(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 12 - Fight at the Ford

Fight at The Ford

It is late morning when the party finally leaves the stronghold of Isengard. As they draw nigh the fords, those who may see, would view the heavy look upon the face of Indilzar. He seems to be caught up in conversation with Thorondur and Erchirion, "...and that is why you are the herald!"

Arrayed to meet the grimness of Indilzar and the weight of his words is the radiance, the gloom-defying smile of the Lord Thorondur. Hands lightly guiding the reins of his mighty steed, the white-mantled chevalier shrugs his shoulders. "And had I stopped your speech, would it have mattered?"

"Do not wizards," the Herald wonders, "know the minds of Men by hidden and subtle art?"

Trailing behind the trio is Morrandir, having trouble with his horse as usual. His black cloak is draped across his shoulders, and his hair hangs limply across his face.

"Still my own counsel is in doubt," says Indilzar slowly. He tightens his grips about the reigns, "I do not give full heed to the words of the wizard and I am loathe to go east when Lord Denethor bade us to seek Elrond the Halfelven."

"The words of the wizard were warmer and seemed more wise, to me, than our own Steward's," disputes the Herald, looking curiously upon Indilzar now. "How can you aught but heed them?"

Calmly does the son of Imrahil ride in his place aside the two Lords of his fathers court, his ears ever listening to them as they speak, yet his eyes rest wholly upon the horizon.

"Perhaps it is my pride," admits Indilzar slowly with a shrug, "For this may not be a right route and it may draw us many months out of our reckoning. But come! Let us cross yon fords and then we can debate on this matter."

With that Indilzar urges his steed forth.

The Vale of Nan Curunir
Here stands a tower of marvellous shape. It was fashioned by the builders of old who smoothed the Ring of Isengard, and yet it seems a thing not made by the craft of Men, but riven from the bones of the earth in the ancient torment of the hills. A peak and isle of rock it is, black and gleaming hard: four mighty piers of many-sided stone are welded into one, but near the summit they open into gaping horns, their pinnacles sharp as the points of spears, keen-edged as knives. Between them is a narrow space where a man might stand 500' above the plain. This is Orthanc, the citadel of Saruman, the name of which has a twofold meaning in the elvish speech _Orthanc_ signifies Mount Fang, but in the language of the Mark of old, the Cunning Mind.

Roads spoke out from the center piece, in each of the cardinal directions. While a smaller road wraps itself sungly around the tower in search of the entrance.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Mauhur catches a figure approaching in the corner of his eye. He winces through the cold wintery landscape to see the figure, but his vision fails him. He does what he would as though he does not know him, "Camp guards! We have an incoming!" They look in his direction, and ready their arms, three of them total ready to take on the figure, their weapons drawn.

The black uruk hears the alarm. He takes a defensive stance wildly looking around him trying to find the intruder...finally he spots him. "Dirg'kra there" he points toward the figure.

Growls as Mauhur lets out the call. Dropping her pack to the ground and drawing her ax. She turns to look from where the invaders are entering the camp. "Glaggrozk, stay close, we will attack together" as she sets her feet and waits the approach of the enemies. Snorts at the sighting.."hoommansss" and runs for the first one.

Yelling loudly over the sudden clamor caused by the sight of the approaching figure, Ar'Shad bellows, "Teeth! To me!" With strides as quick as his armor will permit he rushes to join Mauhur. As he runs his sharp eyes search for other signs of movement around the camp. The trio of guards fan out to meet the incoming runner as Ar'Shad draws up to Mauhur.

As the riders of Gondor come down toward the fords it is Huan the Faithful, mighty hound of Dol Amroth that lets loose a fearful baying and in that howl is heard the horns of the Prince of Imrahil by the sea and almost the stones of the earth shake!

Varguul yanks his hood down, the snarling, ice covered face of the Smith Varguul is visible atlast. Those that have paid any attnetion to the goings on at camp wold recall that Varguul left the warmth of the campfires last night and wandered off to the north inpatient, and uneasy. He has apprently stayed out all night in the bitter winter cold, and it shows on him. He waves a hand at the guards and shouts in Uruk for them to lower thier bows.

His voice continues to ring out, cold and hard, "To arms children of Chakdral! To arms!" He dashes past the guards to Champion Dirg'kra, he is loud enough for the entire camp to hear, "I have been out all night, and I have seen them! Riders come, tall men, not of Rohan. To arms!" He points to the north just as the hound begins to bay.

