"Yes, of course," Maeralagos said bashfully. "F--," he stopped himself from speaking the very same statement again, breathing out through his nose as Erdaminéon made his suggestion.
"It is fortunate," Maeralagos thought, "that I am skilled in fighting, for I am skilled in no other areas, conversation and socialization being the least."
He smiled wearily as the group dispersed, but halted about twenty paces from the lingering Durelin, hearing footsteps approach. Maeralagos turned to see the man who had interviewed him, now speaking in muted tones to Durelin.
"All I can say for now is that Anuion is being held hostage in a cave in the Brown Lands. I think that there are about 100 in the cave when we get there. We can't go directly to it, but will go around my original route, because we could encounter the army that will attack Calas Galadhon. I will fill you and the others in tomorrow in the same room as you auditioned. Have a good night sleep for now friend."
Maeralagos turned and walked swiftly away as the two parted, trying not to make it obvious that he had overheard. Still, this was disconcerting, to say the least. Anuion, a hostage in the Brown Lands, with at least one hundred--Orcs, he supposed--barring the way? How were they, but a small group of Elvish guards, but a fly in Sauron's ever-expanding web, to do this? And, how would he, himself ever find sleep now?
__________________
" Where now are the Dúnedain, Elessar, Elessar?"
|