Captured

The air was cold and wet. Rimedur could feel droplets of mist freezing on his nose as tried to warm himself near the fire. "I've grown too close to the warmth," he thought to himself. The ex-guardsboy had been tracking a group of Dourhand dwarves from Evendim. Luckily, they did not disturb the Hobbits' peace. If one place was to remain pure the longest, it should be the Shire. However, with the arm of Angmar growing longer and the brigands pillaging and thieving where they pleased, it may not stay that way for long.

CRACK! Rimedur unsheathed Death-Bringer with lightning speed and spun around to where the noise had come from. What he saw was a foul looking dwarf block his sword with a steel shield. The dwarf had come with friends. About eleven others flocked to him, drawing their weapons. One came around to Rimedur's back, whom he thrust his sword into. "Might as well."

The dwarves commanded him to get up and drop his weapon. "What makes you think that'll happen?" he inquired from behind his raven mask. A dwarf to his right quickly unslung a wooden bow with a series of pulleys and cranks, not unlike that on Crosshare, and nocked an arrow. It was aim straight at the Raven's head which he smirked at. He set down his sword and got up from the snow.

Just as he did so, one of the dwarves tripped him over and pinned him down. He pulled out two pairs and clicked them to the Raven's hands and ankles. "Bag him." And then everything went dark.

He couldn't tell where he was, but it felt like he was definately being dragged downhill (in more ways than one). When they finally stopped, a sudden burst of fire light burst into vision. The Raven's eyes adjusted for a few seconds, but then noticed the outline of bars. He sighed. "In naught but five months you've gotten yourself put in a prison again," he whispered to himself. Of course he was referring to the week he had spent in a Blackwold prison.

He was stuck again.