Ar'Shad draws a short wide-bladed sword from the rough scabbard at his back and holds it ready for battle.

Barraka swivels quickly at the call and runs to Mauhurs side shield extended and broadsword pointing towards the oncoming whiteskins,than seeing his unit leader he yells a greeting.

At a slow cantering come the Men of Gondor, down into the Wizard's Vale from Isengard above. Yet lo -- now the air is split with the howling of great Huan!

Upon his high white mount, the Knight-Herald looks suddenly up, shielding his eyes from the light of the sun and its glare, the same that illumines his armour. "Orcs," he wonders, "here?"

To his companion Indilzar smiles - oh yes - he smiles. Then he draws forth his blade and then says, "If it is so! Then the advantage is ours! For lo the sun is high and with us go many of the great of Gondor in arms. If they seek to hunt the flesh of the Men of Westernesse, then they will become the hunted. Shall I loose Huan upon them?"

Glaggrozk quickly runs to catch up to Dirg'kra, his clans champion, what a honor it is to fight by her side. He falls in along side of her awaiting the humans to come.

Drawing up his horse at the sounds of the baying hound, Erchirion's hand rest now upon the hilt of his blade, "Things seem to be amiss in the land's about Orthanc," he cast a quick look to Indilzar, "One wonders why the White allows such to rest here." His tone questioning even as the words pour forth, "There is but one way my Lords," the twinkle lighting his eye, "Let loose the Hound."

"By Nienna's tears!" exclaims Morrandir, drawing forth Angor, his sword. He glances at Thorondur, his face having lost all colour, hoping to gain confidence from his Knight.

"Aye, the Hound," chimes the voice of the Lord Girithlin -- and following the words comes the sweet rasp of swift-drawn steel.

Indilzar then says to Thorondur, "Sound your horn! Let us hunt amidst the stony ford! Forth the hunters!"

Then he says to his companion, the Dread Hound of the South, "Now Huan! Forth!"

At that the grey hound of Belfalas leaps forth and the hunger in his eyes blazes forth like a light. After him follows Indilzar Bragollach and his own eyes shine with the violence of his house ready to unloose against the orcs.

It takes only a moment for Mauhur to realize the attack, Varguul spreading the warning, the veteran Captian of the orc commands quickly to all of the gathered troops, "The camp must remain," he points to Dirg'kra and Glagg, "You two, take your party and defend the camp of incoming attackers, the rest of you," he yells to the rest of the group, "Ready yourselves and begin the run!"

Orcs surrounding Mauhur begin what they are told without hesitation, the archers do what they are best at, thought their skill is lacking from any human archer, they begin to launch arrows into the air in the general direction of the humans, though none actually make it that far or even land close to their target. The remaining troops gather their armor, sloppily strap the chain and leather over their backs, and then pick their weapons up and begin a charge up the icy hill from wence Varguul has come, and the humans rest.

And even as the Lord Herald draws forth his steely blade, so too does the Son of Imrahil ready himself, "Come Lads," his voice splits the air about the group, "There's work to be done."

"Hold fast and cleave to my side, Morrandir," the Lord Girithlin instructs his young squire, smiling grimly as the hunters spring their trap. And then there is no more time for words, for lo! A horn in his hand, and to his own lips does Thorondur raise it.

Ba-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Ba-WHOOOOOM ba-WHOOOOOOOOOM!!

And the sound echoes down off the hills, and the rocky slopes that form them.

Lo Men of Gondor! What tale can tell of the affray to come? Who can now witness the valour of Gondor riding forth under the sun. Yet at their head is the fey Indilzar and now he knows his ground. His naked blade glimmers with the radiance of the son and by him the mighty hound charges forth. He calls back to the others, "Come now! I will not be the only one to clean these fords! Let us hasten! Rohan needs our aid!"

Looking to his Knight, Morrandir finds the courage to grin. Moving up beside him he looks upon the orcs with a determined smile.

Varguul breaks the ice from his features, turning, already breathing heavily, he joins with the charging Orcs back the way he came. "" He whips his hammer over his head, shield at the ready as he moves to the forefront of the Orcish assult.

With a wild yell,Barraka follows his companions. Absolutely vowing to himself that he will not let his sgt die at the hands of the looming figures approaching.

And the thunder of the hooves grows all in a clamour, joining the horn's echoes resounding down upon the Vale. Now do the Men of Gondor charge, tall knights and doughty, no Riders of Rohan these, but fairer and less grim -- and somehow more solemn as they bring righteous wrath down hard upon their adversaries.

