View Single Post
Old 05-26-2008, 07:23 AM   #118
Eönwë
Flame Imperishable
 
Eönwë's Avatar
 
Join Date: Dec 2007
Location: Right here
Posts: 3,995
Eönwë is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Eönwë is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Eönwë is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.
The game is afoot... (the chase is on)

"Erbrand may of course show you. As for plans, I have not made any yet, for I do not know who the man is nor what if anything he has done, except to hide from us. When you find him and if he comes to us willingly, then we will make his acquaintance. If he is unwilling to come, I must know why, for it is my duty to protect my folk." Eodwine had replied.

Erbrand fiddled with his pouch. It will be time soon, he said to himself.

He gave a quick nod to Eodwine, and with that Dan went to Erbrand, to whom he explained his mission. Erbrand led him into the marsh, to where he had seen the intruder. He could still see the footprints in thhe boggy mud.

“Which way did he go?” Dan had asked.

“Straight towards the other end of the marsh,” Erbrand said, pointing. “I’m sure your search will not be in vain, Dan. That man looked awfully curious about our camp, and I don’t think he’s cured of it just yet. My guess is that he’s hiding somewhere amongst the brambles and bushes on the other side.”

Dan had looked around at his surroundings, seeing in what sort of terrain he was and judging what he would have to do to find this intruder who had been spying on the camp.

“Do you think that you will need further assistance in this matter Dan?" asked Erbrand. "I’ll be happy to travel with you until we catch this man, but if you have no need of me I'll not bother you and I’ll go assign myself to joining the hunting party.”

Dan had politely refused, as first of all he didn't want to waste Erbrand, who had now become the closest thing he had to a friend here, and secondly, he would just interfere with the scent, which would reduce his chances of finding the man.

So Erbrand went off, back towards the camp, lookng slightly upset at missing an opportunity to find the intruder, Dan thought, but maybe he was just tired. After all, it seemed to Dan that Erbrand had done a lot this day so far.

So Dan started his search. He got to the clearing where Erbrand had seen the man, and had run off. It was all there in the footprints. They each had a story to tell. A man had come here from one direction, and then later on he could see that two more men had come, by the look of it Lord Eodwine and Erbrand, who had come to look for the first man. They had messed up the first man's prints a bit, but Dan could still discern them among the mud.

He followed them through the marshland, over scrub and through mud, ambling precariously over high crags and steep ditches. At last he came to large pool, if it called be called that. It could barely be called a pond. It was like an overgrown puddle, muddy and wet. "The Drûg can track anything, except through running water," he had heard someone say once, and it was true. But thankfully, this was not running water, and the scent of the intruder was still there. And besides, he could see the footprints where he had clambered out. He waded through the oversized puddle, which went up to his waist and at length, carefully avoiding any hidden rocks or sharp stones hidden beneath the water which was not so much cloudy as mud with extra water. As he climbed out, careful to avoid the rocky outcrop which took up most of the bank, he realised just what he had gotten himself into.

But he continued knowing that this was his duty, and that, as a Drûg, he would be letting down Lord Eodwine by not using his full capabilities.

He had been going on for half an hour now, relying on his sense of smell as much, if not more, than his sight, as the ground was becoming increasingly wetter and wetter as he progressed. He could see that he was getting lower and lower, further into a flood plain, which was the reason for this. And finally, blessedly, he saw that the trail was leading him up and out now, and as he looked to his right, he realised that he had never left the ruins of the old Scarburg hall out of sight. He continued on and up the inceasingly steep slope, somewhat nimbly for someone of his stature. You wouldn't catch a Dwarf being able to do this, he thought to himsellf, absentmindedly.

He thought he saww something flash ahead, not more than two hundred metres away, at most. He had gained on him. He continued on, is pace quickening. He was sure the intruder could not see him behind the yet more rocky outcrops and long grasses that obstructed both of their views. He went faster, and just whwn he was within a stone's throw- "Aah!" he shouted, his foot had gone into something wet and sticky, and quickly, his whole body followed, until he was up to his chest in it. As he looked down, he realised that he had fallen into a very deep, yet not wide, puddle. That was the problem with the marshes. You knever knew. Blast these marshes he thought.
Marshes were the work of Melkor, he thought. Only a person as evil as Morgoth could think of something like this. He had always held that they were some of the worst places to be in. Wet, muddy, and riddled with rocks, hills, and holes, a tracker's worst nightmare. You got something that could otherwise be good- fertile soil, water, and so on, and turned it into probably the most miserable sort of place imaginable. Yes, Melkor's work indeed- not firey hot, nor freezing cold, but somewhere in between, and still horrible to be in. Why had he been cursed with such luck? Why had he even volunteered to do this? He had been stupid to think that he could handle this sort of terrain well. He was up to his shoulders in the puddle now, and the he could smell the fetid odour of the fens.

"Help!" he shouted, hoping someone in the world could hear him.

Last edited by Eönwë; 05-26-2008 at 09:19 AM.
Eönwë is offline