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Veryadan
Nothing had come of the noises the Elf had heard. Though, perhaps it was because they had kept the fire burning and took the watch two together while one caught what sleep he could. The sharp light of early morning brought out the tired angles of their faces after the short seeming night. And no strong mugs of tea could drive away the weariness they felt. There was a certain menace in the air they felt, the Elf especially, making their rationed sleep fitful with vague dreams.
Weathertop loomed up across the roadway. The rising sun caught the top rim of it and spread down the eastern side. ‘A favorable sign, don’t you think,’ commented Veryadan, pointing out the light as it rolled down the hill. Aidwain gave the promontory a critical look. ‘Once we’re up there,’ Veryadan continued, nodding toward the plateau, ‘we can take a look-see about. See if we can spot anything that might have made those noises you heard last night.’ He began securing his bedroll and pack to his horse as did the other two of his companions. They rode to the foot of the hill. Then, dismounting, led their horses, single file, along the narrow, rough track they’d spied angling up the southern face of Weathertop.
Save for the skittering of a few ground squirrels making their rounds among the fallen stones of the tower that had once graced the plateau, the hill top was quiet and empty, save for the constant breezes that blew against them. The three companions stood at the remaining center of the old tower and turned slowly round, surveying the countryside. Nothing amiss registered.
‘Might as well make ourselves comfortable,’ Veryadan spoke, breaking the quiet. ‘We were the closest to the meeting place. It will be a little while before the others arrive.’
They took off their belongings from the horses and tethered their mounts a little ways off, near a rocky outcropping that afforded them some relief from the constant wind. Veryadan made himself comfortable on a low, crumbly wall top that had once been part of the tower. He leaned his back against the sun-warmed stones. Osric had found his own place to sit, some distance away and had taken his blade out, wanting to check for any nicks. Aidwain, too seated himself, on one of the rocks. His bow lay near. And he too was inspecting the sharpness of his arrow heads.
A while passed in these make-do occupations as they waited for the others to arrive. The horses began to whinny a little and stamp their hooves on the rock in a restless manner.
‘I’ll see to that,’ Veryadan said, uncurling himself from his comfortable seat. ‘They didn’t get their oats this morning. Perhaps this is a gentle reminder.’
‘Or maybe one of the other groups has drawn near and they are eager to greet the other horses,’ offered Aidwain looking up from his task.
Veryadan made his way to the horses, calling out to them in a soothing voice . . .
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