He was a good soldier. He would of course do whatever was required of him by his mistress; nevertheless, he found everything about this excursion to the surface distasteful.

He considered himself lucky to have found this hollow tree. The tree was near the riverbank where the darkness of shadows and the cool breeze off the water was at least of some relief from the sun and the damned miserable heat. The tree was also close to the glade of the elves, and this was essential.

Still of concern, however, was the disgusting smell of flowers, the nauseating extravagance of color and the incessant chatter of the birds. All things considered, the noises were the worst...even more than the light, which could be countered by taking the potion the priestess had given him. There was nothing to be done about the noise, however, so he just covered his ears with his hands and tried to calm himself. All the wretched forest noises seemed to join together in a conspiracy against his sanity--the constant gurgling of the river nearby, the buzzing insects, those despicable birds fluttering here and there chirping like idiots, even the wind in the leaves joined with other aspects of sound to contribute to the general racke. It was a ceaseless torture, and it was only with calm and practiced discipline that he had not initially gone mad.

He turned his attention back to his work. Over the last few days, he had managed to dig out between the roots and now had a fair sized hole, not quite a cave, but a significant space under the tree with room enough for him to stretch out and sleep with reasonable comfort. He even had a place for his pack with the few supplies that he required. Satisfied with his cool, dark hole, he scooted back up between the roots and crouched in the hollow of the tree.

He estimated that it would be dark in a few hours, and he sent a silent praise to Lloth, shuddering only slightly as he thought of his mistress and her orders to be ever watchful over the glade of the elves.