It is clear now, in hindsight, that the Harrowing of Tuhl was the zenith of Geldaran's career. Rebel forces had laid waste Sul up to the gates even of the Capital, rebellion was flaring across all of Rosyaye and Khorobit, and everywhere were the forces of Mobius stretched to the breaking point. For the Sentinels, powerful although they undoubtedly were, were unsuited to a war of attrition, of small scale ambush. In face-to-face battle they were invincible (or nearly so), but once their back was turned, the fires of rebellion flared out anew and could not be so easily stamped out. Geldaran herself sat secure in the city of Keril, and no wise person would have predicted the eventual outcome. If, at this stage, the other Human protectorates had joined the Uli banner, this story might have had a different ending. But, as we have seen already, the fatal mistake had been made, the other protectorates remained aloof, and Geldaran's star was destined to fall again.
As so often happens, the passion of those who fight for freedom proved unequal to the task of defeating an enemy so much more powerful than themselves. Faced with the power of the Sentinels in full battle array, the invading Fen'neko were pushed back from the walls of the Capital, and driven in headlong disarray back across the plains of Sul. Rebellious towns in Khorobit and Rosyaye were retaken one by one, helped greatly by Mobius' policy of reconciliation rather than retribution. For those who deserted the Uli banner to rejoin the Emperor were punished little, a policy of great wisdom as it turned out.

But as the Fen'neko armies retreated across the plains of Sul, their very great danger became apparent. For Mobius had sent a second army across Brimoa towards the Nunshul Pass, aiming to sweep through the lands of the Halflings, around the back of the invading Fen'neko, and cut them off from their homelands in the northwest. This would have been a disaster of gargantuan proportions, with a loss of life that would have maimed The People for generations to come.

In this hour of need, with Geldaran and the Human forces trapped to the south and unable to help the desperate Fen'neko people, the need of the day called forth one of the greatest of all heroes, celebrated in song and legend ever since. Almfoot the Fat, as he is known to Humans. But Almfoot Hearthmate, as he is known to his own people, the Halflings. Almfoot had no stellar career of heroic endeavour, he had no great wealth or nobility, he was of no great pretension. But what he had in abundance was courage. He knew that, if the armies of Mobius were given free passage through Nunshul Pass, it would mean the death of the flower of the Fen'neko nation. And to save them, he was willing to make himself the ultimate sacrifice.

Nunshul Pass, although it is named in typical Halfling humorous fashion (for they can be a jolly race, as well as a brave one), is also well named. For in this pass, a small group can stop a host if they have the bravery to stand firm. In places the rocks rise sheer on one side of the path, and fall away on the other in a precipice whose depths have yet to be discovered. And it was by the side of a precipice such as this that Almfoot Hearthmate and the 100 companions made their final stand, and earned their heroes' deaths. Behind an improvised wall of rocks, and protected by the narrowness of the path from the direct wrath of the Sentinels, the 101 held firm for many days. As one by one they died, another stepped up to fill the breach, knowing that they had only to delay the army of Mobius for long enough, and the Fen'neko army would be saved.

Bards sing still of the bravery of this small band. How in that grey and grim place they chanted the old battle songs of the Halfling race, while the arrows flew around them, and their companions perished. How, at the end, the remaining five stood back to back, surrounded by the armies of the Emperor. How, even yet, were the Emperor's minions so awed by the Halflings' bravery that they hung back, none wanting to strike the final blows. And how, impatient for glory, and seeing death before their eyes, Almfoot and his four companions leaped to their deaths from the precipice, hand-in-hand and with tears in their eyes.

For the Sentinels, striding through the broken wreckage of the Halfling band, it was the welcome end to an unwelcome delay. But in the rest of Shan Deral, from the Eastern shores to the Great Western Desert, from the frozen wastes of NordIsland to the islands of the south, Almfoot and the Hundred live on in story and song forever.