Barahiirn

We turned into the grounds of Númenstáya to a call from above, a hail from Filignil at her lookout point. “Oh, welcome, welcome back!” she cried, then lowering her bow, turned to run along the ridge to meet us. The sky was at that beautiful point just before dawn, when the eastern edges of our view, over the houses and further hills, were outlined with a pale rose-gold glow.

He lay on his back. His eyes would have been staring at the sky, if he could have opened them. One was already a swollen mess, mind-numbing pain shooting from it that he was sure he was blind. The other eye he could open just a crack, though he could not make out much of anything. His whole body ached and burnt with pain. He tried to focus his thoughts away from the pain to listen to the Men’s harsh voices and understand what they were arguing about.