We stood at Mincham's camp for a time staring out across Fornost Fields. It seemed as if the sun was still determining whether to appear that early morning or whether Angmar's darkness had crept a little further towards the sunny Bree-lands.
Something being ambushed and killed in the Fields broke Mincham's reverie, and the Ranger asked me to scout out Norbury Gates for agents of The Enemy.
I was glad I was in that mythical time when the nocturnal hunters are heading to their dens and the beasts of the day had not yet awaken because my journey to the Gates was swift. The taint of orcs and the smell of wargs was immediately apparent. The fires of the orcs guided me towards their deaths.
And the wargs, guarding the gates on padded feet, I found. They died as well, although their tough animal bodies were a little stronger than the orcs. Their forms were twisted and crushed as I stepped over them to attack another group of orcs.
My arms began to tire from the slaughter. Even with the blessed strength of my Club of the Champion, with its unearthly red glow, I felt that were an alarm to be raised to a larger force. I would have to retreat a coward.
The mission, though, was complete. I had seen enough to tell Mincham, and so returned to him. I hoped to see the sun rising in my approach, but it seemed my heart was not hopeful enough.
I gave Mincham the dire news, but he seemed to already know. His days of glory were over, and now he was a mere peddler of information. I was sad as he gave me his cloak. It was a resignation of fate. I wish I could have offered him my cloak sewn by the light I know as Goldberry, but my journey is not yet over.
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