Scouting ahead

[Varda]

Fainan:

Morning sunlight still held, although the clouds suggested later rain. Cautiously, I kept my mare to a trot, although she wanted a good run. I had to watch for spiders or other annoyances that might be late going to bed. The evils weren't too bad here along the Old Forest Road yet, although they seemed determined to continue moving north despite our best efforts. At least we kept them slowed, and might someday be able to drive them back.

That was one reason I was on this trip. I'd been dispatched to act as guide for a Noldo elf from Rivendell. "Auros", my captain had said the name was. We needed to be less reclusive, and could try to overlook our differences with the haughty Noldor in order to save Mirkwood.

What he was doing was so secret that I was told only that he'd let me know if he deemed it a good idea, and if we managed to get together. I shrugged, the bow and quiver re-settling on my shoulders more comfortably. Orders were orders, and a great excuse for a chance to be out in the forest instead of cooped up in a garrison, waiting and waiting and...

I neared the border, waving to a guard, with a signal to let him know a visitor was expected. He gave a return wave and I passed on to the edge of the woods. It was bright out there! A bit much. And no Noldo yet.

So I moved back inside the comfort of the dimness under the leaves and untied the packroll from Hithceleb. After giving her a quick rub-down with handfuls of sweet-smelling grasses, I turned her loose to graze on a wide patch of clover and grass not far from the edge but out of sight. She would come with a whistle, if only out of curiosity. I'd raised her from a foal and she was quite certain she owned me.

I settled on a low-hanging branch near the road, good to watch for the incoming Noldo. It was a good time to work on making a fresh batch of arrows, so I set to work with my rather basic fletching kit. Aye, a knife, string, and feathers from a bird who had also provided a meal. Someday I'll have better.

With luck, some of the other warriors might be joining me if they ever got loose of what they were doing, and we could make up a decent honor escort. Still, for just a guide, I was enough!

[arathorn]

Haran:

Scrape! Scrape! Scraaappee! Haran continued whetting his axe, grumbling and muttering to himself in the waning sunlight. Elves! Bah, always elves. He had been chosen yet again to meet an elf party just outside of Mirkwood. Of course they had the advantage of swift towering horses, which no self-respecting dwarf would be caught dead on. Indeed mounting and <shudder> riding one of those unpredictable beasts was tantamount to attempting to fly off a cliff by flapping one's arms! Ridiculous! Dead might be the only way a dwarf would ever be seen on the equine creatures. No. Best to stay on trusty mother Arda. Two sturdy feet, firmly planted, swinging a well honed axe. THAT made sense. Still, the offer from Elrond of one of his ponies ensured that the alliance was a solid one. He had of course declined, but thanked the wise sage all the same. Elves, however odd, were their allies and past indiscretions would have to be pardoned.

Raising 'Baruk' to the sky, he watched the light glint and sparkle off the sharpened edge. That should do well. Plucking a hair from his beard, he now looked about warily. No one was near. He peered closely at the follicle then slowly brought it down toward the blade. Breep! Ha! Straight in two, as always! He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Had anyone known of this silly routine, he'd never hear the end of it. No matter. The notches on his axe hilt bore the history of his victories. Routine was sound, stable. Focus was important. Especially in these dismal times.

Packing up the rest of his wares, he began the trek to the gates leading to the east. If he was going to make the rendezvous with the mounted elves, he'd have to leave now, or not at all. He sighed. Hopefully more dwarves would be accompanying them on the next outing. With any luck, one from the lands south of the Iron Mountains would be on it. Haran longed to hear news from the east. Or tales at least. As the gates closed behind him, he began marching eastward.

[ArPharazon]

Calion:

The agile elf jumped down from the tree, landing on some bushes. He stepped a few yards from his home, into a sunny clearing. The clearing was one of those clearings cleared by his fellow Woodelves, under the lead of King Thranduil, for the large feasts occasionally held at night. This clearing, in fact, was one of those famous ones where Bilbo the Elf-friend and his Dwarven companions once visited the feasts uninvited.

But now the clearing was not used anymore: dark creatures started to roam the woods, and words of an (almost, as it seemed) unspeakable evil had crossed the skies above the Misty Mountains into Mirkwood. Not that long before, the Elven escort under the lead of Legolas, son of Thranduil, had left for Rivendell, and poor Calion was not allowed to go: Thranduil had said his skills with the throwing dagger were too important to leave the defense of Mirkwood. He had been given another mission though, something with escorting a Noldo through the woods. And the starting day of the mission was today.

