"Faster, brothers!" Angelnarth said with a winded voice, as the company of rangers marched through the muddy roads of Annuminas. The tall men held on to their weapons and rushed onward, as the sun was setting behind their backs.
It was dark when they could finally hear the loud, violent noises from weapons clashing and men screaming in pain, coming from the battlefield. Angelnarth risked a few steps closer to the fray, and quickly spotted the Angmarim's front line. "Nock and set aflame, brothers. Their lines lie to the north-east. On my sign, unleash hell on them!". The men wasted no time, and as the darkness of the night completely covered the battlefield, the company of reinforcements let their flaming arrows fly upon the enemies of their kin. Again and again, they released their flaming volleys laying waste and disarray into Angmar's ranks.
Angelnarth found himself in front of his kinsmen by the time, pointing his long swords to the enemy in front. "Now is the time! Take heart, Dunedain, drive the evil out of our kin's lands! Hail Numenor!", he shouted and rushed to the Angmarims as the other northmen drew swords and followed, motivated.
More than ten years have passed for Angelnarth to fight for his own kin and land again, and the forces of Angmar to feel the might of his swordmanship, Thenin Calad. The battle was short after the company of reinforcements join in, as the enemy's spirit was broken by the massive casualties of their men, and the valour of the Dunedain, making them fall back to the northern blocks of the ruins.
Angelnarth laid down his swords and wiped some sweat off his forehead as he watched the terrified Angmarims flee. He did not mean for more bloodshed. He sheathed his blades carefully and slowly walked back the way he earlier came from, on his way cutting down the enemy, with his gaze lowered, facing the muddy from blood and rain soil, and a face concealed below his hood and metal visor.
He walked amongst the exhausted men and the corpses of kinsmen and enemies alike, his expression empty, seemingly ignorant of memories from anything that is good, beautiful or sacred to him. That was the meaning of war for Angelnarth, after all. His tired eyes fixated upon a man with a crimson red hood, who was kneeled over another Dunadan's laid body. Angelnarth walked to them.
"What is the situation here, brother?", he asked the man under the crimson hood. "He didn't make it..", the man replied from under his hood, without even raising his gaze to see who he was talking to. "May Este guide his spirit in peace. Was he your friend, or did you at least know who he was?"
"Turgur Tilogorn, a Dunadan who lived in the south, but came here to join the battle. And no, he was no friend of mine, we only just met before the battle.". Upon hearing the name Turgur, Angelnarth quickly kneeled paying no attention to the rest that the man said. He took the huge body of his late Dunadan to his arms, removing the full-face helmet from his head. And it was indeed, his friend and kinsman Turgur, lying dead in his arms that night. Three thick bolts were stuck in his body, two on his chest and one in his right shoulder. Bruised was his face, and blood was on his cheeks and on the side of his lips.
And yet, a faint smile was on them. One of tranquility and relief, Angelnarth could even say. His expression softened and eyes closed shut under his black hood, as he embraced the lifeless body of Turgur Tilogorn. "You old fool..smiling like that in the face of your own death.", he said in a rather bitter tone. He then hanged his head downward and for a few, endless to him moments, he mourned in sorrow.
Finally, he placed the dead man's hands together in front of his wounded chest, and slowly left his side, getting up on his feet. "Find peace, Turgur...the one that so stubbornly eludes the rest of us. Farewell, my friend.". He adjusted his hood and visor, and turned to the man with the crimson hood.
"I know what kind of death he had...but let me ask you, the one who was close to him in his end, did he say anything at all?". The man shook his head. "He did not.".
Angelnarth, though, watched the man earlier as he was stripping Turgur's body of something. It felt not like petty theft of a dead man to him though. It was almost like the man was looking for something specific. Angelnarth placed a hand on his right sword's hilt, and observed for a few moments, the bearded man with his face hidden below a crimson hood. Thick pelts and furs consisted his garments. A heavy crossbow on his back, and pointy daggers on his waist.
