[Manôphazân]

A long line of tired soldier trudged up another in a series of seemingly endless hills. Cold rain fell heavily on their slumping shoulders, and gusts of violent wind pushed at them from all directions. Soaked to the bone and aching in every joint, the men wished for an end to the march and dreamed of drier lands back home. Far to the south, where many of them came from, the lands seldom saw such rainfall, and few among them had experienced the drenching storms of southern Gondor.

At their lead, Lan’kâsh and Gimilzôr rode together, each peering ahead through the falling rain. Except for the horse drawn wagons at the back of the procession, theirs were the only mounts available to the Haradrim invaders. Everyone else suffered on foot, slipping in the ever-deepening mud, some even using his spear as a crutch when the road became particularly steep.

“This is why I have always hated Gondor,” shouted Lan’kâsh above the wind. “Seasonal storms and no horizon.” He pointed to the swaying pines bordering the muddy track and rising away on lofty hills in all direction. “The line of sight is always short in the North, and it is so easy to conceal an ambush in these rolling lands.”

“I have always heard that the lands of the Horsemen are more like our own,” mused Gimilzôr. “But there the lands is covered in high grass instead of shifting sand.”

“I too have heard of that place,” answered Lan’kâsh, standing in his saddle and raising an arm into the air. With an audible sigh of relief, the column of soldiers halted. Skirmishers rushed out to form a protective cordon. “Have you ever been to Rhûn? The land there is also grassy and endless, and their horses pull roaring chariots filled with spearmen and archers.”

Gimilzôr remained silent, and Lan'kâsh changed the subject to the business at hand.

“Seven days now we have been marching in Harondor, and as yet we have seen no sight of northern soldiers. Tonight we can camp in the rain, but tomorrow we will be coming close to the Poros. Captain Anhelm is sure to have word of our presence in these lands, and he will have sent out scouts.”

“Anhelm sir? Is he in charge at the Crossing now?”

“According to our informants at the settlement, he is the leader there.” He gave the signal for the soldiers to make camp near the road. “A capable leader, by all accounts, but he will be timid with his family present. Settlers are always timid.”

He looked back at Jinan and Frôzhal’s weary conscripts and sighed. “There may be battle soon. Today. Tomorrow. Let us hope our settlers have more mettle than theirs.”

He looked up and smiled as the rain suddenly stopped without warning.