So, he stepped into the clearing, watched the sun's position in the sky, and came to an ill conclusion: he was almost late! He ran to the nearby river, washed his face, ran back to his home, and climbed the tree. On his personal sleeping platform already his supplies had been laid out. Calion grabbed a piece of the Lemba-bread, stuffed his mouth with it, then stuffed the rest in his bag, together with his extra clothes, his survival tools, and his few dozen throwable daggers.

Those daggers were lost quite easily, he would have to work on that. He was trying to perfect his new boomerang dagger, although they were still worse to aim than the normal daggers. He also threw a bow in his package with a moderate amount of arrows, but he wasn't half as skilled at archery as he was at throwing.

When Calion finished packing, he jumped out of the tree again, jumped on his grazing horse, and started the journey to the rendez-vous point. Would he still make it on time? He certainly hoped so.

[arathorn]

Haran:

Several days had passed. The Misty Mountains had proved more difficult than first expected, but all the same he had made good time. The Old Ford was now in sight and the entrance to the forest where the elves would meet him, if all went well, was now a plausible destination. Funny how at the start of any journey reaching the end seemed impossible to fathom. Middle Earth could seem infinite some days.

Suddenly Haran leapt to his feet... was that a howl?? He listened intently... waited... nothing more. Perhaps his imagination, but better to be safe. There was still a considerable distance ahead... alone in this strange land. He went off in search of more secure shelter for the night. The entrance to Mirkwood would be perilous enough without having to deal with orcs or wargs along the way. He smiled to himself knowingly. Meeting elves right now would not be as undesirable as he might have thought in the comfort of Rivendell days before. Companionship had its perks. And a friend with an accurate eye and bow would be of great comfort now. Yes, elves would be a welcome sight to be sure. Soon enough... or so he reassured himself... with his back to the wall of the small cave he had found and facing the entrance, he fell into an uneasy sleep...

[Eonwë]

Auros:

"Travel quickly, and travel light. The Hobbit's Quest must begin unnoticed, and must remain so for as long as possible. Gather news of all evil things stirring, but especially of the Ulairi."

It was with these instructions Auros had left Imladris some days ago. Several messengers and scouts were sent by the main roads East, South, and North. He was not one of these. As soon as he had crossed the Hithaeglir via the High Pass, he was to head North of the Old Forest Road, making with all possible speed to The Forest Gate and so come to Erebor from the West.

These Avari will no doubt expect to lead me through their lands, thought Auros. Very well, but they better be ready to move fast. My business goes as far as Erebor this time. I have no time to be lead through their winding forest-mazes just so they can show their defenses off.

Auros gave a slight chuckle. It occurred to him the Silvan Elves would probably prefer his company to that of the Dwarves he was to speak with. Not by much, but perhaps a mention of his destination would gain a bit of speed. Or not. Most Avari were not as,.. certain,.. as Noldor. More akin to the unpredictable Edain. Certainly not the Easterlings, but at times dealing with the Edain of Numenor were more certain than those with the Unwilling. Perhaps yet there were those among Thranduil's people who could be trusted,.. but let's not be too hopeful.

Rising early that morning, he had bid the Beornings of Carrock fare well. This reclusive people did not easily become hosts, even for an Elf, but, fortunately, they percieved the importance of his mission,... or at least his horse. They were not pleased at how tired the beast was when he walked into their woods alongside it, almost as tired as it was.. But then, they did not know his mission fully. Being sent long distances, Auros was accustomed to change mounts often, and so never grew attached to any of them beyond the love of Elves for all living things.
This was the first time he would not be able to leave a horse in a stable as he rode out on another, and at least the horse appeared to understand. He had not even asked the creature's name of the stablehand, and did not yet have a fitting name to give.

He sheathed his sword, Angran, which he of course had a name for. His bow had been left behind. Travelling light, he grimaced. Bows and arrows were too much maintainance for this journey, though he wished he had brought them. I've got no time for hunting anyway, and if I did end up in a situation I couldn't escape, Angran would serve me well enough.

