neck. Ulfwine went limp. “You see,” said Thenamir to the others, “told ya he’d be a smart one.” They murmured assent, smiling faintly.

“Who are you?” Ulfwine demanded. “Ah, now, you’ll not be askin’ the questions today,” Thenamir continued in his ridiculous accent, “you’ll be answerin’ them – like first, you be tellin’ us just who you be, and what you and yer friends back there be doin’ a-traipsin’ in these parts?”


</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000209>Thenamir </A> at: 8/16/01 9:02:32 am