Players:

Muirgheal

Halbarad

Rhifaroth

Tzippy

Ollie

[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:

Dusk on Sterday, Day 3 of March.

Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 08:24:25 MDT on Fri Feb 01 2008.

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East Road - South of Midgewater

You are near the eastern edge of the Bree-lands, marked by the trees of the Chetwood to the north west. The Great East Road here sweeps in a large arc to avoid the murk and mire of the Midgewater Marshes. Sparse grasses along the northern edge of the road slowly give way to the spongy ground of the marshes in that direction. To the north east, the road bends up to meet the plains of Cardolan and the Weather Hills beyond.

Contents:

Muirgheal

Halbarad

Obvious exits:

North, Northwest, and Northeast

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The afternoon light is already beginning to slant through the trees as Rhifaroth glances back over to the too near darkness that is the troll's recent day-time hide-out in this area. Shifting his small metal and boiled leather shield further up his good arm, to keep his hand free, he wipes his damp brow as best he might while wearing his helm. The rock he is trying to shift one handed to set the hobbit sized offering upon is heavy, without being able to use both of his hands to move it.

The tall man works as quietly as he may, in plain sight of the cave's mouth, but as far from it as he could get and still be visible. His tattooed face glances behind himself to see if Muirgheal's preparations and tree selection are going well.

L Muirgheal

This young woman is as tall as most Dunlending women are, standing at about 5'10". Her frame does not have an abundance of womanly curves, but instead is thin, hard, and wiry: all muscle from being born into a fighting clan. Her Rohirrim-Dunlending cross has given her an abundance of long, beautiful golden hair, which she wears let down. The thick strands of gold loosely curl down to the small of her back. Her breeding also has given her a touch of exoticism: gently off-white skin, just barely tinted, a shade or two darker than white. Her brows are just a little darker than her golden hair, and arch above sharp, dark, intelligent eyes. The lines of her face are smooth and her cheekbones pronounced, high and regal. Her lips are full, but often unsmiling.

The clothes she wears are new traveling clothes, a gift from her lover, and they are ladylike enough to suit her. Her top is a loose, blousy russet cotton shirt, darted to gather and fit snugly from her rib-line down. The neckline is scooped low enough to reveal the beginnings of the pink scar that plunges from her chest downwards out of sight. She also wears soft, suede leather breeches of a darker chocolate brown, snug fitting, but with enough looseness to not restrict movement. The outfit is completed with a long, thick, dark green woolen cloak with hood. A simply designed clasp made of silver is formed into the shape of two leaping horses facing one another - the clasp halves fasten together by interlinking the horse's front legs. She wears a black leather belt around her small waist, from which a sword could easily hang. Black boots of tough leather, excellent for hard travel, complete her ensemble.

Carrying:

Studded Leather Armor

Studded Leather Helmet

Long sword

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal glances up in time to see Rhifaroth look her way. Beads of sweat collect on her brow; climbing a tree whilst wearing leather armor and doing so silently is no easy feat. Her hair is braided back from her face, and falls a long way down her back, showing more of her sharp and lovely features. She makes a rather comical waving gesture with her hands, and attempts to mouth something, "This one?" Yet, despite asking Rhifaroth's opinion from afar, the warrioress has already started securing the rope slung over her shoulder over the very high, thick branch of the large tree in which she's sitting.

[Halbarad(#30370)]

Somewhere in the trees, there is a scuffling sound. A moment later, a squirrel darts for its winter home in branches high above.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Standing back up with a cautious look back towards the dark cave mouth, the injured man with his left arm still splinted, but with his sling removed, begins to move over towards the tall tree Muirgheal has selected. He looks around at the winter thin brush, frowning.

Drawing his boot knife from his right boot top, by his knee into his right hand, the man moves to seek out what evergreen brush he can find and begins to break, or cut it as quietly as he might... with many, frequent glances back to see if anything is stirring in that cave. One or two looks up as well, to check on the woman up in the tree, but he says nothing.

Rhifaroth moves off a small distance to gather the additional concealment, bringing the limbs to where Muirgheal will wait... but careful not to make his removals too obvious from the cave's point of view.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal does not see Rhifaroth look back her way again; she is absorbed in her task, making sure the rope is secure, before beginning to painstakingly shimmy down the tree. All the while, her dark eyes are trained on the cave. Finally, her feet touch the ground, and an end of the rope is clutched in her left hand. Her other hand, while she watches the cave, seems glued to the hilt of her long sword.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

After a few minutes, the Southern Dunadan comes back with more brush, and carefully sets it about where it may help hide Muirgheal... but he is having to use both hands and it is fatiguing his left arm very quickly. Rhifaroth stops to get his breath and catches sight of Muirgheal coming down.

