We followed close behind the strangers, all of whom had fallen unnaturally silent. There was no laughter, no shouts of greeting to fellow soldiers; not even their beasts broke the silence. It was almost like a funeral procession, though if possible even more grim. The silence, however uncomfortable it was, gave me a chance to contemplate the events that had transpired recently.

   It had been two weeks since Nadow and his warriors had joined forces with us, and already I felt a kinship with them all. I had learned through talking with him that Nadow and his father were very close, and his death had devastated him. However, being the warrior he was, he was reluctant to show it outwardly.

His men respected him greatly, and they themselves emphatically asserted that they'd die for their Prince. I could understand why, he was a skilled warrior and an honorable leader, able to lower himself to the level of his knights when talking with them but able to bear the burden of disciplining them when it was needed.

As for Hadar, he seemed to be at home with this sort of life. I would often see him traveling ahead of the group and scouting ahead, only to return with provisions and sometimes even weapons. Where he got these things, I do not know, but whenever I'd ask he'd simply say "you know, here and there." After a while I stopped asking.

His men were a rowdy bunch, kept together only by their friendship and mutual love for adventure. They had no particular love for me, but they respected Hadar at least. He himself stated that he wasn't their leader, but he made all of the big decisions for them so he was their leader in all but name.

As for Caledorn... Well, let's just say it was obvious that he was only here by necessity. The Elven warrior seemed to think the whole journey was a drudgery, and rarely spoke with any of our other companions. He spoke with me frequently though, and while he didn't complain openly, everything he said gave away his distaste for the journey. I couldn't exactly blame him... Being the only elf among a group of easterners was surely difficult, and the rather crude behavior of many of them would make anyone used to Elven grace and manners cringe.

Our group as a whole was strange, to say the least. A prince of Rhûn, a Haradrim mercenary, an Elvish warrior... Surely, it was an alliance born of necessity. But through it, we were growing closer, despite our different backgrounds.

   And even as we grew closer to each other, we came ever closer to my homeland. I was unsure of what awaited us there, but the fact that we had made it this far gave me hope.

   The land that we were in now was nothing like Rhûn. The desert had transformed into thick jungle around us, and it was stiflingly hot. But the jungle wasn't alive with creatures... No, rather it seemed altogether dead, eerily so. The only green came from sickly moss that clung to dead grey tree branches that hung low over the path. The path itself, if it could even be called that, looked as if it were made of twisting roots and dark vines, but beneath these were probably pavestones, though I couldn't tell.

   What was strangest of all though, was that as we progressed further into the forest there was a greenish, unnatural glow that filtered through the trees ahead.

   "This forest is sick," Hadar said grimly as he reined his horse in beside me, speaking further in his native tongue in what I could only decipher as a curse of some sort.

   "What happened to it?" I asked, glancing at the decaying forest around us.

   "I don't know, but powerful magic is at work here."

   "Pah!" One of Nadow's knights scoffed. "Magic is as real as Ogres are, meaning not at all."

   "Silence! Hadar is right, I feel it too." Nadow held up a hand and narrowed his eyes.

"I have a bad feeling about this..." I mumbled under my breath. As if on queue, a dense fog seemed to settle over the road at that very moment. One of the mysterious warriors broke off from the group and rode to meet us. Though his manner didn't seem threatening, I subtly put a hand on the hilt of my scimitar.

"Stay close, we are nearing the fortress," the man said in a raspy voice. Oddly enough, his accent was one that was common among those from Southern Rhûn. He didn't wait for a response, instead whipping his beast around and galloping full speed back to his people.

Nadow shook his head. "That seems odd. Why should we have to stay close? It's not as if the fog will eat us."

"Perhaps not, but we wouldn't want to lose our way. And there may be something out there that will eat us," I added.

Just then a shout of terror from behind our group pierced the thick jungle air. Nadow, Hadar, and I made eye contact, then in unison took off headlong toward the cry.

The shouts were coming from one of Nadow's knights, who we found in a clearing. His horse was lying nearby, its head ripped from its body and its back broken against a tree. The knight was covered in blood and was crawling along the ground, scrambling to get away from a massive, moss-covered creature. The beast swung a long, branchlike arm and impaled the knight with its sharp claws. It looked up and let out a sharp hiss at our approach, dropping into a four legged position and baring sharp yellow fangs. Its head was almost identical to the skull of a deer, its nasal area hollowed out and two twisting antlers branching out from the top. It stood taller than a troll by a whole headlength, and its arms were the length of long spears. 

Nadow let out a battle cry and charged forward, heedless of danger. The creature swung a powerful arm, sending both Nadow and his horse flying. Sirdal whinnied in fright and reared up, causing me to tumble off onto the damp jungle floor.

