^ ^ ^ ^ Erebor/Lonely Mountain^ ^ ^ ^
They had travelled out the lower slopes of the Southern spur, hearing the farewell cheers ringing around the Mountain for some time after they left. That had been yesterday, after a short ceremony of farewell. Ruthen had led them in the Ritual of the Road Parting. For the first time in many ages that ritual had not signified a sad dispersal of the dwarves.
Memories of the crowd and the cheers and the excitement had carried them through the first day, as had full bellies from the farewell parties. The weather was warm, the ponies hale and prancing eagerly, the entire company in good spirits. They had ridden long, for it would be a two and a half day journey to Thranduil's cave where the Erebor contingent would meet the Elves and Men of Dale. Some of the carts were heavy-laden and the pace of travel slowed.
Yet, at set of sun, the engineers had started singing, their songs matching the tread of the ponies and the turn of the wheels and it had been a good day. They had needed only light blankets to sleep that first night.
Now the first taste of the adventure was lost and the monotony of the trek had begun to settle in. The sun beat down on them hot. Frain had taken to walking his pony back among his engineers. Glaven, always coughing, had decided to ride in the second wagon, his pony trailing behind. Hringa rode beside Stonehelm, at the front, initially full of questions about the journey but finally lapsing into silence. In short, the adventure had settled down into appalling boredom. Not even the thought of riding with the men of Dale and the Elves could arouse any particular feelings.
Stonehelm turned around, and admired his caravan of three wagons, an escort of six engineers on their ponies and the several dwarves on ponies of their own.
I'll make a wager, he called out.
A small keg of beer for the best story told before we reach Thranduil's Cave. Decided by vote of all of us.
The ride had suddenly become interesting.
[ October 03, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]