During the trip and early in the morning, Saelvach brings his horse near to where Boldor is riding behind Gwalchmai, and changing from his normal silent self says to him: "Boldor... You said you were to follow your dream's directions. What makes you feel so? It seemed to me you were able to take your own decisions, as well as to accept their consequences... I felt you afraid, in fact. Who, or what, could do that to you?" He looks at the Dwarf's eyes, trying to read his answers there. 

"Ah, Sealvach, my feeling is simply that I should follow the dream's directions, and like most of these types of visions, there is 
uncertainty regarding when and why, but nonetheless I will go through the portal one day - and in my mind hopefully quite soon.  For I would not wish to be responsible for what may or may'nt happen if I do not.  As to who it was who I sensed, it was none but the Father of all us Dwarves - the one who created us in the youth of the world and breathed life into us before even the Eldar were awake."  Boldor pauses and waits for Sealvach to respond. 

"Well, I have also seen something similar but it was not sent by anyone that I can tell. It was an arch and beyond it the land was rough and sharp as in the mountains and snow there was aplenty upon the ground. For a fleeting moment I watched as a weary line of Dwarves trudged through the snow heading away from my viewpoint.That is all I can remember. Perhaps they mean something, perhaps not." The Gambler shrugs and looks forwards once more, silent in his brooding and slowly his horse drops back behind 
the Dwarves. 

Boldor, understanding that he will get naught else from the enigmatic Elf, approaches Froin. "Friend and Kinsman, do you know naught of this portal that I dreamed, Have you in your travels and your lore gathering heard of this portal being used by us or made by us? What think ye of my dream?" 

"I do not know Boldor. I have tried to discern what this omen wishes to tell us. We may not know until the time for knowing arrives. But..." Froin searches his memory, "While I have not heard of this portal, the hall you speak of... I have been many places. Can you remember more about this grand hall? Any specific statues, carvings...even people perhaps? That way I might be able to help you." He soon trails off and the two switch to speaking the hard language of Khuzdul, or so it seems to Gwalchmai who although trying not to listen too hard cannot understand a word of it anyway. It seems that both Dwarves aid their voices by using a flurry of significant hand and facial gestures - almost like a language of secret signs and Gwalchmai soon gives up and stares ahead into the blooming of 
deep grey clouds up ahead. 
 

*>At the ambush site. 

As the company arrive, a multitude of black carrion crows ascend in a squawking and cawing cloud and scatter for the surrounding trees. Heladil looks nervously around as does Sealvach with a deep frown showing beneath his trail hat. Arekhel shivers at the ugly creatures and holds tighter the raised rear support of Harmal's saddle. 

Meraina surveys the area carefully to see if she can pick out anything that the others miss but she remains on her horse, as does Gwalchmai who pays particular attention to the dead Szreldor and the colour of the arrows that protrude noticeably from each one. 

Before everyone is approaching the battlefield, the Gargath leader shouts loud however: "Stay back, you will only destroy the tracks." He looks around. "Those who are good at reading them should examine the place first." He waves to Maleg: 
"Let's see what we can make out of it." He dismounts his horse and carefully approaches the dead bodies. He examines the arrows and the wounds which have caused the death of the Easterlings as the rest of Harmal's men fan out to cover the whole of the shallow depression, from one side to the other and sweep it's entire length looking for clues. 

Arekhel, having ridden on Captain Harmal's horse for most of the day, jumps down to the soft turf and looks around. She turns and smiles quickly to the captain, to thank him for the ride. She then walks slowly towards the scene, where the rangers are, surveying the whole place. She remains silent and seems to concentrate, closing her eyes slightly and taking deep breaths, finding her inner calm. After a few short moments, she opens her eyes once more and then approaches one of the dead men nearby. She kneels down and surveys the dead body, holding her sleeve against her mouth and nose, poking the corpse with a stick she finds in the grass. Strangely, the man has not begun to decompose and the carrion birds have only just begun their feasting. 

It is then that the scouts return from their outward sweep. Coru with Lochan beside him ride to join the rest of the company and dismount. As Lochan joins Harmal, the Gargath tracker moves over to one of the bodies which has been taken down by an arrow, and examines the shaft. 

