Rauthain
As Amandur rode off through the tall trees and the muffled sound of his horse’s hooves grew faint, Rauthain was ill comforted at Amandur’s departure. It brought with it chill memories. But this day they were in pursuit of a single highborn elf and her apparent captive, not the retreating orcs of the mountains. Amandur will arrive in Bree, the ranger told himself though his heart harbored doubt. And as Maethor and he rejoined their horses, turning once again to the task at hand, he considered that they might also overtake Naiore before she reached Bree. Two rangers against the Ravennor of Mordor, it was fewer than he should have liked.
Long shafts of sunlight pierced the leafy canopy over their heads, falling on rock and the green creepers that grew round about. This place seemed still, bereft of anyone but themselves. Only the threading trail spoke differently. If Naiore hadn’t the gelding it would have been difficult indeed to follow this trail let alone find her. She had retained her freedom through no mere chance, but rather skill and deception.
“It is many miles yet to the villages, and heavily wooded ,” Maethor said swinging up onto his horse. “This elf has chosen an ideal path, for after reaching the edge of the wood she might confuse her tracks more easily by blending them with the townsfolk and travelers to Bree.”
Rauthain knew the younger ranger was right. Naiore would have to leave the Chetwood at some point no matter what direction she wished to travel and that is when she would be most vulnerable to a sighting. Archet or Coombe were the most natural places for her to attempt this, though he doubted that these fair and strange folk would go unnoticed in the rustic villages, unaccompanied as they were. He was sorely tempted to leave the trail and ride on, waiting for them to arrive. Yet he did not want to risk that she might be headed instead to the caves south of Fornost or over The Greenway north of Bree and to the Barrow Downs, and thus miss her entirely.
“You speak rightly, Maethor. I too feel she may have the villages in mind, but in the meanwhile we must be the wolves following behind at a distance and dancing the ‘merry dance’ that Amandur spoke of.” Rauthain suddenly broke into a broad smile as he spoke and winking added. “But we are both fine dancers, are we not? And persistent too in our attentions!”
After another mile or so, the trail lead into a small stream and did not emerge again on the other side. The two rangers entered the water and following upstream each examined one of the banks as they went. It proved a long while before Maethor called out that the gelding’s tracks had appeared again and the rangers followed them as they headed to the southeast. Coming to a place of tangled undergrowth, Rauthain swung down from his horse, crouching low to see the signs more closely. “We are not far behind now, Maethor! See, they have dismounted here. And what is this?” he said picking up a small crescent of pale wax and handling it to the younger man. “It seems our quarry has use of some physic!”
“If we only knew its purpose,” Maethor said handing the wax back to Rauthain. “But we had better not delay if we are drawing near. It would be better to overtake them before they get to a village.”
Rauthain nodded, but feared for the young man and tarried a bit longer than needed.
[ September 21, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]
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