Dawn was nearing. Akashpug, the chief of Târ Stazg, rubbed in his eyes and yawned. He looked around his tent. He sniffed in the air and soon a surprised smirk came on his face. Slowly did he whisper to himself, still sleep disorientated: ''What smells so good? Man flesh?" The Uruk crawled out of his tent and rose up, looking at the sight before him.
The faces of about eight half-orcs were pointed upon him. More importantly, the eight crossbows that were pointed at his chest. There also were a table and two chairs in front of him, one was occupied by a man dressed in grey rags. The Uruk wanted to shout, yet he was beaten to it by the old man. "Folly was your leadership here, Akashpug." The voice of this man was only alike to one other that he had heard. Instantly the Uruk fell to the ground and on his knees. "Please forgive me lord Saruman. What ever I did that displeased you, I can change.'' The ragged dressed man pointed to the chair with a gesture with his hand, indicating that the half-orc needed to take a seat. Akashpug seated him in front of the man, the chair cracked under his weight. The crossbow wielders repositioned themselves to still keep their aim on their target. The old man spoke: ''You know how to count? If a leader holds favorites under his ranks, it should be more than a third of his goons. Also, paying this third a higher wage that was meant for the other two third, might not be taken lightly by the majority. Now, half of your total forces are dead. Your favorites completely. " The Uruk looked at the half-orcs that surrounded them. They grinned at him while the old man laid a piece of paper on the table. He spoke in the same commanding voice like in the tower: ''Now, tell me. How did you came to acquire this...this lie?" The Uruk looked at the ragged man and spoke with a tremble in his voice: "Lie? Your name is under the bounty...we thought that it came from you!" The other half-orcs now laid their eyes on the old man, surprised. "My hand did not sign this bounty. Nor any of my lackeys, trained to write like me. You have no further use for me after your failure." The old man gave a nod to the half-orcs after he had spoken. The sound of eight bolt crashing violently into flesh followed.
The old man left, with two ponies into the morning sun supplies laden on the back of one of the two. His grey rag was thrown off. Tidhelm took of his ring, and hid it again.
The plains around Eorlsmead Tower were silent. not a sound could be heard yet in the morning. The structure doomed up into my sight the distance. The wings were tired yet soon the burden around my feet would be taken away and I would have time to rest. The sight of the man that is supposed to take the message was already coming to the top of the tower.
Almost time to rest.
Then a pain.
and then nothing.
The message was not found on the bird by the soldiers in the tower.