Moving over towards her he comes close and puts his good right hand on her shoulder, speaking in a very low into her ear, "Take over... finishing your concealment. I'll secure the bait we brought to the other end of your rope, and position it, all right?"

Ollie arrives from the north east, along the Road.

Ollie has arrived.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal frowns, displeased at seeing that Rhifaroth's arm still tires so easily. "Be careful," is what the warrioress hisses back at him, her hand reaching up to brush his before she begins to lift and rearrange the fresh cut brush in hopes of some semblance of concealment. The earth tones of her clothing, too, will perhaps help; there's no helping her golden hair, however, beneath her helmet. She nods at his last. "All right," is all she dares whisper, eyes on the rope now.

[Halbarad(#30370)]

And somewhere in the woods, as winter afternoon lends itself toward evening, a cricket chirps.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

His broken left arm indeed aching, barely a month healed from the time he was at this location last. Rhifaroth tightens his jaw and gives the woman a nod only, then moves to where they have stowed their things and picks up the bait - a large cloth doll or scarecrow, made to look rather vaguely like a Hobbit - at least in size. Though a winter chirping ‘cricket’ might otherwise attract his attention on another day, for the moment Rhifaroth is too focused on their work and that too near troll cave.

Picking the doll up with his right hand, his boot knife back in it's usual place, the tall man carefully goes back into the small clearing with a wary eye for that cave. He squats down, the constriction of his vision by the helm annoying him, as he begins to secure the near loose end of the rope to the bait. Several more cautious looks are shared towards the cave as he works to finish their set up. The evening light is already fading…

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal looks to where Rhifaroth is securing their stuffed dolly to the end of her rope. Her concealment arranged to her liking, she sinks down, eyes on the cave mouth, to rest for a moment until her companion is finished with his task. Now to wait until dark.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth stands back up, his long black cloak beginning to show signs of wear after so many years use - especially of late.

The man holds his left arm close for a moment, it giving him some pain, as he looks back at the cave. He should not be using it, but must. He glances at the bait and rope, everything looking ready, then begins to move with reasonable quiet to seek out Muirgheal and her concealment some small distance back into the trees.

A bit more tired than he would care to admit, Rhifaroth settles himself down to rest and wait with the handsome woman. But he sits so that he can peer through the edge of their brush and keep an eye on that cave, even though it's still some time until real dark.

Glancing a moment at Muir, he says in a very low voice, "We'll rest a bit."

[Halbarad(#30370)]

And in the distance, in the trees, there is a glimpse of grey -- the reflection of evening light off a leaf, perhaps? Or a growing mist off the marshes?

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal just nods; she doesn't want to risk talking again, with memories of her last encounter with a troll returning. She does keep a careful eye on Rhifaroth, however, worrying that he is too tired to face the creature waiting for them. After several minutes of silence, however, the woman's curiosity wins out. She whispers, "Do you want me to be the one to go up there?"

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The resting man's grey eyes scan the woods around them quietly... -something- having distracted him to pay a bit more attention looking into the tree cover and not just at the cave. Perhaps his long years spent traveling and living in the orc infested woods of Ithilien are brought to his mind in this place. Without being conscious of it, Rhifaroth looks to the east to judge the sky in that direction, but the haunting mountain range of his former years is too far from this place to be seen.

Rhifaroth turns his head sharply away from his own drifting thought to look at Muirgheal. His voice only a whisper, he says negatively, "No. I can‘t hoist the rope with only one arm… I’ll go … just a few more minutes." He looks back towards the cave, "I have a place already selected, to wait." His voice is so low she almost has to read his lips.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

"Very well," Muirgheal whispers back after giving him a long look. She crosses her arms, her body tensed; evidently the warrioress hates the wait. She's growing restless, but not careless, keeping a watchful gaze on all sides.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth pulls his helm off with his good right hand and lays it in his lap. He scratches at his dampened hair, hating to wear the thing. Using both of his hands the man scrapes his hair back from his face and re-tucks it back under the collar of his jerkin, before giving that cave one last look. "I better go..." But, he leans over and kisses that silly woman on the mouth for a long moment, pulling her close.

