As the next throwers took their positions in front of the boards, Thrand leaned back against the wall and looked out the window at the clear, early fall evening...and then suddenly sat up straight and narrowed his eyes. There was a large shape moving through the woods nearby. Perhaps a latecomer to the festival, he thought at first, as he strained to see details in the moonlight. But the dark form stayed in the underbrush, hidden in the shadows at the tree line, and never moved any closer to the winery. Thrand looked back into the room and caught Brisid's eye, which, he noticed, was clear of any effects of the wine and also staring intently out the window. The two nodded at each other, rose from their stools and quickly slipped through the throng of people. Once outside, Thrand quickly strung his bow and Brisid drew his sword. Both mounted quietly on dark steads that appeared seemingly from nothing in the shadows cast by the quarter moon.

"You saw it, too?" Brisid asked.

Thrand simply nodded.

Brisid wheeled his horse around and trotted at a controlled but quick pace to the northwest, leaving the lights and laughter of the winery behind for the dark woods with Thrand about ten yards behind, an arrow already out and his bow at half draw. They rode all the way around Luthrilma, the glittering bay that formed the center of the elven village, to the Silver Arrow tavern on its southern shore.

"Bah...lost the trail," Bri said in disgust.

There was a faint sound of movement and Thrand spun in the saddle, bring his bow up and pulling the string to his ear before he recognized the elven figure gliding through the shadows towards them, a bow in her hand as well.

"Aaye, Myra," Thrand said as he let the tension on the bowstring relax, his eyes leaving her and scanning the woods around them.

They spoke in hushed tones for a few moments of the rider they had seen. They had no doubts it was a dhaeraow, though finding one mounted was still a puzzling experience for them. Dhaeraow temperament didn't seem fit to care for such fragile creatures as horses. Maybe they were learning the ways of the surface, and that thought was a bit frightening for several reasons, but not worth worrying over in the middle of the night with unknown enemies about.

"I'm going to walk the woods a little longer before I go home," Myra told them.

"Be careful, arwen," Thrand called to Myra as she headed away.

"Well, I guess I should get back before they miss me," Brisid said, sheathing his sword. "Whoever it was is gone now."

Thrand nodded, and the two rode back around the shore of the bay to the winery. But the closer they got to the sounds of the festival the more uneasy Thrand felt about abandoning the hunt. As Bri dismounted and went back inside, Thrand turned his horse around and rode back into the woods.

For awhile, he secretly followed Myra, just to be sure she was safe. After a time, he rode up to her and started to speak. Her hands shot up in a strange gesture, and Thrand leaned back in the saddle with a frown. She quickly lowered her arms and whispered, "I heard movement to the southwest."

Thrand looked down on her, feeling slightly puzzled. Myra just stood there quietly, making no further moves and saying nothing. Thrand shook off the strange feeling and rode towards the southwest.

It wasn't long before he found the trail. Dhaeraow weren't good at hiding their own tracks, let alone a horse's. Thrand loosened his broadsword in its scabbard and pulled his bowstring half tight again, guiding his mount with his knees to keep both hands on his bow. The trail led into a thicket in the edge of the woods, a bit east of the Fae tower. Muttering a few words, Thrand momentarily let his bow go slack as he reached into a pouch on his belt for a bit of ash.

Almost instantly a crossbow bolt flew out of the underbrush and passed by Thrand's right ear. Staying calm, he released the spell he'd been concentrating on. A wall of flames sprang up between him and the brush and the dark elf within let out a sudden cry of pain at the light. Thrand quickly shot off an arrow aimed at the sound of the dhaeraow's voice. That effort was rewarded with a grunt and then the sounds of a horse crashing through dense foliage as the dhaeraow broke from cover and fled the light that was blinding him.

Now Thrand could make out a few more details of his quarry. Definitely dhaeraow, long white hair streaming back behind the dark figure as it galloped away. It was dressed in a loose fitting black robe, riding on a dark colored horse and carrying a blackened spear. A crossbow and quiver of bolts were hanging from the saddle.

Kneeing his own mount in the ribs, Thrand followed at a gallop. He slipped his longbow over his shoulder and across his chest, drawing his broadsword as he closed the distance. His pulse quickened both at the thrill of the chase and at the realization that this was a dangerous foe. The dhaeraow wasn't panicked, he was just getting clear of the flames.

