[Durelin]

Calenvása acknowledged Thorvel's words as very wise, and would discuss them later. All of what the elf had just said would come into play once they began to discuss their next move. And Thorvel had spoken aloud what Calenvása's mind was trying to work out: the most important thing was to get to Lorien and warn them, wasn't it? To warn the King would do little good. It would take several days to journey north, and there were countless dangers that had to be faced in that route. And what could King Thranduil do? He had no army hidden up his sleeve. The elves of Mirkwood fought their own battles, and struggled with little hope. They could not help their brothers, even now. Though perhaps this scout troop could. Calenvása decided to disregard any thoughts of glory for the rest of his life, and nodded toward Targil next.

For a moment Targil hesitated in speaking, and he looked as if he were reluctant to say what was on his mind. He remained in his crouched position, his hands running through the gross as he thought. When he finally spoke, his words came slowly at first, and it seemed he was worried about what kind of reaction these words might bring. But then his voice hardened as he went on, and its tone showed that he felt strongly about what he said. "I find it strange that these tensions that you discussed, Captain, were risked in the plan of this attack. Would it not have been easier to control an army entirely of orcs, and yield a fierce mob? I wonder, as Thorvel does: why Southrons and Easterlings?"

Targil paused for just a second, and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lomarandil prepared to speak. Gesturing calmly with his hand and smiling at the younger elf, he gently quieted him. No one spoke, and all eyes were now back on Targil, if they had not remained there the whole time. He realized this, and seemed a bit daunted by this, but only for a moment. Calenvása watched slightly in awe of the young elf as he collected himself and some of his great surplus of courage. Targil's voice was strong and fervent as he continued. "I see that there is a need for Men in this mission. And the only difference I can find between Southrons and Easterlings, and orcs is in their minds."

Targil stopped again, and his eyes fell back to the ground, where his hands still played in the grass. It seemed he was finished. But Calenvása was not satisfied. He of course had several ideas concerning what the elf was trying to say, but he needed to know directly from Targil what he was saying. Calenvása thought he knew, but he always doubted himself, for good reason, or so he thought. "Forgive me, Targil, but I ask that you explain exactly what you are suggesting."

Targil's eyes shot up from the ground and he looked at his Captain. He looked exasperated. Calenvása then proceeded to sigh himself, and said, "I begin to see what you see, but my final vision may be very different from your own when it is formed in my mind. Or it may not."

Targil let out his own sigh, but nodded in agreement, or at least in acknowledgement. "I see more than a large attack force. I have reason to believe that brains are needed in this attack, and so there must be more to it than march and slaughter."

Calenvása practically shivered at those last words. 'March and slaughter' expressed what orcs did, so well and so bluntly. He would keep those words in his mind as a reminder. He hoped that they would appear in his thoughts whenever it was necessary for him to remember what he fought for and what he fought against.

As for the rest of the words, they confirmed the Captain's thoughts from pondering Targil's last words, but they looked at the situation from a slightly different direction. Calenvása's mind had been too set on details, and tried to fill in any holes. The problem was, it was far too early to be thinking in details. And filling in holes was not at all a good idea, for they needed the details to fill them in with.

Calenvása's eyes passed from Thorvel to Lomarandil. He knew Targil had no more to say, for now. The young elf was not one to be slow in thought or lengthy in speech. Calenvása then asked them all, "Is there more that is wished to be said? For we must soon pinpoint our next position."