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Night Attack (PG) Print

Written by Fawsley

22 December 2006 | 104 words

Dragged roughly from his bed, still mazed by dreams, guttering candles in twisting corridors only served to confuse him further. What route they took he never knew – not one he’d trod before nor could he ever discover it again.

The very air vibrated, hot and close, a tangible thing.

Pushing out onto the highest tower his captor gave no quarter, heaving him up onto the parapet where his heart faltered at the drop. Jags of fire rent the sky as night flashed into something that was not day, illuminating the dry, devastated Pelennor

‘Look, little brother! At last – the rain is coming!’

NB: Please do not distribute (by any means, including email) or repost this story (including translations) without the author's prior permission. [ more ]

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