Reneal stood watch at the entrance of the cave. His dark eyes were watching mother and son with new interest. He had always regarded the son of Arathorn with careful consideration. A plan had taken shape in his mind since the split of the Dùnedain tribe. He knew in his heart of hearts that it would likely be his demise. One of two things would happen though if he survived, he would be considered a traitor or ruled a hero. He was hoping this plan would be successful. He was tired of always being second in line and he was going to put a stop to it.
Reneal had also had his eye on Gilrean for a long time, a very long time. He had noted that she was still in mourning for her husband; he decided to take it into his own hands to help her get over her loss.
He felt that he had to be more careful now. His plan was almost ready to be fulfilled and he didn’t want to ruin his chances. He could always tell that Estel didn’t trust him, but he had to make him believe that everything would be okay.
Cornal gently awoke Estel and Gilrean.
“Madam, I’m sorry to wake you so soon, but the Rangers are eager to get out of the mountains. We must make for the river with all speed. I would suggest you tie a lead to Melian from your horse and allow Estel to ride with you until he is recovered from the shock. We don’t need any more disasters. Gather all your supplies quickly, we are to set off in a few moments,” he told her quietly trying to hide the alarm and fear he was feeling.
They were all still feeling rather shaken, as the scouts had returned seeing no trace of the Orcs. This did not bode well with the Rangers. They knew that the Orcs would soon be back to re-double their attack.
A few hours later, they managed to make it out of the mountains, but with much difficulty. A few scouts stayed behind to route any further attack. And more were sent ahead to maintain safety on their present course. So, the party that was actually traveling alongside Gilrean and her son was considerably reduced for a while.
The path that they had taken had become overgrown in the centuries of disuse. Many times, they had to dismount and lead their horses down into gullies and then find adequate paths back up the other side.
Estel woke to the sound of a waterfall. He also felt the warmth of the grass beneath him. They had stopped to make camp for a brief while. The horses needed a rest and so did the Rangers. He sat up slowly wondering if the events he remembered had all been a dream. Then he came to the realization that it had all been real when he saw the bandage on his hand.
Some sketchy details about the previous day were beginning to replay themselves in Estel’s mind. He remembered standing near his mother and the horses when the fury of the orcs had been unleashed. Very few had made it as far back as they were, but they were just as unlucky. The rage of the woman and her son had stunned the few that made it through the Ranger’s barricade.
Estel had been caught in a fight with a particularly tough orc. Somehow the knife he had been using was knocked out of his hand. He saw vividly as the orc’s short sword had come down with a crushing blow. Estel covered his head with hands, and then shrieked in horror as the blade cut the top of his hand. A few seconds later, the orc lay dead at his feet, five arrows sticking out of its back.
