[Firefoot]

Thorvel welcomed the dawn with gladness. Scattered beams of light made their way through the tangle of branches to his hiding place. He was rather stiff from remaining in the same location all night, and frustrated that it had all been for nothing. He had not heard or seen a single thing that would help them out, and now they were starting to move. The Captains were yelling over the din for the soldiers to get moving, sometimes in their foul orkish speech and sometimes in the Common Tongue.

He waited a moment to make sure that no one was coming near. Then he silently got up and stretched his muscles. He sighed irritably. He could only think of two things that would improve his mood. One would be hearing some information to their advantage. The other thought he relished: putting some arrows into Orc hides. He knew this would not be possible at the moment; there were far too many Orcs for their small band to attack.

He tuned and crept stealthily back through the forest, bent over slightly. His keen ears took in all the sounds of the forest. Suddenly he stopped. He had heard something that most certainly did not belong in the forest: the clatter of Orcs and their foul voices. He nocked an arrow to his bowstring as a precaution and moved carefully towards them. He could make out individual voices long before he came upon them and stopped a good distance away.

"...Then we head back the other way and stay as far as we can from them," said one Orc. From who? Thorvel wondered. The Elves? Other Orcs?

"There’s a couple of Orc squads back there moving the supply wagons along," said another. Thorvel heard them crash their way out of the forest, and their voices started to fade. "Maybe we can offer to guard the one with the hams . . . I heard they were brought in for the captains’ tables . . ." He sighed again and replaced his arrow. He didn't think that the information would be of any help. He disappeared into the forest, heading back towards the clearing.

Targil and Lómarandil were already there, waiting. Targil didn't seem very happy to be there; remembering his argument with Calenvása, Thorvel supposed he would rather be tracking the Orcs now, not returning to meet together. Thorvel honestly didn't understand why Targil insisted on arguing with Calenvása so much; he felt that it caused division and mistrust within their band. He understood that Targil might disagree, and Thorvel had no problem if he voiced those disagreements. Thorvel would do the same thing, but he didn't agree with the way Targil would continue to argue the point. Then there was Lómarandil. The young elf always seemed to have some idea of what to do, but the problem was they rarely made any sense. Thorvel saw no reason why he should trust either of them. He respected their abilities, but he trusted none but his Captain. Even if Calenvása didn't always seem thrilled about the responsibilty, Thorvel knew that he would always live up to it.

Calenvása approached the clearing only seconds after Thorvel, and this time Thorvel did not wait to speak.

"Those orcs! All night, and I get no more information than they have hams in the supply wagons! That, and some indecipherable mention of "staying as far away as possible from them". I sure hope that you all got some more information than I did, or else we will probably never figure out what they intend!" Thorvel felt better after venting some of his frustration, and then slightly embarrassed about his outburst. As he often did, he had not thought out his words before he spoke them. Looking around, he waited for someone else to speak.