The Thane was left to wonder if there was any bard, living or dead, who had ever actually experienced the horrors of war for himself.
He sincerely doubted the prospect.
The next day, after fording the Mirrow at a point further north, the advance scouts came back as a body, riding like the wind.
‘Sire,’ they said, ‘we can go no further. There are roving armies, freshly supplied and well-equipped, of greater size than that we have just engaged, and they are despoiling the countryside. For that matter, we ask that you loan us a number of horses, that we may evacuate some refugees who made their presence known to us. They are mostly women and children, but many are soldiers.’
The Thane quickly agreed to this, and the scouts left, leading a good many horses that had until now been used only as spares. Late that evening, the scouts arrived with the refugees: nearly two-hundred women, children and elders, and an almost equal number of soldiers. The civilians were ravenously hungry and thirsty, terrified, had seen no food nor shelter for days, and the tales they told were often unspeakable, and will remain so.
But often the soldiers spoke of the manner in which the roving hordes would overlook the refugees, as though they weren’t worth troubling over. It became obvious to them that the Goblins were searching for something that did not include such easy prey as tender young women and children.