Stepping up slowly the steps to the ruined tower, in my hands the bronze plates of Gorlakons new armour, the padded Hauberk, his helm, greaves, boots..Behind me came Torg, holding Gorlakons bronze axe, and his rounded shield. We caught the Warlord gazing down from the tower. There was a gaping hole in it's side, which opened a view of the outer gates, and it's surrounding. Below, many of the warriors were roaring out orders, getting ready for the march. The word was out, though, that eight hundreds will be marching north, into the frozen lands of Forodwaith.
"Ulgons work?" the Warlord asked, as we entered the room, I started to set the armour upon the stand, so that Gorlakon may better examine it. He stepped forward, pressing his hand against the breast of the bronze plates, "Ulgon is the finest of the smiths." he said, smiling. He seemed, sad, though, as he looked at me and Torg. Torg set the axe and shield down beside his armour. They too, were fresh from the forge, the axe, as the armour, of hardened bronze, made for a man who knows how to handle an axe as well as we Creoth do. The Shield was made of red oak, with a bronze boss and rim. An armour meant for a lord..A king, rather. "Will you two be joining me up north?" he asked, he raised an arm to rest at my shoulder, grabbing firm. I only nodded, gazing into the mans eyes for but a moment, but found myself quickly turning away to look at the ground. Torg struck his own chest, "It is about time we march, lord. Too long have we drilled, trained, raided, plundered...None of us have been in a proper war. Though we are sure you will lead us to victory. Glory in death, glory in victory." he said, taking a step back. Gorlakon smiled at that, facing back outward, to look down at the men. Some were in the armours from the smiths, the warriors of higher regard sported their helms with furs from bears, though only a few have those helms. There was not much else to say, as Gorlakon was no doubt planning for the war. Me and Torg left then, on down to join the bustling crowds. "Gorlakon opened our eyes, Trenst, ages ago it was Angmar that betrayed us. That plague took Rhudaur by the throat, nearly destroying us." he growled, whenever the man spoke of the matter his hands started to shake with a tremor, warning of the rage this man is holding back, the vein pulsing at his temple is proof enough. "We all know, and that is the reason for us marching north, Torgon, for us to repay Angmar for the lives lost in their war." I breathed in deeply, looking at a group of warriors going at it, two small groups in a shield wall, each trying to break the other. "Gorlakon has read the histories, the lores. Of the battles our kin, our foes, fought. Noting their mistakes and ours, and how best to deploy. I do not doubt our skill and courage. I doubt our Northern kin." I said flatly, scratching my black beard, "I just hope they can match us to some degree."
Torgon would grin, clapping my back, "I was thinking the same, though, all things considered, we are all men of Rhudaur, and Angmar thinks of us as ally and vassal. They have the numbers, aye..." he trailed of, grinning, "But how will they react when several thousand hillmen fight against them? Completely at random, at that. I've spoken to Gorlakon, and he assures us that if we strike swiftly, we will be able to do great harm, at little cost. We will lose men, aye, though not as much as they." he nudged me, walking on off. I decided to walk another direction.
All was being prepared, nearly ready. As I looked this way and that, a strong sense of pride swelled in my chest, a tear streaming down my cheek. I looked up to the ruined tower, to Gorlakon kneeling before his folk in silent prayer. To men of Rhudaur, such a sight was too great to bear..
