Almost two weeks had passed since Fiontann left Bree, now he was in the heart of the North Downs, camping in the place called Kingsfell, between the Elven settlement in the South and the Dwarven in the North. Those abandoned farms were a good place to stay away from the cold and rain and Fion made sure that his presence would be unnoticed, lighting a small fire and covering the windows. His raven returned one or two days after leaving Bree but it was three that he was waiting but still there was no sign of his friend. Fion knew that he would wait a day or two, so he made himself comfortable, hiding from any bypassing orcs or anything worse that roamed the land.
In the middle of the third night Fion grew uneasy and went outside of the house to smoke his pipe. He sat on the weather-beaten chair that stood on the porch, laying his legs on the fence and laid back. He was smoking quietly, looking towards the Northeast, where in the far horizon the entrance to Angmar was located, every now and then he turned his gaze to the Southeast where the entrance to the orcish camps was and where he encountered some trolls long ago. He knew not why he was doing that, to try and find a sign that his friend was out there needing his help or that he would see him approaching from afar and go and greet him? In the North a light was flickering, moving towards the West, "Dwarves moving their goods..." he thought and blew a ring of smoke and watched the light through it.
Another ring of smoke came out of Fion's mouth before the flame went out, he stood up and turned the pipe upside down, letting the ash fall on the wet ground and wiped it with a kerchief he has for that specifically and put it away. he leaned against the wooden beam of the house, crossing his arms and looking ahead, towards the Dwarven settlement, smiling as he looked at the lamps on the mountain, as they flicked on its side, showing that the Dwarves worked day and night. Slowly he walked away from the house, on the mud and looked around at the bushes around him, his right hand approaching the grip of his sword but before even touching it a figure jumped out and put a sword to his throat.
-You're loud and slow like an orc! said the man and sheathed his sword.
-Loud yes, slow no, no more than an orc at least! said Fion, letting his hand drop and turned to offer his hand to the man.
It was a tall man, a little taller than Fion, dressed in dark brown, slim with a hood over his head, covering his features, letting his gleaming and inspecting eyes be seen in the dark. Fion gestured towards the house and the man followed after him, the two reached the porch and Fion made to sit on the chair but it broke as soon as he let it bear his weight and he found himself on the floor and grunted angrily.
-You grew fatter too and judging by the fact that you're alone here, you lost whatever wits you had!
-It held me earlier... grumbled Fion and kicked the broken pieces away.
Once inside Fion lit a small fire once more, making sure that it was small enough that the smoke wouldn't be seen coming out of the chimney and sat on the chair at the table, noticing the man's smirk he shook his head,
-See, it holds me! and offered the flask of whiskey to the man.
-Warm, good! So, you mentioned some stones in the letter, what was it?.
-A long time ago, during a thing we did with the Order we found a rock and Sigfread, you know him, said something about it.Now, more than a year after that I let him take some new recruits for a job he said that he saw another in a Blackwold camp and now they all speak about them and saying that they are everywhere, they even feel their /dread/. So, what are they?
-From the description you gave me they can be only one thing, some kind of offerings the Angmarim have on their altars or pillars they gather around, they say they are blessed by the Witch King of Angmar himself to protect them from their enemies.
A scoff escaped Fiontann's lips upon hearing all that and sunk his head in his palm.
-Witch King, stones, Angmarim, only trouble will come, not just trouble, but trouble we will bring on us something tells me... and sighed, turning his gaze to the fire, grimacing.
-Whatever camps they are into, it means that those bandits are associated with Angmar, but from what I know only two or three can have such things in Bree-land. If you move, do it with care.
-What about the /dread/ they make one feel?
-That depends on the individual, weak minded people, lonely ones, weak in general, can feel it.
Fiontann nodded and put his open palms on the table, breathing deeply and grimacing once more as he did, thinking.
-You know that some time I will move against that land, once we have the numbers and the people appropriate for such a task. Not too early, nor too late.
-You know my opinion of this Fiontann, I won't say it again, but who knows. I may join you if you do so... and smirked before pushing himself up from the table.
-Thank you for the meal and drink but this is all the time I had, now I have to go or I will miss an ambush, you know how it is.
Fion nodded once more and shook his hand, both men walked out of the house, the man walked into the night and soon disappeared from sight. Fion took a walk to make sure that there were no uninvited visitors at the premises of the house and then went in to sleep, he would start the journey to Bree early in the morning.