Angelnarth lowered his gaze again. "Cynraede, hunter and cooperator of the Order. One who calls Duramarth his father. Are you not that man, stranger?".
"Or perhaps are you not what most think, hunter..i wonder.". Angelnarth spoke, bitterness and hatred was in his voice.
"I fought for you and your kin, you idiot! And I will not be judged by a man I do not know. Keep your tongue in check lest you wish to find it tasting your bowels!"
Angelnarth furiously lowered his hood and threw his visor on the ground with force. "I am Angelnarth Naurmeril, northman and knight of the Order! And you will answer to me!".
"You idiot, you have no idea what i have done for you and your order. I fought beside this man, Turgur. And you are ready to draw your sword at me."
Cynraede's words reached Angelnarth only to make him more furious, and bring his mind further from reason. "No enemy could fire these bolts at Turgur with such precision, during the chaos of a battleground. Except if they placed one right next to him. Speak now, and speak the truth or my steel will do the talking from now on!". Angelnarth drew his sword and pointed it at Cynraede before even finishing his words.
"I have fought darkness for far too long to be slain by one from the light now.", Cynraede answered in disgust. "Draw your blades and let the swords speak what your tongue won't, you hideous remain of a man.".
Cynraede lowered his glance. "You fool..", he mumbled. Angelnarth lunged forward and slashed horizontally, aiming for his neck, but Cynraede ducked and evaded.
Angelnarth then quickly twisted his body the way he slashed, and hurled Cynraede with his fist. Cynraede stood still, as the armored fist smashed his face's left side. Angelnarth took a quick, graceful step back, holding his sword in front of him.
He breathed heavily, not from fatigue but anger, emanating from his broken heart and spirit. Angelnarth was not the man he was meant to be, not that night. He clenched his teeth with hatred and shouted louder than every fight he has fought before. "He was a good man! He wished only to protect his kin and companions! Why would anyone condemn him like that?! What right did you have, Cynraede!"
The Hunter stood still in front of him, his mouth shut and his eyes hidden in the darkness of his crimson hood. Angelnarth unleashed a series of slashes upon the man, his precision reflecting nothing of his swordsmanship, as Cynraede willingly took the slashes all over his chest, causing dozens of cuts on his flesh and attire. Angelnarth's hand was intentionally misguided. He did not cut deep, as his morality has not yet completely left him, even in this state of amok.
Cynraede stood at his exact same place, watching his chest bleeding. He opened his hands wide and stared at Angelnarth, a face empty of emotion. "You might as well finish this. Take me out of my misery once and for all."
Angelnarth's eyes widened flashed with rage. "You...petty abomination of a human being!", he cried and grabbed Cynraede's ripped tunic with his hand, pulling him on the ground with as much force as he could.
Cynraede fell on the muddy ground, as his attire was torn completely, half left on Angelnarth's hand and what was left of it hanging down from his waist. He stayed there, still, his body all slashed and exposed. He braced himself, almost as if he tried to cover his entire chest with his arms. Angelnarth froze upon what his eyes met, when they saw the Hunter's bare body. The tight grip on his sword weakened, so much, that he did not even realize how it fell from his hand and on the ground. His expression softened, as the anger was leaving him and all that was left, was pain.
"And those who do not die by our hand, accursed and scarred shall be..", the Dunadan mumbled quietly, almost whispering to the air. Cynraede remained motionless. He trembled, as tears were coming down his face, falling on the ground and mingling with the blood from his wounds. "Of whom no one will take", Cynraede continued, "looking only upon the markings of the black. For they shall hear the darkness and forever walk alone.".
Angelnarth covered his face with both his hands. He could not even begin to realize the wrong that he did to this man, to realize what he has become, even for these few moments. All he felt was shame, and endless pain in his heart. The pain of loss, that was. He removed his cloak and covered the naked body of Cynraede. "Forgive me...", Angelnarth said. "Brother.."
