Anson swatted at the thick undergrowth with the back of his hand irritably. He was hot and cold in turns, and itchy on top of it. He wished now that they hadn't split up, for some reason. He didn't like being the only one who knew where they were going, and he didn't know that well.
"Have you any clue to what these strange flowers look like? It is no good to get lost in this forest, while passing straight by the object of our quest," Gondolin commented, coming up to Anson.
Anson sighed and dug in his pack. "Andunériel gave me this sketch that she drew. Looks like any other yellow field flower to me, but nobody asked me how to design it." He thought he saw the elf grin at his grumbling, but if he had it was gone as quickly as it had come. He produced the picture. "Here it is. Pretty thing, but small. Luckily there's so much green and brown here that yellow'll stand out like a sore thumb. Andunériel said that it tends to grow around trees. The bigger the tree, the more ainereg we're likely to find. That's what she said, at least, though she's never seen it." He frowned and tucked the picture back into his pack. "I guess we have to believe her, though. She knows better than the rest of us."
Gondolin nodded solemnly, though he did not seem comforted by Anson's lack of knowledge. Then again, neither was Anson.
A shiver passed through Anson, and he peered ahead of them. A large, dark shape loomed ahead of them, and the farmer caught his breath.
"What's that?" Luin breathed. Anson shook his head slowly, as did everyone else.
"Just don't move," Anson murmured.
[ April 29, 2003: Message edited by: Orual ]
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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