Bloodstained Elanor RPG

[Durelin]

Calenvása smiled slightly at Thorvel's frustration. The elf seemed truly perturbed, and that was to be understood after a whole night remaining as still and as quiet as possible, with no outcome. Calenvása quickly glanced around him. No one seemed ready to speak. Targil in particular looked sour, of course, and his eyes fell upon the Captain often enough for anyone to see just what he was sour about. But Targil had always saved his bitterness for Calenvása. Never had it been such a constant battle between the two elves' wills, though. Calenvása thought he could blame it on the stressfulness of the situation, but could he blame it on anything or anyone but Targil? Or perhaps it was his own fault. He knew that so many of the faults Targil found were legitimate.

Thorvel waited quietly for someone else to speak, as did Targil. Calenvása felt the silence growing heavy upon him, and he knew that soon he had to speak. He had information that might help them, he thought, but he just could not put it together. There were pieces of something that could make a whole, he knew. But he also knew that there were some pieces that he held in his mind, and others that he did not. He waited, letting the silence go, hoping it would not grow out of control. Someone had to have one of the missing pieces. Calenvása now waited for someone to speak up. The silence did not grow out of hand. Lómarandil could be relied upon, as always.

"Indeed, Thorvel. They're mobilising, drilling their troops. But from what I've seen tempers are running frayed. With some luck they'll kill enough of themselves not to present much challenge."

Calenvása sighed, wondering how long it would take the young elf to realize that there was more to this army than a squabbling bunch of thick-skulled orcs and Men, slaves to Sauron. These numbers were greater than the elves had faced since the Last Alliance, or so Calenvása thought, to the best of his knowledge. But then, his knowledge had never extended very far into the wars of his people, or any people. And their brethren in Lorien were not at all prepared to face an army of any size.

Targil and Thorvel were obviously feeling the same vexation as their Captain. Targil’s mouth was twisted sourly in annoyance. All was quiet again, though the bitterness could be felt in the air. Lómarandil looked almost as sour as Targil, while Thorvel kept his features smooth, but fidgeted a bit too restlessly. Again, Calenvása waited for someone to speak. Unfortunately, so did everyone else.

The silence started to grow into a wild thing that lashed out at Calenvása's mind. Every moment of it made his body try to wince. He used all the will he had to remain still, and staying right where he was. He wanted to run away and escape it all, but Calenvása knew he couldn't. He was the Captain, and he felt the silence the most of anyone present for a reason.

"We have not much time, as you all know," he glanced at Targil for a moment, who smiled cynically. “I make this brief, as it seems there is little that must be said. As said before, there is more to this attack than a large frontal assault, as effective as that might be. Near where I was perched in a tree, a small troop gathered, consisting of both orcs and easterlings and southrons, seemingly all of some kind of high rank. I heard nothing of their words, but it was clear that they were far more organized than the army, and separate from it.”

Calenvása paused, seeing that this information was so general, lacking any details and bringing only more for their minds to ponder with worry. The Captain dug through his mind, trying to find something to add to his observations. He wished with little hope for a conclusion to this, as well. Then Thorvel spoke up, and Calenvása felt the burden be lifted from upon him.

“Then we head back the other way and stay as far as we can from them…” he said softly. “I knew that that orc sounded too close to where I lay in hiding. Now I think he must have been a part of your special troop, Captain. From this I believe we can assume that they will be remaining separate from the army. Unless ‘them’ refers to us…then we have more to worry about.”

Thorvel frowned in thought and in a certain disappointment at finding his information just as vague as Calenvása’s, and adding to the worries of the scouts. Calenvása lead Thorvel a little ways away from Targil and Lómarandil, and spoke to him quietly. “We will elaborate upon these thoughts later, friend. Would you mind my company in our chase?” Thorvel returned Calenvása’s smile, and nodded. Calenvása had been watching Lómarandil and Targil both, and he had seen the restlessness of the two, and the frustration. Calenvása knew they must have a reason for this anger, but he doubted that it was a rational one.

The Captain returned to the group, and it was immediately clear to the two younger elves that the ‘communication’ had ended. Lómarandil now chose to physically join the group, moving closer to Calenvása. Now he listened carefully, now that his blood was boiling in anticipation. The young elf awaited a word, and Calenvása was reluctant to give it to him. He felt that they were leaving something behind, forgetting something of great importance. He had felt since the beginning of this mission that they were rushing things, but time had always been a key issue. Time was important to Calenvása, and as he practically felt the sun rising in the sky to shine upon him from a different angle. He sighed heavily, and spoke softly, almost as if he wished the others would not hear it. “We must move quickly...” he paused, then lightened his voice, using his sense of humor to alleviate his thoughts. “But that is what we are best at, is it not, my pack of wolves?”

Targil grinned and let out a howl like a wolf. Calenvása opened his mouth to berate him, as he knew that any orc or Man ear could have heard that noise, but both he and Lómarandil were already disappearing into the forest. The Captain sighed once more. He looked at Thorvel, who still stood by him, waiting. The elf smiled slightly, and Calenvása found amusement in the situation as well. “That was truly a very natural sounding wolf call.”

The two elves made their way into the forest, following Targil and Lómarandil, with a few chuckles, growing silent as they drew near the army’s camp location. They found it clear of anything living, but covered with countless signs that a great number of dirty creatures had resided there. Calenvása studied it with disgust, as he and Thorvel came upon the other two. “We will not be scattered, each taking our own route. All of our skills will be needed.” Targil waited only for Calenvása to finish speaking, then made his way into the clearing that was the orc camp. Lómarandil followed, and they soon found the direction the army had taken. They took off in that direction, and Thorvel and the Captain could do nothing else but follow, running. They kept their two comrades in sight as Calenvása already began to feel the excitement and the anxiety of the race that they now ran in, with the finish line across a wide plain in Lorien.