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Valesseka had refused to talk with Éomeléo the night before, and was now mentally reciting her new mantra Noble -indeed-. As far as she was concerned the Gondorian was guilty, and she would figure out his punishment in due time. As for today she was sure to walk up as early as she possibly could have and noisily prepared herself for the next trek. After I was so nice to him! After I shared my kingsfoil!
Even as steamed as she was with Éomeléo, it was in her plot to sabotage him not to have him believe it could be her. With hardly an audible grumble (clearly not the same situation in her head.) Valesseka headed west once again, quickly entering the northernmost part of Mirkwood. Here the air seemed much cooler which was a relief after the blistering heat of the sun, and the cruel burn of the wind from days past. Hours went by, but with hardly any notice. The Arnorian's hatred was fast becoming the last thing on her mind as she took in the young forest around her. She thought it was beautiful and just for a minute perhaps it even humbled her enough to consider that maybe, just maybe, the scene she had just walked into was fairer than herself.
That moment was soon to pass, as she came closer to a river in the woods where apparently there had been a recent flood. There water stood in large shallow pools, glittering where the trees broke and let in light from above. "Well how am I going to--Putooh!" Valesseka sputtered, and then again. Backing away she saw something monsterous coming at her, like a large bubbling shadow she'd before only fear in nightmares. Holding back nothing, the girl screamed and retreated out of sight. She was panicked... how was she suppose to get past that... that... Thing!?
M-maybe...if I... Valesseka was blumbering behind a tree, here and there she could be heard whimpering. Maybe if I looked scary also? Would that thing be afraid of orcs? Somehow mustering up the courage to approach the pools again she gasped... whatever it was, it created something like a wall across the water. Shuddering, she reached deep into the pulls and starting caking on mud. Not exactly sure what an orc looked like, she was quite liberal in applying it. Soon she was covered in muck and fallen leaves. It isn't leaving. She frowned, slinging her pack back over onto a shoulder, and holding her stave ready. I have to get across. Just think about that... whatever it is, can't hurt me too badly...
The moment of truth had arrived for the day, as Valesseka approached the floating mass. Mosquitoes! Big ones, and lots of them...
Valesseka could still hear the humming through her mud packed ears. Just get across the river. Just get across. She soon found that it was getting impossible to see where she was heading because the mass of mosquitoes were quite interested in this strange creature that had wandered into their midst. She took off her axe and used it to bat away what mosquitoes were infront of her. Progress was slow, and what time she had made in her pleasent stroll through the woods before was now being literally eatten up by mosquitoes. "Putooh!" They were getting in her mouth! She tried to hold it as closed as she could and still be able to draw some breath from it.
I'm there, I'm to the river. Now there was another problem... How was she going to get across? Now at the edge of the mosquito cloud, she could see a fallen tree laying across the river. Hurrying toward it, she was nearly hurt to find it rotting. Obviously it couldn't carry her weight. Valesseka slung her pack infront of her and tied it to her stave which she balanced ontop of the rotting tree. carefully she entered the water, pulling her supplies across with her. She would tread water manically when she didn't feel ground under her, and used the fallen tree to pull herself across. When she was finally to where she could stand again, Valesseka was sapped of energy, but feared that if she remained close to these insects, she'd end up sapped of more than that.
Dragging her toes across the ground, she managed to clamber away from the mosquitoes and set up a muddy camp.
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