[Child of the 7th Age]

Annunfuniel's post

"Where are we now?" asked Vráin in a voice full of wonder and looked around in the strange land. He stood on a rocky hill and watched south over endless forest - or so it seemed to him. Mirkwood began right under the slope to which Vráin had climbed from the northwest. Grey Mountains loomed behind him.

Vráin turned back to face north and yelled at a figure that was scrambling slowly to the hill "Come on, Grái! Are you a snail or something?" The answer was a loud murmur and a rock aimed at Vráin's head. He ducked easily and laughed mischievously. "Ya wouldn't hit a wall when inside a cave!"

Gráin reached the top and tried to cool off; this really wasn't the time or place to get into a fight. He eyed the surroundings calmly ignoring Vráin's eager questions. Finally Gráin spoke and appeased his brother's curiosity. "We are at the north edges of Mirkwood and even you should have been able to figure that out." Vráin gave him a not-so-friendly look and was about to return the compliment but Gráin got to speak first. "You may keep your opinions to yourself at the moment. We have no time to waste."

Vráin knew this was true but still he had hard time keeping silent. "Fine then", he said "Let's go and hunt the petty beast." The brothers had been following Glawr for a week now but both of them knew he was still far ahead of them. They had seen the havoc the cold-drake had caused on its way south and east but all the tracks had been at least a couple of days old so far. "Petty beast?" Gráin snorted and he was forced to smile. "That's what I call an understatement!" They came down the slope and continued their pursuit following the skirts of the forest still reviling each other in turns.
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A week later Gráin and Vráin walked through the forest. They had entered it the previous day. They followed a small stream that flowed mainly towards south. Then all of a sudden it made a sharp turn westwards an cut their way. "Well, I thought already it was a time to get my beard wet!" exclaimed Vráin and made his way to the water. Before Gráin could say a word he had jumped into the stream.

"Thrice a fool!" screamed Gráin but too late. The flood was stronger than the surface implied and adding the fact that Vráin carried a heavy axe meant that he was in worse than trouble. Gráin searched feverishly for something with which he could reach to his brother now struggling for his life against the flux. "Try to hold!" Gráin yelled as a sense of panic started to creep into his mind. No time to think and he was helpless. He rushed to the water and, knowing not what else to do, was to follow his brother to the stream.

"NO! Don't jump!" An unexpected call from the other side of the bourn halted Gráin. A tall man run to the riverbank and threw a rope to Vráin - not a second too early. Vráin was dead tired and soaking wet when he finally was pulled to the shore. His older brother sighed with relief. Then the anxiety started to shift into irritation and he shouted "You lucky cad! Wait till I get there you'll wish for another swim!"

Hearty laughter filled the air and forced Gráin to pay attention to the stranger who had rescued his brother. "Ah! Dwarves with sharp tongues and urge to bathe!" And the man laughed some more. This once Gráin checked his words and addressed the man "Thank thee for saving my brother's life though it may be in vain when I get my hands on him." He continued "Gráin son of Thráin at your service! And my brother will second my words and add his commendations after he regains his breath. His name is Vráin."

By now Gráin had come to notice that this was no mortal human he was talking to but an elf! And he introduced himself...