[Novnarwen]

In mere desperation, seeing that chaos broke out amongst the Gondorians, as it seemed that they were under attack, Inemgar ran towards one of the highest trees. Afraid, almost crying, he grabbed the nearest branch and hoisted himself upwards. Halfway up, there was a loud crack, the branch broke, and the poor man fell down. Confused, he rose hurriedly from the ground with the branch still in his hand. He stood looking at it, slightly pained by the fall, feeling it especially in his back as it was already quite numb from the cold night it the snow. What had happened? He wondered at first. Didn't the tree want him to come up? Where was he supposed to hide? Surely, these beings that were running towards them, surrounding them, waving with shiny, oblong and sharp objects, all looking very grim, were some monsters from a distant place, a distant world. But exactly where they had come from was a mystery to Ingemar.

Suddenly, without being warned, an arrow passed him by and hit the tree trunk, just inches from his body. Being fairly surprised by this thing that had come flying through thin air, he turned around briskly. With a loud gasp, he watched one of the monsters looking creatures hit the ground, sighing. Ingemar opened his eyes wide. "Got to sleep, now?" he asked in wonder. He soon discovered however, that he had come to hit the Orc with the branch he was still holding. It was still quite unintelligible for the man of Dale to see that hitting such a creature with the branch had caused such an effect. Realising this at last though, he also understood that he had probably done something wrong; he had harmed another being. He gasped for air, kneeling beside the motionless body. He looked questioningly at it, feeling its breath against his cheek, smelling the stank from its sweaty body and seeing it close at hand. "Must be mooonster," he concluded, about to rise from his kneeling position. All of a sudden, movements that were too fast for the eye to catch distracted him. The Orc had opened his eyes and gained conscience! It was now grabbing Ingemar around his neck, seizing its sword. It roared with laughter or pure evilness, none could tell.

Ingemar stood helplessly, feeling the grasp around his neck only get tighter and tighter. A pointy silvery thing was held threateningly against his chest, and then even he could tell that what was coming was not good. The terror in his eyes, revealed his true feelings. The fear he felt inside made his body tremble terribly, his chest jump up and down as he could hardly breathe. His eyes grew wet, and tears began streaming down his cheek. The Orc was about to strike, when it suddenly stiffened. It stiffened and withered like a flower, when autumn strikes it with a cold November wind. Again, Ingemar fell to the ground, but he was quicker to get to his feet this time.

The whole event had scared him so much, that he had not managed yet to distance himself from it, in the manner of being relieved that he was even alive. He could probably never do it, because he didn’t see the world as most others did. He was still terrified, and he would probably be for a long time ahead.

He bellowed, and leapt to his feet, sprang as fast as he could until he reached another tree. Grasping one of the branches, he climbed it. This time he succeeded. Still shocked, not certain about what had actually happened, only that it had been truly terrifying, he clung to the tree trunk. He shook wildly. He did not dare look down. He didn't dare listen either. He would be safe here, if sat still.

Would he ever come down?