Rauthatin
Amandur and Rauthain’s course was slower than they had hoped, losing the trail and having to double round to pick it up again. Rauthain’s mind ran to the words that Amandur had spoken, as he studied ground and branch. He wondered how long Naiore had held sway with the orcs of the Misty Mountains. Surely since before the war. This would explain the repeated detailed reports from captured orcs of Kaldir’s grisly death in the heart of the mountains, when it appeared now that he had indeed been transferred south to become a trophy and plaything of Naiore’s. They may have had an interest in keeping the truth from emerging or perhaps like him, the foul creatures believed this to be true, for few were they who returned from such a journey. He struggled to push the thought of Kaldir’s arduous march to Mordor out of mind, and hoped that a similar fate would not befall Halwain.
The bright morning was waxing humid and hot under the trees, the insects droning loudly among them when Amandur halted. Reining in his horse, Rauthain dismounted. “See, they have stopped here,” Amandur said motioning to the other. There in front of them were two sets of footprints lightly impressed upon the ground.
“No sign of a struggle’” Rauthain commented, looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to appear out of the dense undergrowth. It was encouraging to see the young elf maid’s boot print there clearly marked. She was yet on her own feet. But time was ever important and the ground was growing hard in the heat of the day, but was not dusty enough to hold information.
[ September 18, 2003: Message edited by: Hilde Bracegirdle ]
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