“Who goes there?”
Thendryt threw a glance upwards. A guard stood atop the southern portcullis of Glân Vraig, holding a torch.
The ride from Delossad had taken over a day, and Bovad looked eager to be done with it.
A second guard came into view. With wide eyes he seemed to recognize Thendryt, and hurried out of sight.
“Open the gate, it’s the Watcher!” Thendryt barely heard it.
Slowly Bovad walked into the fortress. The guard who’d seen him first was down so quick you’d think his life depended on it.
Once in the courtyard Thendryt dismounted. He led Bovad over towards the stables.
After dropping Bovad off Thendryt headed towards the kitchens. He still had Waybread of course, but a proper hot meal was never a bad thing. Night had started to fall, and silence lingered over the courtyard. He knew there were hundreds of soldiers of different races within the fortress walls, but sometimes the entire place went dead silent. It creeped him out.
After eating his meal, Thendryt sat down in one of the side-rooms. It didn’t take many moments before he was asleep.
Bright. So bright.
Grass. He was laying in grass. Slowly, Thendryt sat up. The wind was strong, yet mild, and cooled his face as he looked around. The wind created waves in the gras.
The Mark.
Fire.
Fire all around him. Thendryt was on his feet. It was getting closer.
He ran, he fell.
He ran, he fell.
Thendryt opened his eyes. He was on the floor. With a sigh, he got up.
“Comfortable?”
Thendryt paused, and slowly turned his head towards the door.
“The Captain-General summons you.” The Elf said, and left.
“Ah, Tirn.” Captain-General Tordúr looked up from his map-table when he heard Thendryt approach. He threw him a glance and locked his eyes on Thendryt’s face.
“What happened to you?” Tordúr asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Did a horse kick you in the face?”
Thendryt realized then why the guards at the gate had acted as they did. He threw a glance and the mirror hanging on the wall. Dried blood was smeared across his cheeks and chin, and his nose was swollen and slightly bent. Dolthafaer hadn't held back in his punch.
The Captain-General sighed and made a gesture towards the soldier in the corner.
“Go fetch a healer.” The soldier, a Man, nodded and made his way past Thendryt.
“You summoned me.” Thendryt said, dryly.
“Yes I did.” Tordúr replied. “I have orders for you. You are to aid Captain-General Lainedhel in Ost Ringdyr.”
“The Commander of all the forces in the Ettendales summons me personally?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. He asks me of spare troops, and you have a lot to live up to. Besides…” Tordúr scrutinized Thendryt’s face. “You look like you need some combat.” Thendryt snorted.
“Recent reports tell of increased Angmarim scouting of the northern Coldfells. Ost Ringdyr is a stronghold, but the keep is half-ruin. Hiril Lainedhel wants to deal with the threat quickly, and publically. Glân Vraig may be large itself, but Ost Ringdyr is larger still. And if the enemy found out that our main base of operations isn’t here but in the ruined keep-”
“Ja ja ja, no need to give me an entire lecture.” Thendryt crossed his arms. “What do you want me to do?” Tordúr gave him a serious look.
“Make them fear the forest.” Thendryt chuckled.
“I’ll leave right away.” Thendryt turned to leave.
“No, you will leave at first light.” Thendryt halted and glanced over his shoulder. Tordúr was looking at the doorway, where a female healer had appeared.
Thendryt snorted and followed her.
