Beleriand time is: Nighttime (About 9PM) on Hevensday of Summer - August 24, 463

Teiglin Crossings

Night's heavy shadows blanket the region in a dark cast of blue; shifting shadows beckoned by the wind tell of birch and pine, mixed among maples. But most notable to this landscape is the mighty Teiglin river, whose icy and swift waters race in force against the deep ravines, causing a roar at times deafening depending on the mood of the winds. The summer evening is cool, but not chilled at all--even approaching midnight. And every now and again the lone and mournful hoot of an owl sifts through the sound of the torrenting waters. Standing in this murk of night, a single scout set at the crossings, whose duty it is to watch the woodlands. Though he looks rather singular against nature and the elements, his assured stance suggests that perhaps he is not so very alone...

A figure cloaked in a deep green coat, matching that of a darkling wood, creeps through the night. Feet bound with soft leather muffle all but the feintest of noises. The figure moves with the brush and growth near the river banks, a head cranes and twist slowly and surely, scanning and surveying the area ahead of him. A bow sits in the mans hand and he holds it as if he could shoot in a moment, yet no arrow is knocked to the bow string, yet hidden in the interior of his cloak a quiver full of arrows is fast buckled. At sunset he had left the camp, a long partol and a rembered landmark had carried him further. As he nears the crossing, a figure he notes from his hiding place, a sigh of relief leaves his throat, the figure is not orchish and nor is it a ruse of the maggots...

He steps forward and into space calling out after a brief pause. "Hello", yet the words are spoken in Halethian, well enough also. The figure is Baradil, Marachian scout, his beard is braided tight to his face and his golden hair is tied into a mucky not.

Long before the party of men approach the crossings are they watched. Eristan, the scout readily visible upon the way here at the crossings, makes a swift motion of his left hand near his head; thereafter the trees seem to wave with movement coaxed of the wind. Or were those others perhaps sheltered in the boughs?

Piercing green eyes lock their gaze to the face of the other who has hailed him in the deepened night, and with a curt nod added to his steps, the Haladin scout steps forward. "Hail to you travellers," he says with a deepened and questioning voice. "What business have you here in Brethil?" While not unfriendly, the voice is not one of cheer.

The scout hears and sees the crackle in the trees and expected from long back. A smile passes over his face. "Forgive me, I have ot the words in your tongue." His voice now rolls fluently in the common tongue of Beleriand, "I am Baradil, a scout of Galdor and I am in Escort of the messenger Sionell. We seek passage in to your lands, I come now for fear of the raod. Indeed we where almost ambushed by the maggot folk west of the Teiglin some days Since." He bows deeplt in greeting and when the man rises, perhaps for the first time his tru height can be judged, indeed the man stands tall indeed. His voice is that of a mans and despite its deep pitching it holds youth also.

Eristan shows recognition of the name Sionell as it is spoken, and with a more relaxed demeanor, he steps yet closer to the Marachian scout, eyes narrowing, and speaks in the common tongue himself. "Aye, there was a messenger sent off of that name. Her return has been eagerly awaited by those of her kinsfolk. And another ranger apparently of their kind, as well."

Eristan shows recognition of the name Sionell as it is spoken, and with a more relaxed demeanor, he steps yet closer to the Marachian scout, eyes narrowing, and speaks in the common tongue himself. "Aye, there was a messenger sent off of that name. Her return has been eagerly awaited by those of her kinsfolk. And another ranger apparently of their group, as well."

The face of the scout drops, drawning a blank expression upon it. "Finnabair!" She is not back yet? She went afore us days since and I have marked no sign of here, she tracked ahead, I assumed she would have already passed these shores. That is ill tidings indeed, as I said Orc are on the road, I would have sort her had we not been forced to make haste away from them." He looks about a moment, "I am with a company of five scouts, I can get most of them here and then mayhap I and some of your march wards can venture out to seek her. Our route was to ever follow the teiglin south, so if we follow the river to its source we shall find her I believe." His face is rather grim set and seems asd if worry is burnt into it.

Eristan looks to the Marachian, seemingly in assessment, or as much as can be had in this forest gloomed as it is by night. "As you wish," he says his expression deepening of the lines weatherworn by years and the elements. With another motion of his hand and sideways turn of his gaze, the scout summons two of his kinsmen from their concealment in the trees surrounding. "We may lead the others through the forest. I shall report this to the warden and perhaps there may be others sent out as well in search."

The scout frowns still and he looks abck at the gaurd, "You are sure she has not passed your borders?" He glances about, "If some of your lads come now we may fetch the group, they are but a few hours from here." If you send a few to guide and a few more to come with me, we can go further up the river this night. Though ensure they are armed, I never found the fate of the orcish band."

Considering the further words of the other, Eristan shakes his head. "We cannot go of this minute, and I am only certain that the Dorthonion ranger did not pass through this point. There are others as well, and only the wardens would know of it for certain." He looks about the surrounding forests, working his lower jaw into a ridge. "I would best find the warden of this even, and give my report to him. Do you as you may," he says with certainty. "Whether to continue to Amon Obel or stay."

Considering the further words of the other, Eristan shakes his head. "We cannot go of this minute, and I am only certain that the Dorthonion ranger did not pass through this point. There are others as well, and only the wardens would know of it for certain." He looks about the surrounding forests, working his lower jaw into a ridge. "I would best find the warden of this even, and give my report to him. Do you as you may," he says with certainty. "Whether to continue to Amon Obel or stay."

Baradil shakes his head and looks to Eristan, "I will set to bringing my folk here. When they are dropped off I will join your search and then whe can find her. When I get my folk I will seek and small trail, if I find one I shall follow it, sending the rest on alone. Among there number is Sionell and Raelin will be running the scouts or mayhap Glorfin, that is in my absense. They will bring you any message you need.

With another motion to the scouts nearby, Eristan speaks to them in the lowered voice of his native tongue, and with a nod--again curtly given--returns to look to Baradil. "I will seek out the warden, then," he says. "And from there decisions shall be made on what to do. Find rest for the moment, or continue on as you may. The men here will assist you, but I am gone." And without further word or hesitance, the Haladin scout's steps are soundless in the forest surrounding, and amidst a whisper of leaves and the merest blur of a motion, he is lost from view.