[Annunfuiniel]

Gráin rushed forward after Vráin and Aravorn with his axe high above his head. The camp ahead was in stir, the villains had woken and they seemed to need no time to prepare; swords were raised to meet the attackers. Gráin saw the riders in the middle, firing arrows almost blindly into the still black night. That is of no use in this darkness! Unless our luck truly changes…

In Vráin’s mind there was no room for such musings. His cry drowned to the noise of the battle about him but still his mouth opened to shout. He heard nothing but the blood surging in his ears; his eyes and mind were fixed on one goal only. Elentari... save Elentari!

Vráin saw the two villains unleashing the elf and using her as a living shield against the arrow-rain. He groped for his knives but then hesitated, narrowing his eyes in the dark. Elentari and her captors were like one great body, wrapped in shadows. There were no clear lines - and no target.

“No! They can’t get away!” the dwarf cried out. He glanced around, determined to find a way to stop the crooks’ escape. The answer to his prayers came to him right when Gráin reached him from behind.

“Elves! One elven arrow is all we need!” With that he spun round and almost bumped into Alcyávëiel.

“Quickly, your keen sight is needed!” and hastily Vráin pointed Elentari to the she-elf. In a matter of seconds Alcyávëiel snatched an arrow from her quiver, aimed and loosed the bow. A shivery scream cut the air as the arrow pierced the wretched man’s arm and the dagger slipped out of his hand. Elentari sunk to the ground.

Vráin wasted no more precious time. He took couple great leaps forward and reached the other man. The villain had lost his shield but he wasn’t unarmed. Presently he raised his rugged sword against the charging dwarf.

Had he seen the fire in Vráin’s eyes he would have shrunk and fled. Hah, a miserable dwarf! the thought could be read from his face. The man never had a chance to change his view about the race he so underrated. Vráin’s axe rose and fell; the mocking smile died on the man’s lips as the blade cut through his padded leather jacket and cleaved his breast.

Vráin was heedless of the warm blood that spurted on his face. He kneeled beside the elf, forgetting for a while the battle about him;

“Elentari…” he called gently but his tone was urging. “Elentari, we need to-…” Vráin ceased as he suddenly grew aware of the threat behind him. He knew it was too late to turn and defend - but he had to try. He heard the air stir before the coming stroke and his limp hand fell never reaching the handle of his axe.

****************************************

Gráin had been distracted by the observation of two men trying to sneak under the deep shadows of the trees. Just then, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Vráin bending over Elentari. But something else moved there too; a black shape against the grey darkness. Gráin gasped as he saw the shadowy figure rise behind his brother.

“Vráin!” his cry cleaved the air but too late.

[ June 19, 2003: Message edited by: Annunfuiniel ]