At the side of Indilzar, beside him in the van rides the Lord Girithlin, Thorondur -- and at his own side the Girithlin keeps his squire, young Morrandir. Soon they will fall upon their foe.

Looking to Mauhur and nodding as Dirg'kra yells for the camp to be protected. Stands and waits for the attackers to come to her..growls for Glaggrozk "be ready" As the She-Orc tries to get a count on the number coming in. Taking her ax and switching it from hand to hand, and waits

The Guardian of Tirith Aear grins openly as he looks across the plains, then twin spurs are set into the side of his mighty charger, setting the beast racing forth across the plains matching pace easily with the Bragollach, face grim.

Yes, today the Knights of the Swan shall make their presence known, and feared among the beast of this land.

Glaggrozk snarls at Varguul...he apperantly doenst like the order...but he follows it nonetheless. He hangs back waiting for the enemy to coming. He swings his hammer around getting limber for the battle.

Indilzar rides forth on his wilding horse and he turns as his his wont. He looks to the fore of the front and then he lets loose a cry:

BRAGOLLACH!!!!

He swings his sword and at once the head of of an orc's head falls to the earth.

In the chaos of the camp a terrified uruk slips the knot holding closed the warg pen's gate. Great black beasts stream forth, most running to join their riders, saliva dripping from their wicked teeth in anticipation of the taste of horse flesh.

Ar'Shad whistles and one dirty beast dashes to his side. Swinging onto the back of the running monster with practiced ease he wheels his mount and rides to the west, seeking the flank of the human charge.

Now Huan the wolf-hound has met his natural prey and he leaps forth blocking the wargs from coming near the riders. At once he makes a stand-off, his teeth bared and flashing.

Mauhur allows the smaller units to begin their ascent up the iced down hill. He screams out a cry, following that of Indilzar's, "" He begins his ascent up the hill with Ar'shad, Varguul, and the heavier of units, his axe being brought up from his side and swinging around as his large body carries him up the hill.

The very thunder of the heavens could not match the sound of the approaching death, the Swan-Knights of Dol Amroth, they come, full charge -- blades glittering in the early morning light.

Like the waves of the ocean crashing home upon the land the Knights break upon the outer rim of the Yrch encampment.

And among that group dances the blade of Erchirion, the son of Imrahil easily laying waste to those in his path, blade dancing eagerly from one foe to the next.

Charging forth Morrandir brings down his blade, caving in the helm of a small Uruk. "I killed it..." he mutters, looking back at the lifeless form.

As the affray starts it is Indilzar who says, "There are very many here Herald. Let us cut through to the fords swiftly and win our passage!"

Varguul continues his charge up the gentle slope, the snow and ice making his footing dangerous, yet that means the footing of the charging horses are just as in jepardy. He finds himself before a single rider, Indilzar. His hammer loops around as he takes a wide step to the shieldside of the knight, the aim of his weapon is not at the rider, but at the horse's leg. "Down! Down into the snow and blood with you!" he calls to the rider as he attacks.

And into the first mass of the ancient foe crashes the wave of mounted warriors, Knights of fair Dol Amroth, far Dol Amroth by the Sea. Here and there does one or another crash through, borne by speed and by power and skill at arms through the midst of the enemy. One such is Thorondur Girithlin.

His sword swings down in an arc of avenging death, and the wrongs of the Shadow are set before it, to be severed and parted -- the flesh of an orcish enck cannot withstand him. And now through the press and against the camp he comes....

But Morang is too swift for the blow of the orc and the horse spins away in its surprise. It is then that Indilzar in his rage leaps off of his steed full upon the earth. He swings up his sword high and lets it fly at this new come foe!

"Ever victorious, the Flame of Bragollach," that knight, the Girithlin cries out in response to his comrade. And then he sweeps down upon a smaller orc, Dirg'kra to its companions, and the time for words is lost -- steel sweeps, steel falls, steel sweeps in an arc of glory to take the Orc.

Thorondur attacks Dirg'kra with his Longsword and badly wounds her!

Ar'Shad turns his mount uphill setting is eyes on a human who seems afraid to kill. Beneath his skull shaped helm the uruk-hai's red eys flare. With a harsh shout he charges to the humans' line.
North of the Fords of Isen

The little black Uruk along side of Dirg'kra sees this warrior charge up and attack his champion. He is furious and vicously attacks Thorondur.

