[Durelin]

Moving with care, it took Calenvása long, suspense filled moments to make his way to the clearing that had been designated as the scouts' meeting place. His heart pounded in his ears as he kept his eyes glued to the ground that his feet trod on. He kept low, and he felt a constant fear that the forest green did not hide him from his enemies. And all the while, his mind went through all that could result from being seen through the leaves or being heard by the snap of a twig beneath his feet. Mainly, he thought of what this meant in accordance with his position. He was supposed to be a leader, and when the leader failed, the consequences could be so much higher. Calenvása was all too vividly aware of what lay in his hands as 'Captain'. He continually scorned this name, but it was official, and so there was little he could do. What he did not realize, though he scorned, he remembered his responsibility, if he did not handle it too well. Now, he worried most about endangering his comrades. Perhaps he had not waited long enough before moving?

All his worrying was brought to an end upon finally entering the clearing. He looked upon the members of his scout troop, the elves under his command. There was young Targil, whom Calenvása knew was a skilled woodsman, and most likely could be a very skilled leader. Calenvása was not sure what Targil thought of his leadership, but he knew that he could trust the elf. And Thorvel, he knew, he had gained the trust of, and he certainly trusted his comrade himself, but he could not say anything of Lómarandil and be sure. He did not doubt too much that the young would follow his orders, but Lómarandil was so very young, and Calenvása could not see himself putting much trust in the boy, sadly. And how much trust the boy put in him…

“Mae govannan,” he said as if he was surprised to find them all here, and smiled. All smiled slightly, but only Lómarandil clearly smiled at him. Calenvása then let his thoughts lighten, taking his mind off the question of trust. He did not need such a matter becoming tangled up in the troop’s mission. The important fact was that they all fought for the same reason and toward the same goal. They fought for Mirkwood, and perhaps for all the free peoples of Middle Earth, and, more importantly, they each wished, with varying passions, to face the evil that threatened the land. This had come to a personal level and grown to be an overwhelming shadow that could not be ignored by the elves when the fortress of Sauron returned to Dol Guldur in 2460. At least, this is what had spurred Calenvása into ‘serving his King’, though he liked to think of it more as serving his people. He, for obvious reasons, did not let this be known to others.

Calenvása’s eyes traveled to the sky, and, without having to shield his eyes, he looked upon the sun. “We remained hidden in the trees, only yards away from our enemy gathered in strength, for over an hour, with only one small disturbance.” He glanced knowingly at Lómarandil, still with a small smile on his face. Then he turned his gaze upon the three elves that sat and stood before him, and his face grew grave. “Little can we know from this hour, long though it may have seemed, but there is always the obvious to take into account.” He paused for a moment, and, bringing the different images of the army into his mind, he studied them as he spoke. “There were Southrons and Easterlings among the orcs. Two kindred of men, and orcs – a variety that could be used to the army’s advantage, or to our own. And there are already large divisions, as can be seen by the separation of the camps, the tents of the men and the crude fires of the orcs.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Calenvása had been watching Lómarandil, and the young elf had seemed rather impatient, as his Captain spoke. Now Calenvása turned to him, feeling that anything more he needed to say would be better said after more thought, and more information to ponder. “Do you have something to report, Lómarandil?”

The elf nodded, and Calenvása watched his face grow set as he prepared to speak aloud to the troop. “I heard the orcs near to where I watched the army speaking, and I discovered the army’s route. They are to attack Lorien.”

Calenvása nodded thoughtfully, knowing that this fit. He doubted that the army would have gathered north of Dol Guldur, and on the edges of the forest, if they planned to attack Mirkwood itself. Did they see Lorien as the greater threat, then? Calenvása had been surprised that this information had been discovered so soon and so easily, but he realized that there were so many other questions that needed to be answered, and some that he had yet to think of to ask. This news had stirred Targil and Thorvel, it seemed, and the Captain let Thorvel speak next, curious at what the skilled elf had seen and recognized as important. Calenvása’s own mind worked, and he began to realize that there were so many images in his mind that he had failed to recognize the importance of, and others that were now of little importance at all.