The Last Ring-bearer - Kirill Yeskov [72]
…The Dúnadan sentry in the corridor leading to the Prince's bedchamber heard heavy dragging footfalls on the stairs. A rustle, a muffled moan, then quiet… unsure footfalls again… He quickly backed into the corridor and drew his sword, ready to sound the alarm at any moment. The soldier was ready for anything, but when he saw Cheetah at the end of the corridor, bent over double and leaning on the wall, his jaw dropped. Sword at the ready, the sentry moved forward and quickly scanned the stairs which the captain just ascended – nothing; Great Manwe, who did this to him? Is it poison? Meanwhile, the captain lost what strength he still had, slid down the wall and was still, head down and still holding his belly; it was evident that he had walked the last few steps on autopilot. The Dúnadan looked at Cheetah with mixed amazement, fear, and – let's be honest – some glee. The vaunted Secret Guard! Homegrown nin'yokve, right… He looked at the stairs where the captain straggled from once more time and crouched down to examine the wounded man.
Weird, but when the hood covering Cheetah's face fell back, the soldier's first thought was that the almighty chief of counter-intelligence had for some reason known only to him decided to turn into an Orc. That was his first absurd thought and he had no time for a second one: the 'tiger's paw' strike which Tzerlag had chosen for this occasion is very effective, especially when administered from down up; nothing more was necessary. Pretty cruel treatment, no doubt, but there was no ban on injuries, only on killing; maybe we're playing a war game, but dammit, it's still not a picnic! After searching the sentry (no keys, but Tzerlag was not really expecting any), the sergeant fished his goodies out of the pack and got started on the lock.
Pulling up the too-long sleeves of Cheetah's jacket, he thought as he worked: to think that we made it through the entire war without this, but I had to do it now. Laws and Customs of War, paragraph two – using the enemy's uniform and medical symbols. This rates an instant hanging on the nearest tree – rightly so, by the by. Well, it'll come in handy now – better to show up at the prince's as a familiar jailer, rather than some Orc. Aha! Here's what I'm gonna do: put the hood down again and hand him Grager's paper without a word. The lock finally gave way, and Tzerlag breathed easier: halfway done! He had worked on the lock kneeling, and opened the door from that position, before standing up. That was what saved him – otherwise not even the Orocuen's lightning reflexes would have been enough to block Faramir's strike.
It is fairly easy, obvious even, to hit a man entering a room from behind a doorpost (provided that it juts far enough from the wall), but there is a catch. A man best perceives whatever is happening at his eye level, so if you decide to hammer the visitor on the head with something like a chair leg, this move will surprise only a total amateur. This is why people in the know (such as the prince) do not go after brute strength. Instead, they crouch and strike horizontally, rather than vertically. The blow, as mentioned, comes out weaker, but it hits right where it counts; most importantly, it is exceedingly difficult to react to.
Faramir's script for the next scene was as follows: once Cheetah (or whoever enters first) bends over with pain, the prince would pull him into the room, beyond the left doorpost. Éowyn, standing behind the right doorpost, behind the opened door, would shut and block it with all her weight. Those left outside would immediately try to break in, but their first attempt would likely be disorganized, giving the girl a good chance to hold it for a few seconds. Those few seconds should be enough for Faramir to knock Cheetah out and grab his weapons. Éowyn would move aside then; those assaulting the door would by then get organized enough to slam into it together