With a sigh, Auros looked his mount in the eye. "Well, my four-legged friend, tonight we make the Forest Gate, one way or the other." Auros felt the air tense. The Beornings must not have liked that. The horse snorted and shook its head, almost inviting the challenge. Auros smiled and mounted the horse.

"Well then, let's go!"

[Elatan]

With a yawn and a good stretch Dusksinger woke up by the first light of the Sun. The bed, if she could call the stride grass so, had left straws in her hair and carefully she picked them out while eating the remains from yesterdays dinner. The neeker-breekers were already beginning to humm in the air again making it clear everything in the wilderness was calm. As she finished her early breakfast her thoughts went ahead towards the coming day and long walk.

Four days ago she had met Duilan coming from the south-eastern Greenway and the area near Sarn Ford. He had brought news from Tom in the Old Forest about the old graves in the Barrow-downs. Tom had told Duilan the Barrow-wights were awakened and she was now on her way to see her mother and hear and learn more of these.

” I know whom they were, evil men from long ago who infested our forefathers graves, but it was a long time ago and they had been silent for long. I hope mother can enlighten me, she always seems to know things before many others. I still can not see things as clear as she even she have taught me well but perhaps one day…”

Dusksinger picked up her staff and the short sword. The sword was merely only for the looks but the staff was her real weapon. Well the staff AND the lore she had been thaught all her life. Combine the knowledge of old wisdom with shadegrown duskwood, cut in the right season, with the right signs carved, and you are well off her father had told and he was right.

” I am not a master like the old sages but I do alright and Elrond have told my parents I have a talent but I still need some experience. That is why I am out here, to learn and gain experience but right now it seemed more importend to head home”

She had been travelling north towards the North Downs from just south of the Weatherhills where she had met Duilan and today she set her course east towards Hoarwell. It was a longer route than heading straight north-east but at the other hand it was safer and she could be almost sure no one would see or follow her and she expected to be home late evening.

[ArPharazon]

Calion:

Calion hurried through the forest, on his faithful horse Quessëlómë, or Night-feather. He had always liked the High-Elven Quenya, and had gotten almost as good at it as he was with his native Sindarin language. And Night-feather was of course very appropriate for his pitch-black horse, with her hooves coming down on the ground as silent as feathers.

Nevertheless, the evil spiders of the woods were increasing in number, and had excellent hearing, despite the absence of ear-lobes. They could definitely hear horses coming from miles away, and not even the almost magically silent Quessëlóme could pass by unnoticed. Calion just hoped with all his heart that he could cross the enchanted river before the spiders found him. The spiders rarely crossed the river, they were too afraid of the water, and the effects it could have on anyone falling in. The horse kept running along, the sounds of the running water were already present, and Calion spurred his dear horse even further.

Several yards before the stream, however, one of the eight-legged monsters jumped down from a branch, in Calion's neck. Calion fell down from the horse, and grabbed the spider before the thing could poison him. With a fierce stroke he stabbed it on a branch of a nearby tree, which freed him of his enemy.

Several spiders came crawling towards Calion now, but the horse, who hadn't been able to slow down, had crossed the stream with a mighty jump, but did not have the momentum to jump back. Calion slowly walked back to the river, as the spiders closed in on him. The biggest spider suddenly jumped forward, and in a short struggle both Calion and the spider fell in the water, where both fell fast asleep.

Quessëlóme grabbed her sleeping master out of the deep water, but swallowed some water in the process. She threw her master on her back, and ran further to the west, leaving the angry spiders on the East-bank of the stream. Slowly the water took its effect on her, and the beast became sleepier every minute. After a few hours the beautiful Nightfeather neared the West-Gate, and crashed asleep on the road, to the surprise of an Elven archer waiting for some companions, just several feet away...

[Elatan]

Dusksinger.

The first stars glinted in the east over Hithaeglir when she reached home and in the silent evening she could clearly hear Hoarwell`s water rush through its stony bed. As she drew closer to the dim light of a fire she knew her father were working by the forge. Always busy he was.
"Hello father, busy as always I see. How is things ?"
"Hello dear Lomelinde ( He always called her by her right name and refused to used her nickname ) Aye, I am making new horseshoes for Malloth. He will need them for your travel across the mountains but your mother better tell you of that. She is waiting for you inside.