When they were well away from the bright wall of fire, the dhaeraow spun around and charged Thrand with spear lowered. Thrand brought his sword around in a wide arc, catching the spear just below the spear point and deflecting the blow as they rode past each other. They both wheeled and made another pass. This time Thrand grabbed at the spear with his left hand and brought the sword down on the dhaeraow's left arm, catching him just below the wrist but glancing off unseen armor beneath the robe.

Again, they wheeled and galloped at each other. Thrand took a swing at the dhaeraow's head, missing him but not quite getting out of the way fast enough. The point of the spear glanced off Thrand's green leather tunic, knocking the wind out of him but not penetrating the magical leathers. He gasped in pain and kept riding, not wheeling about for another charge. He needed time to recover from that hit. The dhaeraow let out a war cry and set spurs into his horse, thinking his enemy was attempting to flee.

They rode along like this for a short while, persuer and persued, until Thrand saw a fire in the distance. He stopped suddenly, brought his horse sideways and swung wildly as the dark elf thundered past, unable to stop as quickly. Kneeing his mount hard, Thrand rushed through the woods and burst out into a small clearing full of smelly humans in dirty clothes. The bandits looked up in shock and started to reach for rusty weapons. They were on their feet and armed when the dhaeraow rode in, swinging wildly at him. He let out a growl of frustration as he was forced to maneuver around them to get at his true prey.

In the woods on the other side of the clearing Thrand stopped. He sheathed his sword, quickly ducked out from under his bow as he brought it around off his shoulder and over his with one hand and drawing an arrow with the other. When the dhaeraow cleared the bandits, he let fly. The shaft struck the dhaeraow in the leg, causing a howl of pain and anger. With swift, graceful movements Thrand ducked his head, slipping the bow back across his shoulder with his left hand as he drew his sword with his right. He was already galloping towards the dhaeraow, who looked up with sudden doubt in his eyes. The sword came down towards his head with blinding speed. He barely got the spear up in time to deflect most of the force, but he felt the numbing shock in his arms. They stayed in one place for a moment, horses bumping into each other and nipping at each other's flanks as Thrand swung again and again at the dhaeraow. At this range, the spear was nearly useless against the sword, and the dhaeraow took several slashes to the body before managing to break free.

Thrand checked the sword's edge for blood to see if he'd managed a cut. There was a little, but not much. Good armor on this fellow, he thought to himself as he took up the chase again. They were riding north, and Thrand knew there wouldn't be much room for maneuver. They soon reached the banks of the Anarduin, the river that flows west to east on the northern boundary of the elven lands. There the dhaeraow did something unexpected. Instead of turning east or west, he just set his spurs to his stead again and forced the horse to leap into the river. His poor horse was nearly exhausted and began slipping downstream. Thrand rode along the south bank, dodging trees and trying to keep his enemy in sight as he sheathed his sword and again readied his bow. He was breathing hard now, both from the blows he'd taken and from the rush of battle. He half expected the dhaeraow to drown, not knowing if they could swim or could deal with the current of a surface river. But that was out of the dhaeraow's hands, now. His horse, near to panic, managed to find footing and crawled out of the river on the north bank. The dhaeraow had dropped his spear while fighting the current, but his crossbow was still fastened to the saddle. He quickly grabbed it and started to load a bolt. Thrand fired his arrow, but hit the dhaeraow's horse in the neck when it moved at the last second, bring forth a horrible cry of pain from the animal. The dhaeraow fired his bolt, but it went wide. Thrand just sat in the saddle, calmly pulling back the string on another arrow. This one impacted the dhaeraow's right arm, making him drop the crossbow.

With a combination of anger and fear, the dhaeraow started cursing his mount, trying to force it to turn. Instead it collapsed under him, exhausted and wounded. If he'd had a weapon, Thrand imagined he would have slain the poor creature in a fit of rage. But he didn't, and he had worse problems as another arrow flew towards him, this one glancing off his shoulder, not a clean enough hit to penetrate his armor. That was the last shot Thrand got as the dark elf stumbled into the brush on the other side of the river.

Slowly, Thrand lowered his bow, letting the string go slack. It was then that he realized how hard he was breathing. The fight had been both frightening and exhilarating, and it took several minutes to calm his heart. He just sat there, slumped in the saddle, listening to the sounds of the forest and watching the stars, he and his horse both resting after the ordeal. Shortly, he patted his mount on the neck, whispered something kind to her, and slipped off the saddle to walk back to the winery deep in thought.