Letting her go, he just looks at Muirgheal for a long moment, "Be careful." Then, getting to his feet, Rhifaroth puts his helm back on. He begins to move out to the side to circle wide ... heading for that cave.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

As Rhifaroth rises to leave, Muirgheal replies very quietly, "Not unless you are." The stubborn lady sighs as he heads toward the cave, before she rearranges the brush around her. She's got their bait well in hand- the dolly has already been hoisted high. Her dark gaze turns feral as she watches the troll's hiding place, waiting for the light to completely leave the land.

Tzippy has connected.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth moves quietly through the woods in the fading light. Maybe not quite as silent as a seasoned Ranger, but he takes his time and is cautious, keeping a wary eye and pausing often to listen. In a little while he reaches the location to one side and back just a bit from the cave where he can see the small clearing and the bait. The man starts to hunker down to wait for full dark, but something catches his eye.

Seeing that Muirgheal has already hoisted the doll up from it's little seat of rocks that he had it propped up against, he frowns. Rhifaroth raises his good arm, the small round Rohirric shield still strapped to it, and makes a silent motion back towards the unseen woman to lower the doll back to the ground. He is not sure if she can even see him in the growing gloom of evening.

[Halbarad(#30370)]

The growing gloom of evening also hides another figure in the woods; silent, still, and cloaked in the grey of the fading light, it watches.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal, unable to take her eyes from Rhifaroth as he takes up his waiting post, does see him motion to her, but it takes her a few long moments to comprehend what it is that he wants. When she realizes, it makes her heart beat too fast; she almost ruined their carefully planned decoy. Silently berating herself, the warrioress lowers the dolly back onto its little resting place of rock. Then she settles back into her cover, feeling more uneasy now than ever.

[Ollie(#15066)]

The forest darkens, the trees seeming to lean closer together, tangled undergrowth whispering evilly to itself as unseen creatures slip through it. The creatures of the night - fox, bobcat... more. A faint rhythmic sound shudders through the night.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Having seen the bait re-lowered to about its original location where the troll will hopefully see it easily, Rhifaroth settles down in the growing darkness to wait. He is quiet, but... unarmed except for small shield and boot knife. Now might be those over long moments to wander how stupid this all seems, to risk so much. But, the man stays focused... he must have a blade, -this- particular blade, back. And so he waits.

[Tzippy(#31700)]

There is a small thumping sound and the sound of loud yawning as the small troll inside the cave eases herself awake. There is the sound of scratching and then, the small troll emerges from the cave, rubbing her eyes and scratching her hair.

[Ollie(#15066)]

The distant rumble - thunder? - becomes louder.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal, not wishing to slip up again, knows what she must do. She jerks on the rope, not enough to raise the hobbit sized doll up into the air, but enough so that it makes a loud rustling noise and moves about, pushing on one of the rocks that form its resting place.

Halbarad has disconnected.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The man waiting near to the cave does not move... for fear of attracting the thing's attention. He sees dimly, but more hears, the rustling noise of the doll shifted about on it's rope to attract the beast. Still, he does not yet move himself.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The shudder felt through the ground, the faint but growing noise... it may be that it is the troll so close moving about unseen in it's cave, or maybe it is just distant thunder. The man tries not to edge forward, too eager, too soon. Rhifaroth must wait until he sees that the small troll has spotted the bait and is going for it before he can go foreward

[Tzippy(#31700)]

The little troll goes back into the cave for a moment and emerges, dragging a large sack behind her and sucking on her thumb. She looks around the area by her cave and her eyes widen. The thumb comes out of her mouth. "Dolly!"

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal flinches as the troll speaks, but she cannot look away, fascinated. She's never seen a troll-child before. The warrioress doesn't miss her mark: again, she gives a little tug, causing the large doll to move in a most beguiling way. It waits outside the cave for Tzippy's pleasure.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Seeing the thing has picked up the bag and brings it out, the man grits his teeth, but keeps his place ... surely the beast will drop and forget the bag with being distracted by the offering - else their plan might be ruined! Rhifaroth's grey eyes glance worried, towards where the bait lingers, but he can barely see it himself now that it is so dark.

[Tzippy(#31700)]

The little troll drags the bag a few more feet and then drops it. She puts the thumb back in her mouth and waddle-runs closer to the dolly, reaching for it, trying to hug it. "Dolly for Tzippy!"