Barrakas teeth set in a grim line as he sees Varguul engades with a tall rider,leaping to his aid he spots another foe. Riding at Varguul's opponents side,with a wild shriek he leaps to the side and slashes at the legs of a steed. The rider known as morrandir.

You attack Varguul with your Longsword...

Your attack against Varguul badly wounds him!

And always in the Herald's wake is Morrandir, the young squire having his first taste of battle. His blade dances among those whom the Lord Girithlin might have missed. And lo! He is set upon, and wheeling around he faces Barraka.

Barraka attacks Morrandir with his Short Broadsword and moderately wounds him!

Morrandir attacks Barraka with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

Quickly does the blade of Imrahil's second son flash among the foul beast, the smaller giving little more than a minor delay to this man, yet more come now, riders upon wargs, great beast they are, and the eyes of Erchirion glitter as he charges forth towards, then, his blade whistling through the very air toward one such creature bearing upon him an axe.

With sword set in motion, the Prince merely waits for the blow to follow through.

Erchirion attacks Mauhur with his Longsword, but he misses by an arm's length.

Morrandir grunts as the orcish blade severs his thigh, blood streaming down his leg. Baring his teeth he lashes out at the orc, yet is unable to land a blow.

Barraka is elated, his wicked broadsword did cleave into the side of morrandir by mistake. And with blinding speed avoids the thrust downwards of the wounded squire. With another grunt he swings his weapon in a wild arc at Morrandir.

Varguul is struck by the blade of "Braggolach", the steel of the sword cuts through a dozen layers of leather and wool - his winter garb seriously wounded now. Yet it does not leave without another mark, the steel rings beneath recoil under its blow, and the blade draws back black blood, not much, yet enough to enrage the Uruk-Hai. He spits as he shouts through icy teeth, "I am Varguul! Honored of Chakdral, and this day, you face death hooman!" He dips low, keeping his shield before him, and with a long arch he stands swinging his War Hammer up over his head, and back down at his enemy.

Indilzar leaps back and avoids the blow allowing it to rend the earth at his feet. Then even quicker he thrusts his sword forth to the neck of Varguul, completely ruthless in his attack. He does not make a reply to the orc save with steel.

Barraka attacks Morrandir with his Short Broadsword and badly wounds him!

The dark coated warg growls and snarls menacingly.

Huan leaps on top of the orc and tries to get his canines into its throat!

Slipping down the hill almost at a perfect time, Mauhur takes a step forward, and the ice prevents him from walking into the path of Erchirion. He growls and looks up, his teeth protruding from the bottom of his mouth. With that he yells out a feirce howl, and swings his axe at the lower legs of his attacker.

Barrakas swing once again cleaves into the side of the stricken rider. Recovering his blood covered blade he brings up his shield and spritely leaps behind the reeling rider.

Morrandir falls back in his saddle, the orc-blade crashing into his face. His helmet is knocked askew, and the sword cuts into his face, a red line engraved from his brow to his nose. "My eye!" he screams as the blood clouds his vision. He lashes out desperately at the orc.

Varguul dodges, poorly. The blade slices into his shoulder, severing a dozen tendons and ligaments. The shield arm of the Smith Varguul goes limp. The howls of pain echo across the plain. He sways, blood gushing from the massive wound...he gives no rely, but simply stabs at the man, the hammer's head is finished with a spike, and that he attacks with.

Nimbler than his mighty girth might indicate, great Amrandir, champion of Imrahil's stables, dances away from the Orcs veteran of many battles, he bears his rider, Thorondur, away from harm. Yet back into the fray do they dive, horse and rider -- no sooner is Glaggrozk's blow avoided than they are bearing down upon him!

"Worms of Morgoth," Thorondur curses his quarry, unmindful of Dirg'kra beside it, "Never shall I tire of ridding this world of your worthless ilk." Now does his blade fall again from overhead.

Indilzar sidesteps the orc easily, now that he has wounded him and then with a quick turn of speed stretches out the sword and with the fullness of his body whips his sword again at the orc...

Horse and rider move now as one, and though the blow flew wide of it's mark, the black beast retorts with a swipe of his mighty axe, yet fortune favors of Erchirion as the ice brings the axe blade away from him, leaving only a passing bruise upon his leg as the hilt of the weapon connects. Then he is gone, circling about for another pass, and again the sword of Erchirion flies forth, once more towards the axe wield Uruk.

Glaggrozk reels back from the blow...he now has a large gash down his chest seeping black blood. " Chakdral!!!!!"

