I AM NOT A HERO
Arrohir stood quietly, as he had been trained, unobserved, unheard. Eredave's legs gripped him, and the tension was obvious. He knew the Elf well, having served under him - literally - for many years.
Eredave was annoyed, and quickly becoming disgusted. Who were these outlanders, and what were they doing in the forest? Three days they'd been bumbling about, while he had more important things to worry about... His Dangersense was going haywire, and these fools were playing pranks, arguing, and poisoning each other. He felt fell and fey, like a Grugach. He was tempted to order the archers to cut them all down!
Still, his job was to scout, so he held still as a stock, the weeping willow camo's drifting in the breeze the only movement. He tried to mentally eliminate their noise from the audial fabric of the forest... but they were making it difficult!
In the tree above him, Drengist twiched his tail, only visible when he moved. Shifting only his eyes, Eredave looked up at him - or where he thought the pseudo-dragon was... They were all tense. The night was nearly over, and nothing. Something was very, very wrong...
Arrohir felt him tense, although there was almost no movement. Eredave's Dangersense flashed, and he looked towards the top of Barrows Knoll. The figure was there! A thought ran through his mind. Morgul. No... Morgoth. No... Something.
Moving only slightly, he motioned, and the Arcane Archers prepared. He glanced at the other troops hidden about the forest, in the trees, under the toadstools. The noise came from the hills, and he scowled. What? He sensed no danger from these beastial humanoids... and he hated all evil humanoids!
The "Adventurers" formed up, then, the drunken Human stumbling and bumbling for his gear, the othe Human slinking away. The Dwarf seemed stunned. The Elven Bard pulling a bow, and speaking words, loudly, in the arcane tongue. Elebane came up to him, whispering.
"Arcane Archer!" he said, pointing to the Elf called Celina. Eredave nodded. Elebane ought to know... Maybe he wouldn't have the archers cut them all down, after all... Even if they WERE in the way!
Then the noise increased, as hordes of beast-men suddenly seemed to spring from all around them! General Landir's troops were well-seasoned, and to their credit, no sounds were made, save the quiet, deadly strokes of a few quick weapons, all of which landed to no effect! Eredave held up one mossy-camoued hand, drawing attention. He flashed the signal: Illusion! The troops settled back.
The beastmen quickly disappeared, and after a little more stumbling and bumbling, the "Adventurers" got on their way. Well, at least there weren't any Half-Orcs among them... Eredave had known one Half-Human, back in Ratik, who was alright, but the ones he'd met since, he'd just as soon shoot as see again. He really hated evil Humanoids!
As the adventurers left, he signalled the scouts out, then went up the knoll to where the mysterious figure had appeared... There were EXACTLY TWO footprints on the entire knoll (not counting his); one left, and one right. He didn't need an archer to cast Detect Magic to tell him that it was in play... but maybe he should track down that Bard, and see what he knew. The dwarf, too, perhaps. Then again, maybe not. They were leaving, and that was fine by him. The quicker they got out of here, the better he'd like it.
"Elebane, you're in command." he said, striding back down the knoll to Arrohir and remounting. He turned towards Drengist, pointed, and sped off, knowing the little 'dragon would be there ahead of him. He was glad to be away from the troops.
After his family was wiped out at age four or five (even he couldn't remember) when their caravan was attacked, Eredave had turned from a misspent youth to a life of exploring and living off the land. It was those skills that General Landir found so useful, but it was irksome being in an army - especially when you got put in charge of things. No, scouting was definitely the way to go.
He headed Arrohir towards the bight, and into the Human lands, there. He took the back paths, fencerows, and dingles, headed towards one farm in particular. He made no attempts to be quiet, now, but let Arrohir use all his speed. Even so, anyone seeing the two of them wouldn't have known what they were looking at.
Pulling up at the barn, Eredave reined in Arrohir, letting his neigh do for a greeting. The Human custom of beating on doors with a fist had never suited him, especially since his were clawed in adamantine.
There was no answer. He cleared his throat. No answer. He got down and looked around. Two sets of tracks, leading out, but not back. Taking the reins, he followed them to the lake... Two sets entered, only one left. He peered into the water, searching the murky depths, and still came up empty. Was she a fish?
"Brieanna!" Still no answer.
If Eredave ever cussed, now would be the time, but he hated vice even more than he hated evil humanoids... almost as much as he hated evil outsiders! He knew the futility of trying to track a shape-shifting Druidess. He paused to listen for Drengist, then looked up and shrugged, stroking Arrohir's nose. He'd made the trip for nothing. Remounting, he headed back, far more slowly than he came.
Something was going on, and it was bad. The fact that it wouldn't get worse in daylight was a source of no comfort, at all. He really needed information, and no one seemed to have any. He hated that! Even more than evil humanoids! As a matter of fact, he wouldn't have minded running into a few of those, right about now, he thought, his hand dropping to the adamantine cable wrapped about his waist.
He smiled; but when Eredave smiled THAT smile of welcome, it wasn't pretty. He was sure there would be plenty of work to do, soon enough... Dangersense said there was something big, and dangerous, and nearby, and it was there, up in the air, west-by-northwest, but it wasn't moving... Problem was, there was nothing there. At least not yet.
He shrugged, crossing back out of the dingle an re-entering the forest. He took his time, in no hurry to return to the troops of General Landir. He yawned, realizing that he was tired, and trying to remember when the last time he'd slept was. He snapped to, realizing he was tired enough to be getting stupid. He changed his course, moving around the area he had previously ridden through, so that no enemy scouts could follow him back to the army.
Thus, he missed the six (seven, counting the polymorphed mage) adventurers having lunch by the wall, and rode right out of this story... That's okay, however, because if anyone had asked, he would have told them: "I am not a hero!"
