Kili on the other hand wasn’t feeling like this forest was the most friendliest place he could have followed Thorin into. Kili kept a hand on his bow as he traveled, keeping his eyes keen. He still felt something strange was in the air, as he walked on. This journey had proved to be an interesting one. This forest though. It was an ideal place for an ambush, whether the orcs had come in or not. There were always other things that presented a threat. Like those trolls they’d encountered earlier. 

The party was making as much progress through the forest as it could, as time slipped by, still, Kili wished their legs could have carried them faster through these woods. A glimpse of the Hobbit, their burglar, reminded him he hadn’t had something to munch on for some time. Idly pulling an apple from his pocket, the Dwarf crunched on the delicious fruit. The skin was thin, the whiteness of the apple was crisp and packed with refreshing juices. Yet still, the air of the forest seemed to corrupt some of this goodness even from something as scrumptious as an apple. 

“Ah, Saeril, we’ll be at the end of this forest before nightfall right?” He asked curiously, though a part of him believed they wouldn’t. He clutched his bow a little tighter. Something told him they were being watched…
-

Leading the Dwarves along the path towards their Lonely Mountain, stocked with gold was proving to be less and less of an Easy chore as time went on. Thorin released a gruff puff from his mouth as he sucked in air. The march for the end of the forest continued, as it’s insidious magic began to toll everyone’s minds. The party seemed to be getting more and more agitated with every step. Thorin himself felt himself growing impatient. "Thorin... Oakensheild... King... Closer... Thorin.... Under The Mountain..." Thorin blinked, stopping in his tracks, glancing to the elf immediately. 

He’d disapproved of her type accompanying the party ever since Gandalf suggested her as a comrade, or more like it, left her with the dwarves. It was bad enough that they’d been forced to dine with the elves in the last forest they’d treaded through. Now they were stuck with another pointy-eared narrow faced pest. Was she giving him this little message? No, that wasn’t her voice. He realized he was staring at her with a death gaze, and turned to continue treading. She deserved it anyways. Oakenshield... Closer... Thorin... Thorin released a soft groan. Where do you think I’m headed? Now be quiet. Unless you have something worth saying for Thror’s sake. Thorin thought back, hopefully that would quiet that nagging voice down. 

Meanwhile, the elf kept giving Kili those eyes as if she was his mother. It was disgusting. Since Thorin had respect for the younger dwarf, he didn’t disgrace the elf, since he seemed to not mind her at all. Hopefully the elf would just leave sometime. Thorin knew that wouldn’t happen though. So the dwarf walked on. 

-

Tajjus had heard Saeril’s response, but he was not about to reply to her. He would follow them. Perhaps, a good method of keeping up would be to venture into the trees. It seemed like a sound strategy, to climb before leaping from branch to branch, staying behind as he watched from above. Tajjus grunted to himself, as he looked at one of the towering wooden skyscrapers. It was going to be easier said than done, considering that he was raised in the desert, where the only green things around were cacti. He could do it though, he just wouldn’t have the expertise of those woodland-folk, or the elves as they were called. Tajjus unsheathed a curved shaped knife. It was almost exactly like a sickle, perfect for grabbing onto things. Hence, the desert knight began to climb a tree. 

He felt something disturbing in the air, as if the woodlands were---evil. Tajjus sensed some sort of witchcraft, and yet, he wasn’t entirely sure he could put his finger on it. He just knew he would have to move swiftly. Keeping up with this band will be difficult. He almost grunted as he heaved himself up a branch. Tajjus felt some fatigue over take him as he lifted himself over another branch. He missed his home, in the desert. How he missed the sands, and how he missed the family in the hostile planes. This forest made of plants—it was something truly strange to him. He’d never seen so many trees in his life. The elf most likely knew her way around the forest. What was her game exactly though? 

Perhaps, in time, he would figure her out a little more. She was unlike those other woodland folk, considering she had those horns, as well as wings…