Aearion is found, at last!

South Ithilien, Forest Edge

The forest here is still, as if the dark trees themselves hold their breath in anticipation. Tall and ancient, of ruinous age, moss-covered oak, birch, pine and cedar grow in groves, and the forest floor is a maze of ivy, thorn and undergrowth. Several strange paths crisscross the wood, though whether made by beast or man it is not clear. Eastward lie the dark Ephel Duath, and to the north begin the rolling hills of Emyn Arnen. To the south the terrain grows brighter, as deep forest gives way to open field and the soil becomes more sandy. Even the birds are silent in this watchful land. It is daytime.

Contents:

Ceredir

Aearion

Obvious exits:

East, South, and North

It is now morning, just past dawn, two days after the disastrous meeting with a party of orcs. Daerthor sits beneath a tall tree, the leaves shading him from the rising sun, wolfing down some dry bread. He has had almost no rest since the skirmish, for he has been searching for Aearion along with Ceredir. Another orc ambush and the ensuing rush away from the camp has taken a toll on him, but he stoically ignores his weariness. He has suffered only minor cuts and bruises, and Aearion is still nowhere to be seen. Aearion, his childhood friend, an arrow in his back on his first trip so far south, and a murderous bloodlust for orcs. He swallows his sigh and stands up, dusting the few crumbs left off his fingers.

\"Come on, Daerthor,\" Ceredir says, pulling his helm on as he approaches the Scout. \"Sun\'s up and that means we might be able to find Aearion\'s trail before it\'s completely cold. We have to at least try.\"

Calling Aearion\'s chase of the orc and subsequent disappearance a disaster is optimistic. Not only did the stinking little orc escape him in the dark, but once he realized the chase was hopeless, he was in a small cove, in the pitch black night with the sound of orcs moving in the woods all around him. Aearion nestled himself in a nook between two overhanging rocks. As he entered the hiding place, the arrow in his back became apparent as it scraped against the stone. He broke it against the rocks, entered the small nook and waited with a dagger in hand, as night passed and the sounds of moving orcs died away into silence.

As the light of dawn broke on the first day, he slipped out of his hiding spot. If he was going to have a chance of getting back to home, he would have to do it during the day. As dawn broke, he began to leave his tiny refuge when the fatigue and the knowledge of safety set upon him. He needed sleep...and he was safe for now. Why not catch a few minutes sleep?

Aearion dropped into a deep sleep as dawn broke bright upon Ithilien. He slept nearly all day.

Daerthor straps his own helm on and checks that all his weaponry is with him before moving out of his shady spot. They are far from the camp of orcs now, so it is unlikely that they will run into more orcs. He goes towards a thin forest path that is nearby - a path made by beasts, perhaps - the place that they left off before their short break.

Thankfully, it has not rained since, and any marks left in moist dirt will be apparent. Daerthor can only hope that Aearion stepped in one such patch, or they will never find him.

\"Head southeast,\" Ceredir hisses to the Scout, who has started out ahead of him. \"No sense checking out the orc camp again today when there was nothing there yesterday. If they have him, he\'s dead. So we have to assume--and hope--that he is in the woods somewhere.\"

The day after the attack on the camp and Aearion\'s estrangement from the company, he fell asleep and slept most of the day in relative peace. When he wakes he is starteld to have slept so long. By the sun, he realizes it is afternoon heading into evening. He slips out of the nook and tries to ignore the hunger knawing at his bones.

Aearion is completely lost. There are so many confused tracks around him, he cannot backtrack. He does not have sign to find North, so he decides to get to high ground and find a landmark. The forest is thick and spread around him and after about a half-hour\'s trek, he realizes that he might be getting even more lost. He finds a hiding place and decides to wait until night to get his bearings with the stars. It was risky, but better than wandering right into an orc camp, day or night.

As the night falls and the stars appear, he heads north.

\"Yes, sir,\" Daerthor says, and turns towards southeast. They continue moving for a mile or two, briskly to save time, but not rushing, to avoid missing possible signs. The sun is fully up and shining - though not as fierce as noon yet - when Daerthor halts all of a sudden. \"Sir!\" he calls softly to Ceredir, and points to a nearby branch. At the tip is a cluster of leaves, streaked with the reddish-brown of dried blood. Blood of a man, not of an orc.

