The first thought that entered his throbbing head was that his kinsmen were idiots. Braigiar blinked, wincing as even the dim light of the dense forest sent a spike of pain through his head. Reaching up blearily, he felt a rough bandage wound around where he'd struck his head on their hard landing.
A wry chuckle from his left alerted him to the proximity of one of his companions.
"Sleeping Beauty awakens, at long last! It would seem the kiss of love was not needed, my friend, though you certainly took long enough." Braigiar was able to crack one eye open far enough to glare up at the other man.
"And who's the one who got us into this mess in the first place? I'll handle the wolves, indeed." A laugh sounded from a few meters away, on his right.
"He's got a point, you realize." Amarion glared over Braigiar at the unseen Dagoras, who just laughed again.
Braigiar sighed, finally hoisting his aching body into a sitting position. Elendil help him- he was stuck between a rock and his two best friends. A hard place indeed, he thought with wry amusement.
"Don't you start either," he called, "At least he wasn't in a cage."
Rolling stiff shoulders, he studied their surroundings keenly- he'd been too distracted by claws and snapping fangs to take it in on his and Dagoras' arrival. They were stuck on a natural shelf of grey rock set into the craggy wall, Amarion was sitting cross legged against the cliff next to him, a bandage covering the entire right side of his face. Dagoras was balanced carefully on the edge of the shelf, presumably keeping a look out over the shadowed clearing below.
Just barely on the edge of his perception, Braigiar could hear the rustle of movement below, and he shivered.
And to think this day started out perfectly normal. It had, actually. Lothrandir had gone scouting, Amarion had decided to try and discover the source of the shadow-wolves' strange darkness, and Dagoras had gone to treat with the resident Dunlendings, leaving Braigiar in charge of the camp.
And then none of them had come back.
Braigiar hoped fervently that Lothrandir had managed to find his way back to camp by now, or that he had a perfectly acceptable reason for delay, and was in no way trapped or in need of a rescue of any kind. Two botched attempts were more than enough.
"What's going on below?" He asked, turning his attention to Dagoras, who made a face.
"Hardly any better. They are dispersing, and I think we could fight our way out if we needed to, but there's still a good two dozen that I can see, and it's not like we're able to move all that fast." He gestured to Amarion, who winced. Braigiar, turning toward him, noticed for the first time the bulky bandage swathed around the other man's upper left leg, and he nodded.
"So how long have you been here? Learned anything?" This he directed to Amarion, whose reply was accompanied by a thoughtful expression.
"Not much. These creatures definitely aren't normal, and I think whatever is fueling their shadow is somewhere within the caves- those coming out seem more menacing than when they went in. I tried to get a closer look, but they caught my scent and chased me up here. They definitely leave at nightfall, though, so it shouldn't be long until it's clear to pass. A half-hour, at the most."
"And where do they go?" Dagoras had swiveled on his precarious perch to face the other two fully, having apparently determined that staring at the prowling wolves below was helping no one. Amarion just shrugged.
"I don't know for sure, but I think it's to hunt- so whatever these things are, they're not completely fell, just tainted."
Which is all very good information to report to Halbarad, but not exactly helping us out of this one. Braigiar sighed. It would seem the only course left to them was to wait for nightfall, then drag themselves back to camp with an explanation Lothrandir hopefully wouldn't laugh at.
If Lothrandir was even there.
By the time the wolves finally decided to ring the dinner bell- or howl it, as the case may be- Amarion's estimate of a half hour had been passed by almost fifteen minutes (Dagoras, of course, was keeping track). A mad scramble down from the rock followed, accompanied by muffled thumps, hissed swears, and whispered pacts never to tell anyone of this.
They never did, either, for Lothrandir arrived back at almost the same moment they did, bearing fresh news from Lhanuch, and distracted with grief to the point of not over-questioning his companions' fresh bruises and scrapes. Without a word the trio let him.
