Lochan is trudging back through the heather to join the main company prepare for the ride to Buhr Tallanmoor. The Dwarven veteran is with him. "Come Master Boldor, let us get back to the others. I am glad that I shall not make the stint alone". Glancing across to his companion the Ranger adds: 
"How is your arm now, is it healed true?" 

"Aye, almost. It still gives me gip but whatev'r ya did back there in the tower Master Lochan was sur'ly good. I thank ya for y'r aid. I can't b'lieve that damned greenskin got straight thru. like the bright sparks fr'm the forge e' was. Bastard fair near took me arm off!" 

"Did you get a chance to look at this strange Torc which Billy has with him? If it is valuable then I think we ought to ask Billy how he happened upon such a thing." 

“Nay, I havn't. Strange thing t'be carryin' round wid'ya. We should get a look sometime soon, I reckon and sort out what's what." 

"Do you think it has any bearing on the strange dream that you received? Can items such as this act like a key for ancient Dwarven portals?" 

"Aye? What say ya? Key's?. well I don't know 'bout that. Could do I s'pose. You'ld have to talk to Froin about that I reckon. Look, here we're." 

Lochan soon sees to it that the Buhr Criocha militia are ready to depart with the rest of the company and have mingled with Captain Harmal's men to give them second stage support. As the large group finally prepares to move he approaches Captain Harmal: " Sir, I would welcome the opportunity to work with your scout, Mouse. I am not sure I know of the route which he has suggested and I might learn much about the area with him. It should not slow us any, and the Great God know I'm as eager to catch the Szreldor dogs 
as any man here. Is that acceptable?" 

"It is fine by me Lochan. Do what you think is fit for your men. Mouse is the best scout I have and his shrewd eye is always in demand and a better man at reconoitering the enemy I have yet to meet." 

The Ranger nods and goes immediately to join Mouse where the young man is brushing down his horse. Lochan wastes no time in introducing himself: 
"G'd morning Mouse. Many thanks for your information. I am sorry for my impatience with the villagers. Do not allow it to mislead you. I was hasty  because of the people I'm trying to save from the Szreldor scum". 

"Ah, then you and I have something in common already, Ranger. I have seen the wagons of slaves that the Szreldor take south to Szrel Arkasa with them. Are they your people?" 

Lochan replies: 
"Not exactly Mouse. My homeland is elsewhere but I have lived and worked with the good people of Buhr Criocha long enough to care - to care a great deal." He looks distant for a while.  "I have given my word and that is all that matters now." There is a short pause before he adds with a bit more fire in his belly: "Come Master Mouse, if you can teach me this lands secrets you will find me a fast learner!" 

"Sure. If you are interested I will gladly show you the lands of my people." 

"Ah, one thing then before we go, Mouse. You said those Szreldor dogs have defiled the well of the villagers. We will surely need to refill our supplies when we're there but." Lochan looks across to Arekhel and asks her for some advice: 
"Lady, are there any herbs you know of which can be used to purify the well? If so, I or Mouse, ought to be able to collect some on the way to the village." 

The Elven woman looks up with a far away look in her eye. She has been studying the item of Billy's that has been causing quite a stir in the camp for the last hour. The Dwarven Engineer Froin is with her as is the items owner, Billy. 

"No, I do not know of anything that might help. It is a thing that we Elves have no trouble with." Lochan frowns as if finding it hard to understand Arekhel's meaning so she adds: "In the forests of my people, we nurture the very land itself. There would be nothing there that would wish to harm us as we are a natural part of the life that flows there." She shrugs and Lochan after a moments pause nods to Mouse and the two riders swing their mounts round towards the eastern trail. 

Arekhel meanwhile turn and gives the Torc to Froin. "I can feel magic in this Torc, Froin but it is definitively not Elvish. This magic is very faint, and is trying to leave the Torc by its tips" <she points to them> "It is as if this Torc was part of or attached to another bigger magical item, a statue perhaps? Maybe the signs on it could give us more of a clue... is it Dwarvish do you think?" 