I recovered and drew my scimitar, turning to face the beast. It was already nearly upon me, and I rolled backward in a belated attempt to dodge it. I heard a whistle as Hadar let fly a javelin, which embedded itself into the creature's rough skin and caused it to fall backward onto the spongy ground. It immediately leapt back up, standing up on its hind legs and glaring at Hadar with glassy black eyes. It grabbed the javelin and snapped it in half with ease, then growled and leapt toward Hadar so quickly that neither of us had a chance to respond. Both Hadar and the beast tumbled down into a ravine beyond my sight. I started to run after them, but heard a groan of pain come from the underbrush.

   I changed course and made my way into the bushes, only to find Nadow lying there bloodied and bruised.

   "That thing packs quite a punch," he said with a wheeze.

   "Are you alright?" I asked as I looked him over. He wasn't bleeding much anymore, but his arm was twisted in an unnatural angle and his left eye was swollen shut.

   "I'll manage... Go help Hadar."

   "Here, drink some water, it'll-"

   "Rukil look out!"

    Nadow's warning came too late. I felt myself being picked up, then thrown like a ragdoll. I spun around in a desperate attempt to land on my feet. I managed to position myself so I'd land in just such a way, but the speed of my flight caused my leg to hit the ground with a painful crack, and I tumbled onto the ground. I could tell immediately that my leg was broken, but despite that, I tried to stand. Even if my leg hadn't been broken it wouldn't have mattered, for as soon as I was halfway up the beast had grabbed me again and pinned me to the ground. It raised one hand, its long sharp claws dripping with blood. Was it Hadar's? I thought to myself. I could tell I was already losing consciousness, for everything was growing darker. Suddenly, there was a flash of blinding light, and I knew no more.
===============================

Third Person
Nadow looked on with horror as the mossy beast threw Rukil around before finally pinning him to the ground and raising his claws for the death blow. But the blow never came, for a flash of light lit up the whole forest in a white glow and knocked the monster back. It put an arm over its eyes and howled out as if in pain, before stumbling backward into the jungle and disappearing into the undergrowth.

Nadow held his breath, trying not to make a sound. A blue cloaked figure entered the clearing, white smoke billowing from an outstretched hand. His other hand held an iron staff, which he held more like a weapon than for support. Without so much as glancing around, the figure spoke in a quiet but strong voice.

"You cannot hide from one such as me, sir knight. Your pain could be sensed from a mile away, like the aroma of strawberries on a midsummer's eve." The figure turned his head toward Nadow, revealing an old, worn-looking man. A short white beard tinted slightly with blue framed his wide face.

"Who are you?" Nadow asked weakly.

"I am called Morinehtar. I am a friend." The man moved to Nadow's side and produced a roll of bandages from a pouch slung at his side. He deftly applied them to Nadow's wounds after first pouring a green salve over them.

"What brings you to this place, may I ask?" The old man said. It was then that Nadow noticed the man had more the bearing of a blacksmith than an old wanderer, for the man's hands were massive and scarred and his shoulders were unusually wide.

"We're only passing through. I beg you though, help my friend over there, he's injured worse than I."

Not to worry, Rómestámo shall take care of him." The burly man pointed and as if out of nowhere another blue cloaked man appeared, as tall and wiry as Morinehtar was short and muscular.

"Pleased to meet you sir," Rómestámo said, his voice willowy and faint. He at once began tending to Rukil's wounds, though instead of using bandages he began uttering strange words that seemed to heal in and of themselves.

"Can you do that?" Nadow asked Morinehtar with a raise of an eyebrow.

"I can, but not as well. Rómestámo is the healer among us, I have... Other abilities." At this he became silent and focused on bandaging Nadow's wounds.

"We had a third companion... Where is he?"

The knight was greeted by silence.

"You must find him!" He insisted. "He could be dying in that ravine!"

"We've taken care of him." Morinehtar replied bluntly. 

"We must return to the castle quickly, before the warriors arrive," Rómestámo said, slightly stuttering at each word.

"Yes, we must. Put the wounded one on your steed, this fellow will come with me." Morinehtar lifted Nadow almost effortlessly, slinging him unceremoniously over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

They walked until they came upon two horses, one white and one black, both of which wore midnight blue saddles.

"We shall meet there, I must tend to a matter first," Rómestámo said. He gently placed Rukil on the back of the white horse and mounted, riding off into the fog.

"The castle isn't far," Morinehtar said as he dumped Nadow onto the back of his horse. "Hold on tight, Sarumir runs fast and fleet-footed."

The blue cloaked man's words were an understatement, for as soon as the horse started it felt as if they were flying along the path at an impossible speed.

Several moments later, they stopped at the foot of a tall hill, standing out against the sickly green of the forest like a great eye of obsidian.

"There's our tower," Morinehtar said with a flourish of his hand.

"I see no tower... It's just a hill."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a green glow came from the top of the hill and a tall dark tower materialized from out of it, stark against the night sky.

"Welcome to Durbeleth Keep."