<It is a typical shortbow arrow, fletched with a yellow-dyed feather and designed to be fired from horseback.> 

Coru pulls out his long-bladed knife and cuts away until he can remove it with the tip intact. He looks closely but cannot see any sign of poison. He then walks around the battle-scene, nose to the ground and tries to learn as much as possible about what may have happened. Then remounting his brown mare who has begun to graze, Coru strokes its neck, while he gazes towards the sky, and half mumbles to himself: "There is an ill wind blowing here. We shall have storms soon and their striking will be like the thunder of a thousand hooves across the plain." He shudders involuntarily and quickly moves over to where Maleg and Relg are talking quietly amongst themselves in the language of the plains. 

Sealvach silently inspects the battle scene, his eyes shaded by his ever present hat. Slowly directing his horse between the bodies, he rounds the place, searching for clues. At times, he dismounts and scans the turf with great attention, before mounting back upon his steed once more. 

Having completed his circle, the Gambler approaches the corpses and dismounts. Slowly, he examines the surrounding area, wondering where the death might have come from, and examines the bodies, horses and men in turn. He takes one of the arrows, and frowns while inspecting it closely. At last, he places it in the quiver set at his saddle and stands, once more examining the dell, trying to imagine what event had occurred here. 

The brown-haired, childlike hobbit gets off his pony to join Sealvach. He flashes the shady Elf a quick smile before casting about for tracks. Occasionally he follows small depressions in the ground before stopping and returning to the battlefield, all the while humming to himself in his own little world. He stops as he pulls a face at a globule of blood stuck between his toes. Sitting down, he begins to wipe his feet and says to no one in particular: "From what I sees there be two sets of tracks." Pointing to his left he continues: "It seems that some of the forerunners of these 'ere Szreldor band turned about and rapidly did turn back to where the 
carts had suddenly stopped." Now pointing ten yards ahead of him he says: 
"There was much commotion around them - the bodies are mostly being over there." He looks away quickly from the dead bodies and adds, "It seems that some of the Szreldor then tried to flee from the larger group and were cut down by arrows and swords." 

Billy, now finished with his large hairy feet, threads his way carefully back to his pony. After four or five unsuccessful attempts to remount he finally drags himself up into the saddle with a yelp of triumph. Turning to survey the bodies again he says in a solemn tone, "I hopes none of those folk weren't the ones from the town, does any of 'e recognise any?" 

"Uhm... this place is scary. I wonder why they turned back and fled?" Raddish says coming near to Billy. "It seems as if they were caught by an ambush." 

Billy looks at his fellow Hobbit with a sad look of agreement. "Friend Raddish, I's been seeing more killing these past few days than I has seen the rest of my life. These here Szreldor seem to attract death like Dumbledoors around the marshes-lights." 

Starting to look round for any signs of further trouble, Raddish adds: 
"Perhaps on the bodies we will find some clues of this 'enemy' they fought so hopelessly. Relg, do you see anything familiar with these arrows?" 

But the Gargath are busy in another part of the scene and don't hear him. Billy shakes his head, "Maybe it's because a lot of these here dead are only common folk and not warriors but I's don't feel right going through they's pockets." 

Ignoring all else in the clearing, Sealvach walks over to the body of the dead woman, lying just before the fringes of a group of dense trees. He pauses and inspects her upturned face. Nodding with a hard look upon his face, the Gambler pushes her over to inspect the entry point of the arrow that caught her squarely in the back. It has a red-fletched flight and Sealvach turns his head to look back at the body of one of the Szreldor, six meters back that also lies still. Getting to his feet, the Gambler retraces his steps until he stands over the dead man and pushes at the quiver upon his back with a toe. A number of red arrows slide out across the man's neck and Sealvach notes a bow part-way hidden beneath the body. He nods and looks up, discerning the denseness of the trees nearby. He 
stealthily draws his sword, a replacement taken from one of the dead militia men from before, and moves swiftly towards the copse, entering it silently and disappearing at once from view. 

Relg watches the Gambler disappear, frowning. Then he slowly nods and turns back to Maleg and Coru. 

Billy watches the Elf move off but makes no attempt to follow, indeed he starts to move further away, keeping a wary eye on the trees, stopping only when he has a knot of warriors near to him... 

They are comparing the clues that they have found, and Billy joins them. Coru is currently speaking: ".I don't think that there are any Easterlings residing this far north and west of the normal territories are there? No, I didn't think so. So it looks as though the attack was by a rogue band of Szreldor or Uldragor maybe?" 

