Gondolin trudged alongside Marsillison, sensing the pain radiating from his friend. "You really ought to have that arm checked out."
The ranger shrugged. "Its not that bad, I'll just have to put up with it."
But Gondolin knew that every member of the company would need to be in their fitest condition for the road ahead. He could smell trouble. Evil was abroad, somewhere in the plains of Rohan. He flipped out one of his knives and spun it idly on one of his fingers. Whatever the threat was, he would be ready.
They were now in the heart of the misty
mountains, and soon to come to Rohan on the far side. It was dangerous territory, filled with wargs and Dunlendings; along with the occansional orc raiding party from the mountains. The countryside was tough, like the people that lived there.
The elve's thoughts were interrupted by the distant sound of a rumble. Surprised, he looked up the side of the mountain, where his keen eyes soon spotted the danger approaching the company.
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