[Imladris]

Gorby

It was pitiably poor fare we were served, as always. I shivered uncomfortably: this trip wasn’t what I had thought it was. Lots of traveling, but no true adventure -- save for the rescue of the wolf cub. I wondered if Eswen would name the thing. Listlessly, I dropped my hand and scratched his ear -- the tyke was such a cute little thing.

Sighing, I watched Falowik’s profile in the flickering fire’s light. Nobility was there in its rough features. The more I gazed upon him, the more I wanted to sketch it -- it would make a most interesting profile…forcing myself to my feet (which had somehow managed to fall asleep) I tottered to my bags and dug out my pen and a small blue bottle of ink. I held the ink up and realized that it really was only one small bottle of ink and that it wouldn’t last long. I sighed: there was only one thing for it and that was to use it sparingly. I sighed again, dolefully: so much for keeping a careful record of our ’adventures.’ Of course, if we didn’t have any adventures there would be no use to record them.

Moving to a different spot from around the fire so that I’d have an angled portrait, I pressed a piece of parchment against a plank of smoothed wood to get rid of the wrinkles that had been caused by the travel. I studied the man intently and decided to start with the nose. I thought it was slightly hawk-like and tried to convey that feature to the paper. Then the shaggy eyebrows that sat on his eyes and then the deep set eyes. Them eyes: difficult things them. They were such a pretty blue -- so much pain, such much hidden pleasantness, and such dignity and nobility were mirrored in their depths. How could one draw such aspects upon paper? I tried, and wished I had some paints, but I had not been able to bring them. His hair was also particularly difficult: fair and gold it was.

As I drew our second in command, I wondered why we had not come across anything that would give us answers. No sign of ruffians or scaliwags at all. No sign of the man of Rohan -- his name escapes me at the moment. I hated to admit it, but it seemed as if we were on a “wild goose-chase’ as Falco said it. I scowled: I did not think Falowik would lie. If an elf trusted him that was enough for me. From what I’ve hear, elves have impeccable judgments and tastes and Uien seemed no exception. However, I could not help but wonder if we were going in the wrong directions. Evil ones were uncannily clever: I couldn’t help but wonder if we were being duped.

By this time, I had finished my rough sketch. I sighed, and stared at the outcome. I wasn’t really quite sure if it was good or not, but I had tried.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lira

A day from Fornost, and the shadow had continued to grow on Lira’s mind. Something dark was there, lingering among the deserted ruins. Pushing the thoughts away from her, she walked silently beside Uien, a soft smile lightening her face as she saw the beauty of the Downs. Nevertheless, the foreboding returned as they set camp.

The hobbits eagerly gobbled down their dinner and she wished that there was more for them. “What do you suppose we'll find at Fornost, aside from ruined stone houses of Men," Falco asked.

Lira looked at him and frowned. He took things too light heartedly, too confidently, too narrowly. “We’ll find more than that, I suppose,” she said softly. “Something lingers there -- sorrow and darkness.”

Gorby spoke up and said, “I certainly hope we’ll find some sign of the marauders, because they certainly haven’t been up to anything lately. Not that I’m saying I doubt Master Falowik,” he added hastily, bending down over a sketch of something, “maybe we mistook their direction.”

Turning to Uien, Lira whispered in elvish, “We must be careful when we enter Fornost -- I fear it is tainted with evil.”