There was a frozen fog that lay over the village of Itä-mâ, though the white sky that glowed softly to the east gave the only hint that it was early morning.
Lindovor gathered his furred cloak around his shoulders and stepped firmly across the crisp ground to where the Lossoth sentries stood at the main gate with its hide-covered fortifications. There were half a dozen more guards standing at the main entrance than when they had arrived there yesterday. All they had had to say was "wolf-men" and the stoic silence that the Lossoth maintained with strangers was suddenly broken. Immediately questions had poured forth: where? how many? when? It was a serious matter and these people knew well the danger that stalked them.
The Lossoth acknowledged Lindovor with a slight motion of his head and tightened his grip on the bone-tipped spear he held in both hands. His eyes followed the sloping path that led to the main entrance to the village. Lindovor looked in that direction as well. Fog. White nothingness swallowed the world ten paces from the fires of the main gate. Yet as the world brightened with the rising sun, it seem as though there was a faint grey shadow moving far away where the base of the hill would have been. Lindovor placed his hand upon his sword hilt. It could be only a beast; some of the creatures in that place were huge and often dangerous in their own right. But if it were one of the Guaradan...a scout perhaps...it could mean that danger was coming to this village sooner than they were prepared for it. It was imperative that they know the truth of it. And if it was a scout, there was no question that it must be stopped.
Lindovor jerked his head in the direction of the downward path and looked at the guard inquiringly. The Lossoth clenched his jaw and shook his head curtly. The old soldier of Gondor sighed. Such a foray is better with two at least, but he would not press these men unduly. The servants of the Order were in the village on sufferance only because of their promise to help defend the weak and helpless. It was no surprise that the villagers would not do anything more than what they felt was necessary. He drew his sword and gave the guard a stern look, using two fingers of his free hand to indicate his eyes...a silent order for the man to keep watch. Walking slowly down the hill, Lindovor disappeared into the whiteness.
It was quiet: completely still except for the crunch of footfalls on the snowy path. Lindovor paused a moment, gazing at the spot where he thought he had seen the grey shadow. His breath formed white clouds which mingled and disappeared into the whiteness around him. He listened. There seemed to be a soft rustling sound to his left. Slowly he began moving towards it, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to see through the frozen haze. Behind and above him, he could still barely see the watch fires at the village gate. He moved towards the soft sound, his sword held ready. Suddenly, from the ground before him rose a figure of immense proportions. It stood seven feet tall, and as it loomed towards the old soldier he could see the wolf's head that sat perched above the blue-painted face. Lindovor took one step back and came on guard. If there was a time that he needed the strength of his youth it was now, but alas, all that remained was the wisdom of experience.
The wolf-creature held a mace of sorts in its left hand, with beast's claws protruding from it and jagged blades of bone. It snarled and swung his weapon at Lindovor who feinted and dodged the deadly club, taking a step backwards as he tried to orient himself to the distant fires at the gate.
"Come on, Beast..." He yelled and swung his light blade in an arc in front of him. "Come taste the steel of Gondor!"
The Guaradan swung his mace again, letting out a frustrated growl as his fierce swing met only the air in front of him. It dropped to all fours and made to rush the man before him. Lindovor continued to move backwards towards the path to the main gate. If he could lead the creature within the range of the Lossoth's spears and javelins, then that would suffice. One of these creatures they could stop...but an army of them?
Lindovor continued moving backwards, yelling taunts at the creature and hoping that the guards above heard the sounds of battle. The Guaradan's face contorted and grew blacker with anger until at last he halted and crouching on his haunches howled with a fearsome sound. Lindovor took the moment to advance, moving his sword in an upward arc as the creature rose to its full height once again. The steel blade flashed in the cold air, travelling with deadly speed between the wolf-creature's bare legs. Whether the blow bled him or spayed him, Lindovor did not care but he did not want this thing to reach the gates of the village with its full strength.
Just as the sword was about to meet flesh, the old soldier felt himself struck from behind with tremendous force. He was thrown to the ground, his face being pressed into the tundra as he saw a huge wolf hurtling over him only to land five paces from him and turn on all fours, hackles raised and growling. In a flash the Guaradan was on the man, straddling his chest and grabbing at his face with a hand that was easily as large as his head. With a fierce movement of its arm, the beast-man flung Lindovor's head back with a snap and the man went completely limp, his arms falling at his side. He howled again in victory as he morning mist thickened with preternatural speed and the world became a tightly wrapped wall of whiteness. Raising his arm for the killing blow, the giant paused as his wolf suddenly crouched and whined, backing away with his belly on the ground. Without warning, many bolts of lightning came from every direction of the close fitting cloud. The Guaradan fell from atop the wounded man, his dead eyes not seeing the slender figure which gradually appeared out of the mist. His wolf whined and cowered further, eventually rolling onto its back and showing its belly.
"Ego..." came the command from the shrouded figure, and the wolf got to its feet and ran quickly away. Approaching the place where the dead Guaradan and the unconcious man lay, the figure knelt and placed a slender hand on Lindovor's brow.
"Rest, brave One. Rest and heal, but say no word until you see me again face to face among the golden trees. Let the world be all silence and let men wonder. Now live and rest, Faithful One. I will send for you when the time is right." with that the figure rose to her feet and walked away from the village, disappearing once more into the mist.
The wounded man groaned and stirred, but did not open his eyes. Faint voices could be heard approaching from the village, but where he lay all was stillness....all was whiteness....all was silence.