Barrakas wild dodging proves too much for the untrained swing of the young squire. " die hummie" with mad abandon the uruk presses his adventage and once again swings at the slumping rider,this time aiming for his bleedig side.

Getting his footing down right this time, Mauhur does not let the conditions impair his stance. He moves to the left side of his foot steps, and then back into them, almost side stepping the blow, as he brings the axe back around to try and connect with the human's back.

"Chakdral?"

The Knight-Herald stands in his stirrups, high and terrible -- fey now, the light in his eyes, fey and awful to behold for the foes of lost and fallen Westernesse. "Enough with your piteous squealing," he snaps, raising his blade again for a fatal strike -- and seeing his squire in danger.

"Morrandir!" Thorondur cries, and now the Orcish camp is left to its guardians, for he rides to save the lad.

This time it is his shoulder which feels the bite of orcish steel. Morrandir doesn't seem to notice, being more worried about his eye. Wheeling around, he flees from the orc, and moves to Thorondur's side. "Sir!" he moans. "My eye!"

Varguul lifts his hammer to block the attack of the Gondorian Knight. He staggers back fromt he force of the blow, slipping in the blood and melting snow all around him. He glances at the other Orcs, his simple raiding party is getting obbliterated, with only a few meager victories here and there. He does not however, give up yet. Brining his head back to his oppoent, he attacks, slowly, a swing of the hammer.

Glaggrozk is now down on one knee, still recovering from that last blow. He is finally able to ignore the pain and keep on fighting. " Die hooomansss" And he leaps and wildly attacks Thorondur.

With a leap back Indilzar spares a glance to the others, "We must cut through now! They are shaken!"

He then presses his attack with another ringing swing of the sword of his fathers.

Glaggrozk runs to follow Thorondur. He is leaping through the battles ignoring all else except for the one he is hunting now.

Ar'Shad turns his charge aside as he sees Varguul fall. The warg rider bellows in rage as his warg leaps over the ground to reach the man responsible.

Indilzar turns and looks at the charging wolf rider and he smiles. He then cries, "Come ye puppies! Come and face the Bragollach!"

Barraka screams in sheer deligh,his first combat and his opponent reels away bleeding seriously. Out of the corner of his eye he sees another rider swiftly moving towards him, setting his legs like two tree trunks he raises his shield and swings at the rider with his blood covered broadsword.

And connect he does, for the blow catches both Erchirion and his mount, throwing the young Prince forth onto the ground, as well as cleaving through the flesh of his horse's back. Too quickly does the ground reach for the catch the man, and his breath is knock from his body with a resounding whoosh, yet he lands, and for a moment, an instant that could very well cost him his life, the Prince rest, the moves once more.

Rising quickly, the man turns back, dazed, yet not downed completely, his blade is risen again, and again he comes forth towards the beast. "IMRAZOR" his voice cries forth, as the blade flies forth once more.

The Orcish camp still has Orcs in it, lesser Uruk, slightly day blind, they have rallied under the command of one of their own. They have gathered up bows, and point them northward. "Hieeeeya!" they all shout at once, and fire at random into the melee. (Varguul: Taking over our camps emits.)

Glaggrozk puts on the brakes when he spies fresh meat enter the battle...Amano. He quickly stalks his new prey...and then quickly charges.

Ar'Shad and Keya rush to meet Indilzar, both with teeth snapping and growling. Ar'Shad swings his sword low, at the human's midsection trying to gut him while he has advantage of the warg's momentum.

Down upon Barraka falls the charge of the Girithlin, the Lord Thorondur fell and terrible in his haste to save his squire. Too swift is the onslaught for the Orc, but the steel of Gondor is not so forgiving --

And a blade sweeps down upon the waiting Barraka, its arc of approach almost parallel to the ground.

"My head..." Morrandir moans. He rides behind Thorondur, the blood now spilling onto his steed. The beast stumbles upon the fallen, and the squire clutches the reins for dear life. His sword arm is limp, the blade lowered. He does not notice Thorondur battling his former opponent, and he slowly guides his horse back behind the Gondorian line.

Indilzar throws himself on the ground as the orc leaps over him and with a flash of motion the shining steel of Indilzar is thrust upward at the orc.

The little black Uruk stands in the middle of the battle field looking for a fight...he spies his fellow Uruk, Barraka, in need. He runs over to help him fight Thorondur.

Barraka swings with wild abandon but this time his luck failes and his blade is dodged easily. Then with blinding speed the man swings and skims of the uruks shield and cannons of his head, causing him to reel back onto his haunches.

