Faimur shifted uncomfortably in his Eagle Guard armor. The harsh sun of the Lone-lands raged down upon his exposed neck, making a drop of sweat trickle down his brow. What I wouldn't give for some water right now... He thought, casting a glance over to a small, brown-haired Hobbit, before shaking his head. No, I don't need it that badly to ask Pomina.
The group of soldiers stood on a hill close to the shadow of the great Weathertop. Sergeant Arenfith stood next to Sergeant Fuerlan, pointing to points on a map, making gestures towards the great hill, muttering in a low voice that Faimur couldn't hear. Lieutenant Zelderan Shadowbane stood watching the hill with his blue eyes, filled with a thoughtful look. Pomina the Hobbit was laying on the ground, snoring away, while Avahmarie stood next to Zelderan. Faimur stood alone, as he normally did, though he put on his helmet, which covered his face and provided some shade for his neck. His foot was tapping impatiently, as he checked his greatsword, Cempa, and awaited the coming challenge.
The Eagle Guard officers had tracked someone at the top of Weathertop. Whom that was, however, Faimur was not sure of. He was just following his orders. "Alright, let's head up that mountain!' Sergeant Arenfith roared over the group. We all mounted on horses that Fuerlan had brought along, and started out towards Weathertop, basking in it's dark shadow.
They got to the top of the mountain a bit after noon. Faimur walked ahead of the group and shouted, "There's nothing here!"
"Wrong." A voice suddenly came from the shadows.
Faimur spun around, drawing his greatsword just as quickly. A lone woman stood in the shadows, a savage grin drawing over her face. "Nalokha." Zelderan said, drawing his swords. He strode forward, passing Faimur, until Nalokha waved a hand. Fifty archers with Angmarim war paint on their bodies, stood out from behind rocks, all holding several large, brutish crossbows. "Fire!" Nalokha yelled.
A huge storm of bolts fired down upon the group. Faimur attempted to hit the ground, but alas, felt a sharp pain in his side. He looked down and swore. A bolt portruded from a chink in his armor, and blood was running like a river down his side. Groaning, Faimur saw Zelderan pull back, while Arenfith held his shield up, covering the group's... retreat? Faimur's eyes darkened, as retreating was never an option for him. "Pull back!" Arenfith roared at him, as several bolts ricocheted off of the shield. Glaring, Faimur realized that the sergeant was right. There were just too many.
Faimur climbed to his feet, and, with adrenline pumping through his veins, dashed towards the exit, bolts zinging! passed him. Arenfith followed close behind.
Faimur groaned as pain shot through his side. Will this war... ever end...?
To Be Continued.
