Burn these headaches, he thought. And burn those Trollocs. Three times, he had nearly given the order to send his armies in with a direct assault, abandoning the square formations. He could imagine them slaughtering, killing. No more delaying. He wanted blood. Each time, he’d stopped himself. They weren’t here for blood, they were here to hold. To give that man the time he needed in the cavern. That was what it was all about… wasn’t it? Why did he have so much trouble remembering that lately?