"Allow me to look." Froin pulls out a newly filled waterskin and sets to work cleaning the Torc of all the dirt and grime that made it impossible to read the symbols. "Magic, you say?" Froin says, almost to himself, but with some intent of it being a question toward the Elf. Then pulling out some spectacles, one of the few signs of his age, he begins to examine the Torc. 

It is then that Captain Harmal gives the order to mount up. Lochan and Mouse are the first to ride out, heading east along the wagon trail. Froin hurriedly gets to his feet and puts the torc in a velvet bag. Billy half reaches out to ask for it back but then waves his hand dismissively and runs over to find someone to give him and his kit a lift on their horse. Arekhel turns and finds Harmal's mare through the crowd leaving Froin to grab his gear and mount up on Gwalchmai's great Shire horse. Before long the only sound are the cawing of crows in the trees above the six newly piled cairns lying in a row and guarding the passage from east to west. 
 

After a few hours down the trail, the company has spread out into a winding line three horses abreast. Lochan and Mouse are up ahead aways talking together while Gwalchmai, Captain Harmal and the Hobbits are with Meraina and the rest of the group from Buhr Criocha. The journey has been quiet as they let Froin study the Torc and each keeps to his own thoughts of the impending situation that waits for them ahead in the borderlands between civilisation and the wilds of eastern Rhovanion. Froin suddenly wakes from his scrutiny and gathers Relg, Arekhel and Billy to him. 

Pulling the Torc out, he begins: 
"You were right Arekhel, it is Dwarven made and filled with magic. But the magic is fading as these crystals wear away at the tips. Although I don't believe these crystals to be brittle, I think that they are wearing away because of age, I don't want to take that chance," Froin says, indicating the velvet bag he fished out for it earlier. "I have deduced that the symbols are designed purely to focus the powers inherent in the Torc. I am also convinced that the symbols are not in the style of the Longbeard Dwarves, that is of my people. Perhaps the Stiffbeads, or maybe even the Ironfists from the far north. While I do not believe that the symbolism serves any other purpose and are therefore not supposed to give any hidden information, I also do not believe in just throwing out the idea." He shrugs as if annoyed to not know more. "I would like to hold onto this a little longer. I wish to study it some more." Speaking to Arekhel he adds: 
"I would also like to spend some time with you determining what exactly this item's purpose serves. There is indeed magic flowing through the symbols. What that magic is could be of some use to us." 

Relg adds: 
"Well, what we should not forget is, to ask why the Black Fist of the North would like to have this artefact. Maybe this link can offer some explanation." 
 

A while later… 

The main company catches up with Lochan and Mouse who await them at a junction of a far smaller track with the main trail. The smaller track leads directly south and skirts some higher rolling hills studded with trees. The white-haired Scout seems impatient to be on his way once more and his horse snorts and paws the cold hard ground. 

Relg closes up to Harmal. He gives Arekhel a short look, being just about to say something. But then he addresses the Captain and Mouse: "I have been thinking. From what you said earlier, Mouse, I guess that the Szreldor dogs are quite a superior number. We must consider this when coming up with a battle plan." 

"Indeed," is all that the Captain returns. 

The Gargath warleader looks at the Captain. "You should know that even if the Szreldor would all die during the battle, it would still mean a victory for them to kill all their captives. And if we leave them enough time, they will simply do it. So, our main goal must be to keep them busy, and we have to find a way, either to split them into several groups or to take them from two sides and to confuse them." 

"Hmm, you have a point Relg. Mouse? Would the Szreldor really murder all their captives before we could rescue them?" 

"I'm not so sure Captain, replies the scout. Conall Sleagach has had much experience with fighting the Szreldor so he would be the best person to ask but I don't think we will have time. not if we want to rescue the people of Buhr Criocha before the Szreldor head across the river Carnen into their own lands. 

After a while of thinking, Relg adds: 
"And we must not forget the scout group that was with them. If they get to know about our attack, they may still be enough to hit us badly, and we would then face two battle lines." More to Mouse, Relg continues: "Do you know any area where we would have the trail between two hills, with gentle slopes, where we could set up an ambush. Some trees would be good, which we could prepare as traps. And if we would have rocks, we could roll down the slopes..." Relg is thinking, while he is speaking, and it is clear that he 
is not yet satisfied with his ideas. 