\"Good eyes,\" Ceredir says as he steps forward, his voice low out of habit and paranoia in these woods. He reaches for the leaf, touching the dried blood on it and frowning in thought. \"Someone was here...a man...Aearion if we are lucky, though if he is leaving traces of blood about, it\'s not a good sign. Now...which way would he have headed from here?\"

Aearion had cut his hand in the woods as he passed north in the darkness. The wound was minor, but bloody and in the darkness he could not tell the trail he was leaving. He passes northward, walking all night, halting only once when he heard orcish sounds a dozen meters from his position. The sounds are steady, like a large body of orcs moving through the woods. The scout grows cautious and slowly moves toward the sounds. His thoughts of returning are overshadowed by his duty to gather intelligence on the enemy. His stalking is slow until he sees them. Down a defile along a well beaten trail a line of orcs seems to be moving northwestward. Aearion lies upon the ground and watches. Day would come soon and the orcs would make camp.

Looking ahead, Daerthor is sure there will be stains of blood elsewhere, and as he casts his gaze over the nearby undergrowth, his eyes find the so-called jackpot. \"There, sir,\" he says in a low voice, gesturing to Ceredir. \"We go that way, and hope we find him, at long last.\" Under his breath he mutters a string of words semi-mutinously. \"Aearion, if we ever make it back to Tirith Annun...\"

\"You\'re going to what...kill him?\" Ceredir whispers, gesturing for Daerthor to lead the way along this trail of sorts. \"You want to accomplish that, then just stop searching the woods for him--he\'ll be dead soon enough in that case.\" The Master Scout looks right and left as he speaks, though, continually checking for signs of Aearion\'s passage or for any sign of the enemy.

Aearion watches the orcs, and as expected, they pitch camp in preparation for the dawn (being the current day for the other two scouts). Aearion crawls away from the camp site on his belly. He goes down a hill putting it between him and the camp. There he turns north.

As dawn breaks he is at the edge of the forest. There he rests beneath a thick bush, but his trail is easy enough to follow for those who know to look for it. Fortunately for him, those on his tracks aren\'t orcish. He is starving.

\"No, merely lecture him for an hour or two,\" Daerthor whispers in response. \"He has good intentions, after all, though his actions are not the most... responsible. But you can have the honour of grilling him first, sir.\" He follows the blood trail, picking out the next stains to head towards. Soon, the distance between consecutive stains get shorter and shorter. He motions towards the Master Scout, quickly conveying this fact. Aearion should be near, now.

Though he does not miss the significance of the trail of blood stains, Ceredir now puts his finger to his lips and draws his dagger, indicating that Daerthor should arm himself as well. He creeps forward very carefully, sticking to cover but following the trail.

The talking sounds like thunder to the scout as he rests. Aearion takes his shield and holds it up in the morning light. It is only then that he notices the blood. \"Damn,\" he utters as he bandages himself with a piece of cloth. It had mostly clotted, but he can see a smear on a leaf back the way he had came. He stands up from his position beneath the bushes and sees the stalking figures of Ceredir and Daerthor. He gives a slight bird whistle to draw their attention. The sound is very natural, but done in a pattern to be unnatural to the trained ear.

Drawing his sword, Daerthor makes to step forward... and promptly stops at the bird call. It sounds like one from an Ithilien soldier. Cautiously, he continues his walk, slowly approaching the shadow of the bushes.

Having moved ahead of Daerthor, Ceredir now spots the missing Scout as he stands from his position. He waves to Daerthor to follow him, then steps forward, closing the rest of the distance to Aearion, though his dagger is still in his hand.

\"Are you badly injured?\" Like all his words out here in the woods, the question is spoken in a low tone, hard to hear.

Aearion is relieved to see the other scouts. He would live after all. He answers quickly, \"Just a scrach on my hand,\" he says holding up the bandaged hand. He turns his back to show the stub of the broken arrow protruding from his armor. \"It didn\'t penetrate to the flesh fortunately.\" He looks back to the forest and motions for Ceredir to come closer so that they can talk.

\"There is an orcish column camped that way,\" he says motioning southeast. \"They\'re heading northwest and encamped. I counted about 50 armed for war.\"

Daerthor catches up and eyes Aearion while he reports to Ceredir. He says nothing, as he looks at Aearion\'s bandaged hand, but his eyes promise a long talk once this is over.

\"So you weren\'t wounded and you ran off like some damn fool because....\" Ceredir prompts, sounding suddenly angry. \"And then you had half our party searching for you day and night because...? Get up,\" he spits. \"We know about the orc camp. You can explain your actions to a Ranger and see what they say.\"

Aearion is stricken by Ceredir\'s words. \"Yes sir...\" he says quietly with some anger edging his words. Filthy, starving and bloody, the junior scout falls into formation...

\"Find him some bread if you have any on you,\" Ceredir says angrily, pushing past Daerthor as he heads back up the trail. \"We\'re going back to the rendezvous point.\"