[Thenamir]

The next morning dawned rose-pale in the east, but Guthrin had his back to it scouting the west. "I see the smokes of their camp about two leagues west, and a bit north," Guthrin called down from a treetop on a small rise which commanded an advantageous view of the immediate surrounding area. "If we start now, we should be able to get ahead of them and start the fires before sunset."

"Well then, slither down here and let's get going!" said Leoden curtly as he hoised his already-packed gear onto his shoulders. Flandhere was already scouting the path ahead. Inwardly he was glad, though, becuase it meant that they were closer than he expected. It meant that they could slow the foul purposes of the Dunlendings and soon return to the main body trying to outrun them to the east.

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Thenamir was eager to find his long-sundered kindred of the Northern Kingdom, and seldom and grudgingly did he call for rest and food breaks. He had been leading the group at a pace barely under a run, and was frustrated that he himself was sore and wounded, and could not move faster.

Taradan and Baranthol, though able to walk, could not keep the pace, and so were riding in Dwarin's small cart being pulled by his recovered horse Nim. Dwarin, though short of height, was long in strength, and was able to keep pace with Thenamir, though he preferred to stay behind with Nim and the cart-riders.

Late in the afternoon, Thenamir saw a great smoke rising in the west to meet the setting sun.

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Once more Guthrin found himself at the top of a tree, but this time the sun was setting to his right as he peered southwards. Some distance to the south there was a break in the trees, and he could see the rough and careless Dunlendings tromping through. He signalled silently to Flandhere who was at the tree's base. Flandhere smiled. Guthrin might not be any use in a battle, but his scouting and sharp eyes were unsurpassed.

Guthrin jumped to the ground with Flandhere, and Leoden who was busy putting together torches of tightly bound cloth soaked in warg fat saved from the recent massacre. He looked up with something as close to a smile as Leoden could get, and handed each a set of torches. "Which way are they heading, Guthrin?" he asked, a little less short than before.

"If they maintain a straight line, they will pass us a half-league east of where we are now," he replied.

"Excellent!" Leoden whispered. "The grasses and leaves are dry, and the wind is blowing to the southwest. If we start the fire here, we will drag the fire in an arrowhead shape, from here eastward until we cross their intended path, then southeastward for a league or so. That will form a wedge of fire that the wind will drive towards them, forcing them back."

Guthrin asked, "Could we not enclose them further by splitting up and sending one of us southward? That one would have to run far and fast to get around the enemy to to South and outrun the fire, but I can do it."

Flandhere looked at Guthrin with a new respect. "You are volunteering for this South run?" Guthrin nodded. "Isn't running from the enemy one of my strong points?" He asked perfectly deadpan. There was a chuckle before Leoden said, "We don't have a lot of time. Let's get these torches aflame before it gets completely dark and move out!"

Leoden decided to have Flandhere travel with Guthrin, and then they would try independently to meet up with the slower moving company of the rest of Taradan's men. They shook hands in the Rohirrim fashion, and then within moments they were off, dragging lit torches along the dry leaves, and soon the forest was aflame.

[ May 03, 2002: Message edited by: Thenamir ]