[Arry]

The immediacy of the skirmish was fading; the press of emotions settling down into a space where he could think more clearly. Brand twitched his shoulders, throwing off some of the tightness and the welling hatred for the Orcs and Easterlings that had fueled his thoughts and actions for the past moments of the assault. Hatred . . . and fear, too. He could not deny that. Even as he’d thrown his net, he’d wondered would he die. And this time he’d mastered the thought and met what might have proved a fatal task with some degree of success.

But now, hearing the man’s words as he struggled in the net, Brand wondered if perhaps he should have used his head more and his gut-feelings less.

‘. . . fiend of the nameless one,’ the fellow had shouted out. ‘. . . enemy . . . Riders of Rohan . . . King Theoden . . . Bregoware . . .’

‘Did you hear him?’ Athwen had asked. And now Dorran came up whispering hurriedly that he didn’t think these two looked like the Eastern men he’d heard of.

Brand’s shoulder’s slumped, a sickening feeling washing over him. The little haze of battle had cleared completely from his eyes. And now he took in the two figures. They looked like . . . him . . .

‘’Vaenosa, stay your hand, please. I ask you. Lest we be like the Orcs and other fiendish creatures of the Shadow and kill our own.’

He turned to the netted man and laid down his cudgel. Crouching down beside him he looked him in the eye, words of apology and explanation spilling from his lips. ‘We are men . . . and of the Mark,’ he began. ‘We are sorry our actions have brought you harm. Like you we thought you were the enemy finishing up that gruesome task the Orcs had begun. Worse actually, we thought you were Eastern men come to take us into slavery for your Dark Lord.’ He began to loosen the cords that held the net tight, hoping the man was not so overtaken by his own anger that he would rise up and kill him.

‘My name is Brand,’ he said as his fingers loosed the fetters. ‘My companions and I are from Wulfham, two days north of the great ford. We are bound to the King’s Hall to ask aid for our village.’

He loosed the last knot, letting the net fall free. Brand stood up quickly and took a step back from the man. Then, thinking better of his actions, he stepped forward once again and extended the man a hand up . . .