[Alaksoron]

For a few dazed moments Osric stood perspiring heavily, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood was dripping from his left hand and flowing quite freely from his calf. The battle replayed in his mind, and Osric realized it hadn't been as long as it seemed. In the heat of the battle he had no time to think about pain, but now he felt as if he had run a marathon.

Wistfully Osric looked down at his fine coat, splattered in orcblood and grime. Wiping his swordblade with a handkerchief he produced from his back pocket, he bent over to retrieve his knives. Thrusting his sword back into it's scabbard, he began to wipe them too. Looking over at Tarondo, who was now bending over Veryadan, he asked "Is he alive?" Osric braced himself for the answer.

Osric let out a sigh of relief as Tarondo nodded the affirmative. "But" Osric winced as Tarondo continued "He is severely injured." A pause, and Tarondo raised his voice so all could hear. "He needs medicine. Is there any here skilled in the use of herbs?"

Osric was quick to offer his own limited skills. Retrieving his knives, he headed down the hill and into the woods to search for the right herbs. And since with orcs about none of them wandered alone, Aidwain accompanied him.

Falkur gathered the plants needed fairly quickly, taking care not to over-encumber himself with more than was neccesary. As he and Aidwain were nearly back to the base of the hill, Osric knelt beside a small shrub with red-tipped leaves. He slipped a pair of leather gloves over his hands before plucking some and stuffing them in a pouch.

Osric proferred the pouch to Aidwain "Rub these on your arrow-tips. They are extremely poisonous. Poison arrows are always a great asset to have." Aidwain took the pouch - reluctantly it seemed - and they began the ascent back to the summit of Weathertop.