"I have a friend who knows the lands well. If I can find him and we cannot catch the Szreldor soon, then he may be our best bet to catch them unawares. We will have to monitor their progress carefully and guess their planned route." 

Captain Harmal adds: 
"Let us discuss this tonight, in the relative safety and quiet of Buhr Tallanmoor. We need some indication of the terrain that the Szreldor could be soon passing through and whether we can get aid from those like your friend Mouse who can get us ahead of them to set an ambush. Now let us ride, lest our pet Rats catch us up!" 

With that Mouse nods and with Lochan riding by his side, lead the way due south towards the way-town of Buhr Tallanmoor. 

….. 

By Nightfall, the company starts to see the well-tilled fields of civilisation and comes soon round  the last of the dividing hills to see the village of Buhr Tallanmoor, a crossroads trading centre between the fairly empty lands of the Northmen and the rolling hills stretching northeast into Dwarven territory. Little more than a gathering of houses about the road with a broad open space in the center about a large well, it is indeed how Mouse described it. There are four buildings vaguely smoking lending the air a sooty feel and only a few inhabitants seem to be moving around at this late town. 

As the group enter the outskirts of the village, a small boy jumps up from behind an overturned wagon and runs away from them into the center of the village, dissappearing from view. Dogs shy away from the company, skulking inbetween the loosely scattered buildings while a couple of faces peer from out of the shadows of shuttered windows and a man making the last repairs to his damaged roof stops wielding his hammer for a moment to look down upon the unlikely looking cavalcade riding into the settlement. 

Before the group reaches the central market square, a large crowd of villagers have gathered around the well and many clutch farm implements that while not designed for fighting, could be quite dangerous in the hands of a resolute farmer. Before them stands a hugely wide individual who steps forward as Captain Harmal also comes forward with Mouse by his side. The man sees the youth's shock of white hair and bursts out into a wide grin, splitting the darkness of his beard in two. "Ah, Mouse!" he bellows. "You 
return my son?" 

"Ay, Uncle. Allow me to introduce my Captain, Dane Harmal of Buhr Tallanmoor and his company." 

Captain Harmal slides from his steed and strides forward to grip the other man's hand in a firm shake. "Headman Grum at your service," answers Grum. 

A gasp comes from one of the women standing amongst the crowd nearby and Harmal swiftly looks round. "Uhem, may I also introduce to you and your people, our allies in these troubled times? This is Relg of the Fist of the free Gargath peoples, fighting the Szreldor in the south and his two henchmen. Lochan MacAthlor and Gwalchmai McGwahldad of the northern settlement of Buhr Criocha. Their village has recently been ransacked by the Szreldor warband that attacked yourselves so recently. Also, we have the Lady Arekhel from the forests far to the East, Raddish Smallfold and Billy Goatsfoot from the fair Anduin, the Lady Meraina and two great Dwarves, Boldor and Froin from the Iron Hills." 

"Phew, a motley crew but I'm glad that your people are here Harmal. You know of the attack from Mouse here, I suppose? Well, let me tell you all of it over a good glug of ale in my tavern!" 

A rousing cheer announces their agreement and the militia men dismount to stable their horses beside the larger building ahead. A sign swings in the late evening wind proclaiming Grum's establishment as "The Roasted Boar". 

As the group enter one by one into the warmer confines of the tavern front room, they here the growling voice of Grum continuing somewhere beyond their vision: 
"…well we cannot offer you much Captain here, but I understand that provisions must be made available and we will do what we can to furnish your men with supplies. Coll, our Dwarven smith, might be able to repair damaged equipment and armour but it all depends on how long you intend staying - believe me, our poor people are struggling to repair their damaged homes before the next change in the weather and we are only now beginning to assess the damage to our livestock and supplies of food left from the winter. You say you intend going after the Szreldor? Well good luck to you. Word has gone out to our overlord, Baron Mongan of the attack but it may be days until we get a response. We are a village of traders. We do not seek war, why should they attack us?" 
 