[Ollie(#15066)]

Clouds mass in the west, sending tendrils across the night sky. Oddly, they almost seem to quiver... or is it the ground that rumbles like that?

THUD

THUD

THUD

And now there is a wordless drone to the wind - a basso note that wails up and down some impossibly low scale.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal is caught off guard by the childish, almost adorable words. But then she remembers the creature, and gives a tug on the rope as Tzippy reaches for the doll; the hobbit-sized stuffed thing begins to shoot up high, until it is many, many feet in the air; what the warrioress hopes is out of the troll's reach. She feels the ground move, but holds her position.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Not pleased that the bag was not left in the cave, and thus is not a lot closer to himself than the creature, Rhifaroth has no choice but to move. Trusting that Muirgheal knows what to do to keep the doll out of the thing's reach for just the few precious moments he needs for Tzippy to remain distracted, the injured man moves rapidly, but as quietly as he may, towards that bag...

His left arm still splinted, small round shield upon his good right arm, the Dunadan tries to get to the bag and rummage quickly enough through it before the thing sees him. The odd sound and vibration through the earth is ... clearly NOT the young troll. The man can't help but hesitate as he reaches the bag, glancing up nervously. Surely that must be thunder, approaching.

L Tzippy

Small for a troll, this hulking figure is 10 feet tall and half again as wide. Her skin is slate grey and relatively smooth, though there are several nicks and scrapes, especially around her knees and elbows. She wears what might once at one point have been a large table cloth or tent that she has fashioned into a sort of raggedy wrap around skirt. A bit of wispy black hair crowns her head and it has been pulled together into a sort of ponytail that looks to be secured with what might be the remains of some sort of small forest creature.

Carrying:

Wyr's Long Sword

Studded Leather Armor

Mace

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth returns his attention to the troll's smelly, large, shabby bulk of a sack and opens it using both his hands, aching left arm be damned - his sling left off for good reason. He reaches in with the full length of his right arm and feels about for the blade, not particularly being careful of cutting himself so much as being determined and in haste to grab the blade any way he can lay his hand upon it....

[Tzippy(#31700)]

The little troll reaches up for the dolly as it's yanked out of her reach. "Silly dolly! Stop moving!"

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal hoists the dolly up the last of the distance. She tugs hard on the rope, so that the hobbit-like thing does a wild little dance back and forth from up high, ever so attractive. Perhaps if the troll jumped, her arms high, she could reach the thing..

[Tzippy(#31700)]

The little troll pouts and then jumps in the air, reaching for the dolly.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal lowers the dolly just about two feet, to give the troll child a cruel false hope, that the thing is coming down into her arms, but she stops it short and the dolly returns to its highest position, still dangling and dancing.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth manages to get his hand on the blade and to draw it out while the awful creature actually leaps up to grab at the doll-bait. The man doesn't allow himself to look up to see what is going on except for the quickest glance at the resounding, ground shaking **THUMP!** as Tzippy lands from her leap at the doll. He drags the blade out, grateful in the dim light that it seems to be his own, then he turns and makes for his previous cover - trusting to Muirgheal to keep herself hidden as she is able...

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal, stealing a brief glance in Rhifaroth's direction, cannot see much. She hopes she's bought him ample time; she worries that the distraction of the doll out of reach will be too frustrating to the troll child, in time. Thus, she looses her hold on the rope and lets the dolly drop to Tzippy's waiting arms, a new companion. The warrioress herself, dark in her armor, slips off into the night, hoping for herself and more for Rhifaroth.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Now that he has regained the limited shelter of the trees, and the thing is left behind him with sounds of having perhaps attained the doll bait, Rhifaroth doesn't waste time lingering. The man moves with what stealth he can, but also with speed, to try and circle back around and head towards the unseen road to the south where he is to meet back up with Muirgheal...

Having no scabbard handy on his person, Rhifaroth carries the blade naked, in his good hand, ready to use it if need be.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal is fast on her feet; this is not the first time she's outrun something undesirable, by far. She breathes in the night air back on the road, resting doubled over, hands on her knees. Fear and adrenaline leave her a little, making her tired, but her eyes are scanning the darkness still, looking for Rhifaroth. She wills herself not to worry, but fails.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

There is a long wait that seems to drag on and on for the woman, but finally, though there is also a growing an very alarming noise as well, Rhifaroth finally comes out into the road, breathing hard. The long, bared blade of his sword gleams dully in the night, catching and reflecting the little light even in the dimness, for an instant.

