[The Barrow-Wight]

The still water of the dark mountain lake lay nestled tightly in the grasp of a narrow mountain valley. Like a league-long spearhead, it neatly divided the landscape as if by the stab of a mighty giant. So deep had that ancient spearman plunged his weapon, that the land rose up in walls so steep and thickly forested walls that no road or path could ever have scaled them. With no sign of past or present habitation by man, elf, or orc, it appeared the perfect refuge for the murder.

Still, Akaaw sent scouts forward to investigate the trees. Often the most obvious sanctuary proved less hospitable than first impressions would suggest, and the memory of the eaves of Fangorn had left him more nervous than he would ever admit. Though the treacherous forest lay on the other side of the massive heights of the Misty Mountains, he would not feel comfortable until this valley had been thoroughly investigated. Soon the scouts returned to report that all was well, and they had even found great stands of blackberry bushes near the eastern end of the lake. After a curt nod of approval from Akaaw, the weary crebain flock dove down to fill their hungry bellies.

The blackberries were soon gone, and the crows of Isengard slowly settled into the trees and restlestly waited for the sun to set. They were all grateful for the rest, but Akkaw had called for the halt early in the afternoon, and the sun was still two crows from setting. A few were eager to continue their journey until dark, but most were satisfied with the comfort of the trees. A cool breeze was blowing across the water and up through the trees, relaxing fingers massaging tired muscles.

Akaaw flew to the easternmost brink of the valley and perched himself on the tallest tree, looking ever eastward for sign of Pip’kha.

[ February 01, 2003: Message edited by: The Barrow-Wight ]