[Saurreg]

A smile shaped on Belegorn’s lips as the gladdening words of Captain Carthor reached his ears. He thrust his hand out and offered it to the older man in friendship and solidarity. Carthor was caught unprepared by the spontaneous act and hesitated at first, but he quickly accepted the sincere hand shake and Belegorn could discern a glitter in his new-found comrade’s eyes.

Belegorn took the opportunity to study Carthor’s face in the pale light of nearby torches. Age and weather had roughed the rounded face leaving countless lines and wrinkles, and the scarred nose with its dented ridge was a testimony to the countless battles and tribulations the man had faced. But this was not an odious face; in fact the piercing blue eyes, distinctive forehead and grey hair gave the man an aura of power and an air of regality. Carthor belonged to the elite division of charismatic men who were born to lead, just as Hírvegil was.

His features were also strikingly familiar. Belegorn could have sworn that he had seen the same well set pair of blue eyes somewhere before, not too long ago.

“Pray tell Lord Carthor,” asked Belegorn, “But do you have a son and is he with us?”

Carthor broke into a grin with unsuppressed pride, “Not just one Lieutenant, but two fine strapping lads! I should think that the one you have in mind is Faerim, my eldest born. Folks say he resembles me the most, especially at eyes and forehead. But his has delicate features, good looks from his mother’s side I reckon. And thank the stars for that!”

Both men laughed out loud and their laughter caught the attention of curious bystanders near them. Both men winched when Nevhith decided that he was privy to the conversation an emitted a shrill laughter of his own. Ignore him, mouthed Belegorn to Carthor with his back to the intruder. Eyeing the boy from head to feet, Carthor wisely agreed.

“Faerim, so that’s his name…” mused Belegorn to himself, “Fine lad! And he seems is to be on good terms with the fairer folks. Perhaps… Perhaps he would be interested in a position in the Rearguard.”

“Aye... perhaps,” remarked Carthor with less enthusiasm, eyes falling away from Belegorn’s.

Sensing that he might have inadvertently touched on a raw nerve, Belegorn acted to diffuse the rising tension.

“Let’s see; Nesse? Nehit? Nevhith? Yes! Nevhith! Come here boy and make yourself useful!”

Like an eager puppy anticipating a treat, the scrawny youth scampered towards the two men but before Belegorn could continue, Nevhith was already introducing himself to Carthor,

“Yes, I am Nevhith, son of Torgar! And I am no boy, I am a man! And this is my-”

“Yes! Yes!” Interrupted Belegorn, waving his arm impatiently, “Now listen carefully, this here is Lord Carthor – a captain of the king’s army. You will now go and find the senior sergeants and tell them that Lord Carthor has hereby agreed to help us and all men of the regiment are to obey his every command and pay him the same respects as they would to Captain Hírvegil himself. Understood? Now off you go!”

Nevhith snapped into what he thought was a formal Arthedain salute (it was not) and bolted off into the semi-darkness, delighted with his “important” errand.

Belegorn turned to Carthor and gave him an apologetic look.