Turning to look about himself both for Muirgheal, and for the source of the new thundering threat that may be another troll also in the area, his face is a little pale and grim, worried.

[Ollie(#15066)]

A droning wail that resolves into words. Deep bouldery words, accompanied by the vast drumbeat of gigantic feet. "Gots sheeps!" Ollie carols. "Sheeps to eat, eat for meat, sheeps is sweet for Ollie to eat."

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal mutters something under her breath and hastens to Rhifaroth's side. Relief is replaced by dread on her face as the much larger troll's words reach them. "Eat," is about the only word the warrioress comprehends. Panicked, she looks for a place to hide- perhaps up a tree? But looks back to Rhifaroth then. She won't leave him, so she lets him choose their course of action.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Ample adrenaline rushing through his blood, the tall injured man hears a larger troll's bone chilling rhyme. Alarmed, and maybe dreading that the second creature might draw out the first, he doesn't linger to see how large this new threat is that comes towards them in the night.

As Muirgheal comes up out of the darkness upon the road, Rhifaroth starts, tense. He leaps to her side and his left hand grabs at hers, blade in his right. He doesn't care if yanking on her arm hurts his own.

The man begins to run west along the dark road, saying nothing and saving his breath to run. Whatever is on his mind, he surely must have some idea because he doesn't go far before he slows and begins to lead the woman off of the road, just along a depression in the ground that slips off towards the south-west.…

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal complains not at all about the sharp tug on her arm. Her long legs carry her quickly along at Rhifaroth's side. She's silently grateful for pushing herself so hard at sword practice, to be in such good physical condition. She follows Rhifaroth off the road, eyes wide but afraid to turn her golden head and look back.

[Ollie(#15066)]

Oliver is a smaller troll compared to some, but he is much larger than Tzippy; and much, much larger than the fleeing humans. "Sheeps," he sings happily, starting his song over as he thunders along the road, at peace with the world. "Sheeps is sweet, sheeps to eat, meat for eating sweet sweet sheeps...." The song breaks off abruptly with a shout. "HEY! Oo's dat? Yer comes back and talks ter Ollie!" The thudding footsteps abruptly quicken as the troll gives chase. "Yer gots sheeps?" he bellows.

L Ollie

If a pile of boulders suddenly stood up and started moving, it would look something like Oliver. Large, irregularly shaped, and suspiciously stony. His greyish pocked skin is rough like granite, and wrinkles quarry themselves like crevices across his body. Teeth that could have been formed from bits of cracked shale fill his cavern-like mouth, and eyes like bits of obsidian gleam cunningly in his craggy face. He is somewhere around 11 feet high, and bits of flotsam and jetsam hang randomly around his body lashed there by rotting ropes. Dented kettles, blood-stained bags, bags that drip blood from obscure bulges, sticks, bones... all of his treasures packaged up in easy reach.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The man hears that at the very last, they were spotted by the beast. Rhifaroth can't help himself and he utters as curse in some foreign tongue, softly. One quick, awful look back is all the man spares.

He has had to let go of Muirgheal's hand, his left arm hurting far too much to keep a hold of her. He looks around very quickly, trying to get his bearings in the dark, then taps her near shoulder to keep following him. Now in the thick brush off of the road, they might at least be both harder to see, and slow the thing somewhat. Surely they couldn't hope to outrun it upon the road.

Rhifaroth crouches low, but moves as fast as he may without making any more noise than he can help. He seems to know where he is going and the depression he follows is growing deeper, into a dry creek bed. In only moments, thick thorny brush arcs over top of their heads as he continues moving towards his old, previous encampment.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal, too, is cursing- in Westron- very softly, and very foully. At another time, Rhifaroth might wonder where she learned such colorful words. Her hand is bleeding slightly, but she ignores it, scratched by a thorn on their hastened journey through the tangled brush. Again she hopes her earth-toned clothing will aid in invisibility.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The man looks back and quietly shushes the woman, setting himself against the dry creek bank in the darkness to sit still a moment to listen ... where is the beast? Is it closing, or going on up the road? His breathing fast, Rhifaroth tries to quiet his own breath to hear.

