Assajdir

The brooch's golden frame glittered faintly under the day's first light, lying in the middle of Angelnarth's palm. He clutched it tightly into his fist, bringing it up to his chin's height as he closed his eyes. "Brother..", he whispered, "..your victory was but a delusion. What am I to do now that I stand alone.". He turned and glanced over at the woman, sleeping on the soft grass while lying on her back. Even now, there was something about her that betrayed her unease.

The small campfire went out as darkness fell over the hill and the broad valley underneath. The Dunadan lied seated on the soft grass with his back leaning on a thick tree trunk, hugging his sheathed swords which lied between his stretched out legs as his consciousness was slowly fading towards a light sleep. Yet, his eyes were still fixated on the back of his companion.

A grunt escaped his teeth as he knelt beside the creek and looked to his ribs. A great bluish bruise setting in over the left side of his chest. He could feel it when he breathed, almost hear the bones shifting when he took a breath.