"Climb aboard, mates.  Find a tuft a fur to hold onto if you feel the need.  I won't let you fall, but the more confident you feel, the less work I have ta do."  Windfang waits for the two men to climb on, each using a paw and then leg as a sort of stairs to reach the dragon's back.

Though he seemed small compared to the other dragons, even compared to those of the non-aligned like Shock, Windfang is still far larger than any horse.  His movements do not seem diminished at all by the extra weight.  He rises, and with a brief word of warning, launches into the air.

The acceleration is enormous and vision narrows.  Neither human vomits or passes out though.  Then Windfang is in the tunnels above the cavern floor, twisting and turning through a vortex of stone and lights streaming down through cracks.  The beams of light pass so fast it's as if they were blinking their eyes rapidly in the regular day.

Less than a minute later, Windfang leaves the tunnels and launches into the air like an arrow from a bow.  He soars up, up, up into the clouds where the air grows colder and thin, but a quick spell from Toben eradicates any discomfort.  He finds that casting from the dragon's back is not much more complicated than casting in combat.

{-1 to Concentration checks should the need arise for both of you.}

At a chosen altitude, Windfang turns west and beats his wings until the ground below streaks by like leaves floating in the rapids of a fierce river.  The ground quickly turns black with desicated flora, murky pools of not-water, and creeping things not readily identified with things men are familiar with.

Through it all, Windfang sings.  It is a foreign tongue, perhaps one only dragons, know, but the tempo is fierce and adventurous.  If flying for the first time was not enough to get the blood pumping and cause excitement never before imagined, the song would finish the job.  It is a rich baritone with a wide range, and a complex vocalization that sounds like at least three dragons are singing simultaneously.

{Roll Perception}

The rush of winds flows around Toben reminds him of the brief moment he flew as the Platinum Dragon, but the speed at which they travel is exhilarating. "You are truly blessed, my friend. I wish I could say that I don't know what I'm missing, but to travel this way does make me a bit green with envy."

08:09, Today: Toben Ironsprings rolled 17 using 1d20+12.  perception check.

Ryland doesn't say much, instead surveying the ground below and the skies around him. Looking north, his eyes widen. "We seem to have a slight problem" he says, trying to speak above sounds of wind. "The Elder dragons are back; two this time".

"Ho ho!  Haven't the time to play today, mates.  Eat my contrails!"  With a sudden thrust of his wings, Windfang kicks his speed up to a whole other level.  Behind him, the two elder dragons rapidly dwindle to specks and disappear.

During the rush forward, though, a sheath seems to surround Windfang and his riders.  There is little more than a light, warm breeze around Ryland and Toben, though the sensation of speed remains through sight and sense of inertia.  Below, mountains pass in a few minutes and give way to a vast swath of green.

"Mirkwood," Windfang's voice says within the sheath, though his head does not turn to face them.  "There was once an elfin kingdom in there, but the king - Thranduil - was said t' 'ave gone mad for a while. Then he woke from his madness at the end a the Third Age.  His son was a hero a the War of the Ring.  Nunna his kind 'ave been seen in five hundred years.  I've not yet been able t' find his great fortress, though I 'ave searched many times."

"If I had my guess, any great city - especially a fortress - would be near enough to a water source. Are there any rivers snaking through the tangle down there?".

Toben glances down at the landscape whizzing by. "Can't say that I've ever heard of Mirkwood. Looks rather gloomy from up here though. What do you suppose rules the lands these days?"

"There are plenty a rivers down there, fellas, but none a them lead t' a fortress.  All I've seen down there, mate, are the cousins of Beor and the spida-kin."  Windfang continues to fly, but the forest is so vast it takes an hour to pass over the northwest corner.  Up ahead, another mountain range angles south out of the Grey Mountains.  "The Misty Mountains, mates.  Taller and grander than the Grey, home to all manner a strange creachas.  Look, we have some company."

Out of the mountains, two specks resolve into birds.  They seem close already judging by their relative size, but they keep approaching and growing in size.  One of them is easily as large as Windfang.  The dragon screeches, clicks, and caws at the giant birds - they appear to be some sort of eagle.  The birds swoop in alongside Windfang and screech back at him.  The conversation is rapid, then falls silent.

"I asked 'em about elves.  They said they'd not seen any in these parts in decades.  The Woodland Realm buried itself in its magic and is barely part a the physical world any more.  Imladris remains, preserved and secluded, but empty a all but memory.  They haven't flown as far west as Mithlond.  Their sires say they're young yet."

"Toben, you're the boss. Do we want to keep on towards the Shire, or have a peek at what may hold elven ruins? Either way, seems to me both potentially have something we need".

Toben thinks to himself for a moment, but not too long, for at this speed they would likely pass by to quickly.

"Would you say the ruins down there would date back to the 1st or 2nd age?"