[Ollie(#15066)]

The small creatures flee ahead of him, and Oliver puts on a bit more speed, thundering along the road in swift and inexorable pursuit. "Comes back!" he howls. "Yer comes back!" And then the road is empty. But, caught in the joy of the night, the cool wind in his ears, the clouds dark and thrilling overhead, Oliver barely notices. Neither does he notice when the road bends back to the north at the edge of the marshes - or maybe it's just that in full steam as he is, he can't turn so well - for he crashes straight on west; through shrub and bush. "Comes baaaaaaaaackkkk!!!"

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal lays still on the old creek bank in the dark, looking rather miserable, and now attending to her hand. She's silent as Rhifaroth listens for the creature. She slows her breathing- that is, until the troll crashes loudly through brush. Then, the warrioress sits straight up and curses again, visibly shaken.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The horrible crashing sound makes the man jump involuntarily where he is resting and listening. The terrible sound is so loud, and so close - close enough to be very unsettling, even as Rhifaroth can place that it's a bit east and slightly north of them. But not very far.

Still, for the moment, he does not get back up, staying still and trying to get his breath back. In the darkness he can not see Muirgheal, but he can hear her breathing and sense her closeness. Very carefully, he shifts to her side of the bank, still listening to the sounds of the creature, trying to keep silent and determine if it is going away, or coming closer. The man presses his sore shoulder and splinted arm against the woman, his long sword still held in his right hand, waiting.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal whispers very softly against Rhifaroth's ear, "I think it's coming closer." She cannot seem to catch her breath, or to keep her hands from shaking. One thing's certain, the warrioress cannot remember the last time she was so frightened. She is silent then, waiting, ready to flee whenever Rhifaroth moves.

[Ollie(#15066)]

Oliver may be yet a bit east of the two lying hidden (they hope), but not for long. His vast, trunk-like legs carry him enormously fast, even through such spindly obstacles as a bit of low-lying brush. "BACK!" he roars again, when suddenly something breaks through the delicious mesmerizing night-wind. The troll comes to a stop - rather like a freight-train stopping - it takes quite a while. And then he turns in circles, head up, snuffling at the wind. "Sheeps..."

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth moves his injured left arm to lay it upon Muirgheal's right thigh, his hand upon her knee - perhaps to try and ease her fear and quiet her. For his own part, the man is slowing his breathing and his own heart rate, listening carefully. He does not seem to be afraid, perhaps as far as Muirgheal may be able to tell, just patient and recouping his resources with rest, while he can steal it. He is a long time veteran of close fighting, and used waiting.

As the huge thing seems to back track back to the road and stops, snuffling the air, the man's heart sinks. His hand tenses every so softly upon Muir's leg.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal, who much prefers to fight and kill things of her own size or near to it, quiets somewhat at Rhifaroth's touch. She closes her eyes, no point to looking into the thick darkness, and listens carefully to try and hear where the creature might be.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The creature seems to come closer, but then move further off. Not hearing anything to indicate that it has scented them, Rhifaroth's hand loosens again upon Muirgheal's knee. He keeps still, his own eyes already closed as he relaxes. There will be time enough for fear and flight if the thing finds them.

[Ollie(#15066)]

Sniff. Sniff. "I knows yer there!" says Ollie in a sing-song sort of voice. "Yers comes out...!" Another quarter circle and the vast terrible nostrils flare again, scenting the wind. The troll's voice drops to a sort of cajoling note. "Yer comes talks wif Ollie? Tells Ollie 'bout sheeps! Annnnd," his deep-set piggy eyes gleam with sudden delight. "Saahlt!"

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal moans, followed by another soft curse. "Now what?" She murmurs. The urge to slip up into the treetops is tempting, but again she remains earthbound so as not to leave Rhifaroth. Suddenly, an idea: "Do you have the meat?" she whispers. "Do you want me to...talk to it?"

[Ollie(#15066)]

The brush crackles protestingly; low branches snap beneath Oliver's feet. "Come out," he says pleadingly. "Yers comes out..." A glimmer of cunning: "Ollie not eats yers..."

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal's shaking fingers reach up to her belt, where a small bag hangs next to her longsword. She'd kept it near, to tempt Tzippy with. "Here, then," the warrioress says, temporarily relieved. "Do I talk to it?" she wonders, not fooled by its last words. She looks at Rhifaroth.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Trying to keep his voice so low that it's barely even a whisper against the woman's ear, Rhifaroth shifts his head to try and see what she has brought... not the full pack, obviously. It was left behind in their haste - back where the other troll is - and they are not much likely to go back for it.