"Hmm I guess some elves have seen me walking home after all. I will be more careful next time. If I can avoid the keen eyed elves every time and not just half the times I will have learned to hide really good" she thought while entering the house.

"Hello Mother, I am home" she called.
"Good to see you honey, you are just in time for some food and some few hours rest, then you will have to ride. Your father is preparing Malloth. You have been called to met up with some elves and a dwarf near the West gate of Mirkwood. Their names are Fainan, Auros, Calion and Haran. There have been rumors of evil stirring and the Barrow wights are awakening"

Bleaa, she always knows, how does she ? she is always listening to the wind, watching the sky and the clouds, examing the colour of the water in the river and looking at the birds and insekts while collecting her herbs and leaves and flowers but she can tell so much more from it than I. Oh Well but this is a good chance for some adventure

While Lomelinde was eating her mother packed a bag with some food and some of her mixture of herbs. There were no need to ask what is was for, she knew it and knew how to use it. After the dinner she slept a few hours and by midnight her father woke her up.

" Malloth is ready, it is time for you go. If you keep a steady pace you should be able to reach the forest gate the day after tomorrow. As far as we know from Rivendell the High Pass is still safe. Bless you my child, may Iluvatar and the Powers guard you from harm"

With these words Lomelinde mounted Malloth her dark brown horse with golden speckles as flowers on a field and turned towards the towering mountains.

Through the night she rode, she climbed up towards Cirith Forn en Andrath, and by late morning she rested in the thin air between the peaks of Hithaeglir. It had been a long and weary journey up but nothing had happened. Now were only the climb down to the Old Ford and the straight road towards the forest gate left. She would be there in time.

[Varda]

Fainan:

Fainan sat up straighter at the sound of hoofbeats, glad of any excuse to no longer bend over the now large pile of freshly made arrows. So someone else had made it to the rendesvous! Great! She feared that the Noldo might want to talk in Quenya, and her fluency was sadly deficient. She could make it out in writing, with some effort, but speech...!

The hoofbeats sounded wrong, faltering. It stopped almost directly below her, as if aware of her presence. The horse might have scented her. Silence. No salutation.

Fainan caught up her bow, fitting an arrow at the same time. Stepping quietly onto the branch path overlooking the road, she watched for enemies. A black horse stood below, head down and eyes closed. A soggy Mirkwood elf lay on her back, apparently unconscious. Most disquieting. She listened intently. Nothing in pursuit that she could hear.

After watching another minute, she dropped down to the horse. Still breathing, as if in exhausted sleep. Beautiful mare, solid black, must be Quesselome. Marvelous creature, fast and quiet. This fellow atop her, she remembered as winning contests with throwing knives, what was his name? Oh well.

With that sort of switch from run to sleep, the pair must have run afoul of the Enchanted River. Everyone in Mirkwood knew better than to drink of it or touch it, so something had gone direly wrong.

She saw no sign of a spider sting or cuts from enemy weapons, so the fellow must have been either very good or very lucky until the water took him. His bones all seemed to be pointed the right way. She eased him down from the black horse, settling him against a birch trunk.

Fainan helped Quesselome revive first, as she had worked most of the river water out of her system in her run, and turned her out to pasture with a pleased Hithceleb.

She turned back to her fellow scout, apparently wrapped in dreams, and hoped they were pleasant. His weight being greater than hers, he would have to remain on the ground. Looking about the trees, she found a flat, reddish insect and coaxed it onto a fallen leaf. She set the leaf on the elf's shoulder, then poked at the insect. The stink bug became most wroth and let loose its defense, then flew away from the undeserved aggravation of elves.

Fainan grinned at the elf, feeling both pity and amusement at the manner of his awakening.

A thought nibbled at the back of her mind. This incident would not sound good to the Noldo if he heard of it. Even his escort couldn't pass the dangers on the road!

[arathorn]

Haran:

The howling had been intermittent and interrupted his sleep from time to time, then had ceased a few hours before. That in itself was somewhat comforting, but did nothing to bring piece of mind during his respite. It seemed that at times he could hear a scratching and odd chirping sound, not that of a bird exactly, somehow a whispering, if that made any sense. Giving up on his slumber, he packed up again and left the cave heading ever eastward. He had passed the Old Ford crossing the Anduin some time ago and now had the entrance to Mirkwood in sight.

