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"Three Uruk-hai arrows. And a ride down the Falls of the Anduin."

There is a series of decidedly soggy thuds in the stillness. "Goblin axe. Warg fangs. Stray Orc spear."

Thoughtful silence reigns for a moment.



There is the creak of leather steeped in blood and the protesting shriek of armour-joints washed with sea water, but it soon fades and is replaced by the steady shuffling of heavy booted feet.


Two figures, one nary more than half the height of the other, begin their slow trek across the moonlit landscape. A hoarse cry of twin voices rises.