"No, I don't think so Coru," says Relg. 

Maleg nods. "Yes, Tracker. It is hard to tell what has happened here but it seems that some Uldragor were riding with the warband we are seeking - the Loruss Drus. It strikes me as odd that most of the bodies I have inspected have the red-striped faces of Uldor Red-eye. There are only a few of the other Szreldor here and they all seem to have slash wounds from swords. Now what does that mean? The Szreldor fighting with the Uldragor? Why would they have anything to do with each other?" He shrugs, waiting for the 
thinkers of his group to come up with the answers. "I have found one other thing though," he says, "all the Uldragor that are dead here have Szreldor arrows in their backs and seem to have tried to flee the fight. I think we have some sort of power struggle going on in the Szreldor camp, don't you?" 

"It is hard to tell, for sure Maleg. It didn't think the Szreldor left their dead on the battlefield if given the choice? Unless they were on the run? Let us see, what Saelvach finds out," Relg says, pointing to where the Gambler has disappeared into the wood. "We must find out how this battle started and who got involved." The Gargath leader looks around. "As you have said, Maleg, most of the Szreldor have slash wounds, and only the Uldragor were taken by arrows, probably while they tried to flee. To me it looks as if the Uldragor tried to overwhelm the Szreldor, but faced a strong resistance. When they realised that they could gain nothing, they decided to flee. We don't know how many of them managed to survive, but some of them were taken by the Szreldor arrows at least." 

Lochan interrupts him for a moment as he arrives with Harmal: 
"There are no signs that anyone else fled in a direction other than that," and he points to where the tracks of the wheeled carts continue along the path rising up out of the dell ahead. "It seems that what few Uldragor  there were in the warband, all died here." 

Relg nods at this fresh information and continues: 
"The question remains, why do the Uldragor ride with the Loruss Drus? Do they follow orders of some superior leader? Well, if so, then maybe either the Uldragor or the Loruss Drus decided to ignore their orders and make use of the captives themselves." 

"It does look that way," says Captain Harmal. "I believe that from what we know, some Uldragor or Red-stripes as we call them, were ordered to join the warband of this man Loruss Gars and decided that a few of the prisoners weren't worth bothering with. They took them from the carts intending to butcher them for sport - a common game for them, and ignored the leadership of the other band. Maybe it was directly because of this, or perhaps because Loruss Gars did not appreciate the presence of the other warriors disrupting his band that he ordered them dead, but they died one way or other. Perhaps, this Loruss Gars is a more honourable foe  than those of Uldor Red-eye!" 

"They are Szreldor and therefore they will all die soon enough," says Sealvach, suddenly appearing at Harmal's shoulder. "Whether it's here or somewhere else is of no consequence." 

The others look coldly at his harsh words and Sealvach returns each and every stare, a cold glint in his steely eye. Eventually he mutters: "Death is a well known partner of mine... but I prefer to lead the dance when given the choice. Bodies of those who once were, are too far gone to feel sorry for us living. It is simple for me to do the same. It is a meaningless exercise, is it not?" 

He shrugs and turns away to deftly swing up into his saddle once more. "Oh by the way, there is nothing in yonder woods but perhaps in future, we should check everywhere before we ride to our own deaths in a similar ambush!" He looks coldly at no one in particular, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "I shall not be far away," he mutters into the cold air before pulling hard on the reigns and leading his black steed up the side and out over the heather moor to the west, being quickly lost from sight. 

As the rest of the group gather round, a quick summary is detailed by Harmal. "Okay. What we know here is that there are nine dead Szreldor. Five have arrows in them although two also have signs of being caught by swords. Roughly there are two or three arrows in each body and it has been pointed out that six of the dead have the red eye-stripes of the Uldragor. The others do not. It appears that there must have been relatively few bowmen. Maybe four or five. There are no other arrows lying around except for those in bodies so it wasn't a pitched battle." 

"No, but the arrows caused at least two or three of the red-striped men to die," answers Lochan. "The dead Szreldor all have sabres or scimitars and all have congealed blood on them. The horses must have been shot by the Szreldor to stop their riders from escaping." 

"A typical strategy of the Szreldor," says Maleg, nodding. 

