It was then the three and thirtieth year of Halfordd’s rule when again the Terrors came in the night. It began with the discovery of two children one grey morning, lying face down nigh the East river. Their bodies had been torn and twist’d, and not far from where they lay were scatter’d about the last remaining extremities of what had been their mother. Again there was talk of darkness in the village, and many of the old words began to be spok’n once more. Aelfsiden!, Nightmare!, they said, cumath se Niht Brogas agan eft, the Night Terrors have come again. Fear, as all but the eld’st had not before known, rose in their hearts and none dar’d venture far from the walls, e’en by the light of day. Guards again were set about the gates, and new weapons were forg’d in the old and half forgott’n furnaces. So it was that again Nollburg came under the terrors of old.

It was not long ere help was sent for, for Halfordd was become deeply distraught by the evils that plagu’d his people, and there were no warriors now within Nollburg, as of old, who were of such quality to brave the terrors of the North. So it was that he sent word, far and wide, to all kings and kingdoms he knew and his forbear’rs knew of old, that they might answer his call and send aid in his time of need. Eagerly he and his people await’d some response, but the months went on and no message was return’d nor was there seen any man bearing the banner of his king upon the horizon. Halfordd then began to despair lest no help come at all, and slowly the attacks in the night began to grow in number. All of Nollburg fear’d then that no help would come, and that they would all perish at the hands of those terrible wraiths.

Then, as it happen’d when at the last Halfordd had giv’n up all hope of any aid being sent to him, and the warm weather was waning into the colder seasons, help did at last come. Up from the South, on a cold morning, there came a small band of men, strange and unknown in the lands about Nollburg. From afar they were mark’t by the door wards, and it was not long ere the call went up in the village, and the King was made known of the coming of these men. At once, the king’s herald was sent forth to greet them and learn of their errand. Straight to the gates of the village the strange men came, and there they stood, still as statues, before it, awaiting some acknowledgment or greeting at their coming. Not long there did they wait, for with haste the herald rush’t to the gates, accompani’d by two men-of-arms. And when the gates were open’d, they beheld five men, tall and grim and dark of hair. Their dress was that of warriors readi’d for battle. Shirts of mail they wore and helms adorn’d their heads. With them they bore round shields upon which was paint’d the sign of their king. At their side each of them carri’d a short, broad-blad’d sword; that is, save the larg’st of them. A great, ash’n spear he held, and that was twice the height of any man, though verily he stood at nearly three quarters of its height. He had a long beard, fork’t and braid’d. Aescmann was he hight. At his side stood Dreng, with point’d nose and a scar across his eye. To his left was one with much shorter hair than the others, and it was at once obvious that he was hardly older than a boy. This was Eafod. The fourth man, Snottor, had a pleasant face, and there was a deep wisdom in his eyes which e’en men fortunate to live thrice his age did not oft obtain. But the fifth, he was their lead’r. His eyes were keen and grey, and he had a presence about him, one that command’d others to follow. Though it was not oppressively so. Rather, it was a command that inspir’d men to do good and noble deeds, and instill’d in them courage beyond doubt or the limits of mortal men. He was hight Felahror, and he was a man of many deeds of renown and of noble lineage. At once the herald address’t them.

‘Hail! warriors of the South. With what errand doth ye come to this grief-strick’n hamlet, dress’t as for war, uninvit’d? Give me thine names, so that I might make the King aware of ye, and so that he might judge thee.’