A large training ground stood in front of them, training dummies... or well, impaled people. That place smelled awful, like death.
They entered slowly, Anarr was standing in the middle of all those bodies. He threw two weapons at them, an old halberd at Dreothorn and a sword to Thayalengir. "Now I want to see how you two rend those bodies." Said Anarr, and he moved to the side, opening their way to the "dummies".
They slowly walked towards the bodies, Thayalengir quickly got into the butchering, striking from right to left gracefully, he was really a master in the swordfight...
As for Dreothorn, he knew not what to do. The halberd was too heavy to go around swinging it in any direction, so he just tried to crush the chest with all the strength he had. After some hits the chest was made raw meat, then he tried to make a thrust at the stomatch. Seems the corpses were too rotten, all the bowels fell to the ground, he stepped back and instantly threw up. The smell he could take it, but not that.
Anarr pulled him from behind and threw him to the floor, for the turmoil behind he could imagine Thay tried to help him but failed too. Some seconds after they were being both whipped with the pointy and scaled whip of Anarr. It hurt like void, anger grew inside Dreothorn and a strange urge made him stand up and turn around to confront the exasperating man behind the whip.
He felt how a lash scraped half of his face, a clamor of pain came after. He felt the blood dripping from his face and turned to see Thayalengir, just to meet a man with an astonishment look. He touched his face just to reassure his knowing, he felt a deep cut from his eyebrow to his cheek. The whip touched Thayalengir's back skin, ripping it and making another cut. Dreothorn had already fell to the ground by then, he didn't saw anything else than a crimson colour in his left eye. All went blurry after that.
He woke up on a bed of hay, now he felt a strap of cloth wrapped around his face. Looking around he met Thay's eyes, who seem as battered as himself.
"That was a real mess, I'm sorry." He said to Thayalengir, who was storing something inside a wooden box, Dreothorn was about to ask when he replied.
"Don't be, it was going to happen someday." His voice seemed really grim, it wasn't normal on him.
"Did you got whipped after I fainted?"
"Multiple times, but I still seem better than you." At least his humor was untouched.
"This will make a permanent scar aye?"
"Most probably."
Nodded slowly, "A scar isn't that bad." he thought, but he couldn't lie to himself. That would be permanent, that would stay as another reminder of his life in Rohan.
