[Envinyatar]

There was a fire in his side as he bent over the neck of his mount and clung tightly to the horse’s mane. The wound had completely reopened, he could feel the blood run in thick rivulets down his side. He was dizzy, his thoughts slow. He wound his hands tightly in the mane and focused his mind on a single thought.

Cross the river . . .

His mount flew over the long flat mile that led to the ford. He could hear the sounds of the battle grow dimmer, though he wondered if that were just a trick of his increasingly foggy mind. He groaned as the horse’s hooves struck the uneven ground, jolting him cruelly. The water was near, he could see the silvery band draw closer, the currents splashing against the streambed rocks, sending up small white capped waves and feathery spumes as it beat against the larger rocks.

There was a booming echo that swelled behind him, a rhythmic heavy slapping that trailed in his path. Daring a look behind, Veryadan caught sight of a Troll . . . no two, Trolls hurrying toward the river, hunting, drawing closer with their long strides. Their gazes were on him, great threatening hulking creatures, and he their prey. The horse had already smelled their presence, needing no urging from his rider. His long neck stretched out, nostrils flaring as he galloped into the broad expanse of water; stride impeded only by the height of the river as it hit him well above the knees.

Warily, the Trolls entered the River, their great feet and legs stirring up the waters as they surged forward. With each stride they seemed to gain confidence as they doggedly pursued the Ranger.

The waters grew shallower as the east bank neared. Veryadan felt the quick heave and surge of the horse’s body as it left the river and struggled up onto the stony path. The Ranger clung tighter to the horse’s mane as it climbed the steep bank at the river’s edge. He had made it across the Ford.

At the top of the bank, he halted for a moment, bringing his horse about. Across the river he could still see the Elves, men, and Orcs engaged in the chaotic action of the battle. Closer still were the Trolls which pursued him, they had reached the shallower waters of the east bank. A few more strides and they would be clambering up the bank. Veryadan’s horse was winded; his sides heaving from the exertion of the flight. He could feel the trembling of the creature’s muscles beneath him. Pushing himself up as straight as he could, Veryadan drew his sword, preparing to make once last stand. The faces of the Trolls were now near enough that he could see the leering grins on both their faces.

From behind, the deep cries of some host urged their mounts onward. Veryadan’s heart sank at the prospect of more foe behind. But the looks of surprised dismay, turning to terror, on the faces of the Trolls made him turn his head. And there came Aidwain, spurring his horse toward him, followed by a small company of Elves and Rangers. Fifteen greyed-eyed riders, their weapons already drawn, their faces grim as they looked across the river. One of the Rangers spoke low to Aidwain, who nodded his head in reluctant agreement.

‘Come, Veryadan,’ said the Elf. ‘You are given into my care by your fellow Rangers. Let me lead you to the stone bridge that crosses the upper bend of the river and thereon the short path to The Last Homely House.’ Aidwain reach over to take the reins, but Veryadan waved him away with what strength he could muster. ‘Leave me. I know the way. No foe will pursue me in your wake. Ride to the aid of our other companions.’ He put his hand on the Elf’s arm. ‘The foul Orcs will overwhelm them if you do not reach them soon.’ Aidwain hesitated for a moment, but Veryadan had already begun to urge his mount down the path and away from him.

Aidwain trailed the ten Elves and five Rangers who had already entered to ford and were speeding west across it. The two Trolls who had menaced Veryadan had already run off, their escape taking them down the river to the south and there into the woods that lay along the western bank. No need to pursue them, Aidwain thought. They were running in a panicked manner, away from the battle.

The tide of battle turned as soon as the mounted company of Elves and men burst onto the strand and bore down upon the Orcs . . . blades slashing and deadly arrows finding their marks . .