[Tevildo]

Turon watched as the early morning sunshine filtered through the leafy bower in which he had slept. He had tarried longer than he had intended; it was time to be moving again. Forcing himself to swallow a piece of lembas, he climbed down from the tree, softly whistling for his horse Lessa who was off nibbling at some foliage in the next glade. Lessa was a common pack animal, nothing fancy to look at, but well suited to the rugged terrain; King Thranduil had presented the steed to him almost a week before.

His welcome at the court in Mirkwood had been warmer than he had expected. Thranduil had listened carefully to the words Galadriel had sent. When Turon had finished his explanation, the King had told him what little he knew of the shadow that was spreading over the forest. Mostly, it was a tale of woe, one filled with threatening spiders and attacks of unknown origin that had befallen many an unsuspecting Elf. Turon listened carefully, scarcely believing what he was hearing. He wondered whether his own beloved Lorien would someday find itself in such a dire situation. But, no, that could not be. Surely Galadriel would protect them. Still, he felt uneasy.

Thranduil had told him about an expedition sent into the woods, led by Rûdhchamion, that was to search out the cause of all these dire happenings. The King had suggested that he attempt to pick up the trail left by the travellers. He had given Turon a fine map to take with him as well as a number of supplies he was to bring to Rûdhchamion: food and weapons and other useful things. The map had proven useless but after a week of searching Turon had finally stumbled upon the trail of the Elves. Today, or tomorrow at the latest, he should meet up with them in person. Turon was somewhat puzzled by the footprints he had found. The group appeared to be travelling with someone not of Elven blood; the prints suggested a young woman who was barely older than a girl. And there had also been some strange animal paws that reminded Turon of a wolf. Thranduil had told him nothing of these things.

Filling his leather bottle with water, Turon tightened Lessa's cinch and led her forward through the woods. The scent of the dog made the trail easy to follow since it was so distinctive. Very soon, in perhaps another hour or two, he hoped to catch a glimpse of the campsite. An uneasy feeling stirred inside him. The King had treated him with courtesy and good faith, but what sort of reaction would he get from Rûdhchamion and his crew? Perhaps not quite so open and welcoming? For the hundredth time, Turon sincerely wished that he was back home with his family instead of chasing after shadows inside a dark and foreboding land.