[Envinyatar]

Hensirë slapped his leather gloves he held in his grasp against his thigh, sending up a small cloud of dust. ‘Long ride, eh?’ he said, plopping himself down on bear ground near Ondomirë. The humps and bums and sharp pointed pebbles were not to the captain of the spears’ liking as he sat there. His cape was soon folded into some semblance of a cushion, and he rested his ride-worn haunches more comfortably on it.

‘It’s you spearmen,’ Geldion, eyeing his tall lanky companion. ‘You’re more used to walking along rattling your spears in a frightening manner, than trying to accommodate them as you sit atop a horse.’ He steepled his fingers and smiled like a cat over the tips of them. ‘Now we bladesmen . . . we are born to horse! Dashing and dangerous figures we cut as we drive headlong into battle, swords raised for the kill.’

‘More like you’re born of horse,’ Ondomirë said, grinning widely at Hensirë, with a nod to Geldion. ‘Your attitude, at least, often resembles the equine nether parts!’ Ondomirë ducked as the sword-captain threw a clod of dirt his way. ‘What’s going on over there?’ he asked, lifting his chin toward the gathered Dwarves.

‘Well. I’ve heard that they’re thinking about leaving us soon, Hensirë said. ‘Going back home to Hadhodrond. Can’t blame them, really. They’ve seen us through to this point. No point in wandering about with us. We’ve enough able-bodied to repel what small numbers of foe we might find up here.’

‘Just as well,’ Geldion remarked, his eyes sliding toward the Dwarves. ‘I’m afraid I’m with Lord Celeborn when it comes to the Naugrim. They’re too shifty eyed; too unreliable. Tainted, even. Could take a notion to start doing us in. Like their ancestors. Better we Elves just look out for ourselves.’

Ondomirë snorted in disgust at Geldion’s remarks. ‘You make me apologetic at times that we are kin.’ Geldion shrugged off the remark, turning his head away as Ondomirë rose and walked away.

-----

Losrian had stowed her meager possessions by her bedroll and had just stood up as Ondomirë was passing through the archers’ area of the campsite. ‘Good evening, m’lady,’ he greeted her, nodding as he stopped a few paces from her. ‘Are you going to see the little one?’ he asked. ‘Might I walk along with you, if so? I have need of more pleasant company.’