Tidhelm looked across the banks of the Anduin. Spring was starting to fade into summer. The smoke on the horizon was a welcome sight to Tidhelm. Not only were the Gundaband raiders fighting those pesky woodsman, but the Western bank was clear of danger. "Soon all of the Northen misty tribes wiwill be under the sway of the white hand, as will all in due time." Tidhelm spoke to himself. Before the old noble could turn around a swooshing sound passed his head. Tidhelm turned around in an instance and grabbed for his blade but the old man stopped midmotion as a throwing spear was thrown in his shoulder. The tip barely punctured the skin but a shock went through to Tidhelm's body nonetheless. Before the man could give any reaction, another throwing spear flew into Tidhelm's leg. Three warg-riders approached armed with axes and another group of orcs passed Tidhelm. The old noble couldn't stand on his leg any longer and fell to the ground. His eyes were closing now that the riders were only a stone throw away. The yelping of wargs followed, aswell as a sound alike grain sacks falling to the ground. Tidhelm opened his eyes and saw a black swarm approach. The wargs that attacked the noble lay in front of them impaled with spears, almost pincushion. One member of the black swarm broke from the group and approached Tidhelm. A screeching voice came from the being: "A potion of the Misty mountain rabble escaped our ambush. We are giving pursuit. Your company will be saved if we can help it, lord Tidhelm." The old noble just looked at the black armoured being and said with his last breath: "Give me...your bladder. ..of grog..."
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