Something odd though, the entire trip... a feeling of being watched, even followed. He had tried concealing himself a few times, in a ditch or among some boulders, and waiting to see if anyone, or any thing, might stray by, but nothing ever did. Still.. it was unsettling. He couldn't get the chirping sound out of his head. He'd never heard anything quite like it before. There were no birds in sight either, WHAT was that sound?

The sun was now beginning to fade as he approached the gates to the elven woods. As he looked up at the sturdy doors, out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed something flutter by in the treetops. He tried to focus his gaze but even with his keen eyes whatever it had been, if anything, had shot by without a sound and was gone before he could even convince himself he had actually seen anything at all.

Turning his attention back to the gate, he wondered what to do next. No one seemed to be there to greet him, which in itself was rather odd. He shrugged, raised the hilt of his axe and banged on the doors then awaited a response. He tried knocking a few more times, but when nothing stirred from behind them he sighed and looked for a comfortable place to sit, as it seemed he would have to wait this out. He had barely turned around when the whispered chirping that had been haunting him the past few days suddenly rose to a fever pitch... spiders! They leapt from the southern wall and raced toward him on furry, spindly legs catching him off guard... ambushed! Baruk rang from his belt and cleft the first beast as it bore down upon him. Haran gave out a yell back out toward the gate "If there be elves about, show yourselves now and be quick about it! The gate is under siege!"

Then turning back to the arachnoid brutes he cried out in true dwarf fashion "Baruk Khazad! Khazad aimenu!" ('Axes of the Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!'), bringing his axe down to meet the onslaught...

[Varda]

Fainan watched the dwarf approaching Mirkwood. No Noldo this! What business could bring a lone dwarf to what must seem the threatening eaves of Mirkwood?

The being had hair almost completely hiding his face, dropping down nearly to his wide belt. With bemusement, she thought it had a cared-for look, even a couple of braids. Could dwarves have a feeling for the state of their beards the way elves did for their hair? The warrior braids in both her hair and that of her new, if slightly smelly, companion might have the same meaning. How very odd.

Now why was he hitting the gate? Such a hefty axe might damage the finish. She waited for him to give a whistle or other proper hail, but none came. She leaned against a tree and raised her eyebrows at her new companion.

But then she saw something she understood. Spiders. What were they doing so close to the path? They seemed to have followed the dwarf. The powerful bearded creature laid into them with his axe with wonderful bravery.

Fainan had been climbing the trees and moving forward even as she watched. At this improved vantage point, she shot with great care into the spiders, picking always the ones attacking the stranger. Perhaps they would realize which behavior was causing injury and death, then back off.

Sure, and the sun would rise in the west tomorrow too.

[ArPharazon]

Calion:

What a smell! Immediately Calion woke up memories of lembas gone bad (could happen after a few thousand years), when a red insect let loose a stink from his shoulder. He looked up, and saw several things he didn't expect, as the last thing he remembered was drowning in the enchanted river.

First of all, the location. The Forest-gate! How did he get there? He knew Quessëlómë was smart, but did she really save him from the river, to deliver him in time to the rendez-vous point? Almost unbelievable, but after his experiences with the dark horse he knew nothing was impossible.

Second: A red bug, known for it's passive behaviour. The creature flew away from him, and he knew the insect was responsible for reviving him out of his sleep. What could have happened to make the thing so angry?
Also, it flew away from a leaf carefully placed on his shoulder.

Calion shrugged his head, until the sleep fully left him, and he saw more details. The first direction he looked in brought into his sight 2 horses some distance away. One of them was his own horse, grazing the green grass. She looked a bit sleepy, had she swallowed some sleep-water as well? The other horse looked strangely familiar. Then he recognized Hithceleb, the swift mare, and knew Fainan, the famous archer, would be nearby as well.

His head turned back to the front. There he saw indeed Fainan, standing before him. She grinned at him, apparently amused at the torture his nose now felt. After a short conversation, in which he introduced himself as Calion, the finest dagger-thrower of the court of Thranduil, and he also learned she was the one responsible for reviving him and his horse.

Calion thanked her, before the two Elves pointed their pointy ears to the west, from where several sounds were now heard. One of them was a large breathing, so loud and un-Elvish, they could have killed him in the dark. Had to be a dwarf. Other noises they heard were whispered chirpings.... what was going on out there?

