"You travel to search and you come back home to find yourself there" recited Peren to Warwick, quoting the old Elvish proverb. He picked a suitable reed from the grass and placed it in his mouth, chewing on the spongy centre. It was something he had seen the human peasants do, usually when they tried to look intelligent. The Elf mimicked his companions, stretched out on the dewy grasses and squinting at the few rays of sunlight that peeked through the canopy above. He hadn't formed any close relationships with his companions yet, much to his annoyance. He had tried to display an aura of wisdom in the short time they'd spent together but it didn't seem to be impressing anyone. Conversations were his forté yet he struggled with this motley group. Perhaps it was due to the fact he'd grown up speaking to nobles and peasants - not rangers and mercenaries - that he had been unable to find something in common with this motley crew of men and Elves.

He was excited, though. It had been decades since he had gone travelling for non-business purposes and many more since he'd travelled with strangers. Domestic life had been a joy but the call to adventure had been gnawing at his stomach for some time. He absentmindedly peeled the reed with his long, soft fingers, revealing the spongy, white tissue that lay within. The idyllic silence that hung around the group for a week was fast coming to an end and Peren knew it better than anyone. Once the group entered the forest, there would be arguments, fights and, although he prayed otherwise, death. The Southron Elf secretly hadn't much faith in the group - they would probably disperse or die once they were deep within the forest and he planned on jumping ship if the going got too tough. The Dark Forest wasn't called the Dark Forest because of it's population of unicorns and cute animals, after all.

His hand brushed his weapon at the thought of it. He had never used his sword in combat and it had been almost a century since he had sparred with his friends in the streets of Jaga. A sly idea popped into his head. "The rumours of this forest - I don't believe a word of them" announced Peren, sitting up and wrapping his thin arms around legs. "I'd bet money that I will not once draw this sword from this sheathe in the next ten days, I'm so sure of it. There is probably nothing so dangerous in the Dark Forest as a fox".