“It will take the best bowman in the Southland,” the tall borderman announced quietly. “That man will have to be Menion Leah.” The highlander looked up in surprise at the unexpected declaration, unable to hide the sense of pride he felt. “There will be only one shot,” continued the Prince of Callahorn. “If it is not exactly on target, we will be lost.”

“What is your plan?” interrupted Durin curiously.

“When we reach the end of our cover at the open space, Menion will locate one of the Gnome chieftains to the far side of the pass. He will have one shot with the bow to kill him, and in the confusion that follows, we can slip by.”

“It won’t work, my friend,” growled Hendel. “The minute they see their leader struck by the arrow, they’ll be all over that pass entrance. You’ll be found in minutes.”

Balinor shook his head and smiled faintly, but unconvincingly.

“No, we won’t, because they will be after someone else. The minute the Gnome chieftain falls, one of us will show himself back in the pass. The Gnomes will be so incensed and so eager to get their hands on him, that they won’t take the time to search for anyone else, and we can slip by in the confusion.”

Silence greeted his appraisal of the situation, and the anxious faces looked from one person to the next, the same thought in every mind.

“It sounds just fine for everyone but the man who stays behind to show himself,” broke in Menion in disbelief. “Who gets that suicidal chore?”

“It was my plan,” declared Balinor. “It will be my duty to stay behind and lead the Gnomes into the Wolfsktaag, until I can circle back and join you later at the edge of the Anar.”

“You must be insane if you think I’m letting you stay behind and claim all the credit,” Menion declared. “If I make the shot, I stay to take the bows, and if I miss…”

He trailed off and smiled, shrugging casually, clapping Durin on the shoulder as the other looked on incredulously. Balinor was about to object further when Hendel stepped forward shaking his broad head in disagreement.

“The plan is fine as it goes, but we all know that the man who stays behind will have several thousand Gnomes attempting to track him down, or at best, waiting for him to come out of their taboo land. The man who stays must be a man who knows the Gnomes, their methods, how to fight and survive against them. In this case, that man is a Dwarf with a lifetime of battle knowledge behind him. It must be me.

“Besides,” he added grimly, “I told you how badly they want my head. They won’t pass up the chance after such an affront.”

“And I’ve already told you,” insisted Menion again, “that’s my. . .”

“Hendel is right,” Balinor cut in sharply. The others looked at him in amazement. Only Hendel knew that the decision the borderman had made, however distasteful, was the same one he would have made had their positions been reversed. “The choice has been made, and we will abide by it. Hendel will have the best chance to survive.”