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~Cyrus urged the mare on to a long-strided gallop. The two were but a flash of black and blue as they flew toward the battlefield. Cyrus rolled the stress from his shoulders, trying to forget Elanna. He was finding the task most difficult. This whole arrangement makes me damn sick... His dark blue eyes then flashed suddenly to the road. He could see the individual plumes fleeing from pillars of smoke. He tightened his legs around the horse, letting her jump fallen bodies as needed. The familiar smell of blood filled his nostrils. The ebony horse slowed to a high-stepped trot. The was was being waged on the horizon. Cyrus bit his lower lip uncertainly.~
~Seeing a wounded soldier hobble past, Cyrus flared for attention and gave the man a concerned and hurried look.~ "You there! Where is Captain Aragorn?" ~The man coughed, taking a moment to collect his breath and answer. Finally he replied hoarsely, pointing blindly yonder.~ "He's uh... *COUGH!* Uh, over there Sir...*COUGH!* dead I think..." ~Cyrus held up a compassionate hand, silencing the sickly man. He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a small purple vial. He tossed it to the man.~ "There you go, friend. Take care." ~Panic now strewn across his face, he wheeled the horse in the direction the soldier had pointed. He set the mare off at a quick canter, looking left and right with keen elvish eyes. You can't be dead Aragorn! He was becoming hopeless when his cheek burned. The scythe was glowing furiously. Beaming, he leapt off the back of his steed, grasping her bewildered reigns and rushing to his target.~
"Aragorn!" ~The half-elf cried out, joy and relief flooding his face. Quickly looping the horse's reigns over a post, he ran nimbly to his friend, crouching down and getting him in a one-armed embrace.~ "You bloody son of a lich!" ~He laughed, recoiling with a hop and a wide grin.~ "I thought you were dead!"
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