Rûdhchamion stirred from the top of the tree where he was hiding. Clothed in brown and green leather, he easily blended in his surroundings. Only another skilled in the woodland ways and searching for him could have detected the movement. His keen grey eyes surveyed the grounds below.
It had been several hours since Legolas and the female elf, Tinuiel, left. He fingered his hunting knife at his side, caressing the bloodstone on its hilt. Raná the Wanderer (as the moon was called in the elven tongue) was overhead, and he decided to wait until dawn until he would continue his “hunt” for his favorite prey, orcs and their allies.
The sound of a grey owl’s call came from a few distance away. Grey owl? That must be the elves’ signal, there were no grey owls in this parts. Thranduil’s people were being extra vigilant, even at night a patrol was constantly alert. He wondered at that.
Deep in thought, he had now only noticed the change in hue, from black to purple, of the horizon. Reaching for his hip bag, he took a few berries and nuts he had gathered along the way and began his morning meal. An inquisitive squirrel peeped at him from a nearby branch. He sent out a tendril of thoughts and it came near him. He offered it some nuts from his hand. Sniffing at it, the squirrel scampered to his arm and onto his outstretched hand, quickly nibbling the free meal.
He smiled a rare smile.
After the meal, Rûdhchamion decided to investigate the area where the men were captured by Legolas and the elves. Perhaps from there he would know what direction would be best taken.
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