The three elves looked like if they had crawled out of a grave. In a way, that was the truth, as they had left emerged from an ancient barrow but a few moments ago.
Dusty, dirty, with cobwebs in their hair and unmentionable remnants of their foes on their boots.
The first one to break silence was Shemkel.
'We have to come back here with fire. Lots of it and lots of oil.' His voice was coarse from the fetid air of the tombs. The sound of Sindarin language alerted a nearby crebain, who set off with a loud call.
The bird did not fly far, though. An arrow set loose by one of the other elves pierced it mid-air, cleanly through the neck.
'A good shot' Shemkel whispered and raised his hand to order silence. Then he motioned towards south, towards the exit from that terrible, unclean place.
The three elves set off quickly and quietly, sneaking through the grim night, hiding in the shadows.
Every crebain they encountered died swiftly and efficiently.
Their way to Falathlorn was not a perilous one, after they had left the barrows, but the news they confirmed were grevious indeed.
It wasn't only Angmar, that the Shadow grew and loomed over the neighbouring lands.
Allover the Middle-earth something stirred. An Ancient Evil had awakened and no one was same anymore...
No comments:
Post a Comment