"Come on, come on! We're in Dunland, already. Few more days, and we'll be there."
Their travel had been a calm and smooth one. Straight to the South-East, into Enedwaith, and then further South in Dunland.
We're almost there. Isengard... I've never seen it myself. Hopefully, I will be able to see Anna again soon.
Baldy nodded towards a thicket, with short trees and tall bushes, the green leaves not feeling the autumn's withering kiss. Probably because it was still summer there. The thicket wasn't either very small or very big. It was just... a thicket. And it was quite close.
"Look at that. That's some good soil. I bet they've buried at least a hundred oxen there." he said.
"Two hundred. Look at how thick it is. It's almost like Berrywine's hair." replied Fatty, laughing.
Ildrand huffed a chuckle, squinting his left eye to prevent a drop of sweat from rolling down inside it. "Ay, ay. Make fun of it. When you will be old as me, you will wish you had this much hair. But oh, right, you won't reach that age."
He was right. Six arrows took flew from the thicket, towards the two boys.
As he realized what was happening, Ildrand buried his heels in the horse's flesh, but the beast wouldn't move. Another volley had been shot, towards the man and his steed. He could only jump off the saddle before the horse would fall down crushing his leg. He got an arrow into his right arm, but it didn't go deep, stopped by the steel and the padding.
He was facing away from the thicket when a third volley was aimed at him, all the six arrows burying into his back. He took the time to break part of the shaft protruding from his left arm, before he drawed his backsword and turned. Yet another volley attempted to kill him, but the arrows couldn't strike him straight up enough to penetrate the chainmail, and three of them just bounced off his steel plates.
As the ambushers noticed they would not take him down with arrows, they rushed out of the trees, with axes and clubs in hand. The first one got his right hand cleanly cut off, and Ildrand's blade found its way easily through the soft neck. The second one was close enough to attempt and strike the old master-at-arms, but his axe was blocked by the sword. He was pushed back, and the third one took his place, attempting to swing his mace at Berrywine. The backsword was buried into his belly, and then took back out to block another axe. The shaft broke in half at its second contact with steel, and the man wielding it ended up with his throat sliced.
Ildrand took a few steps back, to get some distance between him and his attackers. As one of them attempted to close in and strike, Berrywine parried and stepped further towards him, drawing his dagger with the left hand to give point against the Dunlending's belly. He then attempted to chop at the fifth's neck, but his strike was parried. He coughed and stepped back again as an axe found its way to his belly - yet not through his chainmail.
The axe went for him again, but this time he would step to the side to dodge it, and retaliate with a chop at the opponent's wrist. He then brought his sword back up, just in time to parry the other's mace, and he stepped further inside his guard, driving his dagger into the other's chest up to the hilt. As he turned, the last of the ambushers fell on his knees, holding his now hand-less right arm close to his chest. One moment later, his head was rolling on the dirt.
It took some time for Ildrand to extract the arrow from his arm, and one from his back. He tried to reach the others, as well, but couldn't do much. None of them was a deep wound, as chainmail and thick padding would have been quite tough to go through, but they all found their way to his flesh. And that hurted.
He searched the saddlebags on his horse, looking for the remaining food. He took one bag and filled it with whatever he found.
I'm sorry, Hayspear. Seems like I will lose your rapier.
He felt cold. Under the bright and hot sun, under his steel, under his padding, with pearls of sweat on his forehead, he felt cold. He had been walking for three days, never stopping to sleep. The arrows stuck into his back didn't even bother him anymore. He had to reach Isengard, as soon as possible. There, he could be healed. And he had to avoid every settlement, as well, so he was forced to take a long walk away from the road, hiding and always keeping an eye on the horizon. The first day went well, but starting from the second he felt like he couldn't even think as good as usual.
Am I just walking in circles? Yes... this dirt looks familiar. And that little green tussock, too... What the hell, everything looks all the same here.
His eyelids felt so heavy, and such a good sensation he got from shutting them...
No, no no no! I can't allow myself to sleep. If I fall asleep, I'm totally fucked up... I'm already totally fucked up.
No, no! Go on, Ildrand. Isengard can't be much further away. You can do it.
And on he went.
I can- I will do it. I didn't live thirty-and-nine years to die before my hair turns completely white.
He fell forward twenty paces later, his face against the dirt, and his hands clenched into fists.
Anna...
