A guard stood watch above the gate, peering into the lifeless fog. The sound of hooves alerted him to the rider, emerging like a ghost from the mists.
"Who goes there?" He called out into the night, his deep voice echoing on the sunbleached walls that stood in the distance. The rider stopped at the gate, and looked up.
"It is I, Boromir, Son of Denethor! Open the gate, and quickly!"
The guard nodded curtly and turned, shouting orders to the soldiers below, and they pulled the gate open slowly. It creaked loudly until the massive door ground to a halt, left wide open to the night. However, Boromir didn't wait for the gates to finish their journey, but rode through, galloping madly up the street. The keep's doors burst open, and Boromir strode purposely forward. The captain of the town-guard hastily entered from a side room, in the process of throwing on a shirt. He had clearly just woken up.
"An army approaches from the East," Boromir said urgently. "Our scouts say it is no more than three days' march from here."
The captain blinked groggily, as if not totally comprehending his words. "Whose army is it?" He grunted, expression suddenly grave. Well, at least it looked grave. He could be wrong.
"There's Easterlings, hundreds of them. And there appear to be Southrons, as well as orcs. I do not know what their plan is, but you must alert the soldiers!" Boromir grabbed the captain by the arm.
Irritated, he roughly pulled away, clearly annoyed at having been woken. "You alert them. I'm going to sleep." He shuffled away and slammed the door to his room.
Boromir put a hand to his head and groaned aloud. He'd have to do this himself. As always.
YOU ARE READING
The Sands of Rhun: A Middle Earth Story(Book 2)
FanfictionEasterlings are trained from a young age in the art of war, and most know nothing but battle. Such is the case with one young Easterling named Rukil, who has done nothing but fight since he was a child. Nobody has ever shown him kindness, and he has...
