A mumak trampled over Valamir. Targon's head was chopped off by an Easterling chieftan's axe. A troll's war club knocked Halbarad to the ground.
Thoronmir woke from his nightmare of the Pelennor Fields and the deaths of his friends. He got himself together and went downstairs, where some of the others had gathered.
"Good morning," Menecar said. "Sleep okay?"
"Um, yes," Thoronmir made no mention of his dream.
"We'll be having a meeting here in about half an hour," Tarondo said. "Make sure you're here by then."
"I'll be here," the ranger said. He walked up to the bar. "How about some coffee?"
"Sure thing, Thorondor," Butterbur said.
"Ummm..." Thoronmir started to say.
"What?" Butterbur asked, clueless as usual.
"Never mind." Thoronmir got his coffee and didn't say any more. He went outside. The day was quite sunny with only a few small clouds. He walked out to the stable to feed his horse, Awyrgan, who was happy to see him, then bought supplies for the long journey ahead of them. On the way back to the Inn, he ran into Silrûth, who was also on her way to the Inn.
"We will be having one last meeting before we depart," he reminded her. They entered the Inn together.
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"So, we're going to check out where this shepherd was killed?" Menecar asked his old friend.
"Yes," Thoronmir said. "Right near Weathertop, and a very ugly sight if travelers' tales are accurate. That's right about where my scouting party disappeared when I sent them to investigate."
"Do you think some of your scouts might still be alive?" asked Luinen.
"I highly doubt it," Thoronmir replied, knowing the ugly truth. "These guys don't seem to like taking prisoners. Anyway, we must be cautious while searching for clues. On the journey, it would be best if we keep up a watch at night. Nobody should ever go off alone. If someone disappears, don't run off after them or you'll likely get killed. Do we have enough supplies for the road?"
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