[Nuranar]

Tarondo looked bleakly around the hilltop in the weak light of a clouded afternoon. Orc bodies were scattered all about. Only their slight movements distinguished his companions from the slain, as they sat grim and silent. This place is far too exposed, he thought. He had been talking to the groups, about their prior investigations as well as about the battle. Apparently there had been one attack, then another in support of the first. We need to move off. He felt a sudden chill. It is far cooler up here than at the Whittleworth Farm - he shoved the ghastly memory away with an effort.

His eyes searched, found his sister, leaning against a stone, weary eyes gazing into the distance. Her bow was cradled in her good arm, while her left hung in a sling. "Luinien," he said, joining her. "Did you see someplace to camp out there, close by?" He pointed out to the east.

She thought a moment, eyes narrowed as she called up the memories. "Yes, I noticed a nest of boulders just beyond the foot of the hill. It is isolated and hard to approach without being seen."

Tarondo nodded approvingly. "That is good. Come on," he called, louder. "Time to leave before we are attacked again. You come too, Loudewater," he said to the erstwhile farmer. As the companions stirred with the sluggish movements of tiredness, he helped Luinien to her feet. "How is your shoulder?"

She smiled wanly. "It hurts, but I can feel my arm now. I'm not going to keep it in the sling much longer or it will get too stiff."

"How close did that club come?" His eyes were very intent. She had not told him much.

Luinien met his gaze for an instant. "Close," she said with an arch look, and turned away to join Silrûth. The pair made a piquant contrast: one strong and fair, the other lithe and dark.

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Veryadan's wounds were by far the most serious. They secured him with the uptmost care onto Luinien's mount, and the sure-footed mare carried him gently down the hill to their new position. Now the Ranger lay unmoving, wrapped in blankets, while Menecar built a fire to heat water. The horses of Veryadan, Osric, and Aidwain had bolted when the trolls first attacked, but the rest of their mounts were still safe.

"We need to get Veryadan to shelter," Tarondo said. "He needs healing and care that we cannot give in the wild. Bree is the closest, but we need to know where our enemies are before we try to take him there."

"If we make a run for it we may get through," Osric volunteered, but Tarondo shook his head.

"We're not going to risk his life on that possibility. Don't be fooled, Osric. They only surprised us because they were watching us, and they are most certainly watching us now. If we left now they would know it. And if they ambushed us along the road, Veryadan would have no chance."

"I agree," Menecar said. A few others murmured in assent.

Aidwain spoke up, "Bree is not the only place to find shelter, and for healing, where is better than Rivendell?"

Thoronmir shook his head. "Much too far," he said.

Tarondo held up his hand. "Let us discover our enemies before we decide our route. Silrûth, would you please scout the road behind us?" The Elf rose without a word. Luinien looked meaningly at Tarondo and picked up her bow, but he shot her a stern glance and continued. "Menecar, take the road to the west, if you would. I want to know if there are any orcs or trolls within a mile of either road." The Ranger nodded, and the pair faded into the dim late-afternoon haze.

Thoronmir and Osric began attending to Veryadan, cleaning his wound with the hot water. Aidwain nursed his ankle and kept an eye on Loudewater. Tarondo turned to his sister and found a decided glare fixed on him. Refusing to rise to the bait, he decided not to be the first to open the subject.

She could not wait very long. "Why wouldn't you let me go on scout?" she said in a fierce, low voice. "I'm quieter than Menecar, and I know the land better. Besides" -

"Besides, you're hurt," he interrupted. Continuing over her protest, "I know that you're very slightly wounded, certainly no more than Menecar. And a scout shouldn't need to fight. But that is no assurance that you wouldn't have to. We know there's an enemy out there." Luinien pursed her lips sulkily, but the resentment was fading out of her face.

"Most importantly, since Veryadan is hurt I need to discuss the situation with you. I have considered the reports, but I would like to hear your thoughts."

"It seems clear that orcs and trolls are behind what has been happening," she started at once, then thought for a bit. "I would say the trolls were the primary force in the violence," she resume, more slowly. "The crude brutality we saw is more their characteristic than the orcs'. But although they could carry out such acts on their own, I doubt they would have the persistence for a lengthy campaign. Even less do they have the intelligence to conceal their presence, even if they thought of it." She paused again. "Since it seems clear that the trolls are working with the orcs, I would guess that the planning and intelligence belong to the orcs."

Tarondo had been watching her with a gratified smile. "That is exactly what I concluded," he said. Luinien looked at him, startled, then blushed with pleasure. "But why would the orcs be organizing the trolls in the first place?"

"Love of destruction?" she hazarded.

Her brother shook his head, dissatisfied. "They would do such a thing once, themselves, on a whim; or perhaps to avenge a loss or a grudge. But an entire campaign? There must be a more unifying motive behind it."

"Perhaps someone is getting a big head."

"Perhaps." Tarondo mused. Unbidden his mind fled back to the Whittleworth's, but this time he remembered something. Abruptly he turned to his sister. "Silrûth went inside that farmhouse, and she found a small hiding place in there that was empty. What could have been in there?"

"Trolls like valuable things... like gold... and then they cache it..."

"And what one hides, another can find." Tarondo nodded. The pieces were falling into place.

His eyes fell upon Andas Loudewater, sitting at the far side of the circle. Instead of being terror-striken, he now looked sheepish and uncertain. He had been looking at Tarondo, but looked away quickly when the Elf's gaze met his. Tarondo remembered him from the Prancing Pony, and he had talked to Thoronmir.

"Loudewater." The man rose reluctantly at the command in the other's voice. He walked across to Tarondo and stood uneasily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I..."

"Look at me."

Loudewater's eyes ventured back to him timidly. "I, um, I heard you came to do something about the killing 'round here. And, uh, I kinda thought I could help. So I followed you to Weathertop. On Killer." He gestured vaguely at the little brown mule without looking away.

Tarondo looked intently at him. He saw apprehension in the man's eyes, embarrassment and a little fear. But more than that, there was a genuine concern that supported his halting words. And not a vestige of concealment. He glanced at Luinien.

Luinien nodded slightly, and Tarondo turned back to the farmer. "Well, Andas, it seems that you will be staying with us regardless. With those orcs and trolls out there, I would estimate your chances on your own to be nil." He smiled slightly to take the menace out of his words.

The farmer stammered out his thanks and sat down hesitantly when Tarondo gestured. Soon, his shyness forgotten, he was telling the Elf all about Helga and his life back in Bree-land. Luinien excused herself to help with a meal, listening all the while.