"By all accounts, it dates back only to th' second.  We gonna have a look-see?"  The dragon begins to bank south as he crosses over the back of the Misty Mountains.

"Hmm, seems reasonable that a relic might still be hanging around from the previous age." He points down toward the ground. "Let's check it out."

The dragons wings his way down into a secluded valley.  The giant birds squawk and depart.  At one point the mountains open up to reveal a beautiful retreat made with architecture well foreign to men.  It is all delicate spirals and open-air balconies with trellises covered in flowering vines without being overgrown.  The place seems well cared for, but there are no people here.

Windfang lands on one of the balconies, which looks far too delicate to hold his bulk.  Yet it doesn't creak or protest in any way as he thumps down unceremoniously.  "Have a look around, mates.  I need some grub."  As soon as the two dismount, he leaps back into the air, causing no more stress to the frail-looking balcony than when he landed.

Both men have had flight experience, so manage to maintain their feet, but riding so fast on the back of a dragon is a bit different than being one...or a bat thing.

Once Windfang has made his departure, Ryland surveys the surroundings. He treads lightly over to an arched door frame with no door. He rests a hand on the hilt of his rapier, and looks back at Toben. "I suppose we should look for any place that seems like it could have been private quarters, or for dining then?".

 The architecture and craftsmanship of the elven ruins are stunning. Toben is completely enthralled by his surroundings, so much so that he almost ignores Ryland. "So this is where the elves lived?", he mutters to himself.

It's not until moments later that he realizes Ryland is standing there, staring at him waiting for some acknowledgment. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Let's take a look around. I'm not sure how we'd recognize a 1st age chalice from something a bit more 'modern', but a dining hall might be a bit too informal to find something of that quality. If these ruins go back as far as the 2nd age, then a 1st age artifact like that wouldn't likely be commonplace in a kitchen. The private quarters of someone important might be a better place to start."

The architecture does not diminish throughout the ancient elfhome, though the simple beauty and enchanted cleanliness extends to belongings as well.  When the elfs abandoned Imladris, they took everything that wasn't a statue or a building.  In one courtyard, the statue of a cloaked elf holds out a stone tray like a pedestal for something, but there is not even a leaf fallen on the smooth surface.

An hour of searching turns up almost nothing until the two explorers chance upon a suite overlooking the falls feeding the main water source in the vale.  Herein there is a bed of rough wood, furs for blankets, a down pillow of wool, and a series of belongings that are far out of place for such an elegant place.  In fact, it's like some wild animal has laird here and is pretending at being an elf.

In one corner there something of a night stand, rough hewn and matching the bed.  On it sits several dishes including a couple of expensive looking goblets.  The goblets are sturdy looking, some kind of white stone or maybe ivory worked in gold filigree and some kind of shiny, white metal Ryland has never seen before, but Toben recognizes from his time down in Moria.

There is no sign of the squatter.

{Listen Checks}

Toben looks around the room for clues as he walks over to the back end of the suite. "Someone has obviously been living here. Perhaps our rummaging around scared them off." The sound of a waterfall catches his attention as he peers out the window to enjoy the view.

"Indeed. Or we simply caught them away for the time being" says Ryland, picking up the goblets to inspect them. "Do these look four thousand or so years old to you?" he asks, not expecting a serious reply. "Either way, we should keep moving. Let's check closer to the sound of the falls. My guess is that someone important in a place full of balconies would have the best view" he says, slipping the goblets in a satchel, and replacing them on the night stand with a platinum coin. He glances around the room for a second more, surveying for anything else worth further pilfering, or "shopping" rather.

Toben looks at the goblets for a moment. "Hard to say. Mithril seems to be a very resilient metal. It won't show the passage of time easily."

He walks back to the balcony, looking around for clues.

There is a flash of movement down by the lake fed by the falls.  Some sort of large animal, maybe a bear.  It was furry and brown and big.

Ryland looks back at Toben. "We are not alone" he says, readying his bow and nocking an arrow.

Toben glances back at Ryland and smiles. "I don't think we have anything to worry about from that bear."

Seeing the bard ready his weapon, he places his on his staff.

"We live in strange times my friend. The dead can walk, the green skins run amok, and we just flew on the back of a creature we all believed long since dead and gone. For all we know, this bear flings spider webs from its rump. And we still don't know who, or what, is laired in this room".

Toben acknowledges Ryland's concern. "For what it's worth, I could do with a little normalcy for a moment. Let's just pretend that's a normal bear that can't shoot spider webs from its butt."

He continues to scan the room for ancient artifacts. "Any luck?"

"Other than these two goblets, nothing else stands out. Perhaps Windfang might be a better appraiser of these than us. In the mean time... don't you have your own personal scout you can send out? That little cat snake thing? Just to, you know. Make sure there aren't any spider webs ahead?" says Ryland with a smirk.

Toben nods and sends Ferb out to scout. He instructs him to look for any people, in general, or creatures that may wish to do them harm.