"The other people were killed either by sword slashes or by thrusts of daggers. The five civilians included. I cannot tell if they are from my village, I do not recognise them but most likely the poor souls are indeed from Buhr Criocha," says Lochan hanging his head a moment in silent prayer. "These were my people," he adds. 

"What about the woman who tried to escape?" asks Captain Harmal, looking from face to face around the circle. 

"Sealvach had a close look at her but it seems she was heading for the trees when one of the red-stripes shot her in the back," says Heladil appearing amongst the assembled group. "It looks as though he was riding after her, to run her down and one of the Szreldor, if they were the attackers, knocked him down also with an arrow," says the Elf. "Whoever they were, they were good marksmen, that is evident." 

"Well, it seems that many survived anyway because all the horses are gone and the carts with them. They all continued along the road east after this event occurred as though nothing had happened and, as Relg has pointed out, they didn't even bury the dead. They have left that task unfortunately to us!" 

Lochan nods and looks at the militia Captain, waiting for the man to say more. Harmal looks over his shoulder at the trail, then squints up at the  sky. "Hmm, I think a storm is brewing over the hills. We should bury the  dead and make shelter for the night here. It is as defensible a spot as any  in this forsaken land. Right, Amthor? See that all bodies are stripped of  essentials and if any of the civilians have some form of identity upon  them. We will build a pyre over by that bank of sand, the trees should keep  the flames from being seen from afar and the smoke will thankfully blow away from us. There is a stream where the horses can drink just over  there," and he points away to the south. You others can perhaps see about setting up some kind of shelter before the storm hits. 

He turns away to command his men about their tasks leaving the companions  to choose for themselves. Lochan shrugs and turns to once again examine the  dead people of the village, searching perhaps, for someone. Heladil  meanwhile rides a distance away from the group and slides from the saddle  to touch a standing willow that bends sharply in the gathering breeze. He  rests his head against it for a moment in thought. 

Billy, his curly brown hair stuck up at all angles from the wind, draws  near to Meraina, wobbling and bobbling in his saddle. "Good Evening  Mistress Meraina, um. what a lovely d-aaaaay," The Hobbit's words turning  into a distressed cry when he nearly falls off the saddle as he takes one of his hands off the reins to point to the fluffy clouds scudding overhead.  He quickly grabs the reins in both hands but his pony starts to drift away  again. Sticking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, an intense  concentration comes over his face as he manages to bring the pony closer  again. "Mistress, I's be quick in case 'e," he nods his head in the pony's  direction, "decides to run away again, most disobedient animal 'e is!" 

Billy seems to stop paying attention to Meraina as he looks straight ahead and starts to mumble to himself, occasionally nodding but other times  shaking his head. A few moments later he looks back at Meraina, "Sorry  'bout that m'lady, the old noggin's," He taps his head with his forefinger,  "not what it used to be!" Then looking about conspiratorially, he asks: 
"That note you found in the wall back at the town, could 'e describe the person who put 'e there?" 

Meraina smiles at Billy's apparent discomfort at riding on his horse.  "Always keep the reins in at least one hand, Billy," she says with a  chuckle. "It was Urmahd that put the chest with the note, key and ring in  the town wall." 

Billy then adds: 
"Do 'e still have it and if so could I see 'e?" 

Meraina frowns at the question.  "I do not have it any more.  Those present  for the War Council now have it all." Meraina then quickly summarises the  note for him instead. 

"Thanks Mistress," Billy says smiling and the little Hobbit rides off in a hurry towards the Gargath. Approaches Relg and again looking about him  conspiratorially, says:
"You know those folk, Ranal and Megrin? well I did hear over their talking did I's." He nods gravely. 

Relgs face grows dark as the Hobbit mentions these two names. 

"Skilled am I's Mr Fist sir! Well theys dunny like 'e," nodding in Relg's direction, "and that fighter type did say 'e sooner put a blade in 'e rather than look at 'e! And your folk too!" He looks briefly over at the other Easterlings. "Theys said theys were after a Torc so that theys could return to Urd and meet Black Nemol to sell it to 'e. Theys also mentioned that theys were dealing with someone called O'marr. Do any of them names mean anything to 'e Mr Fist?" 

