| Subject: Ambush! |
Author:
Aragorn
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Date Posted: 14:23:52 04/07/02 Sun
There were five of them, excluding the man who had jumped at him and was now lying unconsious some distance away.
All of them supported beards, numerous piercings and had not, if Aragorn's nose was any judge, taken a bath for a considerable length of time. Murder gleamed in every eye, including the king's. He was not used to being set upon by armed ruffians and now they were going to find out why.
He carried no weapons but as his trained eye weighed them up he knew he could win. Their main strength was brute force, his? years of combat training and wars against the armies of Morder. For a moment Aragorn almost felt sorry for them, then he remembered that they were here to kill him and the pity vanished.
The nearest and largest man lunged at him clumsily, Aragorn ducked and aimed a kick at his groin. Doubling over in pain the second man was out of the fight.
The others seemed a little less sure of themselves now. The one groaning on the floor must've been their leader. Aragorn shot a look at them, a look that froze their blood. It was the look a lion gives to the antelope just before he pounces and it said, you are nothing to me and I will defeat you.
As they backed away uneasily Aragorn stooped and gathered up the first man's knife, now he was armed and didn't need to rely on their terror. While he was better trained if they all ganged up on him at once, he was finished.
The rat faced man ran at him, deflecting the knife thrust with his own Aragorn dispatched the man with a series of punches and he fell the the floor.
As he stood triumphant the king reflected that this was the most fun he'd had in days, I really should get out more he thought quietly. The defient gleam back in his eye Aragorn beckoned the other men on, testing their courage. He was one man against three, they could take him.
Then the arrow slammed into his back. One of the men had gotten behind him, carrying a miniture cross bow. The wound was not fatal but Aragorn felt his strength falling from him and he cursed his lack of observation.
Whirling round he flung his knife at the man who had shot him. The blade lodged in the man's heart and he fell, dead.
Another man down but he had thrown away his only defence.
His shirt stuck to his back, clammy with his own blood but Aragorn refused to give in, to accept he had become less than he had been.
He faced the two men left standing and watched the victory in their eyes and smiles. He had lost.
Suddenly still grinning, even in death the last two slumped over, arrows protruding from their chests.
The king swung round, ready to face this new threat.
"Is that you, your majesty?"
A wave of relief swept over him and he recognised his captain of the guard.
"Beregorn!"
"Yes your majesty. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Aragorn grinned foolishly, then fainted.
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