Fangorn Forest

Harnauro bounded down a corridor, claws slamming into the back of the corsair fleeing away, and tearing through the armor time and again, rending the flesh beneath until the form beneath it was no longer recognizable as having once been a man.

Turning, the wolf began to wind its way back to the battle, having gone far in its pursiut of the fleeing one. Before it found the fight again, however, it began to shudder, and convulse, and in moments, Harnauro stodd up, eyes closed in pain, blood and remains scattered about his gray cloak. Looking back down the corridor, he sees the still corpse, and hopes it was one of the enemy, and not of Unvar's. A deep growl rumbles from his throat, and he walks back down the corridor, soon finding the room the battle had been at.

Enetering in it, he was assailed by the heat and smell of dying and burning bodies. Could he have - no, this was the work of another. Almost breathing a sigh of relief, he looked throughout the room. The elves and ranger were gone, and must have gone off while the corsairs battled each other. He began to leave the room, when he saw a form twitch across the room. Hurrying across, he easily lifted the large form of the corsair lord from the ground.

After Unvar was left propped against a wall, the corsair blinked his eyes, returning to consciousness to see Harnauro looking for any other survivors among the bodies.

"Are any..." Unvar trailed off.

Harnauro turned about, shaking his head. "Unless they fled, all here are dead. One of the Fallen One's servants?"

"Nay, the Balrog itself."

Harnauro nodded to himself, for that would easily explain the destruction. "Then let us find others still fighting against its forces." He walked away, and Unvar managed to summon strength and hurry after him, though pain flooded his body with every step.