Elven Interrogation

Western Edge of Mirkwood

Under the renewing eaves of Mirkwood, the early night sky is shadowed a bit. The whole area is sprouting in the night cool air.

The edge of the foreboding forest continues on in a north-south orientation, and the wide open spaces of the Anduin Vale lie off to the west.

Thick clouds of billowing grey cover over the night\'s sky.

Contents:

Haldir

Obvious exits:

SouthEast, NorthEast, North, and South

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Early Night on Mersday, Day 20 of April.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 14:38:05 MDT on Sat Feb 27 2010.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Under the blanket of night something small creeps through brush and and passed bole. At one of these thick and bumpy trunks the creature pauses, and sniffs at it for a moment before resuming its slow meandering. It is an impish goblin scout by the looks of it, and clearly from the way he moves along this is one forest wanderer who does not wish to be seen.

[Haldir(#25231)]

How unfortunate that this creature should have paused by this tree, for in its branches something is watching. And waiting. And now with an elvish sigh something picks a clothyard and sets it to a bowstring. The perch creaks, sending down a dusting of leaves, shriveled and black.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The rustling of the dislodged leaves as they come to rest upon the ground sounds unnaturally loud in the dead of the night, and the otherwise stillness of the surrounding forest. There is an odd sort of squeaking yelp, and immediately, instinctively, the orc-scout drops to the dirt. With the tree that rains leaves behind him, the creature scampers practically on all fours for a tangled mess of branches and thorns ignoring the pricking for now, he peers out from inside the bush, breath coming out in uneven intervals.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Following the minor explosion of bramble and briar, the something in the trees decides it best to have a closer look. And so a grey-wrapped shape appears from the dry foliage, leaping noiselessly from branch to root as if the shadow above had spit it out. Haldir paces a moment, arrow stretched upon bow, though it is pointed at the ground.

\"One of you again?\" comments the marchwarden in Westron, peering into the thorns. \"Has the Mirkwood become a breeding-ground for flies?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

And the thorny bush hisses in reply, a noise at the same time menacing and apprehensive as the bow and its arrow come into view. \"Flies have wings, miserable lucky things,\" mumbles Dobog, trying to wedge himself farther into his pointy crude shelter. \"Dobog wishes he had wings now, oh yesss...\"

[Haldir(#25231)]

The pacing continues, as the marchwarden circles about the orc-scout\'s hiding place. Haldir\'s face is thoughtful, though devoid of sympathy, as he surveys the hissing-bush. \"You shall have them soon,\" he promises, lessening the grip upon his longbow, \"and you shall fly all you like. But first, filth, a question: if you are no fly, whence come you? And what have you done in a place that needs no more of your blight and profaning?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

\"You let Dobog go?\" the orc frowns from under the leaves and twigs, eyeing the circling Elf with a confused expression. But then it turns into suspicion. \"Dobog hates questions...nasty pointed-ears and their questionsss.\" Nevertheless, the bush trembles slightly as the scout flings a black claw to point vaguely south, but then he moves it in a broad sweep that fails to indicate a clear direction. \"Our lads kill and cut down all who stand against the might of the Dark One...\"

[Haldir(#25231)]

\"So you issued from the Accursed Land,\" says Haldir, frowning, \"am I correct? You ravaged the Dale-lands, slew the Elf-friend Gelbard, cut off the roads, attacked the elven-kingdom. And feasted upon one of my kin.\"

\"And now, filth,\" continues the Elf, looking down at the bush with a gaze of ice, \"being so close to the west of this forest, I can only assume your machinations will include the lands across the river. Is that so? Tell me, will you cross the river?\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

The creature in the foliage lets out a wheezy laugh, and he claws at the dirt of the roots. \"Yessss, ravaged, burned, cut, feasted, all this we have done, and more.\"

But as the Mordain camp\'s future schemes come into the interrogation, Dobog swallows nervously, and his red eyes flash upward through the bush to regard the marchwarden. No answer comes.

[Haldir(#25231)]

The hood cants. \"Well? Forgot?\" Haldir asks, the smooth Westron disarming and agreeable. \"Then, filth, you have no future. This is your only chance for a mark on the posterity of both our kin.\"

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

At this the creature wails, and the clawing at the bush\'s base rends the dirt. A nearby thorn branch makes him stop. \"But, Dobog be punished for telling! Mustn\'t tell, the masters don\'t like that.\" The orc ponders for a moment, and the nocked arrow seems to cause him to come to a decision. \"To the south, down, down we go..and across.\"

[Haldir(#25231)]

\"To the horse-lands?\" asks Haldir, his voice nearly prompting, although a smooth hatred might be found therein. He stands and waits.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

Inside the veil of the bush there comes a hissing and squirming. No longer tearing the forest floor, the scout occupies himself with tugging uncomfortably at one big ear. Reluctantly, he answers, \"Yes, that what Dobog heard, yes.\" The gaze grows wider. \"Your questions...you will follow us, and stuff us full of awful arrows.\" The despairing voice turns into an angry growl. \"Skai! Wretched leaf-ears, tree monkey light-lovers!\"

[Haldir(#25231)]

The marchwarden\'s expression breaks from its marble stillness for a moment, his lips tightening in defense to the insult. His hand closes upon the arrow-grip.

\"Are you worried?\" Haldir leans closer to the orc, eyes awfully wide and eyebrows raised in concern. \"Do not be so anxious, little filth. I will not tell your masters that you have betrayed them. And neither shall you! Remember, your future is forfeit. Worry not --\"

And he raises the patiently waiting clothyard till it is eye-to-eye with the orc scout, and sets it free.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

A panicked and frightened squeal follows the release of the feathered dart, and the bush-goblin attempts to wiggle away but luck is not a common ally to his kind, and the arrow misses eye and face to lodge itself deeply into the creature\'s shoulder, nigh the end of the neck. In the midst of a sharp cry of pain and quick fury, the bush is forsaken - clearly it is not arrow-proof.

Covered in thorns, dirt, leaves, and now swiftly seeping black ichor, Dobog swipes free a small dagger from his belt. It stays for a moment, hovering in a claw, ere it whips out for that close bow-holding hand.

[Haldir(#25231)]

Haldir snatches the bow-hand away, glaring coldly at the scout -- the glove parts at a line, a neat rending of leather without flesh. \"I thought you said you wished to fly. Am I mistaken, or is there some refuge that will still welcome you?\"

The Elf withdraws a second arrow, though it meets no bow: instead, it is employed to stab at the thornbush, and the orc therein.

[Bagaglok(#24847)]

This second arrow the orc does manage to squirm away from, finally pulling himself free from the rest of the bush. \"Fly, fly, yes,\" groans the pitiful creature, and his other claw jabs upward to clutch at the area where the first elven dart has made its home but he does not attempt to tug on it. \"Dobog be in trouble,\" the uruk\'s complaint rises higher, made shriller by the throbbing shaft wound. He delays, perhaps thinking it might be better for him to meet his end by bow or sword than return to the camp. \"Garn!\" Only a curse is muttered before the orc is scrambling away southward.

[Haldir(#25231)]

\"Do you really wish to face your superiors again?\" calls Haldir across the thickets, although he does not follow: instead, his gaze wanders west to the river, and with a tight set of his lips he strides in that direction.