"Talk to it? Are you mad?" But then, he remembers that she has delt with more trolls in the past than he has and he grinds his teeth, "You are supposed to be the expert." He barely whispers.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

"Unless you have a better plan!" Muirgheal hisses back to Rhifaroth. Yet she seems disinclined to reveal their hiding place until she knows for certain that the troll has their whereabouts. She remains silent, waiting.

[Ollie(#15066)]

The snuffling sounds grow louder. A branch pops not far away. "I smells yer!" Oliver crows. "Mens, nice tasty mens."

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth doesn't dare even hiss a curse, as the thing IS closing in on their hiding place. His left hand tightens upon Muir’s knee, then is removed. He struggles with his right arm to get back to his feet, very, very carefully trying not to make noise. The thorny brush right over their heads and the dry creek's shallow bank leads on off to the south west, somewhat towards Bree but too far to the south.

Reluctantly, the man tugs at Muirgheal's sleeve in the darkness with his left hand again, to get her up. Long sword at the ready, he risks the noise and begins to move down the depression, trying to slip them further from the road and the creature...

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal means to follow Rhifaroth, but she pauses first. She unties the bag from her belt, and gives it the best throw she can, aiming to throw it in the direction of the creature. Not waiting to see if it found its mark, she moves silent as she can manage after her companion.

[Ollie(#15066)]

Oliver has paused, head tilted, a grotesquely frozen statue... listening. Breathing. The heavy rasp of his breath stirs dried leaves and breaks the silence - like the earth itself breathing. Something thuds softly onto the ground and his head snaps around. A sudden pounce, "GOTCHER!" he cries... is there disappointment that this find is not the men he sought? Doesn't seem like it from the happy sounds of chewing. There's at least enough here for a good mouthful, and he wasn't really all that hungry anyways.

Ollie has disconnected.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The man hesitates only a moment in the darkness, hearing the woman's movements and her throwing the bag. He says nothing, thinking her idea wise, then begins to move on quickly... the sounds of the thing behind them change, and begin to recede. Rhifaroth doesn't stop, but keeps winding their way in the darkness, trying to be careful now that they have moved on past where his previous encampment was located, into unknown land.

The dry creekbed begins to become shallower, the land rising slowly away from the marsh to the north. The brush thins more towards tall, wind blown grasses. As their cover recedes, they moves on up further until they come to a low growing tree in the darkness. There then, Rhifaroth finally stops and drops down to lean against the trunk, tired but not exhausted, "Good thinking... Muir. Are you all right?" His voice is still low.

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

"If you are," Muirgheal replies, sinking down onto the grass beneath the tree. Her breathing slowly, her hands, no longer shaking, brush stray grass and thorns from her armor and clothing. "More worried about losing you than becoming that thing's supper." The golden-haired lady says at last. She pulls off her helmet to let the night air cool her brow. She, too, is tired from the flight.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

Rhifaroth sits quietly for a few breaths, then lays his treasured, recovered long sword over his thighs. His left arm pains him but he ignores it, running his good right hand over the blade and the black leather and gold wire wrapped hilt, "I got it back... thank you, Muir. We did well, very well, considering."

Letting out a long breath, the tall man also removes his helm and drops it into the grass. He can hardly see her in the darkness, but glances up to the sky, "I'll be light, soon enough."

Easing over to his side, carefully tucking in his left arm and laying the sword beside him, Rhifaroth edges closer to the woman and reaches his good arm out to her, laying his head down against whatever part of her is near, "We can rest, a little."

[Muirgheal(#32535)]

Muirgheal smiles at the recovered thing, the object of all their troubles. "Yes, at least there's that." She says quietly. Her eyes, fairly accustomed to the dark, watch Rhifaroth, then travel toward the sky. "I'll be glad when it is, then." The lady keeps her back up against the tree, unable to stop keeping watch. When Rhifaroth lays his head in her lap, her fingers run through his hair. "Rest," she whispers. "I'll make sure nothing comes this way." The fierce lady glares into the dark, as if willing anything to try to disturb them after all they've been through this night.

[Rhifaroth(#27282)]

The injured man is not sleepy, just wanting a bit of rest as his cracked ribs are still mending as well. Mindful of her fingers in his damp, messy hair, Rhifaroth smiles in the darkness, watching Muirgheal dimly above him. But he says nothing.

-------------------------------------------- End of RP Log --------------------------------------------