As the elf Agaerwan went in look of the boy, he found nothing. For the lad was still keeping far back in the trees to himself. Skillfully avoiding the elf with a almost uncanny ease. Lathranien was adept at keeping unwanted people away from herself. The elf certainly classified as that. Finally seeing him speak to the Dunadain and head to the wagons from within the greenery of the forest. She sighed in relief, hopefully he would not look else without, but rather within and leave it at that. Fidgeting nervously the elfling, ducked behind a large hedge that had once perhaps belonged on some farm before it was reclaimed by the land. It wasn't uncommon that a fallow field would lie fallow for too long and hedges were useful to divide farmland she had noted. Spreading her cloak about her and setting her bow to the side with the many arrows she had gathered. The elleth pulled a small hidden pouch from within her tunic and spilled out the numerous little valuables she had collect on the journey. Coppers, a few small brass rings, even a lovely silver earring. But the grandest was a large bar of gold. It was a wonder she had hidden it or even gotten her slim hands upon it. But it had been a careful bit of maneuvering that left the young elf preening herself. Relaxing in the hidden hollow, she frowned as rain steadily got heavier, breaking through the canopy above her slightly. Still careful to keep her hood well over her face she bit back a elvish curse as a drop hit her squarely on the nose. "[i]Ross![/i]" As much as she enjoyed rain in her youth, it was a torture now. A threat to her survival. But it was easy to ignore and use the shadows and damp to her advantage so long as it would help keep that elf unaware. So, Lathronien turned her focus on how to possible hide a bar of gold upon her person. Know the faux brick the dwarf carried would be called upon and he would be in a rage. For Dwarves were fond of gold and one did not just steal a bar of gold from them. Nor did one just chop it up when the rain was yet light and sharp ears were about. So Lathronien mussed, content in the hide away.

Many of the caravan had retreated within their wagons, one family having known hobbits well. Took in the little May Littlefoot with great pride and pleasure and they were chattering away about whose cousin did what and to what degree they were related. About the Took, and the Baggins, and the Green Dragon. Of smoke-weed harvest and the right amount of tea for a guest. Of the road and it's condition and many other things a hobbit and a friend might talk about in a cramped wagon. The dunadain took refuge in her own tent, far from Darcyn and his lot. For they were loud and boastful. Often giving a firm slap to the unsuspecting woman passing by and more than a single slur was hurled at the dwarfs. Demands for ale and inquiries as to if they were born from mountains themselves or stone barrels of ale. The latter of which was higher in a betting pool. They spoke of elves and a idea cropped up in their drunken state that if dwarves are born of stone then elves were born of trees. The rain though, kept their torments to words and shoves to each other for more room near the fires, and their tents. The wagon folk had no hint for Agarwaen as to the location of the lad he sought, but a few had sharp words with Giles about filching guards and men who took liberties. Darcyn was not well liked. The Haradim woman wasn't even complained about that night as the weather was too awful and even Darcyn's lads retired early. Darcyn roaring about the fun they would have that night.

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