[Firefoot]

Thorvel found himself standing alone on the edge of the clearing. He was unhurt except for the few nicks that should be expected in a battle, however small. There were no living Orcs that he could see, save one: a sniveling Orc on the ground between Calenvása and Ambarturion. Coromswyth and Megilaes were close by, as was Targil. But Lómarandil... Thorvel did not see him. He frowned. He hoped the younger Elf had not gotten himself killed. He strode over to where Lómarandil had been before, paying attention out of the corner of his eye to the confrontation between the Captain and Ambarturion. It was more out of the habit of being aware of everything that was going on around him than anything else; a scout who did not learn that was soon a dead scout.

He found Lómarandil very close to where he thought he would be, and Lómarandil did not look good at all. He was laying in some bushes, and was clearly in quite a bit of pain. He had acquired a new injury. It looked serious, possibly fatal. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do. He extremely small skill with any kind of injuries and healing. Calenvása should know, he decided. And Coromswyth. She seemed to understand that kind of thing.

He turned around. Calenvása had his back to him, and Thorvel watched in satisfaction as Ambarturion stalked off. The Captain had had his way, and the Orc was alive, prime for questioning. He did not know why Calenvása had chosen now to stand up to Ambarturion and not earlier, but he was glad to see it. The other Elves nearby soon formed a group a little way away, leaving Calenvása with the captive Orc. Thorvel headed over there. He got close enough so that only the Captain could hear him.

“Calenvása,” he whispered. He surprised himself to no end at using his Captain’s name. He did not think he had done that before to any Captain before. He did not let it throw him off, though, and continued. “I have found Lómarandil. It seems the orcs remembered him and his weakness, and that was used to their advantage. He received only one more wound, but I am unsure of what kind of shape he is in.” The Captain motioned for him to lead, and Thorvel did so. He decided to use the time alone with the Captain to his advantage. He had seen Calenvása stand up to Ambarturion, but still...

“I do not trust Ambarturion with any kind of authority, Captain,” he said, the proper title back in place.

“I know,” he replied. Thorvel looked at him sidelong, and nodded. If that was all the Captain chose to share with him, he would take it. Leadership was a quality a Captain needed, and it reassured Thorvel. Thorvel said no more until they reached Lómarandil. Calenvása appeared worried, confirming Thorvel’s suspicions that the injury was serious.

“Should I... should I go get Coromswyth? She seems skilled at healing...” he said. Calenvása nodded, and his voice was tight. “Yes. Go get her, and only her.” Thorvel acquiesced, not hurrying exactly but certainly not slowly. Anything faster would draw a good deal of unwanted attention, if they hadn’t already. When he reached the group, he placed himself in front of Coromswyth, and addressed her softly enough that the others would not hear without straining their ears.

“Coromswyth, I think your skills will be needed once more. It is Lómarandil... he has been injured again, and the Captain and I think it may be serious.”