Meanwhile… 
 

Sealvach nods at Heladil's proposal for a stop, and then asks: 
"How long do you wish to rest? I think that we might give the others around two or three hours as a lead." He squints at their surroundings: "Let's find a suitable place where you could stay and I will investigate the area. Luck might still be with me, I didn't spend it all with Boldor!" he ends, smiling. 

Grinning, the Gambler gestures then to the northeast: 
"Let's turn this way," he suggests then. "While the tracks ran northwest, Ranal and Megrin will have to double back if they wish to catch the others... While you rest, I'll check north in case they decided to turn east sooner than that." 

Heladil agrees, "Yes let us go north though.  I need some rest and I will try and see if I can enlist some aid.  I suggest though that if we cannot find their tracks in a relatively quick time that we shadow the party from a distance and see if we can spot them as they perhaps try and do the same. If they want this mysterious torc, then they will probably do the same as we will, but I hope that they don't expect to be spied upon from the rear. 

With that Heladil and Sealvach seek a temporary shelter beneath the protection of a small stand of silver birch trees. Heladil looks to the sky for many minutes but sees nothing. Sighing the Elf rests while Sealvach leaves to scout the area around to the north further. 

After about three hours, the Elf is again awoken, at first he is not sure why but then a tell-tale cry is heard in the skies above and Heladil rolls out of cover to see the familiar sight of a brown kite heading tangentially across the sky. He calls out to it and after some effort succeeds in bringing the bird of prey close by. As it circles overhead, Sealvach returns from the east. Seeing Heladil standing and watching the kite, Sealvach freezes and moves extremely slowly, waiting for a sign from his companion that he has things in hand and that the bird will not fly away, afraid by an intruder. 

After about five minutes, the bird lifts a wing and catches the wind, wheeling off to the south. Heladil turns to regard Sealvach as the Gambler appears from hiding and approaches. 

"I have not found any signs of our quarry to the north and east Heladil. What luck have you found with the bird there?" 

"Hmm, not sure. A difficult individual but we might have struck a deal. We can only wait and see. If there is anything moving amongst this heather, the Kite will surely be the one to notice. The question is, will it let us know?" 

"What do you propose Heladil?" 

"I think we pack up and head back to the wagon trail, following the bird. If we loose sight of it, then we loose the benefit of our airial observer!" 

"Let us go then," answers the other Elf and grabs his light pack. 

The two leap over the heather and swiftly follow the diminishing form of the bird of Prey that even now is just a speck in the sky and heading in a broad circle towards the southeast. 

….. 

It takes little less than three quarters of an hour to head in a straight line back to the dell where the massacre of the day before occurred. The Elves move swiftly and keep the circling bird in sight as they approach the muddy eastern trail to Buhr Tallanmoor. Sealvach is ahead and leaps across the flat riverbed to ascend the other side. Heladil is follwing when he pauses and looks about. Shouting in the Elven tongue to his  disappearing companion, Heladil says: "Sealvach? Wait! Where did the wagon tracks go?" 

"What?" answers the Gambler, pausing to look down from the high embankment. "What are you talking about? Which wagon?" 

"The wagons of prisoners? It passed this way, no?" he points to the wavering deep lines of wheels in the mud. 

"Yeah, look what's your point?" answers Sealvach angrily. "Your bird is getting away." 

"Wait Sealvach, there is something not right here." The Elven Scout crouches to survey the dirt tracks of the prison wagons, then after a moment stands once again and chuckles holding his head with one hand. 

"What's it now?" growls Sealvach trudging down the sandy slope to join him. 

"A wagon has been this way since we stopped here last night. It has covered over the tracks of the old but I can clearly see the difference between them. Wait, I have an idea," and he crouches to the ground, dropping swiftly into the strange trance once again. 

Sealvach taps his foot for a while then walks off a way, following the winding line made by a heavily weighted wheel in the soft earth. 

It is not long before Heladil joins him, grinning. "Ranal and Megrin! They passed this way not more than an hour perhaps. Ranal is ahead upon a horse while Megrin is following slowly in his wagon. My friend, the hunters just became the hunted!"