That Damned Crow

KAW! *blink, blink, stare*

That cursed wee beastie! Braegin glared up at those black opalescent eyes following his every step. The thing was too small to be anything but a damned crow. Braegin scratched at his beard with the end of his pipe and blew out a hearty harrumph. He stepped smartly to keep pace with Podo down the winding trail of the Elf Path as the young hobbit led them deeper into the Mirkwood. Somewhere flitting between the trees no doubt was Artem looking for signs of trouble. Though Braegin never could catch sight of the bounding elf.

Braegin paused to regard the sleek black silhouette sitting in the tree above. Perhaps the damned thing wasn't one of those pestering lesser breeds so common these past years but in fact a true raven-born? Though the damned thing had yet to speak. Braegin shook his shaggy head as a lopsided grin broke across his stony face.

Aye the idea had merit! My beloved, such a clever lass. Wouldn't put it past her to find a way to send an extra pair of watchful eyes to aid him. Oh and it had brought such sweet tidings! If only he had found and returned the shield of Thror himself, oh such an honor! It was a good omen to see its return and to be hung in the great hall during these troublesome times. Perhaps he would have a chance to speak to this Lockmand the next time he made Esgaroth, should the merchant still be peddling his wares.

Braegin watched as the raven took flight and began to circle somewhere ahead. He missed his cart, Braegin decided. He'd left it at the Easterly Inn now lighter of the load he had carried from Erebor across the foothills of the Grey Mountains. Aye 'twas with the purpose of making new friends along the northerly trade path for business as he had told his beloved. Yet his dreams of the giant saw-toothed orc still haunted him and Braegin had inquired all along the way if any had seen one with the jagged visage left long ago by the axe-head his father had carried.

A loud squawk pierced Braegin's reverie along with a pair of whistles that disappeared somewhere into the distant wood. Braegin's eyes went wide and his lips formed an "O". He stood as still as he could while managing to look to his right at the tree root hanging at the height of his head where an elven boot sat. Braegin's brow furrowed, then rose up his forehead as he followed the boot up to a leg, then a taut bow with another arrow knocked, and finally an arched elven eyebrow. Artem held a single bow finger to the sky and then pointed towards the wood beyond. Braegin looked about but Podo was no where to be found. Damned furry-footed hobbit! Suddenly Braegin caught the sounds of orc cries tumbling down the wooded slope!

"Oh yea!" Braegin unlimbered his shield, loosed Wolfbiter from its sheathe, and listened to the sound of the northern orc horn as it blew the sound of retreat. Retreat? Northern? Orcs burst into the small clearing and slammed against Braegin's shield. A spear as thick as Braegin's thigh slid across the top of his great shield to skewer a charging orc through the chest in a spray of arterial blood.

Stone and bones! Braegin had nearly forgot about the human.