[Annunfuiniel]

Gráin struggled forward in the dim, devious and dreary tunnel deep in his thoughts. He still marvelled at the change which had come over his brother after Aravorn’s words. ’Follow Vráin!’ he says and suddenly my brother has brains?

And so it was that Vráin seemed different, grave and considering like never before; the responsibility for the others weighed heavy on him. He was now leading their little group and he couldn’t afford to make a single mistake – for the lives of them all were at stake.

Cold sweat trickled on Vráin’s still aching forehead and his palms were clammy. “If we ever survive this then let others lead – and no complaints will they ever hear from me…” Vráin murmured to the darkness ahead where the soft walls swallowed his words casting back no echo. Once more the treacherous ground gave away under his feet and he tumbled to the left. The lantern in his hand swayed and then smashed against the wall as Vráin tried to keep his balance. The flame flickered and was gone. Blackness deepened around him.

Others were some way behind him for Vráin had gone scouting. Vráin was about to turn back and ask for a torch when he saw the veil of darkness part some way ahead. After the gloomy caves the moonlit greyness looked bright as daybreak in the dwarf’s eyes.

“Come now, I see light and smell the fresh air!” Vráin called cautiously, urging others forward.

“Well, it was about time; the riders surely are waiting for us already.” came Gráin’s low voice right behind him. “All, put out your torches and lanterns! We don’t wish to be seen as we step out.” Soft hisses and reeks from the dying fires filled the darkening air. The pale looming ahead was soon their only light.

The group crawled out from the tunnel, tired and messy but without a sound. The entrance was well covered by thick bushes and wall of trees. The moon was already low and eastern sky began to foreshadow a new sunrise. The chill hour before dawn surrounded the silent travellers and crept under their cloaks. Vráin shivered and turned to look for any sign of Aravorn and the rest of the company. Some way to his right he thought he saw something move.

“Rowan,” Vráin whispered and slipped to the man’s side; “can you hoot like an owl?” Rowan gave him a queer look but then nodded silently and put his hands around his mouth. The sound he made would have fooled anyone save a Ranger. Soon an answer echoed in the air.

“Aravorn,” Vráin said solemnly; “Let’s go and meet him.”

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Vráin lead the group under his command around the thickest thorns and young osiers that blocked their straight way. Under the great maple trees there was less undergrowth and the company could move without a sound. Soon they reached the dark figures of their companions.

Vráin sighed with relief. “Aravorn…” he began but the Ranger gesticulated that he ought to keep silent. Suddenly Vráin was aware of the bandits’ camp just a stone’s throw away. The trees shielded the site from the tunnel’s side so that those who had come through that way couldn’t have noticed the encampment before.

Vráin and Gráin peered out to see what they were against at. Only one watchman seemed to be taking his task somewhat seriously, his head was turning this way and that and his seeking eyes gleamed in the light of a lonely, half covered lantern.

Vráin’s eyes hit first to the bent figure of Elentari and the sight made his blood boil with just rage. Presently the elf seemed to stir as if she had indeed felt the presence of her friends; a faint groan escaped her lips. The watchful sentry heard her and turned around. For a while the man seemed a bit uneasy, likely pondering if he should wake up their leader to deal with the waking prisoner. But then some malicious idea obviously formed in his crooked mind for a ghoulish grin emerged on his lips. The scoundrel took a step towards Elentari and Vráin gasped: he saw cold steel flash in the dark.

Others had seen the same horrid gleam and no words were needed . There was no time to organise a planned attack. Swords clanged, axes rose and arrows were drawn from quivers. Aravorn beckoned to his left and right trying to broaden their front. The sentry stopped as if he had heard something. Aravorn glanced at Vráin and whispered;

“'In unison shall our weapons be drawn.'”

“And in unison shall our battle-cries ring!” Vráin called, now heedless of the noise he was making; “Let them know we are coming!” And with that they leaped forward.

“Dáin!!!”

“Elendil!!!”

[ June 18, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]