Another swing and a miss for the price. Mauhur takes this as an open invitation, his veteran training paying off in this instance. His growl happens to turn into a sly grin as the corner of his lips turn upwards. He looks at the human stands before him, and takes a step forward, looking to cleave more meat off of his bones this day.

Glaggrozk's War Hammer winds up for a big swing at Thorondur. The hammer is swung over the uruk's head for momentum and he realeases it in Thorondurs.

But as he falls back onto the backfoot he jabs once again at thorondur aiming at his midsection with a clumsy movement.

Glaggrozk attacks Thorondur with his War Hammer and mildly wounds him!

Ar'Shad's attack is poorly timed and his own blade cuts only air while the man's longer steel catches his own mailed shoulder. The mounted orc is spun off of the warg's back and rolls several feet away. Rising quickly, if not gracefully, he turns to face the man again. Snarling and cursing under his breath he shrugs his wounded shoulder as if testing the damage. In the midst of the shrug, however, he springs in close to his foe and stabs his blade toward the man's face in a fierce underhanded thrust.

Indilzar steps to the side and cooly the blade of the orc meets nothing but air. He then ripostes with a fearsome thrust to the ribs. He evidently means business.

Now does Amrandir wheel at the command of Thorondur, a simple tug on the reins the great destrier neighs, loudly, a warning! For an Orc has sneaked upon them unawares!

A glancing blow, no more, but it saves Barraka from the wrath of the knight -- for now his gaze falls full well upon Glaggrozk, and his anger is terrible to behold. Terrible, aye, and cruel -- yet not so cruel as the steel that follows it.

He moves, but not far enough, for another horrid blow is dealt the young prince, a grunt comes forth, along with a fresh line of blood, toe to toe this battle is not looking very good. Yet again, the Prince moves, his sword flashing, eyes watching both his prey and his allies, will they come or will he fall this day. At last he returns attention once more to the Uruk-hai. A pained smile rest now upon his lips, along with the look of one who cares little anymore. The sword, once more, whistles through the air.

Dirg'kra hisses at the knight Thorondur as he attacks her Clan mates, her black blood flowing down her arm. Wiping the blood on her pants grips her ax tighter for another attack.

The little black Uruk is all but crushed from the blow...he now has several major injuries...he has blood gushing everywhere. He despertly looks for an exit. He finally spies one

The sound of hoves can barelly be heard above the sound of battle, as a rider appears upon the road. Clad in black, the horseman rides forward towards the melee, as men and orc battle. Sword and shield in hand, Tamran rides towards the large Uruk-Hai battling one of the knights. Atrriving at striking distance, the guardsman raises his own sword, and with a swift movement bring his blade down aiming for Mauhur's right shoulder.

As the stricken squire tries to escape, he is set upon by a small Uruk. He smashes the creature away with his sheild, and as it reels back Morrandir turns once again, and makes his way towards Thorondur. "Nowhere is safe..." he mumbles.

Once again unengaged the Uruk Barraka spots his former foe cowering at the rear of the battle. Quickly he sprints through the melee and leaps to attack the man morrandir with a spiteful slas.

This time the orc has to actually work to defend the shot. He positions himself to receive the blow, but then moves his axe to take the blade of Erchirion away. He pushes the blade back up, and then quickly and fiercely swings at the mid section of the prince, while his arms are in the air.

Indilzar turns back toward the main body of the party and then says, "Now! The paths through the ford are open! Let us ride now!" He leaps atop Morang again.

Again the warg rider's attack finds nothing but air. And again the man's counter attack meets flesh. Staggering back Ar'Shad looks wildly for his mount, wishing Keya's teeth and claws might come to his aid but the beast is engaged with a pair of humans nearby and has troubles of his own. Spitting on the ground at Indilzar's feet the orc brings up his shield and lunges once more, aiming at Indilzar's head this time with a cross body cut, hoping that his spitting will distract the man but for a second.

Glaggrozk sees that his champion has come along side to fight with him. He has renewed courage. And he ficiously attacks Thorondur.

"Ride, Men of Gondor," calls Thorondur, joining Indilzar in the cry. "Ride for the fords!"

And leaning across to grasp the reins of injured Morrandir's horse, the Herald tugs both squire and his own great mount to a gallop. Soon they will be through the press, and free of battle and blood.

"Thank you, Sir." says Morrandir as he is led away. "I...I was almost ready to ask for your permission to flee..."

Indilzar Bragollach charges with the van and drives his way through the fords and then beyond.