When Lamaenon had not returned before dark from his hunt, the garrison stationed at the gates of Moria had opted to send someone after him. Astaras had volunteered to go look for Lamaenon. He had found the elf halfway between Mirobel and the garrison. The guard dismounted his horse in a rush and ran the last bit of distance.
Lamaenon lifted one of his hands to appease Astaras. His other hand held at his aching side. "Peace. I am fine. A badly bruised rib or two. The scratch is not as bad as it looks." The elf did not LOOK fine. A bad claw scratch that began between the Galadhels brows and ran across the bridge of his nose and right eye. The injury tapered off at the top of the silver haired elf's cheek.
"What happened?! Where is your horse?", asked Astaras. Lamaenon took a moment to consider how much needed to be told now, and what could be told later. "I had been hunting when I came across an ambush of orcs. Fourteen or so and an Uruk. All dead now. There is more to tell. It will be better to do so at camp."
When the two of them returned to camp, there were jesting cheers. "The Avari hound is back!" , " Silver Noldo! Get lost chasing dinner?" Lamaenon was too tired for this. It had been a notoriously long week. "No, I found my way just fine. I also found the pack of fourteen orcs you lot somehow missed. Goodnight." The Galadhel remarked as he made his way to his bedroll beneath the tree.
Astaras delayed Angnil, their healer, from pressing the matter. "His horse is gone and he is injured. Let him sleep. Arahen can speak with him in the morn. We can tell her once she returns from her patrol."
