The searchers had rode all day, until they finally reached the southern border of Mirkwood, and there they decided to rest and make camp. The moon was high in the sky, and near to their campsite was a steep, high hill that climaxed as a precipice. Feadhros, feeling restless, decided to climb to the top and survey the land. Springing up the side, he looked about at the moonlit tops of the trees of Mirkwood. Looking for a higher perch but finding none, Feadhros strained his eyes at what he thought might have been a glimmer of light, many leagues off in the distance. When he was sure he saw a faint whisp of smoke coming from the trees, he shouted to the others, who waited below. "My eyes have indeed served me well! I have descried a fire yonder, fifty and some leagues off into Mirkwood. It is likely a sign of our quarry!"
The entire camp seemed cheered at the news. "We must leave before sunrise if we are to gain speed on them," Lilebrian said.
"I might send Aniram to see if it is indeed the Easterlings," Jemel offered. Speaking to her hawk, the creature cocked his head, and soon he flew away north, toward the smoke that rose from the trees. Jemel smiled. "He will bring back a sign if it is them."
[ January 23, 2003: Message edited by: Ithaeliel ]
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That best portion of a good man's life,
His little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.
.................William Wordsworth
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