[Nerindel]

Astalder

The Haradrim soldier drummed his fingers impatiently on his knees, his face showing that he did not understand Astalder’s lack of cooperation and that his strong Gondorian discipline and self control was something the young man had never encountered before, in fact it was a rare gift that Astalder had worked at during his numerous campaigns in Rohan, against fouler things than southern men.

“While you sit here wasting your time, my captain prepares the settlement for your attack, your fires set these things in motion. You will not find the settlement unprepared!” he calmly told his interrogator keeping his eyes level.

“If I where you I would leave these lands before they can find out what you have done, Gondorian vengeance is strong and unyielding, in destroying the outposts you have already instigated a war, a war which you can not win!”

“Tsk! you know nothing Gondorian, the Poros is weak, Gondor is weak and we will break both like waves crashing over stone,” the Haradwaith answered rising to his feet.

“With this army...?” Astalder mocked, “Farmers and sheepherders from what I have seen, with no knowledge of the horrors and hardships of war!” he paused and studied the young warrior before him, “Perhaps even you do not know of what I speak.” His words got the expected reaction as the Haradrim soldier belted him hard across the face.

“You are a fool if you believe that this is all we have, we are only the…..” The warrior stopped in his angered words, regarded him with a wry grin, “Very clever, Gondorian. Just not quite clever enough!” he said realising what the Gondorian had almost tricked him into revealing.

“But you are right, some of our men are novices, untrained and undisciplined, I do not think even I will be able to stop them from taking what they want from the destroyed settlement, some may even take a fancy to tasting your women! Do they taste sweet, Gondorian?” He whispered into his ear.

That was it, the thing that broke his careful discipline, a blind rage took him, the image of his beautiful wife being ravaged by haradrim soldiers was more than he could bare. He smashed his head into the face of his interrogator, who fell back in surprise, disoriented and grasping at his bloodied nose. Astalder then threw himself towards the table where he had caught the glint of a knife, finding the knife he rubbed his bonds against the sharp blade, a small trickle of blood ran down his hand as he nicked himself on its sharpened edge.

The Haradrim soldier had regained his bearings and was on him again before he had the chance to free his legs, gripping the hilt of the wicked looking Haradwaith knife he turned to met the soldiers advance. But as he turned a new sound erupted outside, causing both men to pause. Panicked shouts and swords clashing in the distance, a horn sounded and a grin crossed Astalders face.

“It sounds like Gondors wrath has already found you!” he taunted to his interrogator.

“But you will not live to see it!” the soldier growled advancing towards him in a threatening manner.

Astalder again dived to the floor and rolled out of the way slipping the knife between his feet and cutting his bonds, he was forced to roll again as his opponent drove his sword towards his head. Getting to his feet he ran for the exit, but his opponent was quicker and barred his way. As the soldier rose his sword to strike Astalder threw out his fist smashing the haradrim hard in the stomach, the soldier doubled over winded and he lifted the knife in his hand meaning to slit the mans throat, but catching the glint the young man moved and the knife only caught him across his left cheek. His side step left the exit open and Astalder plunged through the flap leaving the young Haradrim warrior behind.

“Where’s your uniform, soldier!” a familiar voice called before him.

“Captain!” Astalder grinned taking the hand the man thrust out to him, “that is a long story,” he laughed letting Anhelm pull him onto the back of his mount.

“Well, let us get out of here and you can tell me all about it.” Anhelm replied kicking his horse.

“Wait! There is something I must first retrieve,” he called above the ringing sounds of battle, his eyes narrowing towards the battling form of Lan’kash and the sword hanging at his waist.

“No, are you mad!” Anhelm exclaimed following his gaze, “I have got what I came for we must leave!”

“Perhaps I am, but he still has something of mine and I am loathed to leave it behind, just ride hard and I will do the rest.”

Anhelm shook his head but urged his mount on faster, Astalder leaned low over the right side of the horse his eyes narrowing, as he fixed them on the hilt of his sword that hung from the Haradrim leader’s belt. “It’s all a matter of timing,” he reassured himself licking his dried bruised lips. Then as they past he threw out his hand and grasped the hilt.

The weapon was well oiled and slipped easily from its sheath, but the momentum knocked the Haradrim leader from his feet and in a moment of spontaneity he mockingly saluted the fallen leader. Then Anhelm gave the order to retreat.