Lothelawen trudged forward and let out an exaggerated sigh, looking back at Jeroihan who was the group's rear-guard. He was walking backwards, bow drawn and did not turn to look at her. "What is it now?" She brushed off his impatient tone and retorted "We should make a camp and form a plan. We're wandering in the middle of nowhere with Orcs everywhere and its getting dark." Jeroihan relaxed his aim and turned to glare at her. "I know exactly where we are, and when it gets dark I'll be able to use the stars to navigate. Stop complaining and carry on walking." Lothelawen crossed her arms and snapped back "First of all, Ranger, don't speak to me as you would a child. Secondly, you're not leading, your brother is. So it doesn't matter if you know where we are. Why is he deciding where we go, I thought that was the job you commandeered?" He carried on walking past her and she rushed to catch up. "He's leading because he needs to learn how. If I'm killed, he takes over command. And no, it's not nepotism, he's just the most suited to lead. Harrisil's not ardent enough, Hagrabad's too old and Perkerin's too young. Torgathorn's qualities aren't suited to leadership and neither are Corandor's. So that's why Calathorn is leading." Lothelawen remained quiet for a moment, and then spoke up softly "But you can't die." Jeroihan turned and stared at her, looking into her golden-brown eyes. He asked gently "Why not?" Lothelawen glanced away and paused, before regaining her former defiant attitude. "Because you're a Ranger, and Rangers are supposed to be tough. Where's your brother leading us then?" Jeroihan responded quickly "To a tunnel entrance close to this place. Farin and a detachment of Dwarves will meet us there and accompany us to Mirkwood. Any more questions princess?" She scowled at him and spat back "Don't call me that. And you're bringing dwarves into Mirkwood? It's hardly your brightest plan, Numenorean." Jeroihan shook his head in annoyance and turned his back to her. "The elves have agreed to meet on the edge of the forest, as long as the dwarves aren't present at the meeting." She gazed at the ground as they continued to walk, her anger cooling as she spoke again. "Will you be present?" He replied curiously "It's not likely, why?" Lothelawen considered her answer carefully before replying prudently "I was just curious. Can we please stop?" Jeroihan rolled his eyes and muttered "Fine." As he shouted up to Calathorn to hold, Lothelawen found the least dirty patch of ground she could and sat down, watching the Rangers set up the camp and remaining oblivious to Anarion crashing down next to her until he spoke in her ear. "Stop talking to that Ranger. He's beneath us." Lothelawen glanced down and nodded, and began the task at finding something to look at besides Jeroihan.
Calathorn dropped into a crouch and crept through the thick brush the way his older brother had taught him. Jeroihan had told him to find Farin and the Dwarves and bring them back to the temporary camp the Rangers had set up. He struggled to remember all the training he'd received from his fellow Rangers; how to move without a trace, how to stay alert to every sound and how to cling to the shadows to avoid the wandering gaze of a potential enemy. Jeroihan had already made an impression on the Dwarves, with Farin accrediting him with "the eyes of a hawk, and the ears of a fox", and Calathorn had resolved to earn similar praise. He paused suddenly, a faint noise reaching his ears. He broke into a run, racing through the tangled undergrowth until he chanced upon a clearing heaving with a running battle. The small Dwarven party were standing resolute against shifting waves of Goblins, shields locked and axes slick with dark blood. Calathorn scanned the horde for the inevitable banner, and the leader that accompanied it. He tugged back the bowstring back, three fingers below the arrow as he'd been taught. Hand resting under the chin, back straight, eye level with the shaft of the arrow. Calathorn inhaled sharply and released the string.