Daine trudged through the mud, leading them by ways only she knew. At one point she stumbled and fell face down in the mud. Standing up again she wiped grime out of her eyes. "Yick! I just had a bath!" Unable to stay mad at the mud, Daine started laughing. "You know, here I am a thief and a vagabond and I complaining about getting dirty! Oh its to much!"

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Macar hands Daine a hankerchief to wipe herself with. "No need to worry, you can't help being what you are." He laughs. He pauses for a second, "No punt intended," He then continues on through the mud, admiring the bogish site.

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Do not draw you sword without cause, do not sheath it without honor.

"Thankies!" Daine wiped her face and was about to give the hankerchief back to Macar, but decided to keep it. She was a thief after all. "Hmm, I wonder want we'll eat for supper? Theres nothing worth catching in here."

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Deawen had been awake for the whole episode. she stiffuled a laugh but then glanced at the water below her "errmmm"
she squrimed slightly water made her uncomfortable. Fire is put out by water. Flarenath seemed to be able to handle the sticky mud. " praise to you Flarenath " she said. Bredol whickered and snorted. Aerenel was busy trying to chase a fly. " stew" Deawen said simply. " that is what is for dinner tonight"
" i still have salted beef left and starch"

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Daine licked her lips at the thought of stew and sighed eagerly. "Yum! I can't wait. Theres a dry space of land up ahead a short ways. We can make camp there"

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Deawen's heart lept at the mention of dry land. Deawen had thought it alittle early for camp but she didn't think any one objected.
" Orcs and thieves don't come through the Marshes....something in the water they say...never seen it my self though." Deawen called she paused to think " but to be safe no fire the last thing we need is to be attacked in the marshes"
Deawen was too short to see over Sen's shoulder to see Daine's face
" don't worry we are still having stew, "

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

"I'm a thief aren't I? Nothin' ever happend to me." Daine laughed at the thought and led them forward the ground steadily rising beneath her feet.

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Deawen scowled slightly "well the smart thieves stay clear"
she laughed slightly "but we are pressed on time"
the ground started to rise Deawen scanned the area far ahead not more than a mile she saw lights strange fire that looked like a camp but that was all wrong no one came through the marshes....least not an army
she tapped sen's shoulder " Do Mordors armies come through the marshes?" she asked timidly

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home

Daine smiled to herself, they where close to dry land. Giving a yipp of joy she pulled a reed flute out of her belt and beagn to play a hauting tune. The few fireflys that where in the bog began to dance in front of her, in no time at all Daine felt the dry ground beneath her feet. She stopped playing flute and declared, "Heres the dry ground at last. Now about that stew..."

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*Macar reached the dry ground with everyone else. He was in not mood for stew, but helped himself to some cram in his rations. He sat in a corner away from the others. His hood pulled tightly over his head. "I do not like the marshes."

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Do not draw you sword without cause, do not sheath it without honor.

Daine laughed and practicaly kissed the ground. "Oh I love dry ground." She scurried around looking for anything that she could use for a bed that night. There wasn't much except grass. Giving up her search she went and sat by Macar and piped a few tunes on her reed flute. "You know this is the only useful thing I know how to do. Whenever I play my pipe, I can make the animals dance if I want. A few people think its because the futes enchanted by an elf sorceress or something."

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"Well why dont you make yourself go and dance elsewhere." Macar turned his head. "The only thing Im good at his using this, " he tapped his sword's hilt." the only thing that matters to me now is my honor."

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Do not draw you sword without cause, do not sheath it without honor.

((Wow my character is like a five-year-old. lol))

Daine rolled her eyes and went and sat on a tree stump at the edge of the dry ground. She played a soft tune on her flute and soon she was surrounded by a swarm of moths that flickered in the moonlight. She sighed inwardly, why did everyone look on her with distain? All her life she had been an outcast, a person of no consequence. Fine, I'll just continue laughing my way through life, pretending that I don't care. In anger she kicked at the stump.

*Sen listened to Deawen, and followed suit as they got off Flarenath and began to make camp. When Sen's buisness brought him near Deawen again, he spoke quietly to her.*
Very few orks dare travel here; they are too stupid to keep their feet to the solid spots. Yet that is not the only danger in Middle Earth; and deffinitely not the only one in these swamps. Fear not, however; no harm shall come to you.
*Sen listened to Daine's flute, and sat down on the slightly harder earth. It reminded him slightly of a tune he heard long ago, back home...*

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"True Evil cannot be reckoned with. Only Defeated." - Sen L I Starfire

(Banner thanks to Imlosiel the Lost! )

Daine piped a harsh note on her flute and the moths dispersed. She slowed it down into a sad, low tune that seemed to echo the wind. A frog croaked somewhere in the distance making her shudder. Of all the nasty things there where, Daine hated frogs the most.

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Deawen at first was startled by Daine's playing she loved music but here was not the place she thought. Deawen took note of Sen's words then took note of Macar's dipisition. Bredol stamped to be unloaded Deawen sighed and took off Bredol's tack. a saddle bag spilled and Deawen's harp tumbled out.she blushed slightly she picked up the harp and placed it back into the bag and pulled out a kettle. Deawen used water from a water sack instead of the water from the marshes. she added simple spices and the dried meat. she grasped the kettle with both hands and closed her eyes. the water started to boil. the auroma filled the air."there"she whispered she placed the kettle on the ground.and stumbled towards her bed roll...

_________________
Lips, ripe as the berries in June
Red the rose, red the rose
Skin, pale as the light of the moon
Gently as she goes

as always a hero comes home