Menelisil was on horseback, his mail glinted in the sun. As the first son of a minor lord of Gondor, the lord of a small coastal town in fact, it was his job to lead the towns military. His younger brother was several towns away, courting some young maiden. “If only he were here now” thought Menelisil as he looked on the faces of the forty brigands who made up his army.
“I said ‘lay down your arms’! You know very well that the town cannot afford to let you keep them” said Menelisil.
He was tall, dark haired, and fell-handed. But in this great of number the men did not fear him. He hated to have to dismiss them, but they were drunkards and fools. Now here he was, outside of town, trying to force his troops to give up their weapons. But their was liquor in these men, and they would not be so easily intimidated. “If only my brother Vandur were here” Menelisil thought in vain.
“What are you gonna do about it? Make us lay down our arms!” laughed one of the men.
“Oh hell, little rich boy can’t do nothin’!” said another.
“Rush him!” yelled one man. All together they rushed forward, mobbing him, attempting to pull him from his horse. Menelisil fought savagely. Hacking and slashing, he hewed limbs from his attackers.
They tried in vain to pull him from his horse, and nearly succeded. He had to summon all his strength just to stay mounted. One of the men grabbed the reins from Menelisil’s hands. Menelisil took off the man’s head in one quick swipe. That was enough for them. The men began to flee in every direction.
With the lust of battle still upon, and a desire to dispatch his would be dispatchers, he rode down many of the men. When all had fled or been slain seventeen bodies were strewn across the field. Menelisil spurred his horse back towards the town.
As he entered the town many of the townsfolk stopped to marvel at him. Covered in blood, and riding tall in his saddle, he was an image of the days of Elendil. One young soldier stepped out of the barracks, the only soldier who had remained loyal, and ran to Menelisil.
“Sire? What happened?” the young man asked. Menelisil now told in full what happened. He then commanded the young man to stand guard in front of the manor house should the peasants be roused to anger and folly.
Menelisil strode into his house. As he told his father what happened he heard horns in the distance. Foreign horns. His heart froze as he heard the cries of the townsfolk. “The Corsairs of Umbar! The Corsairs of Umbar are come!”