[Thenamir]

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An Old Enemy

The only reason Thenamir was still standing at all was that the Dunlendings had acquired a new respect for, and a splattering of their associates’ blood from, his grim and terrible sword. The only reason Thenamir’s sword still remained in his hand was the fact that his hand was too cramped from exhaustion to release it.

Injured as he was, Thenamir allowed the bitter anger to spill over into his consciousness, anger at the loss of his family, and now his own life, at the hands of these filthy vermin. The emotion surged new strength into his arms and legs, and became a deadly, mithril-piercing glare in his eyes.

He took a rock in his free hand, and threw with wobbly aim, trying to goad the regrouping enemy into moving too soon and too fast. The missile nevertheless found it’s target, the head of a powerfully-built swarthy man who couldn’t duck quick enough. Thenamir heard what he thought was a howl of rage as his target turned and began running full-tilt at him, a bastard-sword at the ready, far larger and far heavier than Thenamir’s Aranbold -- but that was what he was counting on.

Just as the broadsword blade was about to cleave Thenamir’s helm (and head) asunder, Thenamir deliberately fell backwards onto the ground. The man’s momentary confusion caused him to stumble slightly. The momentum of his bulk and his sword carrried him to and over Thenamir, who bellowed “For Linwen!!” as he two-handed his own sword through the big man’s right knee as it passed.

He rolled out to avoid the stroke of the man behind him, but there were too many at once. He saw the face of one particularly ugly Dunlender leer at him as he prepared to axe Thenamir in two at the midsection, when the leer changed to a look of dull shock, the axe fell from his hands, and his body and head fell in separate directions to reveal a mounted Rider – three mounted Riders, one of them certainly a youth! What Thenamir had thought was a howl of rage was in reality the newcomers’ battle cry!

Thenamir had no time for wonder as the Riders found new targets. Regaining his feet at the edge of the thick forest he found his way now barred by Borleg, the Dunlending leader. For a few moments, the two stood silent as a shock of recognition struck them both – Borleg had been at the head of the brigands who had raided his wife’s village as Thenamir’s men had attacked to drive them off. “You!!” gasped Thenamir as vengeance clouded his mind in a red haze. “Gondorian!” spat Borleg in surprised contempt.

Like a flash Thenamir swung his sword, but Borleg was equally quick to parry as they locked eyes and clashed steel. Yet again Thenamir stepped back to swing, but he was too weak – the battle and the anger had exhausted him, and he had no reserves left. Borleg lowered a shoulder and rammed Thenamir, knocking him to the ground.

But Borleg had no time to finish it – the other riders had returned, mounted, with gleaming spears leveled at him. He disappeared into the woods with the remainder of the Dunlendings and was gone before the riders could follow. Thenamir, mentally drained, physically exhausted, thirsty and bleeding, simply could not move. Before he passed out he hoped that Ulfwine had not been accidentally slaughtered…

</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://www.barrowdowns.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_profile&u=00000006>Gilthali on</A> at: 9/15/01 3:58:08 pm