The heroes came upon the dead rider as the afternoon
darkened and the rain threatened to turn to ice.
They found him facedown on the old road where he lay still
and broken among the yellowing grasses. Life had been
hacked from his body with axes, nearly destroying the sigil
of Rohan on his hauberk. Not far from him lay the remains of
his horse, a proud Mearas slain by black-fletched arrows in
its graceful neck.
As they dismounted to prepare a simple cairn for the body, a...