[littlemanpoet]

"Oh to be needed!" thought Ulfast ruefully.

'Well, brother, you’re not going that way. No. I need you yet.'

Uldor's words stung. It made Ulfast's blood boil. Who did he think he was? 'Heir apparent' was the answer, curse his hide!

Ulfast staggered up to his feet, testing his grazed arm. "My thanks, brother," he said offhandedly, as if saving his life was no great deed. "Had it come closer I might have had to break a sweat." Ulfast grinned so that the insult could be taken as a joke. Then he looked down at the beast that had almost been the end of him. "A fine beast! He will make a feast for many!" He turned back to Uldor. "Fail not to reward those who gave you the kill, my brother. And you!" he said, turning to Ulwarth. "Next time you act like my near death is a sideshow for you, I'll put a mark on you where you'll remember it!"

Lachrandir

These Ulfings had prowess, if little else. They would make good allies in the coming battle. "What think you, Tathren?" he asked his Elven aide.

"They are quick with their weapons. Let us hope they point always at our enemies."

"Indeed," Lachrandir remarked. Then he marked a disturbance coming their way from the direction of the village. "I wonder what nonsense this might be?"

One of the men at arms came racing up to the Ulfing brothers. "Lords! Two of the Borrim come with urgent word!"

"Bring them before us," Uldor said.

"Nay, lord, forgive me, but they seek Lord Lachrandir!"

Lachrandir raised a brow. "Bring them to me," he said. "Borrim messengers for me?" he said to Tathren. "What could they possibly want?"