A/N: Let's join Rosellyn as she embarks on her quest for revenge...read on!
Chapter 34-Finding the Warlord
The only problem was, no one had any idea where the Warlord might be. He might be on the edge of the forest, somewhere in the middle...They knew he wasn't in the Glade, but that was little enough to go on. Lostisil had surmised that he was most likely near the army; he had to be, to issue commands. But how close, or where, no one could pinpoint.
She got as close to the main army as she dared. Climbing one of the shorter trees, she crouched like some weird bird and took as rough a headcount as she could. It was a skill some of the veteran fighters had taught the younger element, how to estimate large numbers of enemies.
And the skill proved useful here. Her count brought roughly 1,500 Men in the camp, give or take. That was appalling; any sane commander could have put them to route long ago. But she wasn't dealing with a seasoned war-leader; she was dealing with Awaren.
Still, the number bothered her in more ways than one. It was so small. What total had she and Legolas and Tracie gotten with their spying? Even before the last camps that they never got to scout out, it was almost this number. That meant that approximately 600 soldiers were protecting this Warlord. That put things in perspective. Where could a camp that large hide, and still be accesible to the main body?
Had the Warlord made a misstep? Or was he counting on the over-confidence of Awaren? He could have kept 100 soldiers with him as a body guard, and still be safe. Or were they protecting something more than the Warlord? Perhaps the Warlord didn't know how many fighting Elves they had. Or maybe he wanted to lure them out...
The millions of possibilities left Rose's head spinning. This Man was damnably hard to second guess. -This is where you come in, miss America.- Della actually LAUGHED. ~Miss America? You don't get the accidental joke you made. I'll tell you later. What do you need?~
That was a good question. What DID she need? She needed a big sign pointing to the Warlord, but Della could hardly do anything about that. -What do you think he's doing, pulling so many soldiers with him? Unless we've really underestimated his forces, and there's a lot more than 600?- Her advice, needless to say, was less than helpful. ~I honestly don't know what to tell you.~
She skirted the main camp by treetop, looking for any sign of Men going to and
fro. A small beaten trail, maybe an actual MESSENGER, something...
Then she had an idea. In perhaps half an hour, an attack would be mounted. That would merit the sending of a Man to the Warlord. She could follow him!
No, bad idea. If he roused the camp, she'd have a hard time cutting her way through 600 soldiers to get to the bloody Warlord. She'd have to find him before. And soon. She only had half an hour.
She scanned the ground around the perimeter again, but fate wasn't with her tonight. There was nothing that indicated Men coming and going at all. So she dropped down, silent as a shadow, to look more closely. It was a foolhardy risk, but faint heart never won fair lady. Or something like that. Besides, there weren't any sentries on this side, and most of those in the camp were all in a drunken stupor.
After ten minutes of searching, she found a small game trail. A slim chance, but she now had only twenty minutes left. She took off down it, following a remote possibility.
The night forest pressed in suffocatingly close, and every rustle of some woodland creature was magnified a hundredfold, all seemed to be tailing her. Her senses were stretched to their breaking point, with the knowledge that she was imminently nearing the true enemy territory, the camp of the most notorious Man in Mirkwood's history thus far.
i When they write this in the history books, what will they say? Will they say that this was the night Mirkwood was lost? Will they say that this was when Rosellyn Stillwater overcame the odds and won? Will they remember me at all? /i These thoughts bombarded her as she crept through the maze of undergrowth, shrubbery, and trees.
A/N: *ducks* Hey, technically, the battle DID start. It's not my fault you people are blood-thirsty. And, again, updates won't be as often; I have to write more, plus I have some original stories I'm working on...needless to say, be patient.
Chapter 34-Finding the Warlord
The only problem was, no one had any idea where the Warlord might be. He might be on the edge of the forest, somewhere in the middle...They knew he wasn't in the Glade, but that was little enough to go on. Lostisil had surmised that he was most likely near the army; he had to be, to issue commands. But how close, or where, no one could pinpoint.
She got as close to the main army as she dared. Climbing one of the shorter trees, she crouched like some weird bird and took as rough a headcount as she could. It was a skill some of the veteran fighters had taught the younger element, how to estimate large numbers of enemies.
And the skill proved useful here. Her count brought roughly 1,500 Men in the camp, give or take. That was appalling; any sane commander could have put them to route long ago. But she wasn't dealing with a seasoned war-leader; she was dealing with Awaren.
Still, the number bothered her in more ways than one. It was so small. What total had she and Legolas and Tracie gotten with their spying? Even before the last camps that they never got to scout out, it was almost this number. That meant that approximately 600 soldiers were protecting this Warlord. That put things in perspective. Where could a camp that large hide, and still be accesible to the main body?
Had the Warlord made a misstep? Or was he counting on the over-confidence of Awaren? He could have kept 100 soldiers with him as a body guard, and still be safe. Or were they protecting something more than the Warlord? Perhaps the Warlord didn't know how many fighting Elves they had. Or maybe he wanted to lure them out...
The millions of possibilities left Rose's head spinning. This Man was damnably hard to second guess. -This is where you come in, miss America.- Della actually LAUGHED. ~Miss America? You don't get the accidental joke you made. I'll tell you later. What do you need?~
That was a good question. What DID she need? She needed a big sign pointing to the Warlord, but Della could hardly do anything about that. -What do you think he's doing, pulling so many soldiers with him? Unless we've really underestimated his forces, and there's a lot more than 600?- Her advice, needless to say, was less than helpful. ~I honestly don't know what to tell you.~
She skirted the main camp by treetop, looking for any sign of Men going to and
fro. A small beaten trail, maybe an actual MESSENGER, something...
Then she had an idea. In perhaps half an hour, an attack would be mounted. That would merit the sending of a Man to the Warlord. She could follow him!
No, bad idea. If he roused the camp, she'd have a hard time cutting her way through 600 soldiers to get to the bloody Warlord. She'd have to find him before. And soon. She only had half an hour.
She scanned the ground around the perimeter again, but fate wasn't with her tonight. There was nothing that indicated Men coming and going at all. So she dropped down, silent as a shadow, to look more closely. It was a foolhardy risk, but faint heart never won fair lady. Or something like that. Besides, there weren't any sentries on this side, and most of those in the camp were all in a drunken stupor.
After ten minutes of searching, she found a small game trail. A slim chance, but she now had only twenty minutes left. She took off down it, following a remote possibility.
The night forest pressed in suffocatingly close, and every rustle of some woodland creature was magnified a hundredfold, all seemed to be tailing her. Her senses were stretched to their breaking point, with the knowledge that she was imminently nearing the true enemy territory, the camp of the most notorious Man in Mirkwood's history thus far.
i When they write this in the history books, what will they say? Will they say that this was the night Mirkwood was lost? Will they say that this was when Rosellyn Stillwater overcame the odds and won? Will they remember me at all? /i These thoughts bombarded her as she crept through the maze of undergrowth, shrubbery, and trees.
A/N: *ducks* Hey, technically, the battle DID start. It's not my fault you people are blood-thirsty. And, again, updates won't be as often; I have to write more, plus I have some original stories I'm working on...needless to say, be patient.