[Lyra Greenleaf]

“Gilian! Rolan!” called Eäris hurrying to the courtyard. The two did not appear.
Eäris could feel panic bubbling up inside himself, but clamped it down. He had to be strong for his wife and children. Mentally and physically he drew himself up.

The sense of unease, of tension had grown in the air. Eäris strode to the gate, hand on sword. The streets, as he gazed around, looked unnaturally calm, though they were on the outskirts of the city. Somehow it added to the apprehension.
“Papa” said Elvira, coming up behind him “Where are they?”
“They were coming here. They should be here now” said Eäris unhappily. “I told Gil to run on, to pack her things” he added, almost to himself. “I should have had her walk with me.”
A faint sound came from down the city road. Eäris felt sick 'That sounded like scream' he thought. All at once he felt like he was back in the days when danger lurked all around, the days of the shadow...
"Get in the coach, Astarielle, Elvira" he ordered without glancing back to see if he was obeyed. Eäris had the feeling that once again he had to protect everything he held dear by fighting. He strode to the gate, drawing his sword.

For a while he stood there, until he felt silly. ‘Just an old man, reliving war games’ he thought and began to turn. He saw he’d been joined by his coachman and a number of the male servants. Elvira was also still standing there. He was about to tell her to go, but was distracted by a shout. "Corsairs!"
‘Corsairs!’ thought Eäris in disbelief.
The filthy looking man leading the band pointed when he saw them, and said something to the woman beside him. She laughed.

The Corsairs had begun to run, yelling and screaming as they came. Eäris felt panic, he found he could not remember what to do in a battle, he wanted to…he knew not what. Run, hide…something. His breath was coming in short gasps. He heard a scream from the coach behind him, and felt the heavy weight of his sword in his hand. Unbidden, a memory came to him. As if it had happened but a few days ago he remembered fighting and killing in battle, following Lord Faramir. ‘Now I must lead’ he thought, and I must be worthy of my commander. His face set. ‘I must protect my family.’
He took up the stance of battle. He turned to check that all the men behind him were armed.
“Corsairs fight dirty” he told them “Kill and wound all you can. Show no mercy. May Eru protect us.”

The leading Corsair had reached him. He pulled out a knife and lunged. Eäris cut off his arm, then slashed his throat. As always the scent of death sickened him, but he had no time to consider it, for he was surrounded by three now. One stabbed his leg with a short sword. Eäris stabbed him in the heart. The other two began to bear him down, working together. The coachman cut one down from behind, Eäris dispatched the other. There was no time for thanks as the fray continued.

[ February 21, 2003: Message edited by: Lyra Greenleaf ]