Late at night, beneath a bright moon and sparse stars, a breeze swept through the green firs and towering birch forest, setting them swaying with a rustle of leaves.
Moria's ruined eastern gate stood open, revealing darkness deeper than the night. More than twenty pairs of eyes watched from hiding nearby, fixed on any movement beyond the entrance. They belonged to Allen and his companions, who had arrived earlier that day.
No one could guarantee that the Half-orcs occupying Moria would not suddenly feel like stepping out through the dark gateway to admire Mirror-mere's beautiful scenery, or piss against the stone pillar revered by the Durin Dwarves.
To prevent any enemies emerging from Moria from discovering his party, Allen assigned at least a third of his men to watch the gate.
Another third hid high in the trees or among the woods on the slopes, constantly watching their surroundings in case Half-orcs approached from another direction and caught them by surprise.
The remaining third rested, ready to relieve their comrades at the appointed time.
By the time Allen's party struggled through the woods along the Silverlode and reached Dimrill Dale, evening was already approaching. The shadows of three peaks lay over Dimrill Dale, plunging the entire valley into gloom.
Allen checked the time, then considered the Half-orcs' habit of sleeping by day and emerging at night. This was not the best time to enter Moria. Tomorrow morning would be ideal, when most of the Half-orcs should be asleep.
He then divided his Personal Guards into three groups and began keeping watch over Dimrill Dale.
Allen himself used the special power of his Elves Cloak to conceal himself in a dense patch of grass on the slope south of Moria's eastern gate.
At that moment, he rather missed his Hobbit friend.