"My friend, your ears are sharp and what they caught might be very important. I have not heard of someone named Urd nor someone called Black Nemol. It is a strange name and hard for us Gargath to pronounce the way you do. I can tell you one thing though. It seems this Ohmarr is making a name for himself hereabouts. I believe that name was mentioned on the Szreldor note that belonged to Urmahd." 

The Hobbit looks pleadingly at Relg, barely waiting for him to finish speaking: 
"Mr Fist sir, I think I's have the Torc theys after and I's thinking they knows I's have 'e too. I's no bladesman and they might harm 
for 'e. But I earned this fair an' square an 'e be mine!" Billy suddenly adds determinedly. He hands over the box nevertheless to Relg who has to quickly grab the hobbit as he starts to slide off his saddle once more. "Thank 'e Mr Fist Sire," he spouts as he rights himself. 

Relg frowns at him and retrieves the item from the small casket. 

<It appears to be some sort of neck ornament, a torc perhaps made of bronze or a similar alloy and with engravings upon it. It is attached to some sort of leather thong for wearing around the neck and has two protruding bumps from either of it's upper ends. Whoever wore it must certainly have had a large neck for the thing is heavy and obviously solid and could not be very comfortable.> 

Relg carefully looks at the piece he is now holding in his hand. "What is that, and where did you get it from?" he asks. 

Billy, now on his saddle, looks sharply at the Gargath leader when he asks the question, a faint trace of fear etched upon his features. His expression turns to one of calculation and he wrings his hands as if facing an internal struggle. He straightens his back and resolutely juts his jaw out, as if expecting some sort of ordeal to happen to him, "Very well Mr Relg sir, if Is be needing protection then Is suppose I must be honest with 'e." He then whispers so that no-one except the war-leader can hear. 

Again, a dark shadow soon appears on the Gargath warrior's face, but Relg doesn't interrupt. 

They speak a short while more but then the Hobbit withdraws once more, still occasionally mumbling to himself and ignores the Easterlings further. Raddish joins him and looks enquiringly at him. Billy shrugs and comes to a decision, telling him of his fears. ". so what do you make of all that then?" 

"Oh my. I think it is best if we keep it all to ourselves and then uncover their action when they do it. I wonder why that 'Torc' is so important to them... What do you say about it?" 

Billy scratches his head while looking at the trees. "You know friend Raddish, Is don't rightly know." He gestures his head towards the Easterlings, "Relg has never heard of Urd or Black Nemol either. I guesses that maybe the same band who did attack the Szreldor could have been the ones employing Megrin." He shakes his head and smiles wryly at the Hobbit Ambassador. "I thinks we have but one piece of a large puzzle and only as we is going along further will the pieces come together." Billy hands the necklace he got from Buhr Criocha to Raddish, trying to do it cautiously so that no one else can see it clearly, "Can you see anything special about 'e 
Raddish?" 

"Uhm, let me see... No, I don't notice anything special. I wonder... maybe it is magical? I don't have any knowledge of magic but some of us know much about the Art. I am afraid of asking though. There is something... 'dark' about magic that makes me shiver at the thought." He pauses before looking ahead and swearing: "Darn. The High People are strange sometimes... I don't really understand their motivations, or why they have to kill for this Torc... sometimes I long for my little home, and for a bit of rest, but I know that we are here for some reason... we only have to find out why. Let's keep our ears open... maybe we'll catch something useful. As for the 
Torc, do you think we could ask someone of our party about it? Maybe one of the Elven folk could help?" 

"Hmm, I's don't want to get everyone involved." Billy takes it back and keeps it concealed on his person again. "Maybe e's right though Raddish. I's jus' don't know." 

*> Later that night as the storm rages overhead. 

Lochan who is on watch, notices what appears to be a flickering light away across the heather to the south. He is not certain so calls to the militia man working with him. The other man sees it to and confirms the sighting. As they watch another, then another light joins the first in a parallel line. Not waiting to watch further, Lochan heads back to camp, searching all the while in other directions for signs of more lights but sees none. Waking the Gargath and Captain Harmal first, Lochan doesn't stop but dashes up the steep incline of fallen soil to peer over the top of the slope to the north. Thankfully, there is nothing but the wind and driving spots of 
rain. The night is dark. He turns back to notice from this elevated position that there is indeed a line of what appear to be torches 
flickering in the middle distance across the heather. He leaps down and goes around the camp awaking all to the threat.