Mahin laid on the ground, breathing heavily. Covered in blood, he listened to all the voices around him. The sky above him was cloudy, dark and barely lit with the stars, as if they were shy, or afraid, to gaze upon this forsaken land.
The last time he was so tired was in Enedwaith, after the trials of the Huntsman. That last fight, the last hunt, when he had to kill a huge, tainted boar, spawn of some ancient darkness, no doubt, was nearly the warden's end. The fact that all the injuries he received back then were bruises and small cuts from thorns and thickets was a genuine miracle. Miracle, or skill, for he prepared the area of the fight meticulously. Yes, he could display great bravado, when needed, mostly for theatrical purposes, misleading the enemy. In reality, he calculated and took as little risks as possible.
The warden sighed out and raised on his elbows. His custom-made, perfectly tailored armour was covered in orc blood. Getting rid of the stains would take a whole day, if he was lucky. The ambush was a great success. The warband was slaughtered, to each and every last of the foul creatures. What was more, none of the Dunedain nor allied hillmen was seriously injured. Yes, the Council of the North might not have been as strong as before, with the Grey Company gathering for the South, but it was still a force to be reckoned with. A smart one, as well.
Mahin raised slowly, helping himself with his spear. Elven woodwork and dwarven blade, deadly and beautiful. It took lives of probably a dozen of orcs that night. Alas, it was time to help Lilu tend to the wounded.
The warden briefly recalled the letter he got delivered by Nevermore, Erasm's raven.
Apparently, the newest recruit, a Bree-born girl known as Ionereth, was a spectacular failure. Mahin blamed himself, for letting Faerollas recommend her so highly, as well as for him not intervening at once. The Gondorian was young but very skilled and with a great potential. Mahin liked that. As long as there is potential to listen and learn, that was a soldier that every leader would love.
Ionereth, though... Mahin sighed, when applying bandages to one of the hillmen and made a reassuring gesture, after Lilu gave him an inquring look. Yes, Ionereth had nearly caused a fiasco of the whole excursion against an orc encampment near Trestlebridge. Wounded and poisoned, she required attention of two lore-masters to save her life and then her arm.
Even worse, after they reached Esteldin, she, apparently, disappeared overnight without leaving a note, nor saying a word. Well, some are cowards who would have never passed the tests of the Huntsman - Mahin thought. Maybe it was for the better. After all, the Hunt roamed the Middle-earth in order to give others a chance for a normal life.
Not everyone was suited to be a Wolf.
