The encampment had been boisterous since they had stopped a group of travelers. Few had remained alive, including an older man, a soldier and a young boy. All of whom were bound and had seen their share of beatings by the East-men inside the camp. Particularly the older man and the soldier, whom were now both being dragged into the middle of the camp.
Pellam knelt, perched upon a rocky outcrop. Always preferring to keep to the high ground and scrub that covered the devilish terrain of Northern Angmar. It had been weeks, or months. He honestly knew not, for the sun never graced this land but instead shone behind its clouds of darkness and ash. His eyes peering upon the commotion within the camp and lowering himself to the stone slowly.
Yilgtig leaned down, pulling the older man up by his hair. Looking around to his camp bearing a sickly grin upon his lips. "This is what we are treated by, gifts of the darkness. A Gondorian soldier, a man child from the southern lands and this!" He shoved the older man down into the dirt and mud, kicking him over with a laugh.
The crowd road, as the man struggled to stand. His tattered robes splattered with blood and dirt, standing firmly as he stared back to Eastern Lieutenant. His black hair tethered with strands of silver, falling just to his shoulders was shorn of one of his braids that now adorned the spaulders of Yilgtig, along with several others.
"Aedicus, is it? Son of Gondor? Grandfather to Cynraede, it was you who started this and Her for setting him upon this path. I see you staring at my trophies? Do you like them? I have one for each of you that I have killed. You see, there is the braid from the Bear, the one my father took from your grandson when he lay in that cave while the black breath took him." Yilgig smiled and revealed his needle sharpened teeth.
Pellam gripped the knife that rested across the small of his back firmly, inching over the overhang and peering out at his surroundings. He had seen enough of this rabble and knew how it would soon end. With a quiet roll, his fingers quickly found the overhang and slid down.
Yilgtig laughed while drawing his knife and moving to the Gondorian soldier, who lay in a crumpled heap. "You see, you have failed. Your order is in ruin and your numbers are but few and dwindling. It was not but weeks ago when the one called Duramarth fell. An archer of mine, delivering the killing blow. Not but a week later, the one named Urses fell. One by one I slowly cut the strands of the fabric your order weaves."
An armored figure emerging from a tent, placing his helmet upon the ground while looking towards Yilgtig and folding his arms across his chest with a nod. "The one called the bear was nothing more than a pup in savages clothing." Bronylf snorted as the camp roared in laughter.
Aedicus lowered his head, looking to the young man who had grown still and not drawn breath for many moments. His eyes for but a moment looked to the boy, who's eyes had grown full with horror. "Leave the child, he has a life still ahead of him. Take me in his stead, and I will lay my life down willingly."
Bronylf roared with laughter, shoving his sword into the ground. "It is not like you had a choice lad. You're life was forfeit the moment you set foot upon this earth." The camp laughing in reply, looking to the man whom knelt in the mud.
Aedicus shook his head, looking to Yilgtig. "He is nothing of the Order, and he knows not. He is but a boy and does not deserve such a short life." His tone was soft and calm, his eyes turning to his captor.
Yilgtig remained silent for several moments before nodding and raising a hand. "The boy shall be released and returned to a camp upon the borders of the tribals in the southern territory. You, shall die here and your remains shall be sent to the one you serve. This is the command that I give. Go now and see it done."
