Asmalinde came fully awake. She had been drifting half in half out between the elven world and the earthly one. Nothing was clear to her. Flashes of a deep stairway, fire and stars blotted out by shadows. She shook her head and broke from her all but non-existent camp. She had left her horse behind in one of the small farms dotting the landscape on the edge of the Old Forest and the east road to Bree-town. Since leaving off from the group east of Combe and Archet Asmalinde had been vigorously scouting the land between Bree-town and the Blue Mountains of Ered Luin. She heard whispers in the forest, and rumors among the people of the land.
Since Xanderian, Xandilif and their merry band had been journeying to Bree from Tol Lochu, life had been almost idyllic. They had been blessed by Elbereth with good weather. Brigands and their ilk had left the well armed company alone. The land did groan with the marching of fell creatures and foul darkness but none of it affected the company, until now.
Asmalinde had rode hard for Ered Luid and the Blue Mountains the moment she left the company. She had been told the story of the battle of the Kheledul Docks and Man’s penchant for using dourhands and orcs as his tools. The Blue Mountains would be a good place to seek rumors of his coming.
Ered Luin was as peaceful and beautiful as always but an ominous weight of dark clouds seemed to hang over it. The forests were tense and stuffy. Elvish border guards and dwarrows from Thorin’s gate told of something moving through the timberland and over the hills. The only sign of their passing were the stirrings of nature. The elves, with their affinity for Eru’s creation could only speak of the whisper of their passing. However, Asmalinde was able to see the bend of the grass. The breaking of a limb and the impression of a boot on a rock in the stream. She did not understand how she understood these things. Her lack of memory left her amazed when she discovered a new skill she was natural at, like tracking or fighting.
She caught their trail at the river crossing of the Lune south of the bridge at Duillond. It was ephemeral like smoke or gossamer. She frowned, normally the creatures of darkness left a path of destruction that was easy to follow. Amilinde could sense the light tingling of magic masking the tangles of shod feet. But now, she knew what to look for. As she followed the trail east she began to develop a vision of how many she was following and who she was following. She found scraps of food the dourhands preferred to eat. There was the occasional bit of jetsam orcs or goblins left behind. There were at least seventy of them and shockingly they were mixed together, not separate. Dourhands and orcs travelling together was unheard of.
The trail led to the wilderness areas of the Shire and they crossed the Brandywine south of Buckleberry Ferry. She lost the route several times and only through extreme patience was she able to pick it up again. She became alarmed however. She began to notice groups of dourhands and orcs splitting off into multiple directions as they entered the Old Forest. They branched off into eight directions. They appeared to be heading for the Barrow Downs. Time to check in.
Asmalinde broke off her tracking and rode quickly for Bree-town. Seeking out Xanderian inside the Prancing Pony. She entered through the back door and attracted scarce attention. The younger elleth was standing in the hallway with the young one, Finchley flitting about following a dwarf with a basket of food. Dismissive at first, Xanderian’s eyes grew wide as Asmalinde informed her of the trail she had been following. She promised to return with information as she gathered it and slipped back off into the night. She had to discover what these groups were doing and what their plans were.