The two Elves walked towards the gate, until the Dwarf started banging on the door. Dwarves had no respect for Elvish woodcraft, Calion thought.

Suddenly the chirping rose to the sound Calion painfully recognized... spiders again! The two elves climbed further up the trees, and started to fire away at the spiders with a mixed fury of daggers and arrows. There were many spiders around, but with these two new companions Calion knew they stood a good chance of defeating the spiders with little injuries to themselves. And besides, only the dwarf was attacked, so he knew nothing could disturb his aim.

[arathorn]

As the second shaggy giant fell beneath his might blow, arrows and knives came raining down from above. Uncannily accurate, they disposed of the rest of the attackers in due course, leaving him only three more to dispatch. He shrugged.. 5 was a good number... his favorite in fact. He was 5 when he picked up his first axe (a tomahawk really) and chopped his first log. This was unheard of even with the heartiest of dwarves. He chuckled to himself remembering the gasp and awe in his father's eyes at the deed. Ever since he had been known for his mastery of the weapon both in battle and in every day use.

He surveyed the damage and was amazed to find he was unharmed. Looking back up toward the top of the gates he tried to make out his rescuer (or rescuers) but could see nothing. Most likely the were awaiting a greeting or explanation of his presence. No doubt word had not reached them yet of his imminent arrival. Wonderful! He shook his head, then searched his memory.... his elvish was rusty at best, having spent most of his time up north where elves were scarce. In a guttural dwarvish drawl he attempted 'Mae govannen, Mellon ... Aiya'

...silence...

<ahem>

'You have aided Haran, son of Khazan, valiantly and a dwarf never forgets such a gallant effort. I have been sent from Rivendell by a council of Elrond to meet and aid an elf party at these gates in any way that I may, but, past that, I'm afraid my duty is unclear. The members of this company were uncertain at the time of my departure several days ago, so I am afraid I have no names to offer. I bow to you and ask you leave to enter and discuss further plans or at least to await the arrival of the rest of the group to verify my tidings.

He stood back from the gate and sighing uncomfortably, awaited his fate...

[Varda]

Fainan shared a glance with Calion. "A dwarf actually attempting our language?" she commented in amazement. "And he knows of the Council of Elrond? Maybe he's authentic. I might look less threatening, so I'll open the Gate for him. Please cover me and I'll be ready to dodge out of your way!"

Fainan opened the Forest Gate and swept her arm out in invitation to enter. "Welcome, Haran, son of Khazan!"

Her Westron held a strong Mirkwood accent, but she hoped he could figure it out. Her dwarvish was non-existent while his elvish was a mixed disaster, with an incredible accent. "Mellon" and "Mae govannen" was Sindarin and pleased her a great deal. "Aiya" was Quenya, maybe covering the chance that the Noldo had arrived.

"Did the road treat you fair?"

[arathorn]

He watched as the door slowly opened revealing a young elven maiden.. no wait.. a soldier it would seem, with a strong, well made bow cinched to her back. A warrior princess was it? Would wonders never cease? These elves were indeed curious creatures. As she spoke to him he was relieved to hear her use the common tongue and had to admit her voice had a calming if not pleasant effect... the thought of having to hunt for any more elvish phrases had made him extremely worrisome.

He breathed a sigh of relief and waited for her to finish her greeting. As he waited, he admired her long, well kempt hair... braided yet, not unlike his own beard! Well, if nothing else, they had something in common. Elves were at least well groomed and aware of their appearance. This journey may yet prove interesting to say the least.

He watched her motion him inward while she pushed the door open further. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed another elf standing beyond the gate with knives at the ready, by his side. He paused for a moment then thought 'No, had they wanted to capture me, they had more than enough opportunity when the spiders had attacked earlier, instead they had come to his aid. They were most likely being wary, after all he was a stranger alone at the entrance to their forest. And unbidden it would seem. Still... better to be safe than sorry...

He bowed low once again and spoke:
"Greetings to you both, may I have the pleasure of knowing how you and your companion go by, to be able to address you properly, in the way of my people? I have come a long way and indeed may have a few stories to relay as we wait for the other members of the troupe from Rivendell to arrive.

Again he arose and awaited a response, all the time carefully watching the guarded elf in back...