[Amanaduial the archer]

Atharen shifted slightly in the saddle, turning to look at the fine stallion on which Ferethor was riding. It seemed dark when still, yet every time it moved, or even shifted, the deep red undercoat seemed to flash fierily from beneath.

"Naurnurta...hidden flame," he replied at length. "The way his coat flashes, and his eyes. There is something very spirited in that horse..."

"And in it's owner," he added mentally, although he dared not say it out loud, although he couldn't think why.

Suddenly a snort and a wild stamping of hooves, along with a violent rearing movement in the corner of his vision, made Atharen turn sharply to see Maen careering away at high speed. His hand went immediately to his sword to see what had spooked the horse and set both horse and rider fleeing, but then Maen looked back over her shoulder, a wicked grin on her face. Crystal laughed delightedly behind Atharen and he grinned back at her. Making sure her hands were still tight around his waist, he let the newly named Sacriheart rear up, a wild whinny escaping her, then sped into a gallop after Maen, all thoughts and troubles of the Il Galoth dynasty to the wind...for a while...

As they closed the distance, he heard Crystal's wind-whipped call to Maen and smiled with her. He had been smiling alot, especially when with her - strange, her feelings seemed so changeable to him; one minute he seemed to frustrate her, the next she was so close, her arms slipped as they had been around her waist, resting her head against his back so he could feel it's soft weight, feel her breathing against his neck when she straightened up...

He mentally gave himself a good shake and turned to Maen, once more all coutesy and politeness. "Lady, I suggest we proceed to Jacobe's Run as quickly as possible: night will be falling within a few hours, and it would be safer to stay somewhere more stable. We have already seen how camping outside could go wrong." He looked away as he said the last part. He blamed himself in part for the unfortunate death of one of those who was meant to be in the group he had joined to protect and guide, even though it had been a life bravely given.

"I disagree, Atharen: we can be more easily caught in a village, hemmed in." Ferethor's voice was bold but when Atharen turned to him, the guard pointedly ignored his gaze, deliberately looking away. The ranger noticed this odd shiftiness, and the look, an almost inperceptible glance, that passed between the two Gondorian guards, but let no suspicion show on his face, his eyes once more blank and unreadable.

"But we are less likely to be attacked in a village - it would not be subtle and streets are more easy to escape through from archers than open fields," he reasoned in reply. "And those of us who are trained learnt at least in part inside, hemmed in as you say. It is as easy to fight, but allows us all to get some rest rather than having a guard."

Ferethor seemed about to counter this, and Atharen would have recieved his opinion, of course, but Maen got there first. "I agree, Atharen - we shall head for Jacobe's Run, and can gather more information there about Il Galoth."

Atharen inclined his head, not heeding the flash of resentment he thought he saw in Ferethor's expression. "Indeed, my lady, that is what I would have suggested."

"That's it then - we head for Jacobe's Run. Lets see how fast you so called riders can race!" Maen's fiery challenge was half-called over her shoulder as she once more took off, followed in an instant by Idruil. The other man darted around Atharen and Crystal nimbly before bursting into a full gallop, flashing a grin over his shoulder at them. Atharen put on an expression of mock-surprise, then reared.

"Ready, my Lady?" he murmured to Crystal. He felt the movement of her body as she nodded.

"Lets see her run!" she replied. He grinned and spurred on Sacriheart. The mare didn't need a second bidding: the Haradrim gave her agility, the Rohirrim speed and Gondor had blessed her with steadiness. Together, in one thing at least, the three nations had combined to create an animal on whose back the ranger felt that he was riding the wind. Crouching lower on her back, he urged her into a gallop, moving into the thrill of the chase as he began to catch up with Idruil. The Gondorian gave a cry as he turned to see them on his tail and urged Ecthelion on to an even greater speed. Eventually the two horses were almost neck and neck, not far between them, almost foaming, as caught up as their riders. Maen suddenly cried a halt, and Atharen slowed, bringing Sacriheart down to a slower pace, a canter, then a trot, and turned to look at the rest of the company, now catching up.

Maen's hair was free and fell around her shoulder loosely as she commanded them. "We shall be at the village in half an hour or so. I bid you all remember my 'name', and not let anything of our quest slip. Keep a rein on your tongues."

"As we haven't on our horses you mean," Atharen replied quietly, a small smile on his face, breathing a little more heavily. Idruil grinned over at him and he returned it, glad of the companionship of the other man.

Rising in his saddle, he looked ahead at the silhouette of Jacobe's Run, then settled back down and continued in a brisk trot, falling in with Idruil.