16. How They Brought the Good News from Rohan…
But the news we bring may set alight the beacon of hope in the hearts of our men. Hope to conquer the despair this air brings. We ride on, faster still.
I clutch it in my hand, this piece of wood that will give my countrymen courage, and the knowledge that they are not alone in what they face.
They are not alone, not forgotten.
We near the out-walls and my eyes thirst for the sight of the White Tower.
We are too late.
The stones of the Rammas have not withstood the onslaught. I cannot see the White Tower. All I see is darkness.
We are too late.
Dread and despair lie over my city, and I clutch in my hand succour for it.
But we are too late.
The veil before my eyes turns red as the arrow I hold. My companion speaks and in his voice I hear the anger and sorrow that I know will pour out of my throat should I lend voice to the thoughts that swirl in my head. We can do naught. Not pour through the enemy's host and hope to take the news to those who await it. Behind us Rohan will come.
So we turn around. There is naught we can do but turn around and join our allies.
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