[Folwren]

‘Waiting is the worst part of all this,’ Bror observed after a few moment of silence ahd elapsed. It had been several hours since Riv had left and the sun was sinking behind the mountains. Skald sat with his face towards the sunset, and home. He didn’t turn to face Bror as he answered.

‘It’s only been a few hours. And besides, it was your idea to stay.’ Bror’s head turned at that. He’d been consciously avoiding the thought that Skald had stayed only for him ever since Riv had left. Had he only remained for that reason?

‘It wasn’t my idea for both of us to stay.’ Skald didn’t answer. Bror rebuked himself sharply. That certainly wasn’t the correct way to reply. ‘I’m glad you decided to stay, too, though,’ he said. ‘It would have been even more miserable waiting without anyone else.’ Skald finally turned around to look at him.

‘Well, we’d better go to the others,’ he said, getting up. ‘This silence is giving us too much time to think.’ Bror looked up, surprised. He had thought Skald wanted to think. Well then, if he wanted to be distracted bror could help with that. A smile flashed across his features and he got up. They went to where the other dwarves in their company were encamped.

No fires were permitted, but that didn’t surprise anyone, although it did make the evening even less cheerless. Bror looked around the quiet group and wondered to himself what their reasons for staying had been. If they had been the same as his. Whether they still felt bound by the choice to help or simply be cause they had wanted adventure. It was impossible to tell. Some certainly looked less excited than others - more thoughtful, and in some cases, more downcast. There had to be a way to cheer people up. But his brain was blank and no ideas came. He sat down heavily beside Skald. They’d have to wait out the evening. Bror had a plan, though, that may cause the morning to be slightly more exciting. And besides that, even if his idea fell through, at least they’d pack up and move on. . .

Darkness fell in a heavy blanket over the encampment. Clouds covered the moon and stars. Life was stilled and only a few elves remained awake on watch. Bror turned over onto his back and listened for Skald’s breathing beside him. He heard the soft, steady breathing that came with sleep, mingled with a mild threat of snoring, and he smiled. He rolled about and flipped the blanket off of himself and got stealthily to his feet. He paused, a few paces away, wondering if he really ought to go through with this. Skald was sleeping right next to him this time, instead of in another room a couple halls down the way. He considered the possibilities of Skald doing something before he had the chance to defend himself and decided the likelihood slim.

His water bottle rested near by and he picked it up as he passed. He didn’t know where he was going to get the ingredients for what he was about to create, nor exactly what he was going to do, but he had an idea, and now may be the only time he’d be able to do it. Besides, he said to himself, if we’re going to be killed, I’d like to have had the last say. He chuckled. The thought was almost funny.

Several paces away he stopped to consider what it would take to do the job at hand. His mind turned from one thing to another. Suddenly, he remembered something, and it may be just what he needed. Near to where they had stopped to decide upon things had been a patch of tall plants bearing bunches of plump, bright purple berries. In the darkness, Bror silently made his way towards it, hoping that he could locate it without the elven scouts spotting him.

After sometime of searching the area mainly by brushing his hand along the undergrowth and plant life, Bror found what he sought and harvested several of the bunches of berries. He chuckled to himself as he bore the fruit of his efforts back towards his sleeping place. He sat down carefully by Skald’s side and as he turned the berries over in his hand, he carefully considered his plan. The color of juice that these berries would provide was an uncertainty. However, it was the best he could do.

A shaft of moonlight pierced the clouds and lit the scene around him. Bror looked at Skald, weighed the costs one last time and decided to go through with it. Juice from the berries ran out about his clenched hand and dripped in a steady, dark stream over Skald’s beard. Bror bit his lip in concentration and to keep back the laughter in his chest. He had little idea of what color it would dry to. It may be too dark to even notice, but then again, it may end up being a lovely light color. Perhaps red or purple. Personally, he hoped for purple.

The last bit of liquid that could be squeezed out of the berries finally came and Bror carried the pulp and seeds carefully away and discarded them someplace where they wouldn’t be in the way. He washed his hands carefully with the water in his bottle. A slight chuckled escaped him as he came back to his place and laid down to sleep. With all luck, he’d manage to wake up either before Skald, or at least before Skald had discovered the mess of his beard. He wanted to have at least some chance of defending himself. . .