[Saurreg]

Thaurbar frowned as he inspected the ground of the trail leading away from the river. The blades of grass were bented and flattened by heavy tramping, while hedges by the sides were slashed with cruel blades. He pulled up a piece of dead grass and brought it to his nose; it reeked of the same stench that pervailed in the wind.

No doubt, this was the mischievous work of orcs. The foul creatures cared little for all living things and never failed to carry out acts of malice against the greenery. But there were others also. For amidst the orcish footprints were hoof-marks of horses. That meant that either the orcs had waylaid some unwary travellers and had gotten away with their mounts, or they had in their company, members of other races.

Thaurbar got up and went back to his mare. The orcs had long left the region around the river and it was pointless for him to pursue them; they would most probably be dead soon for the Dunadans now patrolled the lower region of Mirkwood in great numbers. Instead Thaurbar's heart was turned towards where the orcs came from, for that would yield clue on what they were up to.

"Revio, Rhûngwaew! Revio!" Thaurbar commanded.

The horse gave a neigh of acknowledge and sped off the trail like an arrow from a bow.

[ December 30, 2002: Message edited by: Saurreg ]

[ December 31, 2002: Message edited by: Saurreg ]