[Arry]

The man dissembles . . . and not well . . . Rôsgollo turned over the few statements Faerim had made. There was no need to read the young one’s mind, his emotions played across his face like heat lightning on a hot summer’s evening. Hirvegil had bound the boy with promises, or threats, more likely, and even now was using him as his informant. And to what purpose, the Elf wondered. Faerim looked torn with the consideration of whatever decisions he was asked to make. If Hirvegil were using him to hedge his bets about this mission, it seemed likely that Faerim would fare ill no matter the outcome, either by his own conscience or the brute hand of the captain.

What was it the young man had said . . . ‘I suppose it would not bode well for any of the parties concerned if the captives were not rescued and a Dunedan was killed, all because Hirvegil did not instantly send his troops with enough haste . . .’ Interesting choice of words. Does he imply that Hirvegil means to somehow weigh his options before committing to the rescue mission? Would he truly leave us to our own devices with no support. If that is so, then . . .

Brother? Gaeredhel’s query drove the tangled web of thoughts from Rôsgollo's mind. He asked if they had as yet found any sign that the Orcs had gone south since neither he nor Angóre had seen anything out of the oridinary as yet.

Faerim had ridden a little ahead, his gaze was bent to the ground, looking closely for any sign of movement the Orcs might have made along the stream. He shook his head as Rôsgollo drew up to him. ‘Let us range out a little farther from the edges of the stream, the Elf suggested. Motioning for Faerim to take one side while he took the other.

We have found nothing yet . . . Rôsgollo said in answer to his brother’s query. At least in the way of Orcs . . . but there are other thoughts I would share with you when we are together again. The Orcs may not be the only ones who wish us ill . . . who conspire to bring us harm . . .