Bearing the mark of a legendary assassin, onward with a journey to the Lonely Mountain. Ravena, the White Sorceress. Arising fore, a lineage of greatness. By the Dúnedain and Maiar's fruition, and of the Sons of Durin's salvation. Upon the Grace of...
The morning passed easily and the company of Thorin Oakenshield went on with their journey. Not a single song nor story was shared that day, in spite of the beautiful weather. Stopping only for meals, they had begun to feel that danger was not far away on either side. Although, Gandalf came to notice that Anya had established a bond of camaraderie within Kíli and Fíli. The duo made sure to engage in even a short and casual conversation every time an opportunity opened. Most evidently, they were very considerate knowing when to talk and when to stop as their companion was more or less, a woman of few words.
It became a regular routine of hers to scout ahead, with constant vigilance and awareness doubled than the rest of the companion. And every so often, Aeron circumnavigated from above to make himself known to Anya. Last night, his presence was missed for the first time since the quest started. But, it was a typical behavior from the Eagle. He comes and goes at his convenience, though not anywhere far remote from his mistress.
The day was beginning to fail as they passed by steep valleys, unexpected ravines, and quaking bogs over a lake or pond. And the light dimmed the path of wilderness for the moon was barely showing. It was fortunate that Anya found a site near a cliff overlooking a valley, to camp for the night. Nearby cliffs were commonly fitting to take shelter in the wild. Unless, of course, if one finds a bunch of Orcs there beforehand. Always seek for a higher ground in case bad weather moves in overnight.
Everybody situated themselves within the camp. Each was doing their own responsibilities. Thorin placed his nephews on the watch as a mild punishment for the recklessness they've caused the night before.
Most of the Dwarves were asleep by the middle of nightfall. Bilbo was tossing around in his sleep, before getting up. He got a bit disgusted when he saw tiny flying insects sucked into Bombur's mouth every time he snored as he slept. Anya was also asleep beside Gandalf, her head on top of Gandalf's shoulder with her greatsword close beside her, while he smoked his pipe peacefully. Every now and then, Kíli would glance at Anya's sleeping figure.
Bilbo walked over to his pony and gave her an apple, after checking to see that no one was looking. "Hello, girl. That's a good girl. It's our little secret, Myrtle. You must tell no one."
Then, he heard a scream in the night air and became instantly worried. He ran over to Fíli and Kíli. Anya snapped in her sleep, the sound quickly woke her up when she recognized it wasn't Aeron's.
"What was that?" Bilbo tip-toed.
"Orcs." Kíli answered. Another scream was heard. Thorin, who was dozing, jerked awake upon hearing that word.
"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them." Fíli added to Kíli's way of frightening Bilbo.
"They strike in the wee small hours when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood."
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